Tahn

by L. A. Kelly

  She got on her knees and began to crawl for the entrance, unable to bear the darkness any longer. She knew there was a bag of candles in there somewhere, but without the flint the kidnapper had carried, she had no way to light them. It would be useless to stay inside.

  “Lord Jesus,” she spoke as she crawled out. “The children he was talking about, do help them. What kind of life could they have with a killer for a teacher?” She sighed. “I don’t understand him, Lord. He seemed a dreadfully hard man. Why is he concerned for little ones? How can such opposite things rest in the same heart?”

  When she was close enough to the entrance to see the fading light of sunset, she stopped and watched the darkening sky. It seemed strange to be so alone. She wished there was someone by her side, if only to take her mind off her own hurts. She thought of her mother, who had been dead for more than five years. She’d always said, “Seek a way to help someone else when you are troubled, and it will better you every time.”

  So in the evening’s quietness, she curled up on the cave rock and prayed for her cousins by name, one by one, until she fell asleep.

  It was sunny when she woke, a warmer day than it had been before. How good it would feel to have an opportunity to wash. If she’d had light inside, she might have gone into the cave’s running stream. Or if her ankle had felt better, she might have sought a stream out here somewhere. She’d have to do something eventually. It certainly would do her no good to sit and wait for someone to happen along and find her. Especially not that killer.

  But she thought of the days that had passed and was fairly certain it had been a full week. If he was not here by now, he wasn’t coming. That’s what he’d said.

  The thought gave her sadness, but she refused to accept that it was for his sake. It must be for those unknown children. And for herself as well. It was hard, feeling so helpless and lost.

  She hung the blanket and her cloak over bushes to air out. She was nearly out of food, with no idea how to get more. The woman with the dog had all but begged her to leave. She’d been kind enough but afraid for her children. And anyone else she managed to encounter might be the same way. Or far worse.

  “Help me trust you, Lord,” she said aloud, “that I will be reunited with my family soon.” Her eyes misted, but she willed the tears away. To rest her ankle, she sat against a tree near the cave and gazed up at the vivid blue sky. Today everything looked so crisp and clear. How could a world of such cruelty be so beautiful?

  When she looked down again, there he was, standing in front of her. The kidnapper and killer. His long hair was tossing about in the autumn breeze.

  “I am glad that you stayed,” he said quickly.

  He was alone. No little ones by his side. Had he lied about that after all?

  “Has anyone been here?” he asked her.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t speak to him for the lump in her throat. Fear and uncertainty overwhelmed her again.

  “Do you deceive me?” he suddenly asked, a touch of anger in his voice.

  “No!” she cried out. “What do you want from me?”

  He pointed to the blanket on the bush. And then she understood. It hadn’t been here before.

  “No one was here,” she stammered. “I—I tried to go. I found a farm a long way from here. A woman gave me the blanket and food but was afraid to let me stay. I got lost. I hurt my ankle. I found my way back …” She watched his eyes. What would he do if he didn’t believe her?

  He walked to her side and pointed down at the leg she held straight out in front of her. She nodded, and he knelt and pulled her skirt back enough to examine her ankle. When he looked up at her again, the anger was gone. He eased her shoe off and then stood up. “Have you seen anyone else?”

  “No.”

  He whistled. She was expecting Smoke to come bounding out of the underbrush, but he didn’t come. After a moment, the leaves began rustling, and then a dirty face appeared out of the bushes. And then another. And another. And then the rest all at once, eight of them in all. Stunned, she just stared.

  “Is that our cave?” a child asked.

  “Indeed,” the warrior answered.

  “Can we go in?” There was excitement in the voice but with reserve unusual in a child.

  “When I get the torch lit.”

  They all appeared to be boys. One of them walked up to Netta with wide eyes. “You’re pretty,” the child said.

  “What’s your name?” Netta asked.

  “Temas.”

  The child ducked his head shyly. Or was it a her? Netta couldn’t be sure.

