Double Star

by Cindy Saunders

  “Do not rush,” Franz said. “If you manage gold, I promise the rump for you and your friends. Sweetest part of the whole pig.”

  “Ah... a true friend you are,” Shane replied and licked his lips.

  Franz smiled and basted the crisping skin. “Good luck today.”

  Beyond the pig pit were tables laden with roast mutton, beef, poultry, and spring lamb. As the boys passed, they heard the hungry crowd calling out their requests. The smell of cakes, pies, sweetmeats, and fried dough, hot out of the oil, met their noses.

  The boys moved into the shadow of one of the grand arenas. A sign directed interested adults down a path to Brewers Lane. There, one could find tents with whiskey, rums, brandy, and mead. Kegs of freshly brewed ale lined the row. At the entrance, a bald man wearing a pair of leather breeches, his flesh covered in blue ink, was engraving a likeness of a bird on a young man’s arm. The boy’s eyes were closed and his mouth twisted with every touch of the needle.

  “He is not enjoying that much,” Ian said.

  “Mine did not cause much discomfort,” Oisin replied, and lifted his shirtsleeve. On his upper arm was the head of a wolf. He bowed to three girls who walked by.

  “You had a couple of pints before yours, if I recall,” Corm said. He nudged Liam and pointed to a sign on the left. “Illusion Alley. You could find out what is going to happen between you and Olivia.”

  “I am sure I can learn that on my own.” What would he say if he ran into her? He did not know, but was beginning to think avoidance might be the best course.

  They finally reached the stadium that marked the end of the fairgrounds. A sign on a wooden post read:

  Pavilion 1

  Avian Challenge

  Perception and Perspective – Poseidon’s Pool

  The modest open-air arena offered seating for at least a thousand spectators. For those wanting to expend the coin, more comfortable accommodations were available in the shade under the cover of the structure’s half dome. All seats looked to the west, over an oval five-hundred-meter track where the grass in the center had not been cut since midsummer last year. Liam saw that a few hundred people were already seated, waiting for the competition to begin.

  Corm whistled under his breath. “I did not realize there would be this many people.”

  “Do not concern yourself with them,” Ian said, and put an arm around Corm. “You will do fine.”

  “I noticed Petr Knight on the list of names for your challenge,” Oisin said. “His reputation precedes him. Are you ready to compete against his physical abilities?”

  “Unfortunately, I doubt it,” Corm replied.

  Oisin looked into the sky. “I can tell you his Achilles’ heel: the lighting. Do not doubt your skills. Never forget where your real power lies.” He pointed to his right eye.

  A short, stout man walked to the middle of the stadium and pulled a scroll from his breeches. “Would all of the Aves please join me?”

  Corm exhaled and walked through the gate. He stood next to four boys who embodied similar characteristics: tall, thin, but muscular in their upper torsos.

  “Not many of us this year,” Oisin said.

  “Ah, but more are on their way.” Shane motioned to a group of younger boys sitting together.

  Ian began his ascent into the stands. “We need to find a seat.”

  “Ian, I am sure we will be able to secure one,” Shane said.

  “Aye, but keep in mind, for you—we need two.”

  The man in the center of the arena clapped his hands and cleared his throat. “Welcome, ladies and gent lemen, girls and boys, to the annual Festival of Ascencia.”

  The crowd cheered and, after a moment, he held up his hand. “My name is Wilford Merrybottom, and I have the honor of being your host for this year’s games. This is the Avian Challenge and the contest today involves finding four rings. Two are hidden in the grass to my right,” he motioned to the center field. “The largest is made of gold and weighs five-hundred grams. It rests on a set of stakes, fifty centimeters off the ground. The second ring is made of silver, and weighs two-hundred-fifty grams. It was tossed randomly from somewhere along the track’s edge. The third and fourth rings are constructed from grass cuttings and each weighs less than one-hundred grams. One is somewhere on the ground in the center field; the other serves as a halo atop a pine tree within the fairgrounds. A yellow-green ribbon is affixed to the latter ring, to avoid confusion with area nests.

