Curses and Warfare

by Jeri Baird

  Wearing heavy gloves, she returned carrying the pot of stew and settled it in the corner of the cart. Next she brought out stacks of tin cups, spoons, and a ladle. Last, she tied two baskets of still-warm biscuits to the side of the cart. She stood in front of Dorothy and laid her forehead against the donkey’s long nose.

  “We’ll miss him together.” She turned and walked the path to the shacks. Dorothy ambled behind her as if she’d always pulled a cart. Alexa knocked at a door of the first house in the row.

  A girl who looked to be twelve stared out with a frown wrinkling her dirty face. “What are you doing with Dorothy?” She sniffed. “I saw Zeph save your brother. He better protect us from those invaders.”

  “He will.” A pressure built in Alexa’s chest until she found it hard to breathe. If they beat the Odwans, Zander would next fight to protect these children from the inequality in Puck’s Gulch. “Zeph gave me Dorothy. We brought food.”

  “Food?”

  “For all the children who live here.”

  The girl stepped out of the house, stuck her fingers in her mouth, and whistled two long calls. Kids poured out of the shacks and ran to stand in front of the girl. “The fortune-teller brought us food.”

  It seemed odd to be called the fortune-teller in that way. To these kids, she was interchangeable with Melina Odella. The fortune-teller, they called her.

  A small red-haired boy tugged at Alexa’s arm. “That other fortune-teller used to bring us ham slices and apple bread. What do you got?”

  The other kids jumped up and down while Alexa stood shocked. Melina Odella fed them? She shook her head. “Come around to the cart. I have rabbit stew and sugar biscuits.”

  Still reeling from that news, Alexa ladled stew into the cups and gave each child a spoon. When the cups were empty, she handed out the still-warm biscuits. Most of the kids raced away, yelling their thanks, but the little boy who had tugged her arm stayed.

  “Are you Zander’s sister?”

  Alexa nodded. “What’s your name?”

  “Milo.” He stared up at her and shifted from one foot to the other. “When I grow up, I’m going to be just like your brother. I’m going to be a hero, too.” Then he spun and ran.

  Alexa stared after him until he disappeared into one of the shacks. “I hope you get the chance,” she whispered.

  Filled with love, Alexa led Dorothy back to the cottage. She’d do everything she could to see that Milo got that chance.

  With a lighter heart, Alexa carried her basket of embroidery to the front room. She cut squares of cloth and threaded her needle. Drifting in and out of a trance state, she stitched late into the night.

  Chapter FIFTY-FOUR

  Zander

  Two days after Zeph’s death, Zander woke, bleary-eyed from another late-night strategy session with Fulk, Greydon, and Dharien. At least he had a clear mind, unlike after the late nights at the tavern. He stumbled to the small kitchen and poured a cold cup of cider, too tired to build up the fire. He glanced around the room. He missed Zeph’s quiet presence.

  The boy had been his shadow for months. When Puck demanded Zeph become an assassin, Zander had thought the ghost wrong—Zeph was too young, he didn’t have time to learn, but Zeph had been determined. Zander had given in, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to train him.

  He scratched the back of his head. Did Puck know Zeph would save Zander’s life? And if he did, couldn’t he have just warned Zander? Zeph might still be alive. And what about Moira? She gave Zeph a jenny, knowing Dorothy would go to Alexa. He couldn’t begin to think about how God fit into all this.

  “Let it go, Zander.” Fulk leaned against the door. “I know what you’re thinking. You can’t change what happened. The boy did a brave thing.”

  “Two dead.” He set down the cup. “How many more will we mourn?”

  Fulk’s face hardened. “As many as it takes to win.” He moved to the stove and tossed a handful of splinters onto the embers. “You scouting the gulch this morning?”

  “Greydon will be here in a few minutes. Kaiya and Yarra are meeting us at the gulch.” He rubbed his aching thigh. Not a good day for it to act up. “We’ll be back for Zeph’s service this afternoon.”

  The stable door opened and shut with a click. Greydon appeared, looking as distraught as Zander felt. He handed Zander and Fulk biscuits tucked with ham. “The cook insisted. Said you can’t fight a war if you don’t eat.”

