Shorn: Chapter 17

Shorn was almost back to the farm when he heard a small voice coming from a tree overhanging the road. “You’re back!” A moment later came the sound of snapping limbs. Kit tumbled out of the tree and fell on the ground.

Shorn lifted him to his feet and looked him over.

“I’m all right!” Kit had a big grin on his face. He didn’t seem bothered by the fresh scratch on his cheek. “Where did you get the sword? Can I see it? I want a sword. Do you think Mama would let me have a sword?”

Shorn held the sword out to him hilt first. “It is heavy.”

“It’s okay. I’m strong enough.” But when Shorn let go, Kit couldn’t stop the tip from hitting the ground. “It’s so heavy!”

“It is.”

“But not for you. Nothing is too heavy for you.”

Shorn smiled and ruffled his hair. It was good to be back home. Even better to know that the threat had been eliminated.

Shorn got his sword back, but Kit insisted on carrying the spear. The child chattered the whole time.

“Lysa and Mama were worried about you all day. But I wasn’t. I knew you’d do for old Bloodmane. Did you chop him in half?”

“I did not.”

“Did you pick him up and throw him?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Because you can! If I was as strong as you, that’s what I’d do. I’d throw the bad man clear over the tall fence. He’d know not to come back then.”

Shorn nodded seriously. “I will remember that next time.”

They’d barely entered the clearing where the farmhouse stood before Lysa and Pol had spotted them. They shrieked Shorn’s name and came running full speed. Melda came out of the house, wiping her hands on her apron, a relieved smile on her face.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“He will not threaten us again.”

She put her hand on her heart. “That’s such a relief. Were very many of the townsfolk injured?”

“The people of Sweetwater fought very well. I saw only minor injuries.”

“We’re glad you’re okay!” Lysa yelled up at him.

“I knew you would be,” Pol said. “Nothing can hurt you.”

Lysa waved a circlet of flowers she’d woven together. “I made you a crown to celebrate. Here.”

Shorn crouched down so she could put it on his head. It was comically small for him and kept sliding off. “Your head is too big. It doesn’t fit at all.”

“Perhaps on my wrist.” He held his hand out.

“It’s not supposed to go on your wrist.” She threw up her hands. “But what else can I do?” She placed it around his wrist.

Ren came running out of the house, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Shorn!” She ran for him with her arms outstretched. Shorn caught her just as she tripped. She hugged his neck. “Shorn’s back.”

Shorn looked at Melda. “I have more good news. We have a horse now.”

“A horse? Really?”

“There are some the raiders…left behind.” Mindful of the children, he was trying not to say they’d been killed. “We may have one.”

“That’s wonderful. You won’t have to pull the wagon anymore. Or the plow.”

Ren got a stubborn look on her face. “No. Shorn horse.” She put her hands on his cheeks and looked seriously into his eyes. “My horsey.”

“Don’t worry, little one. I’m still your horsey.” He let out his best whinny.

The other children started clamoring for horseback rides then, but Melda shut them down. “Can’t you see he’s tired? He can give you a horsey ride tomorrow. Let him rest.”

Shorn sat down in his outside chair. He was tired. Not just from the physical effort, but everything else. He’d been more worried than he realized, not just about his little family, but about the whole town. It had cost him a great deal of sleep.

Now that the danger was past, he felt really tired.

Melda brought out a chair and sat down beside him. The sun was setting. The heat of the day was already giving way to cool evening breezes.

“How are you?” Melda asked.

“I am happy you are safe.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know you were worried about losing yourself, maybe going back to how you used to be…”

Shorn was quiet for a time. Melda didn’t push, only waited.

“Always, when I fought, it was with great rage. I hated my foe. I wanted to see him dead at my feet.” He watched Melda as he said this. It was not something he’d ever said aloud before. Not even something he’d really thought about. He feared what he would see in her eyes, that she would recoil from him.

But none of that happened. She waited calmly.

He continued, suddenly needing to let the words out. “I…liked the rage in a way. The power. The release.” He clenched his fist.

Still Melda waited, her eyes fixed on his.

Shorn opened his fist. “There was no rage this time.”

Melda drew in a sharp breath.

“Only a sense of what must be done and wanting to be finished with it quickly.”

“That’s…amazing, Shorn. If that’s not a victory, I don’t know what is.”

He nodded. “I agree. Of all my victories, I count this the best.”

 

The next day, around midday, Otho came riding up leading a horse. He wasn’t wearing his helmet, but it was tied to his saddle.