  “The winner will be marked based on the following point system: Each ring has a value of twenty-five points and contestants can collect any number of rings they choose. The first one to return to the X at my feet,” he pointed down, “receives twenty-five points. The second to return gains an additional ten points and the third, five points. Anyone who finishes after the third party will not receive points, regardless of the number of rings collected. The task will be considered incomplete if one returns to the X without a ring.” He paused to take a breath. “Do the contestants understand these rules?”

  The five boys nodded.

  “When I say to take your marks, be ready.”

  Corm looked into the stands.

  “He looks a bit white, I am afraid,” Shane said. “I hope his nerves do not get the better of him.”

  “Mark!” Wilford yelled. One by one, the boys raised their arms and bent their knees. “Muutos!”

  In unison, the boys’ bodies began to quiver; their features became a blur. There was no flash of light, no cloud of smoke, no clothes fell to the ground but, within seconds and rather simply, four of the five young men were replaced by large birds.

  Chapter 5

  Rising into the air were a hawk, a falcon, an osprey, and an eagle. One boy lost focus in his transition but, within a few seconds, he transformed into a harrier and joined the others above the arena.

  Nine months before, Corm’s star had changed into the outline of a bird and he assumed his form as the hawk. Liam watched him take to the air. The only contestant that appeared as strong was the eagle, Petr, who climbed to a great height and then vectored off toward East Street.

  Corm flew to the shaded area of the field. He sat on the branch of an oak tree and stared into the grass. “Well done, Corm. Use your strength,” Oisin said while the others, flying in and out of the sun, were coming up empty in their attempts. After a moment, Corm left his perch and, in his first pass, dropped low and returned to the sky with silver in his talons.

  “Atta boy!” Shane shouted and clapped Oisin on the back.

  Corm flew to a tall pine on the west side of the track. He screeched and, within a moment, the harrier joined him.

  The eagle returned seconds later, holding the grass ring that had been hidden atop one of the trees. “I knew Petr would be the real competition,” Oisin said. “He was smart to get that ring first. He would not want to carry the gold around while searching for the others.”

  “And look how he flies from east to west, into the wind upon his return,” Ian said, watching the eagle make a run into the breeze. “His progress is slower, but he can spend more time scanning the grasses.” The other birds were circling, but each one’s occasional dive turned up nothing.

  “Why are they both just sitting there?” Shane asked, pointing to Corm and the harrier.

  When a stiff breeze came in, Corm left the branch. The harrier followed, and they flew a few meters above the grass. The eagle flew in the opposite direction more than halfway across the field. Corm let out a screech and looked to the ground. The harrier reached down and came up with the gold ring.

  Ian nodded. “Ah, smart move. He kept the eagle from taking the gold, while forcing the harrier to finish. Look.” The bird, unable to carry the weight, flew to the X and landed.

  The eagle reached the end of the field and turned to start another pass. Corm initiated one as well, and both raced toward the center of the arena.

  “It appears they both see the final ring. It is hawk versus eagle.” Shane began to shi
ft in his seat.

  Corm, the first to extend his claws, grabbed the grass ring and began to climb at a steep angle. The eagle could not pull up in time and his beak made contact with the silver in Corm’s talon. Petr dropped the ring he carried before falling toward the ground. The falcon and osprey dove toward the freed article.

  Corm spread his wings and coasted to the X. He shook his outstretched feathers and was back in human form. The falcon won the race for the grass ring and landed next to him seconds later. Corm walked to the two men helping Petr to his feet and, when it was clear the boy’s only injury was to his pride, he joined the others in the center of the arena. The cheering crowd was on their feet. Under the dome, Ian’s father flew the Pembroke flag high. Wilford stepped to the center of the field and held up his hands.

