Shorn: Chapter 8

Soon, Shorn was following Kit through the forest. He was skeptical that one so young would serve as a reliable guide and made a point of noting landmarks so they could find their way back if need be.

Kit was full of questions.

“What are we doing?”

“I am going to make a spear.”

Kit came to a halt and spun, so fast Shorn almost stepped on him. “A spear?”

“Yes.”

“I want one. Can you make me one too?”

Shorn thought about it. “I will have to ask your mother. A spear is not a toy.”

“I know it’s not a toy,” Kit said indignantly. He straightened his shoulders and stood as tall as he could. “It’s for a man. I’m going to be one someday. I should start learning now.”

He looked so earnest and serious. Shorn nodded. “I agree.”

“Then you will make me one?”

“If your mother approves.”

“I’m sure she’ll say yes. I’ll practice with it every day. You’ll see. Then I can go hunting and feed everyone.”

“It is a good thing to strive for.”

They continued walking. “What’s it like, where you come from?” Kit asked out of nowhere.

Shorn didn’t answer right away, considering what he should say. He’d never liked talking about Themor. There was too much hurt and confusion there. Other than Netra, he hadn’t talked of it at all. And he’d only briefly spoken of it to her.

“It is very cold. Much of the time there is snow.”

“So, it’s always winter?”

“In some places. But even the summers are not warm.”

“I like snow. But I wouldn’t want to have it around all the time. I like swimming. There’s a hole downstream a little ways. We swim there in the summer. I bet you’d like it.”

“Yes, I think I would.” Surprisingly, he meant it too. How long had it been since he swam?

“Is everybody there as big as you?”

“I am considered large even for my kind, but yes, my people are large like me.”

“And they all have the same funny color of skin?” He caught himself, right at the end. “Sorry. Mama said I shouldn’t say things like that. It’s rude.”

“It is okay. You are curious. Children should be curious.”

“Do you have children?”

He wasn’t sure what to say. “I did.”

“Oh, so they died or something. That’s sad.”

Silence, then, but it didn’t last long.

“What’s it called, where you come from?”

“Themor.”

“How far away is it? Can we go there someday? I’d like to see a land of giants. Are people there nice?”

Shorn thought about this. “No,” he said finally. “Most of them are not.”

“Why are they so mean?”

“My people are sick.” Shorn hadn’t meant to say the words, but once he did, they sounded right.

“Like with a fever?”

Shorn didn’t answer right away. He was thinking about the things his grandfather used to say, how Themorians used to be in the ancient times before they were enslaved.

“It is a fever. In a way. It clouds people’s thinking.”

Kit made a circular motion by his ear. “Are you saying all your people are crazy?”

“Yes. We have forgotten who we are. We are only this thing the Katchen Collective made us.”

Kit’s eyes got big. “What’s the Katchen Collective?”

“It was they who conquered us. They took us from our home and made us live somewhere else. They…changed us.”

“They sound like terrible people.”

“They are gone now. Their empire collapsed a thousand years ago.”

“That’s good. Your people are free now.”

“They are not.”

Kit’s brow furrowed as he thought about this. “I don’t think I understand.”

“We are prisoners to wrong beliefs. Our bodies are free, but our minds are not.” He’d never said such words before, never truly considered these ideas. They’d been floating around in his mind—the seeds planted by his grandfather and, to a lesser extent, his father—but this was the first time they’d crystallized. It felt important, this new understanding he’d acquired.

Kit scratched his head. “I don’t know what that means. Do you?”

“I think so. But there is much yet I do not understand.”

“I’d still like to go there someday. Will you take me?”

“I am sorry, but that is not possible.”

“Is it because it’s too far?”

“Even if it were not, I could not take you. I am forbidden to return. I have been exiled.”

Kit’s nose scrunched up. “What’s that mean?”

“I committed a crime. The law says I can never return.”

“A crime?” His eyes widened. “Did you kill someone?”

Shorn thought back to those moments, standing on the bridge, his ship closing fast on the tiny moon. Four more ships flanked his. In moments they’d be close enough to fire. The weapons officer turned to him.

“Weapons free, sir. Waiting your command.”

And the command was there. It was on his lips. He’d given the same command hundreds of times before.

But something was different this time.

He looked at his console, rereading the intelligence about their target that had come in only a few units ago.

Assets have determined that the installation is only lightly defended. There should be no difficulties destroying the target.

And then, further down, the last lines—

There are no warriors. Inhabitants are mostly children. Only those adults who care for the children…

“I was a soldier. I disobeyed my orders.”

“And because of that you can’t ever go home again?”

“I cannot.”

Kit thought about this for a time. “Why didn’t you do it, what they told you? Wouldn’t it have been easier?”

How many times had Shorn asked himself the same question? His refusal had changed nothing. The children still died. His second in command took over and ordered the attack.

But he knew the answer now. Netra had helped him find it.

“It was the right thing to do. The right thing is not always easy.”

