by Katy Winter
He didn't fully know who he was. He was barely two cycles at the time Ortok was attacked. When he was forcibly wrenched from Daxel in Ortok and carried to safety, he was left beside his brother for the first day, the little fellow snuggling into Daxel's drugged figure in Blenharm Forest. The child refused to either move or eat. In Daxel's tormented waking moments, he flung an arm about the little boy and held him as if he was terrified to let the child go.
On the second day Brue was removed from his brother, the little boy screaming as he was lifted into a cart and given a drink that quietened him. The little fellow stayed in shock for weeks and had to be coaxed to eat. No one encouraged him to remember, those in charge of the children learning, early, that such traumatised young had to be started on a new life as soon as possible. Brue made no effort to speak until he was nearly three cycles and when he did utter words he'd only repeat, tearfully, three words, Mam, Da and Sar. After a while he didn't say them again. He spoke little.
It was no easy task facing those responsible for such large numbers of children whose ages ranged from infancy to eleven cycles. Though the children were fed and clothed, no child had the individual attention so necessary over their formative years. This lack clearly showed in Brue.
In the early days, too, the young ones were expected to do many things to help that kept them busy from the time they rose to the time they were put to rest. They slept on beds of leaves over summer and in colder weather were bundled together on communal mattresses in overcrowded tents. Life was spartan and hard. The older children were expected to help care for the younger ones as well.
Three cycles on, life for the young was easier because they no longer had to make frequent moves and had, for the first time, a measure of stability about their young lives. Long shelters were erected that served as dormitories, refectories and schools. Though life was still harsh, it wasn't so physically demanding, though discipline was rigorously enforced. Fighting, or any other anti-social behaviour, earned a spanking for the smallest and a sounder thrashing for the older children, transgressors dealt with promptly and without compunction. The children learned instant obedience in a way that was oddly similar to how some young grew up in the south of Ambros. In school they were expected to learn and progress.
~~~
This day wasn't turning out to be one of Brue's better ones. He rose late because he'd spent some of the previous night hiding from an older boy who constantly harassed and bullied him. He was untidy for inspection, his boots were uncleaned and his hair, tangled and dense, was uncombed. Since he tended to be a loner, even at this young age, all the other children left him alone.
Tealo was the youth in charge of the group Brue belonged with. He was usually a long-suffering soul. He let the children away with more than might be considered acceptable, but this morning he was irritable because he'd had a heavy night, slept ill and woke with an appalling headache that made him wince when he moved his eyes. He had a very real hangover.
So Brue was shaken for his tardiness and again for his boots being grubby. The uncombed hair was too much for Tealo. He took Brue by the arm and looked down at him sternly.
"You're a tiresome little boy," he said austerely. Told to fetch his comb Brue did it unwillingly, aware that Tealo's method of doing hair was extremely rough. Brue's hair dealt with Tealo said, "Put your clothes neatly at the end of the mattress, tidy your blanket and clean your boots. You'll then go direct to school." Brue kept his head down and said nothing. "Go now, boy!"
Tealo watched while Brue shuffled backwards and then shepherded the rest of the children outside.
Brue sat on his mattress, mutinously pulled at his blanket in a rough fashion and smoothed it as best he could. He gathered his clothes and heaped them in a reasonably neat pile next to him and then stared at his boots, half-heartedly rubbed the tops of them with his cuff, and, since this seemed to work, he did the rest of them that way. His cuff was a mess but Brue didn't care.
He thought again that he might run away, but, small as he was, he knew perfectly well he wouldn't survive a night away from the camp. He sighed and drew his boots close. A noise made him look up. He locked eyes with one of the boys who made his life a misery. Daed was large for eleven cycles, was one of the worst bullies in the camp, and even Brue, large as he was, yielded to him. Daed physically manhandled other children in a nasty and unpleasant way. He stood over Brue and kicked at his boots.
"You are a tiresome little boy," he mimicked. Brue blushed. "And you always cry, just like a baby! A baby! A baby!"
"Leave it alone," Brue growled, trying to get his boots. Daed just sneered at him and threw the boots beyond Brue's reach.
