Curses and Warfare

by Jeri Baird

  “I’m sure the elders’ wives will love it,” Rosa scoffed. “What does it have to do with us?”

  Kaiya took it and peered, intent, at the scene. “This is Paal, Lash, and Dharien training with bows.” She looked up, puzzled. “What are you doing?”

  “I know I can help the war if I stitch the right scenes. This one helps them shoot straight.”

  Bindi sat up straight. “I never hit the bulls-eye. Can you help me?”

  “I think so, but I haven’t quite got my spells right. I’m not using the right words.”

  “Merindah could help.” Kaiya handed the cloth back to Alexa. “Have you heard her prayers during Sunday mass? She has a gift with words.”

  “I haven’t been going.” Alexa shook her head. “I’m not sure she’ll help if it involves magic.”

  Yarra stood. “Stay here. I’ll get her. She owes me a favor.”

  While they waited for Yarra, Alexa passed around the embroideries she’d stitched of the warriors training. The women laughed at the scene of them using practice blades on the pells.

  “You’re good at this.” Gia rubbed her finger across the cloth. She glanced up at Alexa. “I never could get my stitches straight, and I kept poking my finger with the needle.”

  “When I get in a hurry, I prick myself, too,” Alexa said, holding out her left hand. A dozen blood spots scattered across the pad of her index finger. She lifted her velvet skirt to show the scar in her knee. “I also don’t carry a needle in my hem anymore.”

  “That was awful in the quest when Zander had to pull out the needle. I thought I’d faint.” The others laughed with Kaiya, but Alexa sobered. Zander. What was he thinking? He’d alienated the best group of women she knew. He was going to need all of them in the war. And Melina Odella, too. Alexa hated the thought, but she needed to stay close to the fortune-teller. She dropped her skirt as Yarra walked in with Merindah.

  She puzzled over Merindah’s changed appearance. She wore the usual plain brown dress, but she’d added a black scarf that covered her head. There were dark circles under her eyes as though she had not slept in days, and she compulsively fingered the amethyst beads tied in a loop around her waist. Merindah glanced at Alexa and dropped her eyes.

  When she moved to give her friend a hug, Alexa gasped as she put her arms around her thin body. “What happened to your hair?”

  Merindah stiffened and pulled away. “Hair is a vanity.” She yanked off the scarf to reveal her shaved head. “It would benefit all of us to spend less time on appearances and more time in prayer and meditation.”

  The room grew silent. Alexa ignored the jab. “We need your help.”

  “If it doesn’t interfere with my vows, I’ll try. Yarra said you have a plan to help Zander stop the invasion.”

  “You believe the village is in danger?”

  Merindah nodded. “I know it is. God speaks to me in my meditations.”

  Stunned, Alexa stuttered, “God speaks to you? Moira speaks to Zander.” Alexa wasn’t ready to share her own visions from Moira. She’d never felt the presence of God. She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to hear Merindah’s answer, before she asked, “What does he say?”

  Merindah lifted her eyes heavenward. “We must unite the tribes as Puck envisioned. Only together, as one soul, can we defeat the invaders and preserve our village.”

  A shiver ran through Alexa. “Puck also speaks to Zander, but I think my brother has forgotten his directive.”

  Merindah turned sorrow-filled eyes to Alexa. “Then we will fall.”

  “No.” Kaiya paced at the door. “We won’t. We’ll find a way to remind Zander, and we’ll train on our own.” She grabbed Alexa and Merindah’s hands. “Together. If we can’t get along, what hope do we have to unite the others?”

  Unite the tribes. What did that even mean? Members of five tribes lived in Puck’s Gulch. Tshilaba belonged to the sixth tribe, the Raskans, who called no land home. In Puck’s Gulch, they’d found peace, but not unity. Although the tribes had intermingled, they still identified with the tribes by their appearance. Yarra was Chadha like her. Kaiya was Yapi, Bindi was Kharok. Merindah and Rosa were Dakta. Gia, with her bright red hair, was one of the few Odwa in their village.