“Here’s a horse for you.” He hopped down and handed the reins to both horses to Shorn. “Can you hold mine too? I have to pee something fierce, and I was afraid they’d run off on me.” He turned and saw Melda standing there. His face turned red. “Sorry, mum.”

He dashed off into the trees. The children came running up.

“Is this our new horse?” Kit yelled. “I love him already.”

“It’s not a he, it’s a she,” Lysa informed him. “We should name her Buttercup.”

“That’s a terrible name!” Pol hollered. “You don’t name a black horse Buttercup. We should call her Midnight.”

The children led the horse away to an especially good patch of clover they knew of, still arguing about the name. Kit was holding out for Lightning.

Otho came back, buckling his belt.

“You shoulda seen it,” he told Melda, his earlier embarrassment seemingly forgotten. “When Shorn busted in howling, them horses about turned themselves inside out trying to get away. Heck, I was scared, and I knew it was gonna happen.”

“Shorn said you all fought very well.”

Otho held up his hands. “I didn’t do much. Or anything. I was hiding. Turns out I’m not very good with a spear.” Which was an understatement. Shorn had finally given Otho something else to do while they were training. He’d been afraid the boy would hurt himself or someone else.

“The important thing is Bloodmane is gone.”

“That he is. Saw it with my own eyes. I had to help with the burial.” He made a face. “I don’t ever want to do that again. It was purely horrible.”

“I’m sure it was. Would you like some water? Or something to eat before you head back to town?”

“I got some water from the well just now, but I would take something to eat. I’m always hungry.”

Melda brought him out a boiled egg and a thick slice of brown bread she’d just made that morning. Otho tucked the food inside his shirt and climbed back on his horse.

“I almost forgot. They want you to come into town tonight for a party.”

Melda raised an eyebrow. “A party?”

“Yeah. To celebrate beating Bloodmane.”

“Today?”

“Yeah.”

Melda bit her lip as she thought. “I don’t have anything prepared to bring. I wonder if—”

“Dale told me to tell you not to bring anything. He said you’ve done enough. He also said if you want a different horse, you can take whichever one you like. But he thought you’d like to have a horse…” He glanced at Shorn. “…a real horse to pull your wagon when you come in.”

Shorn, looking over to where the children were already crawling all over the black horse, thought there was probably no chance they would be choosing a different horse.

“Tell Dale we’ll be there.”

“He said anytime around the end of the day.” Otho rode off, chewing on the bread.

“A party. That sounds like fun, don’t you think?”

Shorn wasn’t sure of that. He’d been to a few celebrations in Qarath, usually someone’s birthday. He never enjoyed them. He always felt like he didn’t belong there. But he could see that Melda liked the idea, so he said, “Yes.”

“I can wear my good dress. I haven’t even taken it out of the trunk in so long. I hope the moths didn’t get to it. I better go check.”

Shorn had another shirt. Melda had insisted on making him one. But he wore it to work the same as the first one, and so it didn’t really look any better.

He looked down at his boots. The sole on one was starting to peel and there was a small hole in the other. He wondered if there was a cobbler in Sweetwater.

Shorn cleaned up as best he could. In the barn, he started to reach for his cloak out of habit. He always tried to cover up as best he could when he went out in public. People tended to get less upset that way.

He changed his mind. It was hot. He didn’t want to wear the cloak. Besides, the people of Sweetwater had seen him at his most frightening. They could handle it.

Melda had the children in the house, where she was fussing at them with soap and a brush. Shorn decided to hitch the horse to the wagon. He’d never hitched a horse to a wagon before—most horses were far too skittish around him—but he’d seen it done enough times. He should be able to figure it out. If the horse would let him.

Surprisingly, the horse didn’t get upset when he opened the gate to her pen. She rolled her eyes at him when he approached but didn’t run off. He spoke to her softly, holding one hand out for her to sniff.

She sniffed his hand. Her ears twitched a few times. But she didn’t back up when he stepped closer.

He got the bridle on her and led her over to the wagon. She held surprisingly still while he figured out the harness and got it buckled on her, even when he got it wrong the first two times. He patted her awkwardly on the neck.

Patting, or petting, wasn’t something Themorians did all that often. Few Themorians kept pets. He’d never done it before himself.

Surprisingly, the horse nuzzled him when he did this and made a sort of soft, whuffing sound.

Shorn patted her some more, even going so far as to scratch behind her ears.

She let out a low groan and leaned her head against him.

Shorn decided he liked this, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d noticed that many riders seemed to have real affection for their horses. Wulf Rome was one of them. Shorn had never understood it.

