Curses and Warfare

by Jeri Baird

  Alexa

  After Zander’s arrest, Alexa rushed home and flew up the stairs to her room. Mother was at the festival, and Father was asleep by the fire. She lit a single candle and set it in the middle of the floor on a black square of cloth. She arranged an assortment of crystals in a circle around the candle and sat cross-legged facing them.

  With the basket of embroidery at her side, she chose the cloth she’d stitched of the village and gulch to use in her quest. Dirt smudged the edges and the center was frayed where she’d slit it to fit under her tunic. The scene remained static since she’d removed her signature after the quest. She threaded a needle with a single strand of black and stitched a likeness of Lash, changing thread to add his reddish blond hair and green eyes. Then she stitched her name and knotted it.

  The scene came to life with the thirteen questers and Lash moving about the village. Zander’s figure moved to the jail with the rest moving about the market on the final day of the festival. It was Lash’s figure she followed, as he moved first to his father’s estate and then down into the gulch. When he exited the far side of the gulch, the figure stopped at the edge of the embroidery and then disappeared off the cloth. Stars! He’d left the village property, and Alexa didn’t know the area past the gulch. She couldn’t stitch it. And without it, she couldn’t prove Zander’s innocence.

  With the embroidery in her lap, she sat in a half-trance as the candle burned, wax dripping onto the floor. Images flitted through her mind as the past and the future mingled into one. Melina Odella’s betrayal of Zander’s trust when she stole his tokens. Her deception as Alexa’s teacher. Her future treason of the village as she curses the warriors. Dharien hating Zander before the quest, Dharien becoming their friend, Dharien as Lash’s accomplice. Discovering Zander as her other half, her twin. His rise to power as leader of the warriors. Zander . . .

  Her door flew open. “What the hell’s going on in here?”

  Jerked from her visions, Alexa blinked. What was going on? A stitching of a battle scene she didn’t remember doing lay in her lap. Smoke filled the room. The candle had melted into a puddle and caught the cloth on fire. Father threw a pint of mead on the flames. She ran to open the wood shutters across her window.

  She moved through the motions of clearing the smoke and ignored Father’s swearing as he stomped down the staircase. Three things she had seen for Melina Odella and three for Dharien. She’d missed the third for Zander. What was going to happen to her twin? She had to get him out of jail.

  She aired out her room and accepted that the smell of smoke would remain until she could wash her bedding. She tucked the mysterious stitching into her bag and left for the festival.

  She rushed through the congested streets, turning down one and then another, searching for Greydon. She caught sight of him at the leather stalls across the square.

  “Hoy, Greydon!”

  He pushed his way through the crowd, took her elbow, and guided her to a quiet spot behind the church. “We have to get Zander out of jail, but no one’s allowed to visit him.”

  “Can’t your father get him out?” Elder Warrin had bailed Zander out twice before the quest. “Zander has money.”

  “The judge won’t speak with him.”

  “He didn’t kill Lash.”

  “Of course he didn’t!” Greydon rocked back on his heels. “How could you think that he did?”

  “He was so angry. He’s never been drunk like that, and he’s trained to kill.”

  “Alexa.” Greydon pierced her with his stare. “More than anyone, Zander will have a hard time in the war. Killing isn’t in his nature.”

  He was right. Her twin had a gentle heart. How had Moira picked him to lead the warriors? She nodded. “You have to train the warriors until he gets out.”

  Greydon flushed. “I can’t speak in front of that many people.”

  “They’re your friends.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I can’t.”

  “How about Fulk?”

  “We can break them into training groups, but no one can lead like Zander.” Greydon ran his hands over his dreads. “We might make it a week without him, but after that, the men will lose their motivation.”

  “Then we’ll get him out.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How do you plan to do that?”

  “I don’t know. Just keep it together for a week. I’ll figure something out.” Alexa wanted to show Greydon the stitching, but something kept her from bringing it out. She waved him away. “Go. Enjoy what’s left of the festival.”