  Hope blossomed in her chest and spread until she felt the warmth flush her cheeks. Alexa caught each of the women’s eyes. “We have all the tribes right here. Let the men train for war. We’ll train for peace.”

  Alexa brought out the journal she’d used in the quest. Lavender scent drifted from the pages of the black book. “This isn’t so different from the quest. We’ll list our strengths and our weaknesses.” She cocked her head and looked around. “Moira is preparing us for war. I have my embroidery. What favors did she give each of you?”

  “Zander says I shoot straighter than most of the men.” Kaiya’s grin lit up her face. “I hunt better, too, because I step quieter than most.”

  “I see in the dark.” Bindi looked around as if expecting the others to question her.

  “That’s an awesome favor.” Alexa wrote it next to Bindi’s name. Rosa’s favor was exceptional hearing.

  “Gia?”

  “I’m good with a sling.” When Alexa’s eyebrows rose, Gia tipped her chin up. “I was good before the quest. Now I’m amazing.”

  Alexa wrote it down. “Moira gave it to you, I’m sure it will be useful.”

  They turned to Merindah. She ran her fingers along the strand of beads at her waist. “I pray.”

  Alexa almost snorted. “Everyone prays, Merindah.”

  She stiffened and stood as if to leave. “My prayers work.”

  Silence settled over the room. “What do you mean?” Kaiya asked, moving to stand with Merindah. “Can you change things?”

  After a short nod, Merindah stared at Alexa. “You control with your embroidery without regard for consequences. I influence events after hours in meditation, when I’m certain of God’s will. My way is better.”

  Indignant, Alexa jumped up to face Merindah. Merindah referred to the time Alexa used her stitching to help Zander win the tournament with disastrous results.

  Kaiya held her hands between them. “Together. We need to work together.” She glanced from Alexa’s to Merindah’s faces. “We can’t do this if we blame each other or claim only one way as right.”

  When Merindah dropped her eyes, Alexa felt the fight leave her. She slumped to the bed and whispered, “Merindah, we were friends once. Can we work together for the good of the village?”

  Tears welled in Merindah’s eyes. She took Alexa’s outstretched hand. “I want that. But your way isn’t the way of God.”

  “It’s the way of Moira. Puck’s Gulch was founded on both equally. Have you forgotten? Moira and God working together with the tribes united.” Alexa jolted upright. “If we can work as equals . . .” she gestured at the others “. . . and include all the tribes, we can do this.” She jumped to her feet and hugged her friend. “We’ll prove to Zander he’s wrong to leave us out.”

  Merindah looked at her strangely, but nodded.

  The group turned to Yarra, who shrugged. “I don’t know if I can explain what my favor is. When Zander talks strategy, I see it in my head. It’s like I understand how doing one thing affects another.”

  Kaiya’s eyes lit. “That’s brilliant. I never know what he’s talking about, but Yarra—if you understand Zander’s strategy, we can make a solid plan to help.” She pumped her fist in the air. “We will win!”

  After Alexa wrote Yarra’s favor on the page, she said, “The seven of us will do it together.”

  Merindah gasped. “Seven? That’s the number of spiritual connection. God and Moira, prayer and magic. This is why we’ve been called to work together.”

  They made plans to meet the next morning at dawn. The other women left, and Alexa spread her cards across the bed. She pu
lled one to guide their path. The image was a woman sitting on a platform supported by two beasts—one white and one black—representing two opposing forces. The Chariot card foretold of triumph, but only with great effort and self-discipline.

  It was the card associated with the number seven.

  Chapter TWENTY-SIX

  Zander

  The look on Kaiya’s face as she left haunted Zander, but he didn’t have time for regrets. He split the men into four teams and sent them out. He and Greydon walked behind their group on the way to the archery range.

  “Did you see the men’s faces? It never occurred to them they could lose a spot with the warriors. They’re determined to work harder than ever.” Greydon playfully punched Zander’s shoulder. “And nothing will distract them.”