Now he thought maybe he was starting to.

The children began to emerge as Shorn was finishing up. All looked freshly scrubbed and wet behind the ears. Lysa was wearing a blue dress with a bow in her hair. Both the boys’ pants were too small for them, ending above the ankle. It looked like Pol hadn’t been able to button his and had to settle for a belt.

“You got Lightning hitched up already,” Kit said. “I wanted to help.”

“You mean Buttercup,” Lysa corrected him.

“Her name is Midnight,” Pol announced.

Melda emerged from the house, a struggling Ren in her arms. “You’re not helping with anything because you’ll get all dirty again. I know you. Don’t touch anything. Get in the wagon.”

She climbed up onto the seat. Ren started crying and reaching for Shorn.

“What’s wrong now?” Melda asked. Ren was saying something, but between her tears and the generally poor nature of her language skills, Shorn couldn’t understand any of it.

Lysa spoke up. “She’s afraid that Shorn isn’t coming with us because he’s not hitched to the wagon.”

“Don’t worry, Ren,” Kit said, giving her a quick hug. “Shorn’s not going anywhere.”

Shorn was looking at the wagon dubiously. “I am not sure it will hold me.”

“I think it will,” Melda said. “It’s a stout wagon. Lorn built it himself. We hauled logs in it when we were building the house.”

“And the horse? Will she be able to pull me?”

Melda looked thoughtful. “On the way down, anyway. I guess we’ll see when we come back.”

They were bouncing along the road when Lysa said, “I think Buttercup is the most beautiful horse in the world.”

“You mean Midnight?” Pol replied.

“Her name is Lightning,” Kit said.

Melda cut in before it could go further. “I have an idea. How about we let Shorn name her?”

That was alarming. Shorn didn’t think it was a good idea at all. “I do not know how to name an animal.”

“That’s why you should choose Lightning,” Kit said. “Trust me.”

The other two chimed in. “Don’t listen to him!”

Melda smiled at him. “You can do it. Just go with your heart.”

“I have no idea how to do that.” Themorians had no saying similar to ‘go with your heart.’ Such a concept was alien to them. One did one’s duty to family, clan, and nation. That was how decisions were made. Heart was not involved.

“Pick a name that feels right to you.”

Shorn frowned. He wasn’t happy about this. He tried to be logical.

“How about kring?”

“Is that a Themorian word? What does it mean?”

“It means…we do not have horses, but there is an animal that is similar, though with much longer teeth. It would not be possible to ride one.”

“So, your idea is to name her ‘Horse’?” Melda was clearly amused.

“Big teeth?” Lysa asked. “That sounds scary. Buttercup isn’t scary. She’s nice.”

Shorn shook his head. “I told you I could not do this.”

“Yes, you can. But you don’t have to do it right now. Think about it.”

Shorn chose not to answer. He looked to the southwest, wondering how many of Bloodmane’s men had escaped. He didn’t think there were more than ten. Had they left? Or would they stay around and cause more trouble? Even if there weren’t enough of them to threaten the town, they could still raid outlying farms like he and his family lived on, or prey on people as they traveled the roads. He made a note to speak with Dale and Jesup about it.

They approached the town. Shorn noted the long, low mound of dirt off to one side of the road but didn’t mention it. It was good the townsfolk had already taken care of the dead.

The gate was open. They could hear music and laughter and see that the plaza—where only yesterday they’d fought for their lives and homes—was filled with people.

Melda pulled the wagon to a halt outside the palisade. There were far too many people in the plaza for the wagon. She saw Shorn eyeing the crowd.

“I think it best if I wait out here,” he said.

“No. Why?”

“I do not wish to cause…discomfort.”

“It’s different. You’re a hero now, Shorn.”

“I have been a hero before. It does not change how they feel.”

“I don’t know. I think you’ll find that it’s different here. This is a small town, not a city.”

“How will that change anything?”

“They’re closer to you. You’re not some scary alien they see at a distance. You’re here. You helped them.”

Shorn wasn’t convinced. “Perhaps.”

Melda shrugged. It was clear his mind was made up. “It’s your choice. I’ll bring some food out later. Come on, children.”

Lysa jumped out of the wagon. “I can’t wait to see Emma! Do you think I’ll get to see her?”

Melda nodded. “I’m sure you will.”

“I saw some boys kicking a ball around,” Pol said. “Can I go play with them?”

Melda smiled. “Have fun.” She climbed down and put Ren on her hip. The little girl was staring at all the commotion with big eyes, her thumb in her mouth.