  His stomach protested, but Zander took a small bite and found himself ravenous. When was the last time he’d eaten?

  “You be careful in the gulch. Another spy might be skulking about,” Fulk said.

  “This is really happening, isn’t it?” Greydon blanched. “With all our training, I don’t know if I can kill someone.”

  Fulk held Greydon at the shoulders. “Kill or be killed. Remember that.”

  “Let’s get Lady and Helios saddled.” Zander strode from the kitchen before Fulk could see the same reluctance on his face. Zander hadn’t had time to take Helios into the gulch. He needed the experience before the invasion.

  After they had the horses ready, Zander loaded his knives, hung a quiver across his front, and grabbed a bow. He hesitated. With the Odwans’ bows, they could shoot without him seeing them. He went back into the kitchen and rustled around in the cookware. He pulled out four flat cast iron trays used to bake biscuits. He handed one to Greydon. “Shove this under your tunic.”

  “Huh?” Greydon stared at Zander like he’d lost his senses, but he pushed the pan between his tunic and undershirt and tightened his belt to keep it from slipping out. “It’s heavy.”

  “It could save your life.” Zander turned to Fulk, who nodded his approval. “Go to market and buy every tray you can find. And see if the smiths can make more.”

  Zander led the horses out of the stable. He and Greydon mounted and cantered toward the gulch with Shadow loping alongside. The gulch ran along the whole north side of the village. It was a lot of ground to patrol, but Zander was relieved to see the Protectors lined up every twenty yards with bows drawn. The Protectors nodded at Zander and resumed their watch. Behind the tavern, Kaiya and Yarra were waiting for them atop Elder Rowan’s horses.

  “Hoy,” Zander guided Helios next to Kaiya’s horse. He handed her and Yarra each a pan. “Stick it under your tunic.”

  Without a word, Kaiya opened her tunic. She laid the pan against her undershirt and tied her tunic back around it. She squirmed in the saddle as she moved the pan up and down. “It’s not very comfortable.”

  “It could deflect an arrow.” Zander couldn’t take his eyes off her. The fire in her eyes, her excitement. He didn’t want her in danger, but it was what she wanted. If he truly cared for her, he needed to accept her decision to fight, but he’d do everything he could to protect her.

  As the four horses picked their way down into the gulch, Yarra asked, “What are we doing?”

  “Planning our defense,” Greydon answered. “The Protectors will stand at the top of the gulch. The old and young will supply them with arrows.”

  “Halfway down, we’ll set up the catapults,” said Zander. “The smiths’ guilds have saved their scrap iron and nails. We’ll lob them across the gulch.” It was a desperate measure, as it would ruin the far side of the gulch. “We’re searching for the best spots for the archers and the women with slings.” He winced, thinking of Mother with a bow, taking her place among the skilled archers.

  Puck’s ghost moaned across the gulch. “Save the village.”

  All four horses came to a stop. Zander glanced at Kaiya and Yarra. “Did you hear him?”

  They nodded. Kaiya shivered. “He gives me the creeps.”

  Yarra’s wide eyes showed her fear.

  He held up his hand and thought for a minute as the others stared. “Tshilaba says the Odwans are superstitious.” He cocked his head
at the sky. “Puck? Will the Odwans hear you?”

  “I choose who hears and who does not.”

  Huh, that was a surprise. “Will you help? Make the Odwans hear you?”

  “I will. Call when I’m needed.” Puck’s voice faded away. “All you had to do was ask.”

  Astonished, Zander sat back in the saddle. “All I had to do was ask?”

  Greydon snorted. “If we had an army of ghosts, we could win without loosing a single arrow.”

  An army of ghosts! “That’s it. That’s what we’re missing.” Zander’s excitement caused Helios to prance.

  Greydon’s jaw dropped. “You’re mad.”

  Was he mad? Maybe it took madness to win a war. How could he use Puck?

  “Zander’s right,” Yarra said. “We can make a fake ghost army. Every quester this year except Zeph was given a bird patron. Father Chanse taught the birds to carry messages to their questers. If we hide them in the trees and have the birds drop things as Puck moans, it’ll spook the Odwans.”