“If you say so. I’d rather do the easy thing. That’s why Mama’s always yelling at me, I guess.” In a shrill imitation of his mother’s voice he said, “‘You didn’t dry the bowl the whole way. You didn’t stack the wood by the stove. You didn’t finish sweeping the floor.’” He threw up his hands. “There’s always so much to do. I’d rather go swimming. If I was king, I’d make it so some days no one is allowed to work. Everyone just gets to have fun.”

Shorn looked down at the small figure. His jaw was jutted out and his eyes were very dark and serious. He got this way when he felt very strongly about something. It was a trait Shorn liked about him.

“I think you would be a very good king,” he told the boy.

“I would! I’d make sure everyone had enough to eat. I’d make it so no one was ever afraid or lonely. I’d have the army dig lots of big swimming holes so there’d be enough for everyone.”

“That sounds like a lot to do.”

Kit started to reply, then closed his mouth. Shorn could see him thinking. “Huh,” he said finally. “It does sound like a lot to do. I guess being king wouldn’t be that great. I think I’d just rather live out here.”

 

Shorn had no trouble finding a pole he thought would work. It was longer than he was tall, as big around as a man’s forearm at the thick end.

Kit had one too. At first, he’d tried to bring one that he couldn’t lift, only drag. When Shorn pointed out to him that if he couldn’t lift the spear, he sure wouldn’t be able to throw it, he grudgingly put it back and picked up a smaller one.

“It looks like a child’s spear,” he complained.

“It is a child’s spear,” Shorn replied. “You are a child.”

“Humpf.” Kit didn’t seem all that placated. “Can I get a bigger one when I get bigger?”

“It would be foolish not to.”

That made Kit feel better. He started swinging it around and jabbing at trees. He shouted something about a dragon and charged a fallen tree. He got some splinters in his palms for his trouble. He picked at them while they walked, talking steadily to Shorn.

Shorn let him talk, only half listening. In the short time he’d lived with this family, he’d grown fond of the boy. Of all the children, really. They were each so different, so full of life. Kit went everywhere and did everything full tilt. He didn’t play games halfway, he attacked them. He didn’t cry when he hurt himself, he screamed.

Lysa was bossy. She was always telling her brothers what to do. The fact that they ignored her didn’t change anything. She seemed to feel that it was her purpose in life to keep her brothers on the straight and narrow. She took after their mother, even standing the same, with one hand on her hip.

Pol was quiet and thoughtful. He took being a big brother seriously. He often tried to teach Kit something he thought he should know. Kit mostly ignored him, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Ren was the princess. She liked nothing better than being the center of attention. Her siblings doted on her, including her in their games where possible, carrying her around on their adventures when she couldn’t keep up.

Kit charged ahead when they reached the farmhouse, shrieking like a wild man and waving his future spear over his head.

Melda came out of the barn to see what the ruckus was. Kit raced over to her, yelling that Shorn was going to teach him how to make his own spear and then they’d be eating fresh meat every night.

“Turkey whenever we want, Mama!” he hollered. “Deer and elk. Maybe even a bear!” He paused, shocked at his own words.

“That’s wonderful.” Melda pushed the point away from her face. “How about you start by not stabbing your mother?”

Lysa and Pol came running up from the fields.

“Are you really going to make a spear out of that?” Pol cried, looking at the pole Shorn was holding. “That’s going to be like the biggest spear ever!”

“Look at mine!” Kit held his up. “Shorn’s going to make me a spear too.”

Lysa joined in with her own request. “That’s not fair. I want a spear too!”

Shorn held up a hand, and they went quiet. “No one gets a spear unless your mother says it is okay.”

“You too, Lysa?” Melda asked. “I can just imagine what your grandmother would say about that. Something about what is and what isn’t proper for young ladies.”

“I don’t want to be a young lady!” Lysa cried. “I want a spear.”

Melda fixed them all with a stern look. “They are not toys.”

“We know that, Mama,” Kit complained.

She shushed him. “I’m not done yet. If I allow this, you will treat them with respect. They are deadly weapons. Until you learn how to properly use one, you are not to touch them unless Shorn is with you.” She looked at Shorn. “Surely, you mean to teach them how to use the things, right? You weren’t planning on giving my children dangerous weapons without training?” There was a little bit of warning in her voice.

Shorn had refused Rome’s request to train his soldiers. But this was different. These children had no father. They lived in a wild place. Knowing how to hunt—and, if necessary, to defend their home—was a necessary skill. He bowed his head. “It would be my honor.”

“We’re gonna have spears!” Kit yelled. He started charging around, howling. The twins joined in.

Ren appeared at the doorway of the house, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She ran out to join her siblings, falling down along the way. She cried a little, but seeing that no one was paying attention, she gave it up, hauled herself to her feet and tottered after the others.

Melda watched her children, an indulgent smile on her face. “You sure made their day.”

“Ren will complain when she doesn’t get one.”

“Ren is just going to have to deal with that. I don’t think toddlers and spears mix all that well.”