Curses and Warfare

by Jeri Baird

  She gave them each a quick hug. “It’s been months. How are you?”

  “Ready for a break.” Paal groaned. “Zander pushes us to our limit.” He patted his belly. “Lost the last of my baby fat.”

  Dharien grinned. “With the way you eat, I don’t see how.” When he looked back to Alexa, his grin faded and sadness filled his eyes. He touched the scarf around her neck. “Why do you wear this?”

  “Because I hate that scar. It reminds me every day of the panther attack. It’s ugly.” She flushed, aware that Dharien must hate his own scar that ran across his cheek where he couldn’t hide it. She whispered, “Dharien, I’m sorry!”

  He pulled back and stared at the ground. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but it had been so long since they’d talked, she felt shy. An awkward silence fell between them.

  “Alexa?”

  She’d forgotten Zeph standing behind her. She spun to face him.

  He held out the basket. “Want me to take these to Zander?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’ll go with you.” She turned back to Dharien and Paal. “Maybe I’ll see you at the Welcoming Ceremony?”

  Paal brightened. “Let’s meet for the noon meal?”

  Dharien hesitated and then nodded. “Sure, let’s meet up.”

  “I’ll look for you.” She’d find a way to make up for her careless words. He had to understand it was different for boys. He looked strong with the scar on his cheek. She walked with Zeph to the stable. Although her heart ached at the pain she sensed in Dharien, she resisted the urge to look back.

  Inside, Zander sat with Greydon and Fulk. Maps covered the table, held at the corners with stones. The three leaned in, studying the gulch and northern border of the village. Shadow slept at Zander’s feet.

  Zeph set the basket in the middle of the map. “Alexa brought cinnamon rolls.”

  Zander looked up then. Alexa gasped at the dark circles under his eyes. “Have you not been sleeping?”

  He rubbed his temples. “I’ll catch up during the break. Greydon insists we stop training during the celebration.”

  “He’s not the only one exhausted.” Greydon regarded Zander. “Weary men make poor warriors.”

  She interjected, “And women. You have women warriors as well.”

  Fulk grabbed a roll and scraped his chair back, as if pulling away from a fight. Zeph disappeared into his room.

  Greydon looked up at her defiantly. “War is no place for girls.”

  She crossed her arms. She didn’t come to argue with Greydon, but she couldn’t let that slide. War was no place for anyone—male or female.

  Before she had a chance to speak, Zander half-rose and leaned forward to glare at Greydon. “I’m tired of this argument. Moira chose them. They stay.”

  “And when they die in battle? It’s not Moira who’ll tell their families.” Greydon didn’t wait for a reply. He jumped from his chair and strode toward the door. “See you after the celebration. Maybe you’ll have come to your senses by then.”

  Stunned, Alexa slumped into a chair. She’d never known Zander and Greydon to have words. She laid her hand on Zander’s arm. “I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

  He dropped his head into his hands. “You didn’t. It’s a daily discussion.” He reached into the basket.

  She waited until he finished the roll and was licking icing off his fingers. “I need to talk to you about Melina Odella.”

  Fulk grabbed another roll. “I’m off to the tavern.” He patted Alexa’s shoulder and nodded toward Zander. “A pint would do him good. Maybe you, too.” He whistled as he left.

  Zander turned weary eyes to Alexa. “What about Melina Odella?”

  He looked so miserable Alexa couldn’t bring herself to cause him more worry. She’d deal with Melina Odella without his help. “It’s not important. Get some sleep.” The relief on his face convinced her she’d made the right decision. “We’re celebrating Zeph’s birthday on the eve of the New Year. I’ll see you then?”

  “I’ll be there.” He stood. “Come on, Shadow. Time for bed.”

  He disappeared into his room, and Alexa sat for a moment alone. Before she told Zander he couldn’t count on the fortune-teller’s help, she’d come up with new plan. Zander needed her on his side.

