by Jeri Baird
“We have a choice, Zander, but at what cost? The quest was for naught if we didn’t learn that lesson.”
“And yet you still try to control through your embroidery?”
“Yes.” She averted her eyes. As in the quest, she would do everything in her power to protect him.
“I hope I know what I’m doing.” He hugged her. “I often doubt that I’m enough.”
She couldn’t help but tease him. “With Fate whispering in one ear and me in the other, how can you fail?”
Chapter FIVE
Zander
Zander sauntered with Greydon and Zeph through the market, waved at the trio of Protectors, and headed north toward the gulch. Despite the chill, it was a fine night to be out. Gentle flakes of snow reflected the moonlight as they drifted to the ground. Zeph lived in the opposite corner of the village from Elder Warrin’s estate and the training grounds. He tried to convince Zander to let him walk alone after they passed the market, but Zander would have none of it. Getting caught out after curfew meant a night in jail. Zander wouldn’t let Zeph take that chance.
They turned east at one of the two taverns that served the village. With the Raskans in town, the stone building bustled with activity. The travelers spent seven weeks in Puck’s Gulch, coming before the winter snows to get settled for the Twelve Day Celebration that began on the first day of the new year.
Zeph stared at the ground as they passed the noisy tavern. His mother worked there as a barmaid. It was the tavern that Zander’s father spent his time in and, like Zander, Zeph must have learned to take care of himself at a young age.
The music and laughter spilling out the door called to Zander. He was seventeen. He should be having fun, not be weighted with the safety of the village. He was permitted after completing the quest to enter the tavern, but his fear of turning into a drunk like Father kept him away. That and the responsibility of training warriors. But there were times he’d like to enjoy the music with his friends and maybe dance with a girl. Kaiya came to mind, but he pushed the thought away. Any fun he envisioned had to wait until the war was fought and won.
They passed the tavern without comment. When the mud hut Zander had grown up in loomed in front of him, the smell of lye hung in the damp air and stung his nose. His eyes blurred at memories, good and bad. Farther on, they reached the row of shack houses that housed the poorest workers. Most worked for Elder Terrec, the harshest employer in the village. The shacks held single mothers, and sometimes fathers, struggling to feed children who had little hope of a better life. Zander glanced at Greydon, who frowned, lost in his own thoughts. Greydon hadn’t known a hungry night in his life.
Zander nudged his friend. “This is what we fight to protect. These people barely survive now, and their lives will be worse yet if we’re conquered.”
Greydon looked up and his face twisted. “I wish I didn’t know of this.” He nodded toward Zeph and whispered, “How does he survive this place?”
“The better question is why the rest of us allow it.” Zander clenched his jaw. It might be easier to win the war than to change the village hierarchy.
After leaving Zeph at his shack house, Zander and Greydon walked south. By the time they arrived at the training grounds, they would have walked the entire perimeter of the village.
Zander pondered Alexa’s words. Why was she so sure when he was so full of doubts? Training for war was one thing. He loved pushing himself and the others to do their best. There was an art to the swordplay that calmed him, and the hand-to-hand combat cleared his head of the worries that kept him awake at night. But the thought of real war invaded his dreams and haunted his thoughts.
Musing aloud, he said, “Alexa believes her magic can help with the war.”
“Is her magic strong enough? She’s only had six months of training.”
Zander shrugged. “She thinks so.”
“She should leave it to Melina Odella.” Greydon slapped Zander’s shoulder. “Dharien likes her.”
“I’m not sure he has a choice.” Zander grinned. “Did you know she gave him a love potion last year?”
Greydon snorted. “He told me, but he swears it no longer holds him. She’s turned into a beauty. Paal and Lash watch her as well.”
“Not Lash!” Zander kicked at a rock and sent it spinning down the path. Last spring Zander had seen Lash’s secret—his father, Elder Terrec, beat him, but that didn’t excuse Lash for acting like an arse.
“She could do worse.” Greydon shrugged. “As the eldest son he’ll inherit more than Dharien.”
