by Jeri Baird
Once all seven questers were seated, Father Chanse rapped his knuckles against the wall. “We’re here to help you understand the tokens and omens you will receive in the coming months.”
Pacing behind the circle of chairs, Melina Odella said, “Some of you may have already earned tokens for good deeds. It’s important you keep them safe, for if lost or misplaced, they cannot help you during the quest. However, the omens you earn for bad behavior will appear during the quest whether you carry them or not. As you accumulate these trinkets, we’ll play games of strategy using your tokens to defeat your omens. This is theory. The quest will play out as it will, and is always full of surprises. Moira will test you.”
Zeph’s bag was empty. He’d earned no tokens, no omens.
“The most common way to receive omens is by committing the five deadly sins.” Father Chanse’s boots clicked on the stone floor until he stopped behind Zeph’s chair. “I’ll begin with the sin of pride. When you think only of yourself as better than another, or that your gifts come from yourself and are not given by God, you are prideful. The omen for pride is a peacock.”
Zeph felt his face heat when the other students stared at him. Was Father Chanse making an example of Zeph by standing behind him?
“Humility cures pride. Allow other’s needs to come before your own.” Melina Odella held out a sparrow token. “You’ll receive one of these for being humble. It may seem foolish, but when you’re tired and alone in the forest, a muster of peacocks can overwhelm you with their pecking. Tossing out one sparrow token will vanquish one peacock.”
The priest continued his pacing. “The second sin is envy, the longing to possess something belonging to another. The omen is a scorpion.”
“And the cure is kindness,” the fortune-teller added. “The token being a dove. If a scorpion appears during the quest and you throw out a dove token, the bird will eat the scorpion.”
“The third sin is anger, represented by the hornet,” the priest said. “Too many stings in the quest can be fatal.”
Melina Odella quirked her mouth. “Patience cures wrath. The token is a turtle. The lowly turtle loves to snap up hornets. You may receive other tokens and omens. Moira likes to get creative.”
One of the girls raised her hand. “What about our patrons? Does the kind we get mean anything?”
“Your animals are given by Moira as extra encouragement to do good deeds.” The priest rubbed his hands together. “One of your tasks is to discover how your patron might help in the quest. They are a token you can use if your life is in danger.”
“However,” Melina Odella added, “if you use them in the quest, they disappear. You will bond with your animal. You need to earn enough tokens to avoid the heartache of losing yours.” She walked around the room and handed each teen a wooden token representing their patron. “Guard these well.”
Zeph shook his head at the small carved donkey. Dorothy. What help could she be?
“Still having your patron after the quest strengthens your favor.” Melina Odella nodded at the silver wolf sleeping in the corner. “Sheba has been my constant companion. And because of Moira’s magic, your patron will live as long as you do, so it’s your lifetime friend.”
One of the boys spoke up, “If we. . . .” He swallowed. “If we don’t survive the quest, what happens to our patron?”
Sympathy softened Melina Odella’s face. “If that happens, the patron is dissolved.”
“They die?”
She nodded and the questers looked at each other with grim faces.
What if he died in the war before the quest? Would Dorothy survive? Zeph’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to know the answer.
“Since we’re talking about our patrons, Chanse and I had a surprise visit from Moira. She wants us to train you with your patrons.”
Train? Zeph sucked in his breath. Dorothy?
“She’s assured us the patrons will be important in this quest. Next week we’ll meet at the Quinary. Bring your patrons.”
The other questers perked up. Zeph recounted their patrons. A sparrow, a crow, two owls, a snipe, and a hawk. And Dorothy.
Father Chanse dismissed class. “We’ll finish with the deadly sins next class.”
When Zeph stood, Father held up his hand. “Zephyr?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Your donkey will be a special challenge. He . . .”
“Not a he.”
Father Chanse wrinkled his forehead. “What?”
“My donkey’s a jenny.”
“Are you sure?”
Zeph’s cheeks burned. “I can tell.”
“Well, uh, then . . . she’s not a patron we’ve seen before, but Moira doesn’t make mistakes. We’ll trust she’ll show us how to use a donkey in the quest.”
Melina Odella smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, Zeph.”
As Zeph rushed out the door, he heard Father Chanse mutter, “A female donkey?”
Melina Odella’s reply didn’t surprise Zeph. “The cards have confirmed that this quest will not be normal.”
That afternoon, Zeph practiced archery. After dinner, he fed Dorothy and brushed her soft coat. She nuzzled against his shoulder, leaving slobbers on his tunic. He couldn’t help it. He already loved her. If he died in the war, what would happen to her?
Chapter TWENTY-THREE
Alexa
Alexa couldn’t shake her humiliation at failing Zander. He’d never been so angry with her. She had to earn back his trust or he’d never let her help with the war. And she knew, just knew, he was going to need her help.
She trudged the path to Melina Odella’s cottage. A year earlier, she’d pledged to help the children who lived in the shacks she passed. Smoke rose from chimneys barely held together with mud and crumbling bricks. Cloth doors swung in the cold breeze. A child peeked out a cracked window. Alexa smiled and waved, but the face disappeared. How could the elders allow such squalor?