  As she watched Greydon move back into the crowd, her spirits sunk. She had no connections, no money, and no plan. There was no way she’d get Zander out of jail.

  “Alexa?”

  She twirled to find Merindah standing at the church door.

  “I can get Zander out.” Merindah lifted her chin. “But you may not like my way.”

  “I don’t care what it is if it gets him out.” Alexa followed Merindah into the church, hoping she didn’t have to promise to come to church every week.

  They wound through the back halls to the room behind the chapel. Father Chanse had his head bowed with his fingers spiked against his forehead, reciting words Alexa couldn’t hear.

  Merindah said softly, “Father?”

  He looked up slowly. “Merindah?” He saw Alexa and frowned. “What is it?”

  “Zander’s in jail and they aren’t letting anyone in to see him. He needs to be released. The fate of the village depends upon him.”

  Father Chanse hesitated. “God has spoken to you?”

  “He has.”

  Alexa shrunk back. Merindah seemed to glow. Did God truly speak to her?

  “Three things must happen: Zander training the warriors . . .” she touched Alexa’s arm “. . . Alexa using her magic, and I must enter the cell.” She smiled the smile of one in rapture. “If we all play our roles, we’ll save the village and unite the tribes.”

  Alexa shivered. Merindah was mad. That was the only explanation that made sense. But if it got Zander out of jail, she didn’t care.

  Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

  Zander

  Zander lost count of how long he’d been in the cell. Days and nights blended into one. Sunlight didn’t reach past the alley. All the meals were the same greasy, unidentified meat with rutabagas in a thin gruel. No one had been to see him since Zeph’s visit the first day. He’d stopped pacing, stopped hoping he’d be released anytime soon. He looked around at the other prisoners. Men guilty of theft or, in the rare case, murder, they’d given up long before Zander was shoved in with them. Vacant eyes and listless bodies—would that be his fate?

  Questions interrupted his sleep and squashed any chance to meditate. What were the warriors doing? Was Greydon continuing the training? As his head had cleared, he’d become certain of one thing. He hadn’t killed Lash. So where was he? He dropped his head into grimy hands. He was going mad.

  “Zander.”

  He jerked his head up. Father Chanse stood behind the bars. “You’ve been released to my custody.”

  “What? Why?” He scrambled to stand, but his wobbly legs betrayed him, and he sunk to his knees. Father Chanse was the last person he’d expected.

  The jailer swung open the door. “Git yer ass out.”

  Father Chanse motioned Zander out. “I’ll explain later. Come quickly.” He turned and strode down the alley.

  Zander hustled after him, anticipating what the sun would do to his eyes when they reached the end. But he needn’t have worried. It was night. Father Chanse turned toward the church, not Elder Warrin’s.

  “I need to get to the warriors.”

  Father Chanse held up his hand. “The church first.”

  A sudden suspicion snaked into Zander’s thoughts. Father Chanse had never liked him. He wouldn’t save him. Was he to be c
ondemned without a trial in the middle of the night? Who waited in the church for them? To his surprise, when they entered the common room, Merindah knelt at the front, and Melina Odella paced across the back.

  The fortune-teller seemed equally surprised. “What’s this? What’s going on, Chanse?”

  Merindah rose and seemed to float toward him. “Zander.” She held out a hand and, although embarrassed at the dirt on his own, he clasped it almost as if he had no choice. Power ran between them and filled him with new strength. All of his doubts about leading the warriors disappeared. He stood taller and Merindah smiled. “God blesses you.”

  “What’s going on?” Melina Odella’s face twisted in rage. “You woke me in the middle of the night for this?” She spun and bolted for the door.

  “Stop.” Merindah’s face turned hard. “You’ll leave when dismissed.”

  Melina Odella whipped around. “You dare to order me?”

  “You and Father must consecrate us. God and Fate together.”

  What the hell—was Merindah crazed? He didn’t need to be consecrated. He didn’t even know what that meant. He held up his hand.