Zander pushed Greydon against the wall of the church and held him under his stern gaze. “Never say that. Melina Odella makes her own living as a fortune-teller. Alexa will never need to marry except for love.”
“And what about you? Maybe you should marry for money the way you spend on bows and swords.” Greydon chuckled and then turned serious. “You should ask for a tithe from the guilds.”
“They’d never give it—not until they’re convinced of our purpose.”
“Yet, you don’t mind asking my father to spend my future inheritance?”
“Stars!” Zander released him and stepped back. “Is that what this is about? You fear losing your fancy manor when the village could lose everything? If you don’t believe in our cause, you should leave.”
“I believe in you, Zander.” Greydon held up his hand when Zander started to interrupt. “I defend you when others claim your madness will ruin us. I just think others should share the cost.”
Zander slumped against the bricks. “And how do I convince them if they think I’m mad?”
“We need someone to liaise between the warriors and the guilds.” Greydon spread his hands. “You don’t have time, and you know I get tongue-tied when I speak in public.”
Zander snorted. “Asking for money is hardly public speaking.” He rubbed at his temples. “Let me guess. Lash?”
“He can be charming when he wants something.” Greydon smirked. “He’s our man.”
“Just keep him away from my sister.”
“As long as your sister agrees, it’s a deal.”
“She’ll agree,” Zander grumbled. “She knows an arse when she sees one.”
They walked in silence. Something had been bothering Zander since Elder Warrin had given him the war horse. “Greydon? Do you mind that your father gave me Helios? He was meant for you.”
“Hells, no. That horse is wild. I’m relieved Father will never expect me to ride him. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill you.”
Zander snorted. It was going to take a lot more than luck to ride that horse, and Zander had to break Helios, and soon. Elder Warrin bragged to the villagers how his horse would lead the fight. Zander had to ride Helios to earn the respect of not only the warriors, but the whole damn village.
“I feel unprepared to fight.” Zander leaned his head back and cracked his neck. “I hate conflict and my stomach turns at the thought of killing a man. Why would Moira pick me?”
Greydon reached out to take Zander’s arm. Shadows from the quarter moon fell across Greydon’s face. “Would you rather Terrec led the men?” He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “Or my father? Or the Protectors?” When Zander shook his head, Greydon continued. “My friend, you have the kindest heart of anyone I know. It seems to me that only a man of peace can be trusted to go to war.”
Chapter SIX
Zephyr
Zeph woke in a sweat, panicked from his dream. Several minutes ticked by before he calmed enough to slow the pounding in his chest. Men in tattered jackets, with red hair and beards, marched down the north side of the gulch with bows and swords.
He turned on his straw tick and lay face down on the coarse fabric. The smell of mold made him sneeze, but he remained still, remembering as many details from the dream as he could. He must warn Zander. The dreams Zep
h experienced right before waking always came true. Always.
Chilled from cold and fear, he shivered under the thread-worn coverlet. In forty-eight days, on the eve of the New Year, Zeph would turn sixteen. He shuddered at what his time of magic would bring. Already he possessed abilities he didn’t want. The dreams, the . . . he shook his head, not wanting to think about the pain his second ability caused.
After dressing in the cold shack, Zeph kissed his mother’s sleeping cheek. She served mead at the tavern and stayed after closing to drink. He wouldn’t miss breakfast for there would be none. He didn’t mind. He felt stronger because of it. He was glad he didn’t have a father. The fathers in the shack houses were quick to beat their kids. His mother had never hit him. Not once. She loved him at least that much.
He had no reason to think Zander would believe him, but before he could change his mind, Zeph hiked across the village, cut through the market, and jogged to Elder Warrin’s estate. Rushing into the warm hallway at the stables, he bumped into Greydon carrying a tray of steaming sausages and biscuits.
“Whoa, Zeph. Take it easy. What’s the hurry?” Greydon placed the morning meal on the smooth oak table where Zander and Fulk huddled around cups of hot cider.
