Chapter Eight

The sound of wood snapping, produced by Marta breaking kindling for the cooking fire, woke Tarn. In the light of the day, he appraised his new surroundings. Marta's sleeping furs lay on the far side of the fire on a platform raised off the ground like the one he and Shaurii occupied. Shaurii laid beside him, snuggled deeply under the warm hides, facing the wall, fast asleep. The hut was a round structure with a waterproof hide stretched tightly over water-shaped and fire-hardened supports with a hole in the middle to let the smoke out.

He watched Marta's hands. Her moves were quick and efficient as she fed the smokeless fire, taking six-foot lengths of dry kindling the thickness of his arm and snapped them into manageable pieces with a quick twist of her wrists. Hanging beside the entrance on Marta's side of the hut stood a sword almost as long as his father's, as well as several spears. His father's sword and scabbard rested in the corner on his side.

"Are ye going to laze about all day, Tarn? Get up and go fetch me a bucket of water," Marta said looking across her shoulder.

Without a word, Tarn slid out from underneath the warm hides. Chill air yet to be warmed by the fire, greeted him. Once dressed, he accepted the wooden bucket from Marta, wondering how she knew that he did not sleep. He had not made a sound or moved.

Upon exiting the hut, he inspected the village. There were roughly eight dozen conical-shaped huts and a variety of long wooden lodges capable of accommodating many people for feasts and village gatherings. Many huts were large structures, the headman's hut was the largest by far, but none were smaller than Marta's hut. The sight of a boy exiting the neighbouring hut interrupted his examination of the village. The boy carried a water bucket.

When their eyes met, the boy said, "This way," and trotted off in the direction of the spring.

Tarn hitched up the bucket and followed in silence swinging his gaze this way and that taking in the differences between a mountain village with its dirt paths and animal hide structures. Within Atlantean city limits, sandstone and basalt stone buildings and cobblestone venues replete with large fountains with running water were the norm. The structures he looked upon more resembled those of the mainland villagers who supplied produce and other goods to the more modern city. A short distance later he heard water, then sighted a thin sheet of rushing water cascading off a twenty-foot high waterfall and continue down the mountain in a small, serpentine stream filled with white-capped rapids. When Tarn reached the stream, the other boy held his bucket under the flowing water.

"My name be Dakkon. Ye be Tarn," he stated as a matter-of-fact.

Bequeathed a heavy heart, Tarn nodded silent acknowledgement. Dakkon was three years older than Tarn and considerably bigger. Perhaps he would have said more had Tarn replied, but at that point, his bucket overflowed, and he returned to the village carrying it with one hand without splashing water on his leg.

Tarn moved to the waterfall and filled his bucket. Brimming with water, it quickly grew burdensome. The laborious weight forced him to carry it with two hands where it bumped and sloshed water on his left leg. By the time he reached the hut, he was out of breath and the bucket was now a little more than half full. His arms ached. Expended and wet, he entered the hut to see Shaurii shaping the dough with her seven-year-old hands.

"Bring it over here, Tarn." Noting his wet leggings Marta added, "Next time draw half a bucket."

Marta prepared grey porridge. Large, flat slate rocks held browning dough at the edge of the fire. As the dough cooked, Shaurii flipped it back and forth until it showed light golden brown. Tarn accepted his hot bannock in silence, juggling it from hand to hand. When Shaurii cooled her piece, she blew on it while flipping it from one side to the other. Tarn emulated his hut sister. The grey porridge that followed was not only filling but tasty. Honey and berries rendered it sweet and flavourful. He downed the contents of the bowl and held it out to Marta for more.

"If ye be hungry, chew on this," said Marta, and took the bowl from his hands, replacing it with a thick strip of smoked meat. As Tarn accepted the proffered meat, Shaurii giggled. "Ye be silent girl, or thee will be eating strips for lunch."

Duly admonished, Shaurii gathered the eating implements, but not before catching Tarn's eye and bestowing him a co-conspirator's quick, hidden smile. Ere Tarn worked out the meaning of this, Marta instructed, "Out with ye now, and fetch another bucket, and one for each of us after that for bathing."

He placed the strip of smoked meat between his teeth, then picked up the bucket and left for the waterfall, where he filled the bucket to the top and trudged back carrying it with uneven, bumping steps. On the return trip, he passed two other boys near his age and size carrying buckets to be filled. When he breached the hut's hide-covered entrance, wet and gasping for breath, Marta took the bucket from him with a "Harrumph" after noting his damp condition.

"Sit by the fire and dry your clothes."

In sombre silence, he sat down to finish the tough meat strip. Though it tasted leathery and bland, he chewed it without complaint, while Marta and Shaurii washed and dried the eating implements. When they were done, the fire had almost steam-dried his leggings.

"Take the bucket beyond the edge of the village opposite of the stream and dump it in the pit, and then fill it again."

Tarn's arms and legs were becoming stiff, but he complied without objection. As he exited the hut, he heard Marta "Harrumph" again, and say to Shaurii, "That lad be as stubborn as his father, and then some if I judge his character true."

Her statement filled Tarn's heart with warmth, lightening the heavy sadness that robbed him of speech. His legs and arms lost some of their soreness. Slower than the previous trips, he returned cold and wet and tired.

Marta stared at him reproachfully while saying, "Sit by the fire and dry off, again."

Glad for the opportunity to rest, he did as told, secretly content to have reason to rest beside the hearth. The ice-cold stream water made his teeth chatter and had stiffened his muscles. When his clothes dried, Marta handed him and Shaurii a leather bag each, saying, "Come along children, we go to pick berries and plants."

Marta and Shaurii exited the hut while Tarn climbed stiffly to his feet.

The morning passed quickly with Marta showing him what berries and roots were preferable and which were not. She showed him plants that relieved pain, would make him sleep, or give him energy, clear his bowels or bind them. Some of the plants were the same as his father had shown him, but many varieties were new. All of the women and children foraged in one group, happily chattering and calling out to one another.

Shaurii picked at his side in silence for the first few hours and then began to ask innocent questions about Atlantis. Tarn answered her in short sentences laced with monosyllable replies.

"Don't be sad, Tarn. Thee have another mother and a new sister now."

"I am not sad," he denied stubbornly. "My father and mother live now in Valhalla. One day I, too, shall be a warrior and kill the raiders who slew my father and then join them at Vulcan's feast table."

* * * * * * *

The weeks passed slowly for Tarn. Morose and sombre, he kept to himself, preferring quiet solitude to amicable company with other children. Shaurii was the only child he spoke to regularly, and he avoided words with Marta unless directly spoken to.

Marta strongly discouraged mischief in the hut. Whenever he stepped over the hut boundaries, Shaurii interceded on his behalf. During the initial weeks following Connor's death, Marta worried over his solitary, speechless habits, but felt her heart warm as she watched Tarn and Shaurii grow close. Once or twice Marta pretended not to notice when a piece of bread went missing, or when Shaurii doled out an extra-large bowl of porridge for her new brother. Last night Marta had scolded them to be quiet as they giggled and laughed amongst themselves under the sleeping hides. Only the threat of meat strips for two meals brought silence. Secretly, Marta smiled at Tarn's increasingly normal behaviour.