“Can I hold your hand?” Kit asked. He’d been the loudest of the children the whole way here, but now he looked uncertain.

“Sure.” Melda took his hand, surprised. Lately, he’d been insistent that he was too old to hold her hand. They headed inside, leaving Shorn alone with the horse. He got out of the wagon and stretched.

He looked up to see Dale and Jesup coming toward him and groaned inwardly. He’d been hoping they’d leave him alone.

“You know, she said it, but I didn’t believe it,” Dale said. “What are you doing out here?”

“I am…I do not do well at parties. It is best I stay out here.”

Jesup was shaking his head. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re the guest of honor. This party is for you.” He grinned at Shorn. “There’s no getting out of it.”

“He’s right,” Dale said. “Why not go along with it? People want to be able to express their gratitude.”

Still, Shorn hesitated. “I…”

“It’s settled then.” Jesup took Shorn’s elbow. “Right this way.”

Shorn walked between them to the gate. He was wishing he’d worn his cloak after all. This was a bad idea. He would tolerate it for a short while and leave as soon as he could. Maybe people would ignore him.

That hope was dashed when Jesup yelled, “Shorn’s here!”

Everyone turned to look. The music stopped. Conversations stopped. The silence stretched out. Shorn wished he’d stayed home. This was even worse than he’d feared.

Suddenly, they all erupted in cheers.

Shorn’s mouth dropped open.

Melda was standing just inside the gate. She leaned over to him. “I told you.”

Dale waved his hand for silence, and the cheers faded out. He turned to Shorn.

“I speak for the people of Sweetwater. We want you to know how grateful we are. Our town still stands because of you.”

Shorn tried to protest, but Dale cut him off.

“You showed us how to fight and how to fight together. We will never forget that. Anything you need, anything we can do to help, you have but to ask.”

There were more cheers when he was finished. Once they were quiet, Dale said, “Anything you’d like to say, Shorn?”

Shorn didn’t want to say anything. His throat felt thick. He wanted to leave.

But he said, “Thank you. I am honored.” He lowered his head, showing them the back of his neck and his vulnerability. It was something he had rarely done in his life.

There were more cheers. Shorn turned to Dale. “You said there was food.”

Dale clapped him on the back, then froze, watching for Shorn’s reaction. When there was none, he said, “Lots and lots of food. Come with me.”

He led Shorn and Melda to three long tables that had been set up. All three were groaning with food. Roasted suckling pigs. Whole chickens. Strings of sausages. Lots of cheese. Dozens of loaves of bread with a bowl of butter to slather on it. Pots of beans with onions and peppers. Watermelon. Blackberries. Several pies.

There was also a table with kegs and barrels of ale and wine, and a cask of cider.

Kit stared at the food in awe. “Oh. Wow.” He looked up at Melda. “Can I, Mama?”

“Yes.”

His shyness forgotten, he dropped her hand and charged the table.

“Not with your hands!” she called after him. Her words had no effect. “Oh well, forget it. I don’t feel like wrestling you today. Come on, Shorn. It sure will be nice to eat someone else’s cooking for a change.”

Hal came up as they were piling food on plates.

“We did it,” he said. “We made it out alive.” To Melda, he said, “I’ve never been so scared in my whole life. I was shaking so bad I almost dropped my spear.” He looked a little downcast. “I didn’t even do anything, just yelled with everyone else and poked about a bit with my spear. I wasn’t close enough to hit anybody. One guy fell off his horse right in front of me. But he jumped up and ran off before I could do anything. I was really glad about that. I don’t think I’d make a very good soldier. I’m resigning as captain of the guard. For sure this time.”

“You stayed,” Shorn said. “You did not run. Do not forget that.”

Hal considered this, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s something. I’ll remember that.”

Shorn and Melda got their food and sat down. Ren didn’t want to sit. She was staring wide-eyed at everything and everyone. Now and then she grabbed something off their plates to eat, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the crowd.

“It’s not so bad, is it, Shorn?”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “It is not.”

After eating, they sat and watched the crowd. A number of people were dancing.

“Do you dance?” she asked Shorn.

He shook his head. “Themorians do not dance.”

“I didn’t ask if Themorians dance. I asked if you dance.”

“I think the answer is still no.”

“You’ve broken from so much of your past already. Why not dance?”

“Still no. I would probably step on someone and hurt them.”

“I suppose there’s that. Lorn liked to dance.” She looked around the plaza. “It’s good to be around people again. We’ve been too isolated on the farm. We need to get to town more. Look how much fun the children are having.”