  “Well done, lads, well done,” he shouted. “Congratulations in opening the games with an exciting first event. I am told that Petr Knight will be fine.” He glanced at the scroll in his hand. “The medalists in this year’s Avian Challenge are… starting with the Bronze: Thomas Hunter, representing the stake of Greenwich.” He placed a bronze medallion around the falcon-boy’s neck. They shook hands and he went on. “The Silver is earned by Whitey Fischer from the stake of Waite.” He laid a silver medal upon the boy who represented the harrier. “And this year’s winner of the gold is…” He squinted and looked at the parchment in his hands. “I cannot read my own handwriting. The winner is…” He looked at Corm.

  “Cormac Jeuter,” Corm replied softly.

  “Cormac Jeuter,” Wilford shouted, grabbing Corm’s arm and holding it high. “From?”

  “Pembroke,” Corm said, a bit louder this time.

  “Representing the stake of Pembroke!” He placed the gold medal around Corm’s neck. “Please,” Wilford shouted over the cheering crowd, “make your way to the Kenyon Coliseum for the next event, The Sprint of Apollo!”

  Ian’s father rushed from the stands. “Gentlemen from Pembroke, these games belong to us!”

  Shane threw his arms around Corm and lifted him from the ground. “Congratulations!”

  “That was for my mother,” Corm said when the crowd around him had thinned. He grinned and touched the gold that hung from his neck. In its center was a raised swan.

  It was the middle of the afternoon when they exited the North Central Pavilion after Oisin’s challenge.

  “Why did you refuse the medal?” Ian asked Oisin. They had all been more than surprised when Oisin declined the gold.

  “Jonas won the competition. He was the first to return. I decided to relinquish that honor—”

  “Excuse me. That was very impressive, rescuing that little boy like you did.” The girl behind them looked at Oisin as if he had fallen from the heavens.

  “Would you like to know my secret?” Oisin asked with a wink.

  “Oh, yes!”

  He put an arm around her, and smiled at Corm before he disappeared into the crowd.

  Shane looked at them in disbelief. “Why are the lasses attracted to him like bees to honey? I will never understand it.” He shook his head. “I have a suggestion. My competition is the last of the day and, while I am saving my appetite for the pig, I could use something to hold me over. I propose we sample some of the lighter fare.”

  They walked together until they reached Illusion Alley. Liam remembered from past years that the dignitaries’ tent would be set up where that footpath ended and East Street began. “I need to find my father,” he said. “I will meet you at the arena in plenty of time for Shane’s match.”

  He passed men who breathed fire, swallowed swords, and performed magic while their companions called out and requested a few coins in return for the entertainment. Children and their parents looked on, fascinated. Gypsy tents advertised readings into the future or connections to the past. He glanced to his right. A pretty girl stared back at him. “Come in,” she said. “Ariana can tell you everything you want to know.” The r’s rolled from her lips.

  Liam read the sign on the tent: “The North Star – What does your future hold for you?” Ah… a seer.

  “You have much on your mind. I can see that from here,” she said, trying to lure him in. “Care to let me take a peek? Perhaps I can offer advice.”

  His feet slowed their movement. She was perhaps twenty, and wearing a low-cut peasant blouse. Her curly black hair fell midway down her back. Her skin was light but her lips were dark red and, when he looked into her pale blue eyes, he was hypnotized.

  “Why not?” he replied before he could stop himself.

  She opened the tent flap and pointed to a chair. He pulled a coin from his pocket and slid it across the table. She looked at the various objects in front of her: a round piece of glass, a mound of colored stones, and a deck of cards.

  “For you, I will read these,” she said, picking up the cards.

  Tarot cards. He knew because there was a deck at home. His family had played Troggu, when things were different, but they never used them for fortunetelling.

  When the cards were shuffled to her satisfaction, she pulled seven from the top and laid them face down in a semicircle. “You have the Merrow’s eyes, very unusual,” she said. “They are beautiful.”

  Why had he agreed to this nonsense? He sat back and crossed his arms but, as he looked at her, the intensity of her eyes changed, their color turning to a dark, deep blue... a seer’s eyes.