  “Zander?” Alexa ran to him from the back door and hugged him. She wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”

  Leave it to his sister to point out the obvious.

  “Good, we’re all here. Three working as one. We can begin the ceremony.” Merindah walked up the aisle to the three lit candles on the altar.

  Alexa whispered, “What’s she talking about?”

  Zander raised his eyebrows. “We’re getting consecrated—whatever that means.” He took her hand and joined Merindah.

  She handed him and Alexa each a white candle. “Father? Fortune-teller?”

  The priest and a reluctant Melina Odella stepped behind the altar. Father Chanse raised his hands toward the ceiling, palms out. “God be with you.”

  Zander chanted with Alexa and Merindah, “And also with you.”

  Stone-faced, Melina Odella spat, “Fate be with you.”

  “And also with you.”

  “Three as one. Day and night tethered by the anchor.” Father Chanse closed his eyes. “Your will, our will, the will of God.”

  Night for Alexa, anchor for Merindah, day for him. Those were the words Melina Odella had given them at their Welcoming Ceremony for their quest a year ago. How could she have known? Then Melina Odella smiled, but it was a cruel smile, a knowing smile. Zander started to shake.

  She held out her hands and began to chant, “Three as one, tie their fate. Tribes spurned, village burned. Warriors fall, invaders take, penance paid.”

  An invisible rope wrapped his body, tying him to Alexa and Merindah. The energy squeezed his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He struggled against the evil magic, but he had no defense.

  Melina Odella clapped her hands, once, twice, three times. Wind blew open the door and swirled into the room, snuffing the candles. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see, but he understood.

  They hadn’t been consecrated. They’d been cursed.

  Chapter THIRTY-SIX

  Alexa

  When Melina Odella began her chant, Alexa felt the dark magic. A rope of energy surrounded her. It tightened, connecting her to Zander and Merindah.

  Zander’s eyes widened. Merindah’s hand squeezed hers. They were helpless against the curse. Alexa alone could fight it. She pulled energy from deep within and pushed it out to envelop her. She sent it further to include Zander, and then Merindah.

  She closed her eyes. The spell flew from Melina Odella’s fingertips and rippled in the air, surrounding them. If she could find a weak spot, she might break it. As Melina Odella chanted “warriors fall,” Alexa discovered a strand where the rope thinned. She forced her energy into the fiber and whispered, “warriors win.” At “invaders take” she chanted, “invaders defeated.” With “penance paid” Alexa’s energy united with the curse. Merindah moved closer to whisper, “love atones.”

  Without reason, Alexa understood. Melina Odella’s intent came from hatred for the village for thwarting her love for the priest. Alexa’s flowed from her pure love for Zander and Merindah. Her energy wound deep into the curse. When Melina Odella clapped her hands, the energy bound itself to Alexa, Zander, and Merindah. It transformed into a living, breathing creature that could not be shaken. Two spells bound together. The question was—which would be stronger?

  As the wind swept in and extinguished the candles, Alexa grabbed for Zander’s hand. Merindah found a match and relit the candles. Melina Odella was gone, and an ashen faced priest grasped the table, trembling.

  “Why would she curse us?” He fell to his knees. “Is this my fault? Am I to be the doom of the village?”

  Serene, Merindah answered, “Alexa has given us hope. We may still win.”

  Zander stared at Alexa with a look she couldn’t decipher. She leaned in to him. “I told you I had powers.”

  He muttered, “I felt your power. How did you get so strong? . . . Maybe I was wrong. The warriors need you.”

  She couldn’t help her smile. They were in trouble, but if they could work together, they just might have a chance.

  3

  With dawn no more than an hour away, Zander wanted to leave for the stable. Alexa convinced him he needed sleep, food, and clean clothes before he saw the warriors again. She found sleeping mats and spread them on the floor of an empty classroom. Father Chanse retreated to his own room, as if still in shock. Alexa left Merindah kneeling in prayer.