  Chapter THIRTEEN

  Two Days Before the New Year

  Zander

  Zander leaned against the open door of the stable sipping a cup of hot cider. It was nearing mid-morning, and the grounds were empty except for Shadow chasing a hare. It had been a month since they’d hunted. Now, with two weeks off, maybe they’d have time. He massaged the back of his neck. Every day the warriors didn’t train left them that many days short of being ready for an invasion. And after twelve days of feasting the men and women would come back out of shape and out of practice.

  Greydon’s words still rankled Zander. Moira wouldn’t have picked the women if they weren’t going to be needed. He flinched thinking of spirited Kaiya hurt or worse. She trained as hard as any of the men and had emerged as a leader among the women. Kaiya. What he’d give for a few minutes alone with her. He sighed and tossed the dregs of the cider into the yard. Until the village was safe, he had no business thinking about her in that way.

  Another problem with having all those days off: too much time to obsess about all the things that could go wrong. If the invaders attacked, everyone he loved was in danger. It was his responsibility to protect them.

  He grabbed a pitchfork and headed for a stall. He’d taken on Fulk’s duties so the marshal could have a real holiday with his family. Zander sure wasn’t spending it with his. Father would be drunk, Mother overworked, and Alexa badgering him about his destiny as foretold by the cards.

  Stumbling out of his room, Zeph yawned. “Did I miss breakfast?”

  Zander snorted. “It’s near noon.” He nodded toward the small kitchen. “One cinnamon roll left. Help yourself.” He smiled at the look on Zeph’s face. The boy liked sweets as much as Zander did. He was quiet, too, which Zander appreciated. He’d enjoy spending more time with him. As much as Zander liked Greydon, his friend talked as much as Alexa. Sometimes they both wore him down.

  As Zander finished the last stall, Zeph wandered out of the kitchen with icing smeared on his cheek and headed straight to Helios’s stall. He fed the horse wrinkled apples and chuckled when Helios licked the sugar off his face.

  Zander thought back to a year ago when he was Zeph’s age and ready for his time of magic. He would have volunteered without a second thought if the village was in danger. Maybe Zeph was old enough to make the choice.

  Watching Zeph with Helios, Zander sighed. Over the holiday he’d work at breaking the war horse. Helios still didn’t tolerate more than a few minutes with Zander in the saddle. At least Zeph would be the only witness when he hit the ground.

  He joined Zeph at the gate to Helios’s stall. “How’s our favorite horse?”

  Zeph lay his ear against Helios’s neck. “He’s ready for a ride.”

  Huh. Was he joking? When Zeph’s solemn face turned, Zander saw the truth of his words. “Let’s get him saddled.”

  Zander pulled the reins off the wall, and Zeph slipped the bit between Helios’s teeth while Zander saddled the horse. He checked the girdle twice—not so tight as to be uncomfortable, not so loose it would slip.

  When Helios pawed at the ground, Zeph kept hold of the lead. Hesitant, he searched Zander’s eyes. “He’s nervous because you’re nervous. Until you’re calm, he’s going to throw you.”

  His racing heart told him Zeph spoke true. Zander rubbed his forehead. “It’s hard to stay calm when he throws me every time I ride.”

  “He won’t throw me.”

  “I can’t take the chance,” Zander said. Alexa would never forgive him if Zeph were injured.

  Zeph pleaded, “Let me
try.”

  The boy stood there with a calmness that Zander couldn’t begin to summon when he thought of riding the war horse. If Zeph could ride Helios, Zander would know it was his nerves that were the problem. He sucked in a deep breath. “Just around the circle.”

  Zeph swung up into the saddle, and Zander led Helios into the outside ring. He flipped the reins to Zeph. “Walk him.”

  Dumbfounded when Helios didn’t buck with Zeph, Zander said, “Let him trot.”

  The horse moved into a cantor, elegant and magnificent. Zeph seemed to blend with the horse. Zander realized what he must do if he was ever going to ride the stallion. The tension he carried weighed him down. He needed time in the forest to release the knot in his gut.

  He’d take Zeph with him. Zeph hid the same pain Zander felt at that age. Meditating in the forest, away from the clamor of the village, would be the answer for both of them.