It was then her heart spoke. Once she’d brought sweet biscuits. She could bake them again. She’d ask Zeph what else she could do. Could she help with her enchanted embroidery? She shuddered. Maybe not yet. She needed more experience before she tried changing lives.
Past the shack row, Alexa wound through the brambles while she chewed on her thumbnail. She hadn’t seen Melina Odella in two weeks. What mood would her mentor be in?
After turning left at the wooden post carved with a moon and stars, Alexa followed the path until she stood at a mustard-colored door marked with runes. Rosemary, thyme, and ginger grew behind a short brick wall. Melina Odella had yet to share the spell she used to grow herbs in the winter while other plants lay dormant. The stone-walled cottage might have been inviting if Alexa didn’t dread what waited for her inside.
She took a deep breath to settle her nerves before she opened the door and slipped in. A single candle flickered on the center table. Melina Odella sat hunched, absorbed in the cards spread across the purple velvet. The fortune-teller picked up card after card before dropping them in a haphazard pile. She dropped her head to her hands.
Although she felt like an intruder, Alexa couldn’t help glancing at the cards. She gasped when she saw the Lovers card on top.
Melina Odella spun to face Alexa. She swept up the cards and slapped them face down. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.” Time enough to understand why Melina Odella was agitated. The Lovers?
“Hmpf.” Melina Odella stood and shoved the cards into the bag that hung at her waist. She strode to the back room and snarled over her shoulder, “Potions today.”
It wasn’t potions Alexa needed to work on. She’d memorized all the formulas the first month of her apprenticeship. She steeled herself for Melina Odella’s response and asked, “When are you going to teach me something useful?”
The fortune-tell
er whirled to face her. She hissed, “You can’t expect to learn everything in your first year. You’re too impatient, and I might add, arrogant, to think you’re ready for anything more than simple potions.”
The words stung Alexa like a slap to her face. “My brother is training warriors, and I’m stuck here learning how to make a love potion.”
Melina Odella sneered. “It wasn’t so long ago you desired a love potion.”
“And that turned out well.”
“I warned you.”
“There’s a war coming, Melina Odella. Do you care that the village will be invaded? Zander needs help.”
“You think I don’t know this? You’re only an apprentice.” Melina Odella flicked her hand. “You can’t be ready by then.”
“But you do believe the invasion is coming? Has Moira spoken to you?”
Rage crossed her face, and Melina Odella raised herself up. “It’s no business of yours if Fate speaks to me.” She crossed the room to confront Alexa. “You think you know Moira? I’ve had twenty years of her controlling my life. You’ll regret your choice, as I do.”
Alexa stepped back, stunned. She knew Melina Odella was unhappy, but this hatred for Moira?
“I have villagers who depend upon the potions I concoct. The cobbler wouldn’t get out of bed without the drink that helps him forget losing his twin in the quest. The blacksmith would be blind without my help. Even your mother uses a potion to concoct the recipes that the elders’ wives clamor for. If you’re too good to help, then leave. Come back when you’re ready to be the student and not the master.”
Alexa turned and bolted out the door. Did Melina Odella truly believe she wasn’t ready, or was she worried Alexa’s powers would surpass her own?
Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
Zander
Zander paced in front of one of the long dining tables. The knot in his stomach took root and held fast like a gnarled oak tree. He went to bed with it and woke with it. The oats he’d eaten at breakfast threatened to come back up.
Hunched over the table, Greydon, Fulk, and Geno frowned at a roughly drawn map of the village. Lash and Dharien stood behind, staring over their shoulders. Since the New Year, this was the core group that met each morning before the warriors arrived for breakfast. Two of them, Zander didn’t trust.
Zander stopped to point at the forest north of the gulch. “With the cliffs to the west and east, this is the only area from where we can be invaded.”
Fulk rubbed his chin. “We could set traps. Won’t stop ‘em, but it might slow ‘em down.”
“Greydon? Could you rig a rabbit trap big enough for a man?” Zander shuddered at the image of a man hanging by his heels.
Greydon’s eyes lit. “I think so. I’ll talk to the rope maker about dyeing the hemp green. Then I’ll need to find the right trees.” He twisted to stare at Dharien. “It’ll be like when we were boys and hunted for play.”
It was a stark reminder of the difference between Zander and Elder Warrin’s sons. Zander hunted as a boy so he and his father didn’t go hungry.
“The gulch will be our strength and their weakness.” Geno stabbed at the map. “I can make a machine capable of lobbing metal scraps at them.”
Zander nodded. “Do it. Fulk? What are you thinking?”
Fulk met Zander’s gaze. “We won’t be ready. Some of the warriors aren’t taking the training seriously, and their attitude affects the others. You need to kick out the sluggards.”
“Dismiss them?” Zander rubbed the back of his neck. “Any other ideas?”
“I agree with Fulk.” Greydon grimaced. “Father says the field workers are more motivated by fear than kindness.”
Another difference.
Lash rocked back on his heels. “The women are a distraction.”