  “These cards,” she said, pointing from left to right, “represent your past, present, and future.” She turned over the first. “The Three of Swords. Your life has been in disorder, and this has left you feeling confused. I see loss and sorrow. So sad to have this card represent your past but remember, pain is necessary in life.” She revealed the next. “The Hanged Man. There have been changes but at present you feel… abandoned. You make sacrifices but to no avail.” She looked up at him. “So young to have had so much…”

  She flipped the third card and her face brightened; her eyes shifted and swelled like waves. “Ah, the Ace of Cups. This means new friendship or romance is about to begin. Hard to tell, but I see harmony and balance. Good signs.” She turned over the next card and looked at it hard.

  “What is it?”

  “Odd. This is the Lovers card.” It showed a man standing between two women. “This also means beginning of relationship, but more intense than the Ace. This is meant for only the strongest of romance. It signifies trust, honor, and deep love. I have never seen them drawn side by side.”

  “What does it mean?”

  She nibbled her lower lip. “It is possible the cards represent the same relationship. Or they could represent two different connections. If that is the case, it could create much discord.”

  He was thinking about Olivia when she interpreted the meaning of the first card but—were their lives intertwined in the second as well?

  “Do you presently have girlfriend?”

  He smiled. “I was hoping that was something you could tell me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I will take that as no, but I think that is about to change. How can someone like you be alone?”

  “No time,” he answered.

  “You must make time. Your heart needs nourishment as well as the rest of you. Shall we continue?”

  The next card showed two serpents wrapped around a circle. “The Wheel of Fortune. This signifies change, the hands of Fate and Destiny at work. Unexpected events will lead to good fortune or to bad luck and failure. It is up to you.”

  Was she serious? His future could be good or bad? This reading was so ambiguous, she would be correct no matter what happened.

  She turned the next card over. “The Chariot. A journey is in your future. You need to persevere and be mindful of rash decisions. This could lead to defeat and loss.”

  Well, finally, something he could smile about.

  “You seem more excited about the Chariot than you do about the Lovers. Most would look forward to love rather than adventure. You do not agree?”


  “No,” he replied.

  She turned over the last card. On its face was a star, and she hesitated.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “The Star is one of the most misinterpreted tarots. Depending on the situation, it has different meanings. Taken into context with the rest of your reading?” She swept her hand over the other six. “I see good things. The light of the Star will lead you on the right path. You will accomplish what you set out to do if you stay true. If you veer and are not strong, I see unfulfilled hopes, immense disappointment and, ultimately… great loss. The Star represents faith, so it is up to you.” She looked again at the cards, and caught her breath when her eyes fell upon the last one. “The Star...”

  He leaned forward. “Are you all right?”

  “Did you not see it? The card changed for instant. It was no longer the Star, but the Ace of Swords. I… I have never seen anything like it.”

  “What is the Ace of Swords?”

  “That card is as powerful as the sword it represents. The sword can serve justice or evil. It depends on who is wielding it. Either way, nothing can stand in its path. I have only heard about the cards changing. I have never seen it. That means the Star and the Sword are connected, somehow.” Her eyes were, once again, a pale blue color

  He got awkwardly to his feet. “Thank you.”

  She glanced at his neck. “Wait. You are Shayeen?”

  He nodded.

  “You must come back. That changes the reading but I need to confer with my aunt to determine the meaning of the cards. Promise me you will do that.”

  He sighed and, knowing he was not being truthful, agreed. He left the tent confused—a confusion that deepened when he heard a voice call his name.

  Liam looked up and it took a moment. It had only been four months since he had seen him, but his father appeared… older. Jon Cheveyo’s closely trimmed beard and mustache were now tinged with gray. Even his long, dark hair was beginning to show signs of it at his temples.

  “William, my son!” His father embraced him and took a step back. “Is everything all right? How are you? Where is Meg?”