"You're just a dirty, grubby, red-headed droll," Daed said with some relish, adding, "You won't ever be claimed because nobody would want you. You're nothing! No one cares about you. No one! No one!"
This was too much for Brue. He clambered to his feet, his blue eyes blazing as he launched himself at Daed and threw the older boy backwards. The resulting fracas was unscientific but highly conscientious, the yelling bringing others on the scene quite quickly. Daed managed to bash Brue's head on the floor several times before the smaller boy scrambled free and threw himself at Daed again. He pummelled the bigger boy as hard as he could.
They were unceremoniously hauled apart by a short stocky man clad in riding attire, who flung Brue into the waiting arms of another older man and then roughly hauled Daed to his feet. Without a word, he unbuckled a belt and disciplined the older boy. Then the man buckled on his belt and turned to Brue who stood by himself, nursing a head that throbbed. He felt giddy. The boy watched the man approach, shrank back, and cowered into the one who held him steady. He was jerked forward. The man just spanked Brue, hard, twice. It was intended to be felt and remembered.
The stocky man stayed his hand. He made Brue stand in front of him, stooped, and putting a strong hand to the young chin he looked directly into flooded blue eyes.
"I don't care who started this, my little friend, though I can well guess. You haven't been drawn to my attention before today." Brue tried to move his head, but couldn't. "I've finished the fight for you. You'll learn to settle disputes in a different way next time, won't you?" He stared hard at Brue, seeing the boy's lower lip tremble.
"Yes, Senior."
"You know fighting is forbidden. You'll try to be a better little boy, won't you?" The man's eyes seemed to bore through Brue.
"I'll try, Senior."
"That's much better," approved the older man. "Do you wish to tell me anything before I let you go? Has someone been disturbing or hurting you that I should know about?" Brue longed to tell him about the incessant bullying and what Daed said, but he was so shaken all he wanted to do was crawl away.
"No, Senior," he whispered.
"What made you fight then?" Brue stood chastened and silent. The senior eyed him thoughtfully. "Daed's caused trouble everywhere he's been, so I think it's time he was removed from this cell to one where there are older children who can cope better with his aggression." Brue gave a small sob. "I think your life might be easier then, child." The stocky man patted the boy's shoulder, not unkindly. "Have that head looked at, boy, and then get to school."
~~~
Biting his lips, Brue picked up his boots and fled. He didn't go to have his head attended to. He stopped at the edge of the camp to pull on his boots, aware of the odd ringing he had in his ears. He rushed through the bushes without being aware of it, his instinct making him go as far from those who'd hurt him as he could. He crawled under a very large bracken fern and threw himself on his stomach, where he sobbed as if his heart would break.
Brue finally fell asleep. He woke feeling stiff, his throat dry and the morning considerably advanced. He clambered to his feet. He felt grinding hunger. His head was still clogged from being bashed on the ground and he'd lost his sense of direction. He stood looking around at completely unfamiliar surroundings and gave a sob of fright when he realised he was lost. He m
ade no move while he tried to decide which way to go. Then he noticed broken ferns and scattered leaves that he thought he may have disturbed, so began very slowly to walk in that direction.
He was so intent on following this track he didn't see the forester who observed him from behind the bole of a huge tree. When the boy drew level with him, the forester spoke. Brue stood paralysed. Terrified, he cowered with his head buried in his arms. He waited. The forester stepped forward to the boy's side and spoke more to himself than to the child.
"What have we here?" He quickly dropped to one knee and put a hand on the boy's head. "Now then, little fellow, what's the matter with you?" He gently lifted the boy's head, surprised to see tear-stained cheeks, the whiteness of the young face and fear in the big and vividly blue eyes. "You look a sturdy little lad, so if you're so afraid why didn't you run away?" Brue gave a hiccup.
"I's naughty and my head hurts. I'm lost," he admitted, looking warily into the steady gray eyes of the stranger.
"Are you though?" murmured the forester ruminatively. "What did you do, I wonder?" He took hold of the boy's nearest hand and pulled him closer. "Can't you run at all?" Brue took his hand away and shook his head.