Zander’s eyes shifted toward him, and he waved Zeph to the table. “Zephyr? What brings you so early?”
Zeph stared at the biscuit dripping with butter Zander offered and remembered the first time Alexa had given him a roll after he’d shown her the fortune-teller’s door. She’d thought him shy, but he’d been mesmerized by the silver shimmer surrounding her. A shimmer of gold encompassed Zander now, and Zeph didn’t know what to make of it. He shook his head at the biscuit, but the grumble from his stomach betrayed him.
“Sit. Eat. No messages until after breakfast.” Zander nodded at the chair next to him.
Between mouthfuls of sausage, Fulk eyed him. “Boy, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He pushed a mug at him. “Skin and bones, you are too, not much more than a spirit yourself.”
The cider warmed his belly, lulling him into thinking he could ignore the dream that had driven him to the stable. As he listened to the discussion on the day’s training schedule, he choked down a final bite of sausage, his nerves catching up to him.
After the last crumb disappeared, Zander turned to Zeph. His sharp gaze unsettled him. “Well, Zeph? What message does my sister send so early? A warning from her cards?”
“It’s private.” Zeph blushed when the three warriors stared in surprise.
Greydon’s eyebrows rose, but he stood. As he and Fulk left through the stable doors, Zeph heard the marshal mutter, “He’s a strange one, that boy.”
If Fulk knew the truth, he’d think Zeph more than strange, which was why he kept his one ability a secret. After he was sure Greydon and Fulk were out of the stable, Zeph met Zander’s eyes. “I had a dream.”
Zander leaned his chin into his hands. “You, too?”
The urge to run rose from deep in his belly. He gripped the edge of the table to remain seated and blurted, “A group of red-haired men came down into the gulch.” Zeph smoothed his own red hair, aware his ancestors were Odwans. “They carried bows and swords and long sticks with shields. The trees were green. They’ll be here soon.” He slumped against the chair, his energy deflated, now that he’d delivered his message.
“So it’s true. The Odwans will invade.” Zander rubbed at his temples.
Zeph’s heart nearly thumped out of his chest. “You believe me?”
“You confirm the rumors. Moira pushes me to train harder. I know it’s coming.” Zander released a long sigh. “We need more men.”
“I can help,” Zeph blurted.
Zander glanced at Zeph, startled. “Zeph, you’ll soon enter your time of magic. That will be enough of a challenge. You won’t have time to train.”
An unusual courage bloomed in Zeph’s chest, and he persisted. “Quester class is only two mornings a week. I know the gulch. I could scout for you.”
Sitting back in his chair, Zander’s eyes narrowed while he drummed his fingers on the table. “If we’re to win this fight, we’ll need all the help we can find. I accept your offer, Scout Zephyr. Come back at the noon bells.”
For a few seconds, Zeph couldn’t breathe, but he hid his excitement. He nodded to Zander, stood, and forced himself not to run when he left. He’d prove to Zander he could help.
3
As the noon bells rang, Zeph rushed into the dining hall. A bonus of joining the warriors: he’d eat every day. While the other warriors filled their bowls with thick rabbit stew, Zeph’s mouth watered. He couldn’t help himself—he was always hungry. But first, he went to find Zander.
As the last stragglers hunkered down to eat, Zander stood at the front with Zephyr and rapped on the table. Unused to having so many eyes on him, Zeph shrunk back, but Zander laid his hand on Zeph’s shoulder and kept him at his side.
Kaiya and the women sitting at a table near the front smiled, and Zeph took comfort from their support. It hadn’t been easy for them to be accepted as warriors. They’d understand how he was feeling.
When Zander had everyone’s attention, he announced, “I’ve learned the Odwans will most likely attack from the north, through the gulch. It will be spring or early summer at the latest.”
The warriors murmured until Zander held up his hand. “We need new recruits, and Zephyr has volunteered his help.” At their laughter, he tightened his hold on Zeph’s trembling shoulder. “He hasn’t quested yet, but Zeph is strong of will, and he knows the gulch as well as I. He’ll train with us, but I want you to account for his size. Zeph is our scout.”