  “We can roll up long strips of canvas and tie them in the trees where we expect the Odwans to come in. Korble’s smart. She can untie them when Puck moans and it’ll startle the Odwans even more.” Kaiya practically danced in the saddle.

  “Let’s do it,” Zander said.

  A ghost army. It might give them enough time to take the advantage.

  Chapter FIFTY-FIVE

  Alexa

  Alexa and Father Chanse had agreed. With war looming, the service today would lay to rest Zeph and Lash, bless the questers, and consecrate Merindah before she entered the cell. Well, Alexa hadn’t agreed on the consecration.

  She stood at the front altar with Father Chanse. Her black skirt with white embroidery swirling in moving patterns was meant as a reminder to the villagers of her magic.

  The villagers packed into the sanctuary as the noon bells rang. She scanned the crowd. Elder Terrec hadn’t been seen since he’d disappeared after Lash’s death. If he showed today, he’d be arrested after the service.

  Dorothy brayed outside the front doors. Alexa hated leaving her, but Father Chanse insisted the church was no place for a donkey. He was right, but Dorothy somehow knew the service was for Zeph and had tried her best to nose her way inside.

  On the right side of the center aisle, flanked by the other two nuns, Merindah sat on the front bench. Her plain brown dress contrasted with Alexa’s finery, but now Alexa understood their differences, down to their clothing, were vital to their roles. Eyes closed, she serenely clasped her hands in her lap. On the left side, the six questers sat in contrast, fidgeting. Their patrons perched on their shoulders or on their knees. Normally, patrons didn’t attend the blessing, but after Alexa learned of Zander’s plans, she’d convinced Father Chanse the birds needed blessing, too. At least if a bird dropped a poo, the smell wouldn’t fill the room, unlike with Dorothy.

  She tried not to think about the two wooden caskets on the scaffold behind her. Zander and Dharien, standing across the back wall with the other warriors, gave her courage. Together they’d get through it.

  As the bells ended, the sanctuary quieted. Father Chanse stepped forward to stand slightly in front of Alexa. “Friends. We gather today in a time of fear and sorrow. We honor our dead and consecrate our living.” His eyes roved across the villagers. “At our altar, we have the child of an elder and the child of a servant.”

  Zeph’s mother burst into sobs. Alexa’s mother moved to her side and held her, her own tears flowing. Alexa’s eyes filled with tears as well, but she choked back her grief.

  Father Chanse continued. “Our society has elevated the elders and placed their worth above the others, so much so that our children, such as Zephyr, have little hope of any life better than working long, hard hours and going to bed hungry in shacks that the winter wind blows through.”

  The elders, in their tribal finery, squirmed in their seats. Except for Elder Warrin. He pursed his lips and looked intently at the priest before nodding.

  “And yet, in these fearful times, Zephyr found hope in the warriors that gave him friendship and respect. He willingly made the choice to put the safety of the village above himself when he saved Zander’s life. Today, we honor his sacrifice and bless the life he lived in courage.”

  He allowed a minute of silence before he continued.

  “Lash, the first son of an elder, never lacked for any material thing. Only two years past his quest, and still under the influence of his father, Lash committed an act we cannot understand.” He rubbed his forehead. “I knew of the abuse of his father. Not to excuse Lash’s actions, for each one of us makes our choices, but the craving for a parent’s love is strong. Today, we lay his body to rest and hope his soul is at peace. I ask that you not judge him, as that is now beyond our earthly concern.” Father Chanse stood tall, and his voice became stronger. “For too long we’ve turned a blind eye to injustice. If we survive this invasion, changes will be made. Our children will not be hungry, they will not be abused. I give you my word.”

  From the back, the warriors cheered. Bewildered for only a few seconds, the villagers joined in. Dorothy brayed from outside. The Elders sat thoughtful before slowly clapping. Alexa nodded her approval. No one should oppose taking care of children.

  For the first time, Alexa felt grateful to be on the council. She no longer saw it as a drudgery, but an honor. She would be a part of the change. Working with Father Chanse, they would unite the tribes and find a way to help the poor. She glanced at Zander, whose face was shining, and at Dharien, who looked back at her with such love she couldn’t help but grin. They would all do it together. In Zeph’s memory, they’d make a new society.