  They were all filthy, which, she reminded herself, she was as well. They were also a skinny lot, without a smile among them.

  When the dark warrior had the torch prepared, he moved to the cave entrance, and all of the children followed him in. But Netta didn’t move. She knew she must think about this. She must pray. She didn’t want to stay. But she didn’t want to go.

  After many minutes, he came back for her. “I have to leave them,” he said. “I’ll be back by daylight tomorrow. I would that you rest inside with them.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He just picked her up and carried her in, holding her until he had to set her down to navigate the narrow passage. “You can walk?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He took her arm anyway, as if he wasn’t so sure, and led her the rest of the way to the main chamber. It was lit again with candles, and incredibly, the children all sat in a circle, as silent as the stone around them. He pointed at each of them in turn, saying their names. “I have told them we shall have a lesson,” he said. “And then they must rest.”

  He lifted the water pail and turned toward the sound of running water. “Vari,” he said. “Let me show you the stream.”

  The biggest boy rose to go with him. Vari was almost as big as the man but definitely younger, and he walked with a barely perceivable limp.

  None of the rest of the children moved an inch. Netta was amazed by that. No questions? No exploring? They were so young. What kind of hold did he have on them that they should not even act like children?

  When the strange man returned, his hair was dripping wet. He held the pail of fresh water. Vari was behind him, his hands studying the cave passage.

  Their teacher brought the pail and set it in the middle of the circle. “From the youngest,” he said, and all the children rose to take a drink in their due order.

  Netta could see fear in their faces. Was he hard to them? Why were they with him at all?

  As soon as they had all drunk, he separated them into pairs of unequal size. “You who are the smaller, you have been traveling a long time,” he told them. “Suddenly a threatening stranger appears. You who are taller, the stranger is you. Now, traveler, what do you do?”

  “Am I alone?” Briant asked.

  “Good question,” the teacher responded. “You are alone and unarmed except for a knife. Your opponent is armed likewise.” He pulled eight short sticks from a pocket and tossed one to each child.

  Netta was horrified but said nothing. What could she possibly do?

  “He’s so big,” said Temas, who was paired with Stuva. “I don’t wanna fight. Can I scream an’ act like there’s somebody close?”

  “Worth a try,” the teacher replied. “But your adversary has been watching you. He knows there’s no one.”

  “I’ll throw my knife at ’im,” little Duncan said with a vehemence that shocked Netta. What is he doing to these children?

  “Only throw if you know your mark and your opponent without a doubt. If he dodges, you are unarmed.”

  “I’d tell him I just wanna pass, and he’d be wise to be on his way,” Briant said, sounding like a teenager at seven.

  “But he attacks,” the warrior told them. “Go ahead, strangers.”

  All four of the bigger children moved on the smaller ones, and they were suddenly sparring roughly. It was hard for Netta to watch. They fought like it was real, and
the man walked among them, shouting encouragement or criticism. After the separate battles, all four of the younger ones were conquered, Temas and Duncan easily. But Rane had bitten his opponent and nearly squirmed away, and Briant had moved handily with his stick before finally being bested by the much bigger Vari.

  “Better,” their fierce teacher told them. “One of these days, you’ll be surviving. Now, why did I wait before calling you up to the cave?”

  They were all quiet until Stuva spoke. “You were checking to make sure it was safe.”

  “What did I find?”

  “It was safe,” Doogan said.

  “No. I waited. Why? What did I see?”

  They were thinking, all but Vari, who smiled and waited.

  “The lady,” Temas said, “an’ her things outside.”

  “Yes. But I waited. Why?”

  “You saw somethin’ that wasn’t here before?” Stuva asked.

  “Indeed.” Tahn nodded his head. “I want you to remember that. Whenever you go out and come in, look. If anything has changed, do not come in as usual. Why? What would it mean?”

  “Somebody else has been here,” Doogan said. “Maybe not a friend.”

