Chapter 12: The Stolen Year

Chapter 12: The Stolen Year

Hemarland Island

The Free Waters

Three Years Later

The Stolen Year

All the children in the village became a year older on the day of the winter ceremony. Kalen had been looking forward to it for weeks. On the night before the big event, he couldnt sleep. He lay on his mattress in his upstairs room, covered in furs, listening to the sounds of his cousins through the thin wall that separated his familys half of the long cabin from his Uncle Holvs half.

They werent sleeping any better than he was, even though their ceremony day wouldnt be as exciting as his.

Kalen would be eight tomorrow, and when a boy turned eight, he would have his first wrestling match. With the whole village watching! Kalen had planned the event carefully with the other two boys hed be fighting tomorrow. He had suggested to them that each of them should be careful to give the others at least one interesting bruise during the match, and they had agreed enthusiastically when he explained why this was necessary.

The fight itself lasted for only a few minutes, but a bruise would stick for days. And every time one of the adults saw it, they would clap you on your back and congratulate you again on being a brave man. He had observed this effect last year, when his cousin Lander had his own match.

Kalen was unlikely to be victorious tomorrow, but a good bruise would bring him some glory at least.

Lost in these pleasant imaginings, he was startled when he felt the shiver. It wasnt cold. His room was directly above the long cabins hearth fire, which burned nearly all night in winter.

It was the other thing.

It had been happeningfor a while. More than a year, Kalen thought. But hed only realized what caused it a couple of months ago. If he went outside, he knew hed see the aurora in the night sky. The big, too-colorful one.

Kalen had asked, but nobody else could feel it when it happened. They thought he was probably imagining things.

If he was imagining things, it wouldnt be so bothersome. The shiver felt like it was trying to press its way through his skin. It was an eerie sensation, so he envisioned himself pressing back.

It lessened the discomfort. A little bit.

He and the shiver went on like this, one of them pressing in and the other pressing out, until morning came and brought with it so much excitement that Kalen could ignore the minor annoyance altogether. He would be eight today!

At first light, Jorns small family and Holvs large one gathered in the long cabins shared main room. The men had prepared two large washtubs, and pots of water were boiling on the hob. Their wives had unpacked the embroidered ceremony clothes from the chest where they were kept most of the year.

Jayne, Holvs wife, was deft with a needle, and her husbands travels kept her well-supplied with colored thread. The flowers on the girls dresses and the leaping stags on the boys coats were the most beautiful in the village.

After Kalen had scrubbed himself clean in the tub, and then been scrubbed even cleaner by his overzealous mother, his aunt called him over to receive his ceremony coat. He took it from her, admiring the antlered deer and the berry bushes that decorated the shoulders.

Thank you, Aunt Jayne. Ill take it off during the ceremony, so I dont get any blood on it.

Lander had gotten blood and a large rip in his own coat last year, and though Aunt Jayne had said it was fine, Kalen had seen her crying over the coat when nobody else was paying attention.

You wont be turning eight this year, Kalen, said Shelba, now scrubbing the littlest cousin, Iless, behind her knees with a brush. Youll be seven again. We mustve got your age wrong from the very beginning.

As was her custom, Kalens mother delivered bad news with a voice hard as stone.

In most people, this voice induced an instant desire to surrender themselves to the inevitable. Aunt Jayne and all six of her children froze like rabbits scenting a wolf. Iless covered her face with her hands.

Ill go draw some more water! Uncle Holv said, nearly running from the room.

Jorn glared after him, obviously unhappy that his brother had been so quick to steal the easiest escape route.

What? said Kalen, staring at his mother. Everyone in the household knew he hadnt misheard her, because the sting of utter betrayal he felt was perfectly clear from his voice.

Youre obviously too small to be eight. Shelba's tone brooked no argument. Its best that you be seven for another year, so that all is put to rights.

No, said Kalen, trying and failing to sound like stone himself. Im going to be eight! Im going to fight Clem and Ogro and finally be a man of the village.The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

I wont have you brawling with boys head and shoulders taller than you. Youll lose a tooth or have your wits knocked out of you.

She wasn't even looking at him. She knew she was being unfair! Everyone in the room knew it, too. The other childrenespecially Lander, who had fought so honorably last year at his own ceremonyappeared to mortified on Kalens behalf.

Kalen blinked. Read?