  Father Chanse held up his hands until it was again quiet. “Now, we bless the questers. Come forward.”

  The questers trailed to the front and stood in a line between Father Chanse and Alexa. Their birds settled on shoulders or arms. Alexa felt their nervousness. In a normal year, the fear of not surviving was real enough, but now, knowing they would participate in a war, their fear rolled off them in waves.

  Alexa stood behind the first teen. She placed her hand on his shoulder and said, “This year, your omens will be used against our enemy, and your patron will be a vital part of our strategy. May you fight with honor as your fate still lies in Moira’s hands.” She choked back a sob before adding, “May you have the courage of Zephyr.”

  With each quester, Alexa repeated the words. Through her palms, she sent energy into the teens, replacing their fear with strength. They stood tall, filled with pride.

  Father Chanse concluded the ceremony with a prayer. “We ask blessings upon each young person standing here. May their good deeds and courage save not only them, but our village. Amen.”

  3

  After the service, Alexa followed Merindah from the front of the church to the northern wall. The bricklayers had finished the cell except for the narrow door, which would be bricked in after Merindah entered. A small window, the squint, opened into the sanctuary so Merindah could attend services. An outside window allowed for people to seek her advice and prayers. A third window in the back wall would be used to bring in food and water and remove waste. Altogether it was a seven-foot square that held a cot, a table and chair, and a lantern. A woven yellow prayer mat covered what little was left of the floor.

  Merindah’s serenity unnerved Alexa. She held tight to Merindah’s hand. “Please don’t go in,” she pleaded for the hundredth time. “You don’t have to do this.” The biscuit she’d eaten for breakfast revolted in her stomach, and she fought the urge to vomit.

  The bells rang. Two short, one long, two short, one long. The call to gather.

  “It’s not too late. There’re other ways to help.” Tears brimmed her eyes. “Please, Merindah.”

  Merindah took both of Alexa’s hands. It wasn’t in Alexa’s imagination that her friend g
lowed. Merindah’s calm seeped into Alexa and dulled the panic. Fates, there was no talking her out of it.

  “As surely as you’ve been called by Moira to be the fortune-teller, I’ve been called by God to be the anchoress. You risk much and yet, you won’t give up your favor. I won’t give up mine. The cost to both of us will be great, and yet if we don’t follow our destiny, the loss will be greater than we could bear.” She closed her eyes. “Feel it, Alexa. Feel it in your soul.”

  A small flame ignited behind Alexa’s heart and burned away her fear. The truth of Merindah’s words became clear. There was a choice, but the consequence of choosing the other was too great. She pulled Merindah into her arms and hugged her, not wanting to let her go. They would never hug again. She wanted to apologize for all the times she’d doubted Merindah’s calling, for her arrogance at believing her own work was more important, and for the time she’d wasted being angry with the best friend she’d ever known. But when she looked in Merindah’s eyes, she knew she’d already been forgiven.

  At the last council meeting, Alexa had asked Father Chanse why he allowed Merindah to make this sacrifice. He’d answered so strangely that Alexa had walked out dumbfounded. His words repeated in her head.

  Merindah hasn’t been of this world since her quest.

  She knew it to be true, but she didn’t have to like it.

  Father Chanse held up his hand. “It is time.”

  Holding back a sob, Alexa moved away from Merindah and joined Zander and Kaiya at the side of the church. Dorothy nudged her from behind, and although it was another reminder of loss, the donkey’s presence comforted her.

  Merindah’s patron sparrow landed on her shoulder, her fate tied to her owner’s. Alexa had laughed when Merindah named the sparrow Angel—gift from God. So many things Alexa didn’t understand a year ago were becoming clear.

  Appearing at her side, Dharien took her hand and leaned in to whisper, “Even those who die in this war will make no greater sacrifice.”

  She leaned into him. Was that true? She stared at Merindah’s shining face. Her friend did not see it as sacrifice. She believed it an honor. Alexa chose that moment to trust her friend’s decision. Alexa wasn’t losing her. She’d still be able to talk with her. It wasn’t bad, it was just different. She answered Dharien with the only truth she knew. “She is love.”