  As tired as she was, Alexa couldn’t sleep. She envied her brother’s snores, but the energy of the curse thrummed through her, leaving her on edge. She slipped out to join Merindah on her knees at the altar. It had been a while since she’d prayed, but Alexa found herself reciting a prayer from her childhood that had comforted her when she was frightened. They knelt together in silence for several minutes.

  Merindah leaned to the side and touched shoulder to shoulder with Alexa. “Father Chanse was right. Day and night held by the anchor. We’re tied together. We’ve always been tied together. I didn’t understand until now.”

  “I still don’t.”

  Merindah took her hand. “Zander is the day. He works openly, training warriors and preparing for war. You, as the night, work with the unseen, using power unknowable to others. My role is to hold the energy. This building holds both day and night in God and Moira. I’m the cornerstone.”

  Alexa shuddered. “You’re truly going into the cell?” When Merindah nodded, Alexa whispered, “It’s for the rest of your life. How will you stand it?”

  For a moment Merindah’s eyes saddened, but she replied softly, “It’s the only way, my dear friend.” She pulled Alexa in for a hug. “I’ve known my destiny since my time of magic.”

  That moment, the rising sun shone through a side window. Light surrounded Merindah like a halo. Sadness swept through Alexa. She would lose her best friend.

  Reluctant to leave, Alexa said, “I need to wake Zander. He’s anxious to get back to the warriors.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “From what I’ve heard, he’s not going to be happy.”

  Merindah smiled. “Everything will be as it is. Tell him not to despair. His destiny is yet to be realized.”

  Alexa turned cold. She was afraid of that more than anything else.

  Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

  Zephyr

  It had been five days since Zeph had convinced Greydon and Fulk that Zander wanted Del to lead the warriors. Zeph had heard the men talking. Some of the older ones liked Del better than Zander. He had twelve years more experience than Zander, and those warriors felt better with a leader older than themselves.

  But now, Zander walked up the trail to the stable, and Zeph’s lie was about to be discovered. Regret soured his stomach. Zander had been his friend. That was all about to change. Regardless of what P
uck wanted, Zander wouldn’t tolerate a liar in the warriors.

  Zeph saw the moment Zander realized Del was in charge. Zander slowed, but became deliberate with each step. His lips pressed together, and he threw his shoulders back. Zander stopped only to choose a blade before striding to where Del practiced hand-to-hand with the short blades against Paal. When Paal saw Zander, he stopped and stared.

  With a sharp jerk of his head, Zander motioned Paal away. He faced Del and held up his blade. “What are you doing here?”

  “The warriors need a leader, not a boy. When you became . . . indisposed, they agreed I was the best choice.” Del sneered. “Ask them. I’ve done a better job.”

  Sweat wiggled down Zeph’s back. Zander excelled with knives, but Del outweighed him by a good twenty pounds and most of that was muscle. If Zander was injured, it would be Zeph’s fault. All because Zeph had been too much of a coward to defy Terrec.

  Zander planted his feet in a stable, balanced stance. “We’ll fight for the position.”

  A gleam appeared in Del’s eyes, and he nodded. “Winner leads the warriors, loser crawls home to mama.”

  “You got it.” Zander stared intently at Del. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Almost at once, the men formed a circle around them, and Zeph had to push through to stand next to Odo and Greydon. There was no way this would end well for Zander. At best, he’d lose the warriors; at worst, he’d lose his life.

  Del lunged. Zander side-stepped before the blade sliced his chest. Zander thrust. Del twisted out of range. They set up across from each other. Zander’s eyes never left Del’s. When Del went one way, Zander went the other. When Del faked to the left, Zander moved where he shouldn’t. He expended half the energy of Del. Del’s frustration showed in ever more frantic attacks, but Zander remained calm. There must be something to that meditation stuff.

  Then Del barreled forward and Zander tripped. It caught Del by surprise, but he slashed at Zander’s face before they both fell. A thin line of blood swelled up across Zander’s cheek. Zeph winced. That had to hurt. The warriors shouted, but not all yelled for Zander to get up. At least a dozen men cheered for Del’s strike.