What was this? Kalen was so focused on the winter ceremony that it took him a while to figure out why his father was offering such a strange thing in lieu of his eighth birthday. Oh. Thats right.

Readingwas something that had been very important to him when he first came here. Kalen remembered. Of course he did. Tomas Orellen had told him he must learn to read as soon as possible. And he had asked for lessons several times when hed first arrived on the island.

But neither his father nor his mother could read more than a few basic words. Almost nobody in their small village could. None of them had ever told him he shouldnt learn to read, but they also didnt take his requests very seriously. And Kalen had been busy with so many interesting and wonderful distractionsparents, cousins, neighbors, snow, pigs, friendsthat the matter had just faded.

Sometimes, he went months without thinking about his other name. He was Kalen, son of Jorn.

Kalenerth Orellen was an unwelcome intrusion.

Now, looking at his fathers kind face, his heart clenched in his chest at the reminder that the whole shape of his life teetered atop a single, unfathomable lie.

Somewhere, he had other parents. Strange, wizarn parents who hadnt wanted him. Why?

And he had siblings. Too many siblings.

A woman couldnt give birth to as many children as Kalen had met in that room. Even Sleepy, who was now the finest and most productive sow in the whole pig barn, hadnt made that many piglets yet.

Something was terribly wrong about Kalens past, and he had neither the desire nor the ability to fully understand it. He only knew that the truth, if it was ever discovered, would hurt his father and likely kill his mother. The secret and the guilt that belonged with it would go with Kalen to his very grave.

He was suddenly sorry that hed fought with Shelba. He would be seven until he was twenty if it made her happy.

I dont have to read! he said quickly. Ill be seven another year. Its fine.

Do you not want to learn anymore? Jorn asked, brushing more icy melting snow off Kalens head. I remember you had a strong urge toward it for a while. Thes no harm to it and some good, I think.

Ah, now here was a problem. Kalen no longer wanted to learn reading. The whole time he spent learning would also be time spent remembering why he was learning. It would be uncomfortable to always be thinking about his past.

But his father had just made it impossible for him to refuse without sounding lazy.

Maybe, if he refused, Jorn would ask why he no longer wanted to read, and he would have to make up another lie about it. Maybe the lie would sound suspicious. Maybe it would lead to the uncovering of the original, unspeakable lie.

What should I do? UmI guess I do want to learn to read. But only a little.

His father smiled. We will find a teacher, then. And books!

Kalen did his best to smile back.

#

That afternoon, under the pale winter sky, Kalen stood with a group of four other children in the middle of the village round and became seven again. They were all given a small cloth bag full of sweets, and everyone congratulated them.

Several of the adults did shoot raised eyebrows at Shelba, but she pretended not to notice. Kalen pretended not to notice, too. Hed worried the other seven year olds and eight year olds would tease him, but the sevens were mostly interested in their candy. And the eights, who no longer received the sweet bags, were mostly interested in talking Kalen into sharing his with them.

In the end, it was a smaller matter than he had thought. But it was still heartbreaking when Ogro and Clem had their wrestle, and everyone cheered them on wildly. In a surprise upset, Clem managed to pin Ogro to the frozen earth first.

It was a good start to the festivities. Almost all of the adult men wrestled each other, and some of the women, too. There was a lot of beer going around for the grown-ups and plenty of food for everyone. And by nightfall, everybodys blood was warm enough that the short hike down the rocky slopes to the nearest beach didnt seem like such a trial.

Jorn carried Kalen on his shoulders, singing a song with Uncle Holv, both of them very loud and off-rhythm.

The bonfire had already been built and lit. It looked even huger than Kalen remembered from past years. The fire crackled and roared, sending sparks spiraling up toward the stars and staining the ice that covered the sea orange with its light.

When it was Kalens turn to feed the raging fire a dead twig to burn away his old year and welcome the new one, he stood as close as he dared. It was so nice to be hot for a change.

I remember when every day was hot.I remember when snow was just a word from other lands.

The thought wasn't Kalen's. Or rather, it was a thought from inside of him that he knew didn't belong to him. It had happened before on rare occasions. It was weird, but it didn't feel like something he had to worry over.

Still, the strangeness was more unwelcome than usual today. Kalen threw his twig at the fire as hard as he could, wishing he could burn away more of the past than a single year.