  “That’s right. Remember that.” He glanced over at Netta. “That’s enough for now,” he told them. “Drink what you need. From the youngest.”

  He walked over toward Netta. “They will need to rest now,” he said. He turned to leave.

  “Sir,” she called out, and he faced her.

  She quaked inside, wondering how to address this. Why couldn’t she just let it go?

  He stood in silence, waiting, and she forced herself to meet his intense eyes. These were children, and for their sakes she must speak boldly.

  “I saw that you can read, sir,” she began. “Are you teaching it to them?”

  “I haven’t gotten to that yet,” he answered with no excuses.

  She swallowed hard, searching for the words. “You do agree that it’s important?”

  “I suppose so, yes. But first things first, Lady.”

  “First they should be children! You’re supposed to teach them, you say. But you hurt them, and they hurt each other when they act this way! It is letters they need, and a decent chance to develop a moral strength. Don’t you consider such things?”

  He looked at her in a way that she found impossible to discern. And then he nodded. “I would be grateful,” he told her, “if you would choose to begin while I am gone.”

  He called to Vari to follow him, and then he turned and walked out.

  Netta wanted to scream at him. How could he act as though he could just snatch her and take over her life? He had no right to expect her to do his bidding, no matter what his reasons were. She was angry, but then she turned and looked at the children. They were all staring at her as if waiting for something. She couldn’t just walk away.

  They were so quiet and solemn, with a look in their eyes that told her they had seen more than their share of suffering. He had said they would need to rest. A shame not to have decent beds. “Are you all very tired?” she asked.

  “No,” Tam answered, looking at her with his face scrunched up. “Are you going to stay with us?”

  “A little while,” she told him. “Until my ankle is strong, at least. But I need to find my family when I can.”

  “But our teacher said your family is dead,” Stuva told her.

  The words were like a blow to Netta. Surely not. Not all of them!

  “It’s all right,” six-year-old Rane added. “We don’t have family either. We make it all right.”

  “We’ve got each other, though,” Briant said. “We’re a shayleelay.”

  “A what was that you said?” Netta asked.

  “A shayleelay. Since we’re not a family,” the boy told her.

  “But what does that mean?”

  “It’s just what we are. Since we stay together and all.”

  “Where did you hear that word?” she asked.

  “I made it up. Vari said I could.”

  Vari was returning to the chamber just then and laughed. “I didn’t know you’d take me seriously.” He was carrying Netta’s belongings that had been by the entrance, and he set them down beside her.

  “The teacher said to bring these in,” he explained. Then he gave Netta a long look. “You shouldn’t be so upset. He’s the best.”

  She thought of Karll once more and could barely squelch the tears. “He’s a killer,” she said quietly and then immediately wished she hadn’t spoken. She was still unsure of this boy, or even the smaller ones. But her words didn’t seem to bother any of them.

  “Yes,” Vari acknowledged. “We know. But he’s the best. He’s quick and he’s quiet. He don’t brag, just gets the job done.”

  Netta was certain that she read admiration in the boy’s eyes. “Surely you don’t wish to be like him?” she asked, unable to hide her horror.

  But he was looking at her oddly. And he sighed. “Not completely like him, I guess,” he finally answered. “I never wanted to be a killer, nor much of a fighter neither. And he respects that.”

  Netta stared at the boy in front of her. He was as big as she was. With wild hair and wildlooking eyes, he truly looked like he could be dangerous. What he said had surprised her. But especially what he said about that frightening warrior. Hadn’t he just been teaching them, even the littlest ones, to fight?

  Vari must have seen her doubt. “You can be sure none of us’ll hurt you,” he said. “We’d fear the Dorn over that, indeed. And he won’t hurt you neither, ma’am. He’s taken with you, perhaps. I don’t know.”

  His words hung in the air for a moment, and she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. Taken with her? The thought stirred a churning discomfort in her, but she brushed it aside quickly to grab onto something else Vari had said. “The Dorn?” she asked. “Is that what you call him?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Don’t know. It’s his name. Tahn Dorn.”