  Zander stopped. “Who distracts you, Greydon?”

  The words were out before Zander thought about what he was saying.

  Greydon turned to face him, blushing brilliantly, but he held Zander’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s not the women, is it?” He only brought it up now because of the twist in his own gut. He never should have listened to Greydon. “Is it Odo? I see the way you watch him.”

  He didn’t have time to duck before Greydon’s fist connected with his chin and knocked him to his butt. Greydon looked as shocked as Zander felt. They’d argued, but never come to blows. Zander rubbed his jaw. “Nice hook.”

  “What the hell, Zander!” Greydon extended his hand and pulled Zander to his feet.

  “Am I wrong?”

  When Greydon stared back at him stone-faced, Zander leaned in. “Look, I don’t care. I just think you’re being a little holier-than-thou about the girls—I mean the women.” He pulled his hair back and tied it with a leather strap. “I don’t care, Greydon. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to fight about this.”

  “Is it obvious?” Greydon slumped. “Do the others know?”

  “I don’t think so. And it only matters if it bothers you.”

  “It matters to my father. You don’t know what it’s like being a firstborn son.”

  Zander’s eyebrow rose. “And what am I?”

  “You know what I mean.” Greydon had the grace to look away. “There are certain expectations for an elder’s heir. I need to marry and produce the next heir.”

  “Well, then, all the more reason to bring down the current system, hoy? I bet Puck’s picked this time to resurrect his dream just to get you out of the heir business.”

  That brought a grin. As they walked, Greydon grew quiet. He mumbled, “You really don’t care?”

  “I care a lot more about avoiding your fist.” Zander stepped to the side to bump Greydon’s shoulder. “I’ve known for a long time. I don’t care, Greydon.”

  Greydon grabbed Zander’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “How long?”

  This was a conversation Zander never should have started. He shrugged Greydon’s hand off his arm. “Long enough.”

  “How?” Suspicion clouded Greydon’s face. “I’ve never told anyone, and Odo’s the first man I’ve been truly interested in. How did you know?”

  Damn. How could he get out of this without revealing his own secret? “Look. Sometimes I just know things. I–I . . . saw it in your eyes when we met at the archery tournament.”

  “That long?” Anger flashed in Greydon’s eyes. “Who have you told?”

  “No one. I swear.”

  “Why would you keep that secret when we weren’t even friends then?”

  Zander felt his own anger rising into his chest. “Damn it, Greydon. Everyone has secrets. You think that’s the worst one I know? It’s not.” He should stop talking, but the words flew out. “Moira gave me a favor I never wanted. It’s a curse, not a gift.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Greydon stepped back and rocked on his heels.

  What the hell? If Zander wasn’t careful, he was going to lose his best friend. He sucked in a deep breath and tamped down his anger. It wound down into a familiar place in his gut, tight and pulsing. He had to confess to Greydon and hope he’d understand. He pulled energy from the earth and embraced the calm that flowed through his chest.

  “During my time of magic, Moira gave me the favor of seeing a person’s deepest secret when I looked in their eyes.” He held up his hand when Greydon started to interrupt. “I hated it. I didn’t want to see your secret. But sometimes it helped me. I found Alexa because of what I saw in Father’s eyes. After the quest, I begged Moira to take it, but she insisted I’d need it yet.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve spent hours learning to control it. I only see secrets when I let down my shield.” He searched Greydon’s eyes. “I never let it down with you. Never.”

  Disbelief washed across Greydon’s face. “How would I know?”

  “You have to trust me. I give you my word.”

  Greydon stared at the ground. “It’s a lot to ask.”

  And there it was. The one thing Zander feared. If Greydon wouldn’t trust him, no one else would. “Will you at least keep my secret?”

  Greydon nodded without looking at Zander. He glanced across at the men waiting at the targets for instruction. “Let’s get to work.”

  It unsettled Zander that Greydon obviously felt betrayed. If he exposed Zander’s secret, it would undermine any trust Zander had built with the warriors. But then, Greydon wanted his own secret kept. Once he calmed down, Greydon would realize it.

