Tahn

by L. A. Kelly

  “What if he’s unwilling?” Vari asked, the challenge plain in his face.

  “He could not be unwilling,” Netta assured them. “God loves his children. He will provide for us.” But she sighed. This was a test of her trust as well as theirs. Never before had her future been so uncertain. “Let’s not worry,” she said. “Go ahead and eat.”

  All of the children obeyed her, but Vari met her eyes and mumbled, “I’ve known many days when he was unwilling for me and I had nothing.”

  “No,” Netta insisted. “He is always willing to provide for us. This world can be terrible sometimes. But it’s because of men who don’t do as they should. For each of you, the times you were hungry, I’m sure God was willing for you to be fed. He loves you. But there was a person somewhere who was unwilling to do the right thing or all too willing to do the wrong.”

  “I understand that,” Doogan told her. “I always tried to beg first, and only stole if I had to. Sometimes I could see ’em thinking it over, but often as not they’d turn me away anyhow.”

  “How do you know God is real?” Stuva asked. “Especially if he can’t make people do what he wants?”

  “I know it can be hard to understand,” Netta explained. “Especially when people are cruel. But God does not want to make people do anything. He wants us to choose to do right. We can ignore him if we wish, and many people do. But he would have us to love one another.”

  “Samis said there’s no God,” Tam said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Maybe no one has told him. God created this world. He sent his Son, Jesus, to teach us about his love. Wicked men killed Jesus, but he rose from the dead. And he is with us always.”

  “Does the Dorn know you’re a Jesus teacher?” Stuva asked with concern.

  “Of course he does,” Tam maintained.

  Netta nodded in affirmation. “He does,” she assured them.

  “Then it must be okay,” Briant assented.

  “But you’re supposed to be a letters teacher, right?” Stuva questioned again.

  “That too,” Netta told him, feeling unnerved by the idea. She’d been too taken off guard by all these children to insist that her kidnapper help her find her way. But now the little ones were all looking at her with such expectation. She could think of no solution. Perhaps she should accept the charge, at least for the day, and do everything she could for them while she was here. She looked around at their dirty faces. “Are you anxious to start?”

  “We’re done eating,” Stuva answered. “We might as well. Maybe we should do that first and talk about Jesus after.”

  “Well enough with me,” she replied. “Does that suit everyone?” There were nods from all the children except Vari.

  “Do any of you read at all yet or know any of your letters?”

  “No, Miss,” Temas answered for all of them.

  “I do,” Vari told her with a sober look. “But the rest weren’t to Valhal long enough.”

  The second mention of Valhal filled her with questions. Where was this place? What was it? And who was Samis?

  But she had other business at hand and an idea of how to begin. “You can be my helper then, Vari,” she told him, suddenly considering that if she were to gain their confidence as a teacher, perhaps she could draw them away from the fearsome man she could not trust. With that in mind, she carried the water bucket over to the wall and set candles close. Then she wetted her finger and carefully drew an A on the rock wall. The water darkened the rock just enough to make the shape visible.

  “Can you all see that well enough?”

  Every head nodded.

  “It’s the letter A,” she told them. “The first letter of the word apple and many others like and, able, and amen. I believe our floor is dusty enough for you all to give it a try with your fingertips, if you wish. Draw it just like I did. Two lines leaning on each other, and another line joining them in the middle.”

  It was to be the first of many lessons with “talk about Jesus after.” And then they all chose their places to sleep for the night. The children clustered together on the hard floor as though they were used to such conditions.

  Netta slept too, but she woke before day, lit new candles from the few nearly burned out, and looked long at the faces that surrounded her. All of them, even Vari, slept huddled against at least one other child. For warmth, she surmised. They looked like angels in their sleep. She covered the smallest ones with her blanket and cloak and then knelt to pray for them.

  “You persist in your faith,” a voice suddenly said.

  She wheeled about, and there was the Dorn, as the children called him, standing less than ten feet away. He was like a phantom, to navigate the cave chambers and approach her like that without a sound.

  “It’s all right,” he told her. “Pray all you wish. It may surely help you.” He set down a bulging sack next to the one that held the unused candles. “Have you slept?”

  “Yes.” She got up just to increase the distance between them. She was afraid of him again, knowing that the children were likely to sleep on for a while.

  Much to her surprise, he addressed her fear.

  “Rest yourself. If I had wanted to defile you, I would have done it when we were alone.”

  “I learned your name today,” she ventured, now wondering about this man and what drove him. “Where—where are you from?” She didn’t expect him to answer, but again he surprised her.

  “Alastair.”

  “You have family there?”

  “No.”

  “But you have a home there?”

  He looked at her with a strange emptiness. “I don’t remember if I ever did, Lady.”

  She glanced toward the sleeping boys, and his meaning sunk in immediately. “Do you mean that you were like them? A street orphan?”

  “As far as I know.”

  To think of him as a helpless child made Netta uncomfortable. He certainly wasn’t helpless anymore. She met his dark eyes squarely. “But now, now you are teaching them to be like you, whatever you’ve become?”