"Giddy," he said simply. The stranger looked at him.
"Spanked, were you?" he asked knowledgeably. He saw the telltale blush. "You must've been a naughty fellow." When an indignant sparkle came to the blue eyes, he gave an amused smile and took an educated guess. He asked politely, "Have you been fighting, little lad?" Brue bent his head.
"Only when I have to."
"As I said, you're a sturdy lad. Can't you defend yourself better than that?"
"A fight hurt my head," stammered Brue, blushing again.
"So?" enquired the forester. "Who spanked you then?"
"Daed made me fight. He's a bully and he's bigger'n me. He bashed my head too." The forester saw the lips quiver. "He said things." The forester's hand went back to the curly head when he heard the break in the young voice.
"And after you fought, lad?"
"A senior came and..." Brue's voice trailed off.
"I see," said his newfound friend in a neutral voice. "And he dislikes fighting, does he?"
"Fighting isn't allowed," Brue admitted in a very small voice. "Tealo says it's cos there's so many of us." The boy sounded suddenly tired and his voice cracked.
"Ah," said the forester with comprehension. "You're from the orphan camp, are you?" Brue nodded. "And you're being bullied?" There was another nod, a sniff and a little hand rubbed weary eyes. "You should learn some easy tricks, lad, that would stop any further bullying." Brue's head came up at those magic words and the forester saw the little boy had the most endearing grin. "Would you like me to show you?" The curls bobbed assent. The forester took a small hand and they began to walk forward. "What you need, little fellow, is an older brother to show you a few things."
Brue came to such an abrupt halt it made the forester stare intently down at him, aware of the look on the child's face. Brue did nothing. He just stood there, still and silent, while tears dripped off his chin. The forester quickly dropped to one knee a second time and pulled the little, rigid body into his arms so that he held the boy in a close embrace.
"So that's it, is it, little man?" he said understandingly, his head bent to the coppery curls. "Hush, lad, hush."
He just stayed quietly, his hold on Brue not lessening until he knew the tears eased. When they did, he lifted the small head and gently wiped the boy's face with a cloth. He made no effort to rush Brue, and let the boy go when he sensed the child wanted to be released. He stood and offered his hand to the boy again. A little hand slid into his and clung to it, the forester suddenly aware how desperately lonely this child was and how in need of affection and attention. He looked down to an upturned face that broke into a tremulous smile.
"Tell me," the forester began conversationally, "how many children there are in your camp." He led the boy down a less obvious track, though once you were on it was clearly enough defined.
"Lots and lots," was the vague response. "There's thirty of us Tealo looks after."
"Who is Tealo, may one ask?"
"He looks after us." The copper head drooped. "He's cross with me too."
"Is he indeed?" chuckled the forester. "What else have you done that was wrong?"
"I's late and my hair was mucked and things." Brue paused and considered. "Tealo doesn't care, but he drank lots last night. I think he'd a headache." The forester was much amused, but he spoke with only the slightest tremor in his voice.
"How do you know he'd been drinking?" he asked curiously.
"He smelled and his eyes puffed up," came the answer.
"Out of the mouths," commented the forester, more to himself than to Brue. He glanced down at the small figure plodding along beside him. "How did you annoy him?"
"Boots and hair," replied Brue comprehensively. "He smacks us, but not like the senior," he added rather bitterly.
"Do you think you shouldn't have been punished?" The forester changed direction, but Brue didn't notice.
"I guess," he compromised, grinning up at the forester again. He tilted his head and added aggrievedly, "He needn't hit so hard. It hurt." The forester found this confiding boy very engaging.
"And the boy who made you fight, what happened to him?"
"He hit Daed lots more'n me," the boy remarked with satisfaction. The forester struggled not to laugh. They kept walking in silence, the boy scuffing leaves and walking with a lighter step.
"Where are we going?" queried Brue, suddenly apprehensive. "I'll catch it if I don't go to school. You do things right, all the time."
"I'm taking you to our camp so I can get you something to eat. You'll have missed your midsun meal by now, you know."