  Zander spent the next two hours improving the men’s stances and giving encouragement. It was two hours that Zander could forget the suspicion on Greydon’s face and the anger on Kaiya’s.

  At the end of the afternoon, when the men had all gone to their own homes for the night, Zander limped to the stable. He rubbed the welt on his thigh. Scars were like secrets. Everyone had them. Some were on the outside, exposed, and some hid deep inside. It was a relief to have Greydon know. He’d find a way to make it work between them. Now, if he could figure out how to make things right with Kaiya. Somehow, he didn’t think a punch to his jaw would do it.

  In the privacy of his room, Zander pulled a stone from the pouch on his nightstand. Tshilaba had given it to him before the quest. It was two-colored: the red reflected love and the black represented his anger. He’d used it during a meditation to release the anger he’d held onto for years and the stone had transformed to all red. Now, he turned it over and over in his palm. The black took up nearly half of the stone. If he didn’t deal with his anger, he’d lose control. And he couldn’t afford that.

  Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

  Zephyr

  “Come on, Dorothy.”

  His patron had stopped to smell the winter bloom of the witch hazel that wove through the fence separating the village from Elder Warrin’s land. When she pulled off a blossom and chewed it with a determination only a donkey could have, Zeph chuckled. “Eva will switch you for that. The healers need it for remedies.”

  A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. With war looming, the healers would need more than a tonic for bruises. And while Zander trained the warriors, Zeph was stuck going to quester lessons with the most stubborn donkey he’d ever known. He patted Dorothy’s head. “With all your faults, I still love you.”

  Dorothy’s response was to lift her tail and leave a steaming pile in the snow.

  Thank the stars no one was watching. As he drew closer to the Quinary, Zeph’s steps slowed. Moira had changed the traditional classroom lectures to include patrons. The classes had not changed in two hundred years. Why now?

  Even with his new quester clothes, Zeph felt uncomfortable with his fellow questers. They were supposed to be equals during the time of magic, but he couldn’t relate to the others. His classmates knew him as the dumb kid from the shacks. He preferred it over what they would think if they knew the truth. No one would tolerate his presence if
they knew he saw their lies, had always seen them. If it was a gift from Moira, it was one he’d always had. No, it was better to be thought stupid than to be feared.

  Dorothy nudged his shoulder as if sensing his mood. He leaned his head into her neck and scratched her ears.

  Why did he think he’d make any difference in the war? He was nothing but the bastard child of a cruel elder. Even Moira must think so. He’d not received a single token or omen since beginning his time of magic.

  3

  Zeph had barely returned from class when Geno charged into the stables carrying a small cage.

  “Zephyr,” he growled. “Get your bow and come with me.”

  What had he done? Still in his quester’s clothing, Zeph grabbed his bow and stumbled down the aisle past the horse stalls. He paused at Dorothy’s pen where she munched from a pail of oats. It looked like Zeph was going to miss his noon meal.

  “Leave your donkey. You don’t need your patron for this.” Geno marched out the back door.

  Zeph grabbed his jacket from a peg on the wall. Geno was taking him to the training ring.

  At the center, Geno turned to face him. “Zander said to train you as an assassin.” He glared at Zeph, appraising him from head to toe. “Let’s see if you have it in you. Get your bow ready.”

  The bow flipped out of Zeph’s hand, clattering against the hard ground. When he bent to pick it up, his arrows slid out of the quiver, landing in a pile at Geno’s feet.

  Geno snorted. “Some assassin.” He opened the cage and a wild pup skittered out and raced for the fence, searching for a hole.

  “Shoot it,” Geno ordered.

  Zeph lifted his bow and then lowered it. He couldn’t kill an innocent pup.

  “You think it’ll be easier to kill a man? Shoot.” Geno stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “Or shall I tell Zander to find a new assassin?”

  Shaking, Zeph positioned his bow and drew back. He sighted and closed his eyes as he released the string. A sickening thud and squeals of pain filled his ears.