Lysa was standing with two other young girls. One of the girls was saying something, and the others were giggling madly.

Pol and some other boys were kicking around a hard leather ball. There didn’t seem to be much point to the game, but they were having fun.

Kit hadn’t made a friend yet, but that was because he was still focused on the food. “I think that’s his third piece of strawberry pie,” Melda said. “I should probably go tell him that’s enough.” She smiled. “But you know what? I’m just going to sit here and enjoy this.”

A woman came walking up. She had long, brown hair that hung in a braid down her back and a friendly smile.

“Hi. I’m Lina. My daughter is Emma. She’s the girl with the pigtails talking to your daughter.”

Melda greeted her and introduced herself, ending with, “I guess you know Shorn already.”

“Thank you, Shorn,” Lina said earnestly. “I wanted to leave. I thought there was no chance. But my husband—his name is Fergus—said we should stay. He said you knew what you were about, and we didn’t need to run.”

Shorn remembered Fergus, a short, dark-haired man who clearly already had some training in fighting.

“I’m so glad we didn’t,” she continued. “I love this place. I don’t want to leave.”

“I’m glad you didn’t leave either,” Melda said.

“I came over because it looks like our daughters are becoming friends, so I thought I should get to know you.”

Melda looked over at the girls. “I’m glad she met Emma. It will be good for her to have some friends.”

“It must get lonely out there.”

“It does. But mostly I’m too busy to notice.”

Shorn got up and left them to their conversation. He went to the drink table and poured himself an ale. He was looking for a quiet corner to enjoy it in peace when Moll accosted him. The diminutive red-haired woman was flushed, and her eyes were bright.

She held up her tankard. “To us!” Shorn raised his mug, and they toasted.

“We sure showed them bastards, right?”

Shorn wanted to be left alone, but he had developed a certain fondness for the young woman in the short time he’d known her. He liked her spirit.

“They will not attack us again.”

“Not if they know what’s good for ‘em. I think we showed them they can’t mess with us.”

“Where did you learn to use a bow so well?”

“From my old pa. He wasn’t good for much besides drinking, but before the drink, he was a great archer. He taught me when I was a little.”

“He does not live here.”

“No. He died a few years back. Left me with nothing but a bow and a shack that was about one good wind from falling down. I got crosswise of the wrong people and decided I needed a fresh start. I caught a ride with some wagons heading this way. I’ve been here for a year now. It’s a bit dull, I gotta say. There’s not much to do except hunt squirrels and gophers and such.”

She paused, evidently waiting for him to reply. He wasn’t sure what to say. He never knew what to say. Was he expected to ask her questions about her life? He felt like he already knew more than he wanted to. Maybe he was supposed to share stories of his own life. He wondered what she would say if he told her a story from his time in the academy.

“What’s your story, anyway?” she asked, evidently tired of waiting for him to say something. “Where are you from? Are there others like you?”

“I come from far away.”

She snorted. “Big surprise there.”

“There are many like me.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Shorn took his time responding. “I was forced to.”

“Really? What’d you do? Get caught with the mayor’s daughter or something?”

“I do not know what a mayor is.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t seem like you, now that I think about it.” She snapped her fingers. “I know. You killed someone.”

“I have killed many. But that is not why I was exiled.”

She grinned. “I’m liking this more and more. Keep talking.”

“I…refused an order.”

“And?”

“That is all.”

She scoffed. “That’s boring. I like my story better. Let me add some tasty bits, and I’ll spread it all over town.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “It’s kind of dull here. Did I mention that?”

“You did.”

“Out here on the frontier, a girl’s got to make her own entertainment.”

“If you say so.”

“Did you leave a sweetheart behind?”

Shorn frowned. “A sweetheart?”

“A girl. You know.” She made kissing noises. “Was she very sad?”

“No. My wife was angered too.”

“And then you came here and…what? Are you and Melda like…?”

“Like what?” Shorn was genuinely perplexed.

“So, no. For the best, I think. If you rolled over on her in bed, you’d likely break her spine.”

“I do not like this conversation anymore.”

“Really? Did I get to you that easily?”

“You are a peculiar girl.”

She flipped her hair with one hand. “Thank you. I try.”

“I am going to move somewhere else.”

She laughed. “I’ll see you around.”

(If you're interested in reading more of Shorn's story from the time before this current one, go check out Wreckers Gate. It's book one of Immortality and Chaos, the series where we first meet Shorn. I will warn you that he doesn't appear until book 2, though!)