  He turned from her gaze and stared at the wall. “No,” he said. “Whatever I am, I do not teach it. I teach them to fight because their lives are in danger.”

  “And will you teach them to kill people?”

  He hung his head. “If need be.”

  She could not bear it. “Look at them!” she cried. “They are children. They’re not made for fighting and killing. They’re just children! They should be loved and protected, not trained for blood. It’s barbarous. Have you thought how you will care for them? In this cave? With winter coming?”

  “We would all of us prefer it to what we’ve had,” he answered. “They will eat. And the depth of the cave does not freeze.”

  “Then you will stay here?”

  “Maybe. Right now I will sleep. If they wake before me, food is in my sack. Let them eat all they want.”

  He turned from her and began to walk into the dark cave depth. He has such a child’s face, she thought. But tonight, the way he walks, the way his shoulders hang, he looks almost ancient. “Mr. Dorn, sir,” she called after him.

  He turned slowly.

  “May I ask you …” He looked so tired that she hesitated. “May I ask you … how old are you, sir?”

  “Twenty, perhaps,” he answered quietly. “Since it was about sixteen years at Valhal. But it never really mattered to me.” He stood looking at her, as if waiting for something.

  Only twenty? Could that be possible? She looked down at the sack he’d stuffed full. He’d been needy once. Was he trying to help these children because he’d been there? Or was there more to it than that? “You were gone so long tonight … where did you go?” she asked with timid voice. “What did you do?”

  Tahn frowned immediately. She asks it with suspicion, he thought. I am a monster in her eyes. She expects that I have gone and killed again. And with good enough reason. It seems I cannot do otherwise, even when I want to. Abruptly he turned a
way from her and disappeared into the darkness toward the sound of the water.

  Netta sat down against the cave wall, puzzling over him. Sixteen years at Valhal? Stuva had said Valhal scared them more than life in the streets, something about being locked up and beaten or killed for leaving. So the strange young Tahn Dorn was right about the children’s lives being in danger, and his own. And not just for helping her.

  She thought back to the first terrifying night she’d spent with him in this cave, and how troubled he’d been in sleep. She had never seen anyone thrash so, nor cry out in such desperation. It was as though he had experienced a measure of hell and was carrying it with him every day, behind the hardness of those youthful eyes.

  “Lord, give him rest tonight,” she prayed and then gasped to hear the words from her own mouth. He who had killed her husband. And now she prayed for him? She could never forget precious Karll. What would he think of her now, willingly remaining in his killer’s lair? Tears filled her eyes, and she pushed the thought away. “Protect these children, dear Lord,” she pleaded. “They have so little. And they need so much.”

  She looked at the two sacks at her feet. There were plenty of candles. It would not hurt to take one to navigate the passage out. Perhaps she was simply foolish and cowardly to stay here. Perhaps she should slip away now before the children woke. She rose to her feet.

  But little Temas was suddenly behind her, pulling at her waist ribbon. Netta twirled around, almost expecting to find the hauntingly silent Tahn Dorn again, and she sighed with relief. “Child!” she exclaimed. “You mustn’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “I’m sorry,” the little girl said. “I didn’t wanna wake the others. But I was wondering, since we’re both girls and all, can I sleep next to you?”

  Netta touched the child’s shoulder. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to let any of them get too close to her, but she couldn’t deny this simple request. They were likely all starved for any affection. “I don’t think I’ll sleep any more,” she said. “But you may snuggle beside me if you wish.” She sat down, and Temas was at her side immediately.

  “You didn’t know I was a girl, did you?” the child asked.

  “No, dear one, I wasn’t sure,” Netta answered. “Do you always dress just as the boys?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is that your teacher’s wish?”

  “He lets me be a boy, ma’am, but I acted like that before I ever come to Valhal. He was the onliest one there, except the little boys, that knew I was really a girl.”

  Netta was silent for a moment, thinking about that. But she decided that if Temas wanted to explain further, she would.

  “I like your dress,” the little girl said.

  “It needs washing frightfully,” Netta told her. “Have you ever had one?”

  “Yes, ma’am. When I lived with my papa. That’s when I found out it’s better to be a boy.”

  “I don’t understand, child,” Netta said. “Why?”

  “Men don’t do the same things with you.” Temas looked up at her.

  And Netta understood. Too well. “Oh, dear.” She hugged the child to her breast. “It is not always like that. Certainly not all men—” A sudden horrid thought stopped her. “Your teacher … does he … ?”

  “He treats me just like the boys,” Temas told her. “I like that. He told the others he’d thrash ’em if they told anybody at Valhal I was a girl. He said some of the men would be like my papa.”

  “Then he’s never hurt you?”

  “Not except in a fightin’ lesson. But that’s a lesson for you.”

  Netta stared at her for a moment, and then she hugged her again. It seemed their teacher had some good in him at least, but there was need for so much more.

  “That feels good,” Temas said of the embrace. “I was cold.”