At a table in the back, Lash snorted.
Zander cocked his head and asked, “You have a problem?”
“No problem,” Lash said. “We’ll treat him like a warrior.” He smirked at Dharien and a man named Koe, who sat with him.
Koe blanked his face and said, “I think it’s a great idea to have a scout. Zeph’s one of us now.”
A black shimmer hovered around the man’s head. That was the ability Zeph kept hidden. He’d learned at an early age that the shimmer meant a lie. And people lied all the time. The surprise was that Lash had told the truth.
Zander’s jaw tightened. “Zeph, get your stew and sit with Greydon. I’ll join you soon.” He strode to the back table.
From the way Zander stood, Zeph guessed he wasn’t happy. Zeph hadn’t been there an hour and he’d caused a problem. He clenched his fists and dug his fingernails into his palms. He’d do everything he could to make Zander proud of him.
When Zander joined Zeph at the table, he said, “You let me know if Lash or Koe give you any trouble. Hear me?”
He nodded, but it would have to be bad before Zeph would bother Zander. His leader had more important things to worry about than Zeph being bullied.
After the meal, Zander split the men and women into four groups. The women he sent with Fulk for archery. Ten grabbed knives for hand-to-hand fighting with Geno, a large man with a scar across his neck, who scared Zeph just looking at him. Ten others, who’d been nice to Zeph at lunch, went with Greydon to the pells with wooden practice swords.
The rest, including Zeph, followed Zander to the stables. They scooped manure from the stalls and hauled bales of straw for the floor. Together they oiled every piece of leather tack. Zeph’s shoulders ached, and his fingers cramped, but he’d never been happier. With the chores finished, they saddled the horses.
“Do you want me to help with Helios?” Zeph asked Zander.
Zander rolled his eyes. “I’ll work with him later, when there aren’t any witnesses.” He showed Zeph how to saddle Lady. “She’s a good horse for your first ride. Greydon’s bay is steady.”
Nervous at first, Zeph soon found he rode as well as most of the men. He urged Lady into a trot and then a full gallop
down the sides of the fields. Relishing the feel of Lady’s strength under him, Zeph whooped when she jumped a short brick wall and continued past Zander’s surprised face. Back at the stable, he dismounted, sorry the training was over. He brushed Lady and treated her with a carrot he’d stuck in his pocket during the meal. As she crunched, Zeph leaned his head against her side and scratched her neck. Lady’s soft nicker filled Zeph with a contentment he’d rarely felt.
With the horse already drowsing, Zeph followed the other men to the wrestling building. Relieved that Zander taught him privately, Zeph surprised himself at how quickly he learned the moves. Zander outweighed him, but Zeph was quick and got more than one takedown by ducking out of Zander’s grasp and grabbing his legs. He couldn’t hold Zander for more than a second, but Zeph was content not to embarrass himself.
Even Fulk complimented him. “For a scrawny lad, ye did good,” which was high praise from the marshal.
Only one thing marred his day. Zander may have called him a warrior, but Zeph could tell the others weren’t yet convinced yet. Their looks were skeptical, not approving.
Before Zander sent Zeph home, he rummaged around in his dresser and pulled out a pair of sturdy pants and a tunic. “Here, these should fit. See you at breakfast.”
Although he walked tall, Zeph’s shoulders ached and muscles he didn’t know he had throbbed. As he left, he heard Zander mutter, “Not so different from me a year ago.”
Fulk roared, “And now look at ye, a warrior.”
With his back to Zander and Fulk, Zeph allowed a grin to light his face. And now he was a warrior, too. He’d prove it to the others, no matter how hard he had to work.
Chapter SEVEN
Alexa
Two days after her birthday celebration, Alexa trekked to Melina Odella’s cottage. She stopped at Zeph’s shack house and knocked timidly, knowing his mother slept during the day. When he didn’t come to the door, Alexa set a basket of sugar biscuits on the stoop and trudged on, dreading her lesson.