"I missed early meal too," came the mournful reply.
"Then, lad, you must be starved." The forester looked down at the little boy who now walked quite normally. "How's your head now, little fellow?" The blue eyes that met the forester's sparkled.
"I's alright."
"Surely you are," agreed the forester, with a twinkle in his eyes. "By tomorrow, little man, you'll have forgotten all about today."
~~~
The long and the small walked slowly towards the forester's temporary camp, Brue passing the time by prattling and asking lots of questions as children invariably do. The forester was surprisingly patient. He answered when asked anything, but he also asked questions in a way that gave him a clear picture of what life was like for a small orphaned child.
As the forester listened, he began to feel very sad for all the children. There was no neglect and no cruelty at the camp, but if all the young ones craved love and attention as this little fellow did, then times were going to be extremely difficult in the next few cycles when the refugees finally met up. This boy yearned to be spoken and listened to.
The forester glanced down again at the little boy who now hopped and skipped along and held his hand with so much trust. He found himself considering whether he could adopt this child, even if it meant the boy had to be left for long periods at a time. He was toying with this idea, when he felt a tug on his hand and looked down.
"Yes, brat, what is it?"
"Why do we go to your camp and not mine?"
"Do you have leat and cam pie at the camp?" The blue eyes brightened, even though Brue shook his head. "I thought you might like some. I thought, too, you might like to see our camp." Brue screwed up his face as he digested this.
"What about school?" he repeated. The forester gave the small hand he held a squeeze.
"I'll see to it that you're allowed to have today free," he promised. The big blue eyes looked up and the forester's hand got a squeeze in return.
At the camp, the forester fed the boy who was very hungry. While Brue munched happily, the forester lounged opposite and whittled away at a slender piece of barkwood. He whistled as he worked, not conscious of the intensity of the blue-eyed gaze upon him. As
the barkwood took shape, Brue's eating got slower and his eyes grew rounder. He didn't speak. He just sat and watched. The forester quietly gathered up the shavings, brushed the remaining ones off his breeches, then ran his hands over what he'd created. Looking up, he offered it to Brue. The boy drew in a quavering breath and took it carefully.
"Thank you," he whispered. "No one's ever gived me nothing."
"Well, lad, that's for you."
"What is it?"
"Whatever you like, lad. It's supposed to be a larkbill. There are lots of them where I come from."
Brue was almost in tears as he held the bird close to him. The forester flicked his curls, told him to finish his food and then to put the carving safely in the tent until later. Brue ate quickly and then trotted off obediently. When he returned, the forester stood the boy in front of him.
"Now then, little fellow, what's your name? I can't keep calling you boy or lad all the time. You do have a name, don't you?"
"Leven," was the succinct reply.
"Leven? That's an unusual name."
"My name's Eleven, but I couldn't say it when I's little – I said Leven."
"Why were you called Eleven?"
"They told me I's child eleven arrived at camp twenty-seven."
"So you don't know any other name?" The copper head shook. "My name's Kalor. You may call me Kalor if you wish." Brue nodded. "And now, my young friend, I'll show you a few ways to defend yourself against bullies. Come, lad."
~~~
The next hour was great fun for Brue. He thrived with an adult who took an interest in him and forgot his spanking as he chuckled and giggled and learned a great deal. Kalor was amused and also impressed by the boy's quickness.
They'd just come to grips yet again when they were hailed by men who came into view, their comments to Kalor jocular and ribald, to which the forester replied in kind. This banter provoked much amusement. Brue paused in what he was doing, so Kalor took advantage of the boy's lapse in concentration to trip him neatly and send him face down in the leaf-mould. His face flushed and happy, Brue turned over and just lay there, laughing up at the forester.
As the men neared them, Kalor bent, put a hand down to the boy and pulled Brue to his feet. One of the men stopped as if he was transfixed, the others turned to say something to him, then they stopped too, their eyes puzzled. Kalor looked round and noticed, with raised eyebrows, how silent and still one of his friends was. He threw a careless hand on Brue's head and steered the boy forward.