  Chapter FOURTEEN

  Zephyr

  Zeph trotted Helios around the ring. On Helios’s back, Zeph joined with the horse’s power and grace. He soaked it in as a plowed field welcomes spring rains, and the feeling settled into his bones and strengthened him.

  When Zander motioned him to the stable door, Zeph reluctantly slowed Helios to a walk. He leaned forward and laid his head against the horse’s neck. He whispered so Zander wouldn’t think him foolish. “I love you, Helios.” Helios turned his head and nickered softly.

  As Zeph slid off the horse, Zander said, “After we groom Helios, let’s take the palfreys to the gulch.”

  Zeph brushed the horse, paying particular attention to Helios’s long black mane, untangling the knots with a gentle hand. He hoped Zander couldn’t hear his pounding heart. Zander went to the gulch when he was stressed, and he always went alone. What did it mean that Zander asked him to come with him? He gave Helios a bucket of oats and then saddled Lady.

  Outside the stables, light snow fell as the two trotted across Elder Warrin’s land and crossed the hand-wrought fence into Elder Terrec’s. As Shadow loped beside them, they skirted along the edge of the village until they reached the trail heading down.

  Zeph’s bay followed Star down the steep path. Pebbles tumbled down in front of them. Lady slid, but quickly recovered. Unlike Helios, she was steady, but Zeph would have gladly traded her calm for Helios’s spirit.

  “Almost there,” Zander called back.

  At the bottom of the gulch, Zeph followed Zander along the frozen creek bed east until they reached an old gnarled oak. A few stubborn brown leaves clung to the branches. Sheltered from the winds, the stagnant air was thick with the musty scent of rotting leaves. Zeph sneezed, disturbing the quiet of the sleeping winter forest.

  “This is the tree Alexa had the questers meet at during our quest.” Zander dismounted and tied Star loosely to an evergreen. She hoofed at the dusting of snow, searching for green shoots.

  Surprised that Zander mentioned his quest, Zeph tied Lady next to Star and waited. None of the questers from last year talked about their challenges from Fate. He knew only they had all returned, and Zander had announced to the villagers that Moira had called him to train warriors to save the village.

  “Zeph . . .” Zander’s voice trailed off.

  His energy rushed out and Zeph slumped against Lady. Was Zander unhappy with him? He didn’t want to return to the shacks.

  “You’re doing great in training. I couldn’t ask for a harder worker.” Zander rubbed the back of his neck. “Come, let’s sit.”

  Zander laid two coarse blankets on the ground and sat cross-legged with his back near the trunk of the oak. Shadow curled up next to him.

  After sliding down, Zeph imitated Zander’s posture. Straight spine, hands relaxed on his knees.

  “Do you meditate?”

  Zeph wasn’t sure what Zander meant, so he just shook his head.

  “Follow what I do.” Zander stilled. “Breathe in your nose for five counts, and hold it for six counts before breathing out through your mouth for seven counts.”

  Zeph’s exhalation created a cloud of vapor in the cold air. He shivered. Couldn’t they have meditated in the warm stable?

  After three counted rounds, Zander said, “Now, breathe normally, but as you do, imagine the energy from the earth filling you. Let it flow into your chest and out into your arms and legs.”

  He couldn’t figure out what earth energy felt like. If Zander had said the energy Zeph felt from Helios, he could have done it. He scratched at a sudden itch on his arm. Lady whinnied, and he opened his eyes. He couldn’t do this.

  As if reading his mind, Zander said, “This is your first time. You’ll get distracted. Each time you find yourself thinking of something else, bring your attention back to your breathing.”

  The longer they sat, the easier Zeph found it to let go of the thoughts running through his head. When his shoulders softened, the earth filled him with a warm energy that thrummed through his body, leaving him both calm and alert. His senses sharpened. He peeked at Zander. He sat straight, with his body relaxed. The worried look he often wore had disappeared. Maybe there was something to this.

  When Puck’s ghost whispered through the trees, Zeph didn’t flinch like he usually did, but his calm was broken.

  “Zander,” the voice floated from the east. “Unite the tribes and save the village.”

  “I’m trying, Puck. I’m trying.”

  “The boy can help.”