  Netta rubbed the little girl’s arms. “Perhaps it will be sunny again tomorrow,” she said and sighed. She had but one blanket and her cloak. It seemed Tahn Dorn traveled without them. He had said the cave wouldn’t freeze, but it was chilly, and how much more of that would the winter hold for these little ones? None of them had a coat or even a simple change of clothes. And no bedding. She felt like crying for them. Did not their teacher think of things like that?

  Then she remembered Tahn’s words. Sixteen years at Valhal. And perhaps he was twenty? He had said he’d been a street orphan in Alastair. He might have been even younger than Duncan then, fending for himself. But what had happened? How had they all gotten from the streets to that dreaded place called Valhal?

  Temas was curling up beside her. Netta sighed. She could not leave them now, whether or not her ankle was better and she knew her way. She could not bear to leave them till the children were provided for better than this. Perhaps Mr. Dorn himself knew nothing of comfort. Perhaps he had never learned what a child might need beyond simple survival. But she would make sure he knew before she left. Better yet, she would find a home for the children elsewhere.

  “Miss?” Temas asked shyly.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you have a mama?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was she a good mama?”

  “Yes. Very good.”

  Temas cuddled even closer. “Will you be my mama?”

  “Oh, child.” Netta sighed.

  “Please, Miss, please! The boys have all got each other. They’re my friends, but I’ve never known me a woman up close before.”

  Netta lay back against the wall. She could not possibly answer. She just stroked the girl’s short chestnut hair until she fell asleep. And then Netta looked up at the cave ceiling with an aching heart. Why, Lord? she questioned in her mind. What can be done for these children? What do you want from me here?

  The children had been trail weary, and they slept long. Then they woke hungry, anxious to see what Tahn had brought them.

  Netta expected him to sleep long too, considering what little rest he’d had. So she encouraged them all to be quiet as she laid out the food and spoke again about God the provider. Only Vari wasn’t interested in eating. With shaking hands, he insisted on going down the passageway that led to Tahn’s inner room, despite Netta’s protest. He was gone for quite a while. And when he returned, he kept to himself, and something about his eyes looked different.

  The rest had eaten their fill and divided themselves into two groups for a game they called “nimbles” when Tahn joined them in the main chamber.

  “Circle for a lesson, brothers,” he said, and all the children, including Vari, ran to obey him.

  “Mr. Dorn,” Netta interrupted him. “They had such a day yesterday. They need time just to play and be children.”

  “Well enough. When we finish.” His look was stern with determination. “I will advise you to move now toward the entrance and enjoy your morning,” he told her. “I wager you’ll not like this.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” she demanded. “Unless it is wrong, and you know it is?”

  All of the children stared at Tahn. What would he do about this strange woman who dared to question him like that? Would he send her away? Or worse?

  But he did nothing. “Think of a storm,” he told the children.

  Netta shook her head in dismay. He had such a hold on them that they all stood straight as sticks in rapt attention.

  “Just air. But there is strength in it that you can’t see. And there is strength in each of you.” He had locked eyes with the little boy named Briant and quickly stepped the distance between them, pulling out his long sword.

  The boy was clearly frightened, but he stood as still as he could as the sword drew ever nearer, until Tahn had rested the blade of it against his chest.

  Netta shuddered. The man had been right. She did not like this. “Mr. Dorn!” she cried out. “Please—”

  But the words stuck in her throat as he turned toward her. She didn’t see the childlike face then, nor the sagging shoulders. She saw the hard eyes of the dark angel who had killed her
beloved Karll with that same sword.

  “Go!” he commanded her.

  But she shook her head, not knowing where the boldness was coming from. “You terrorize them,” she said. “If they must be prepared to fight, at least let them know safety now! There is a great strength in peace of heart as well.”

  “Sit down,” Tahn ordered. All the children obeyed. But Netta stood, still facing him. He moved toward her, sword in hand.

  Inside she trembled, wanting desperately to run from this man and anything having to do with him. But she knew she shouldn’t, for the children’s sakes. As he got closer and lifted the sword, the picture in her mind was Karll, the blood pouring without remedy from his severed throat.

  “Jesus,” she said, just as he laid the sword against her chest as he had Briant’s.

  “Were they other children,” Tahn began, “your words would be well enough. But they are now targets of he who taught me the craft of the kill. You don’t understand what that means. Most of the battle is mind, and I must prepare them. One thing they must conquer, and conquer now, is the paralysis of fear.”

  Somehow she was able to meet his eyes without wavering. “There is only one way to do that truly,” she said. “Trust. In the God who holds our lives in his hands.”

  She knew she’d struck a nerve with him. For a fleeting moment she saw in his eyes the torment of that horrible dream they had not discussed.

  “I heard about your lesson,” he said. “And I will not interfere, however you see fit to teach them. But you will not interfere again with mine. You will join our circle now in silence, or go as I said. Pray if you wish. But you will leave us alone.”

  It was not a challenge. It was a simple statement of the way it would be. Netta knew she could not press the matter further. She also knew that somehow she had made her point. She took her cloak and a fresh candle and walked toward the cave entrance.