The other men glanced up at Zander, waiting for his reaction. It wasn’t the first time Lash had accused the women of disturbing the men, and every time Zander had shut him down.
“The women aren’t the problem.” Zander glared at Lash. “The men need more discipline.”
Lash held up his hands and smirked. “I know the women want to help, but the men spend more time trying to impress them than learning new skills.”
Fulk stood. “Those women work damn hard every day. It’s not their fault the men turn into idiots around them.”
Surprisingly, Dharien nodded his agreement with Fulk.
“And who will do most of the fighting? Five women or three dozen men? The men need to focus on learning to fight, and if that means moving the women somewhere else, then I think that’s what we should do,” Lash said.
Pressure built in Zander’s head until he thought he’d explode. He’d expected the warriors to work as hard as he did and to understand the stakes. He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sick of this! If the men won’t see the urgency, I’ll give them the boot.” Never had he felt the burden of his name more than at that moment.
“There’s another reason for moving the women somewhere else. If you allow them to fight and they’re disabled or killed, can you live with that?” Greydon sat, arms crossed over his chest, sullen. “Can’t you find something safer for them than fighting?”
“I’ll think about it.” He was tired of arguing.
3
When the warriors broke for the noon meal, Zander still didn’t know what he’d do about the women. Looking at it objectively, he hated to admit that Lash might be right. The men were distracted, but did he need to punish the women? They were focused and trained hard every session. And he’d promised Kaiya. She’d never forgive him if he sent them away.
He strode to the front of the dining hall and waited for the talk to die. The warriors glanced at each other as Zander stood silent in front of them. He hated this part of leading, but Fulk was right. The warriors would be stronger if he was tougher on them. “The village is in danger.”
From the back table, Koe hollered, “You’ve been yammering about that for six months.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yet we see no signs, no proof.”
The anger Zander had pushed down into his gut ignited and rose to his throat. Koe made this easy. “And you treat training as a joke.” He pointed to the man and jerked his head to the door. “Get out.”
Koe stood and shoved the table. “I gave up working in Terrec’s stables for the promise of steady meals.” He charged down the aisle toward Zander.
Alarmed, Greydon and Fulk rushed to Zander’s side.
Zander sucked in a deep breath and rested a hand on the pommel of his knife. “Don’t be a fool, Koe.”
The man hesitated and then made a show of turning and stomping out the door. The remaining warriors turned shocked faces to Zander.
“Anyone else? If you’re only here for the food and don’t believe in our cause, it’s better I know now.” He held his breath as two others slunk out. Only three, and good riddance. He met each of the remaining men’s eyes before he looked at the five women.
They stared back nervously, except for Kaiya, who met his gaze without wavering. Lash was wrong. It wasn’t the fault of the women if the men found them distracting. They didn’t deserve to be sent away. But Greydon had a point. If they died in the war, he’d be at fault for allowing them to fight. How could he live with himself if Kaiya were injured or worse? Stars, she was going to hate him.
He took a deep breath and, even though his gut warned him he was making a mistake, he said, “I have a new plan for the girls.”
Kaiya’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m moving you to the healers.”
“No!” Kaiya stood and planted her feet. “Moira called me to be a warrior. Not a healer. You have no right to change that.”
Zander held up his hand. “You’ll still be in the war.” He glanced at the floor and took a breath before he looked at her again. This didn’t feel right. He resisted
the urge to rub his aching thigh. “You just won’t be fighting. I want the girls behind the lines.”
“No. We’re warriors.”
He felt the heat rise in his chest. “It’s not your decision.”
Kaiya hurled a bowl of stew at Zander’s head.
He jumped to the side in time to avoid the collision. It splattered on the floor behind him.
Kaiya stormed out, leading the other women. He’d betrayed his promise to treat them as equals. Why had he listened to Greydon? Many of the men nodded at his decree. He couldn’t change his mind, or he’d look weak.
Kaiya turned before she reached the door. “And stop calling us girls. We survived the quest. We’re women.”
Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
Alexa
Alexa glanced out the front window as she loaded a tray of buns onto the bakery shelves. To her surprise, she saw Kaiya leading a group of women straight for the bakery. By the way Kaiya strode, she wasn’t happy. Alexa tossed her apron on the table and went outside to greet them.
“Your brother threw us out of the warriors.” Kaiya’s eyes flashed. “He can’t do that.”
Bindi and Yarra from Alexa’s quest year, plus Gia and Rosa from the year before, crowded in a circle around Alexa and Kaiya.
Bindi slapped a knife against her thigh. “Moira chose us. He has to let us train with him.”
“Melina Odella isn’t training me either.” Alexa chewed the inside of her cheek. “I have an idea.” She brushed the flour off her hands and stuck her head inside the kitchen. “Mother? I’m leaving.” When Mother nodded, Alexa motioned the others to follow and led them through the side door to the stairwell.
They thumped up the steps to her room, filling the bed, chairs, and floor. Alexa stood in front of her dresser and pulled an embroidery out of the top drawer. She held it out for the women to see the scene as it moved across the cloth.