  Zeph’s heart quickened. Puck was talking about him?

  “Make the boy an assassin.” Puck’s voice faded away with, “Heed my words.”

  An assassin! Adrenaline raced through Zeph’s body, chasing the calm until it was only a memory. He trembled with the suddenness of it.

  Zander stared at Zeph. He looked as shocked as Zeph felt.

  A sudden clarity filled him. “I want it. Make me an assassin.”

  As if he hadn’t heard Zeph, Zander stood. “So much for meditating. Let’s head back.”

  They spoke not a word on the ride up the gulch wall. Back at the stables, they groomed Lady and Star in silence. In the quiet, Puck’s words repeated through Zeph’s head. Make the boy an assassin.

  Zander left for the manor and returned with roasted pheasant, glazed potatoes, and hot buttered rolls. They ate at a small table next to Helios’s stall. Three times Zander started to speak and stopped. He looked everywhere but at Zeph.

  He could take the silence no longer. Zeph cleared his throat. “What do I need to learn to be an assassin?”

  Startled, Zander looked up and turned red. “I’m not sure.” He stared at Zeph. “I can ask Geno.”

  The man with the scar. Zeph didn’t like the idea of spending more time with Geno, but he couldn’t expect Zander to know how to train an assassin. He set his fork down. “Why do you think Puck said that?”

  “I don’t know.” Zander rubbed the back of his neck. “Zephyr, you don’t have to do this. Puck’s been dead for ten generations. Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “I can do it.” And even though fear coursed through his body, pride made him stand a little straighter. As an assassin, he’d be important in the war. He cocked his head. Could he kill another? What if that person threatened the village or Zander?

  When Zander left to hunt with Shadow, Zeph had never felt so alone, and yet at the same time so much a part of a grand plan. His place in the village was suddenly bigger than he could have imagined.

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  Day Before the Twelve Day Feast

  Alexa

  Alexa dropped two loaves of apple cinnamon bread from the wood-fired oven onto the cooling counter. Expecting a lesson with Melina Odella, Alexa had woven malachite and azurite beads, meant to enhance visions, into the long braid hanging down her back. She was a fortune teller, not a baker, but here she was, sweating in a hot kitch
en.

  When she’d gone to Melina Odella’s cottage that morning, her teacher had dismissed her, saying, “I have other responsibilities during the feast days. I don’t have time for you to tag along.”

  The words had stung and ignited in Alexa a fury she still carried. She muttered, “I have power. I’ll show her I’m not a trifle.” She slid a tray of rolls into the oven and slammed the door.

  “Alexa! Be careful.” Mother grabbed the second tray of breads Alexa had picked up. “What’s wrong with you today?”

  Mother’s canary chattered in the ornate cage hanging in the corner near the door. She reminded Alexa that she no longer had her own patron, and her anger heightened. “This isn’t my calling. I should be with the fortune-teller, not stuck in this infernal kitchen baking for arrogant rich people.”

  “Watch your words. If the elders don’t feel welcome, there are other bakers on whom they can spend their coin. It’s not the peasants we earn our living from.”

  “Zander’s going to change that. Soon, the elders won’t have all the power in the village.”

  “Hush.” Mother glanced around the kitchen as if someone would hear. “That’s nonsense talk. The elders have always held the land. That’s not going to change.”

  Alexa bit the inside of her cheek. Zander would change things. A thought crept into her mind. She could stitch an embroidery that would help. She needed to talk to him.

  “Mother? Are you caught up?”

  Pursing her lips, Mother nodded. “Eva’s coming to help. You can leave.”

  “Thanks. I need to see Zander.”

  “Zander?” She brightened. “Take him this carrot cake. And make sure he’s coming tonight?”

  “I will.” Alexa rushed from the kitchen before guilt made her stay. But stars! She was a fortune-teller, not a baker. She shouldn’t have to justify it.

  She ran up the stairs to her room, slung her bag of cloth and thread over her shoulder, and slipped out the back door to avoid seeing Father drunk in his chair. She carried the cake in a woven basket covered with a yellow cloth to hide the treat. Today was supposed to be a day of fasting.