  “You said you would fear him. Would he hurt you? Does he?”

  Vari laughed. “I suppose he’d do what it took if one of us was trouble, but otherwise I don’t suppose he’ll hurt us none. You never know for sure, I guess. But I don’t expect it.”

  Little Duncan crept up beside her and sat down. “Don’t worry,” he said, his big sad eyes looking up at her. “We’ll mind him good. There won’t be no trouble.”

  Netta felt like crying. A flock of children pledging allegiance to a killer and afraid to do otherwise. “You don’t have to stay with him, do you?” she ventured. “Don’t any of you want to leave?”

  Temas slipped forward toward Duncan, shaking her head.

  Nine-year-old Stuva spoke up. “Where would we go? Back to the streets to freeze next winter or starve if we can’t steal enough? Or maybe get caught and beat to the bone?” The memory was noticeably intense in him. He was almost trembling. But his face was set, not willingly betraying the emotion. “Or we could go back to Valhal,” he continued. “And be locked up and beat on, if they don’t kill us for leaving. We’re not like you, Miss,” he said. “None of us ever saw no fine house. Most of us don’t remember no family to mourn over. All we ever been is hungry and scared, till Samis. Then not so hungry but scared lots worse.”

  She looked around at their dirty and solemn faces. So many of them were nodding in agreement. Were they all orphans? Or abandoned in the streets?

  “What’s moral strength?” Doogan suddenly asked.

  “Yeah,” Tam said. “Something we gotta learn?”

  Netta smiled. “Everyone needs it, yes. But sadly, some never find it.”

  “Is it hard?” Rane asked.

  “No.” Netta looked around at them. “It is simply knowing right from wrong and the proper and godly thing to do whatever your situation.”

  “It sounds hard,” Temas remarked.

  “I’m hungry,” Duncan said.

  “Shut up,” Tam
whispered to him urgently. “No complainin’, now.”

  Netta looked at them both and took the smaller boy’s hand. “If you’re hungry, dear one, it’s all right to say so.” She looked up at all of them. “I don’t know what he has told you about that. But with me, if you need something, just say so, and we’ll do the best we can and ask the Lord to make up the difference.”

  “But we only got one loaf left, Miss,” Stuva told her. “And he said that was yours. He’ll be back soon enough bringing more for us.”

  Netta shook her head. “Not for quite a while, I’m afraid.” So that’s where he went in such a hurry. Without even allowing himself rest. “Let’s share what we have in the meantime, shall we?” she suggested. “Fetch the bread for me.”

  She reached in her own bag and pulled out the two remaining apples and the knife Tahn had left with her.

  But all of the children were reluctant to eat, hungry as they were. “Come on now,” she told them. “If it is mine, I can do what I wish with it, can’t I?”

  Rane smiled at her, and it was good to see that from one of them. “I guess so,” he said.

  She cut the apples and bread till there were eight pieces of each. It was so little for so many, but she didn’t want to be troubled about it in front of them. Let them learn that God shall provide. “Is it all right with you if I bless the food?” she asked.

  “You mean pray?” Rane said with wonder.

  “Of course she means pray,” Vari said impatiently. He turned his eyes toward Netta. “Do what you want.”

  She said her brief thanks and passed around the meager meal.

  “None for you?” Temas asked.

  “No. No, I don’t need it,” she told them. “I’ll eat with you tomorrow, Lord willing.”

  Vari looked up at her with a strange expression.

  “What does ‘Lord willing’ mean?” asked Doogan.

  Netta paused. Did they know nothing about God? Perhaps not, with such a background and such a teacher. But she couldn’t leave it that way. She would have to tell them all she could in the time she had with them. “I mean that we can trust God,” she began. “He is our provider. I thanked him for this food, and I know he will give us more. He may use Mr. Dorn to bring it, but he will provide, one way or another.”