Tokens and Omens

by Jeri Baird

  As the stands filled, the proctor announced the rules. “Each boy takes ten shots, with points given for each hit. Bull’s-eyes receive ten points with two points less for each circle away from the middle. One point’s awarded for hitting any part of the target outside the circles. The top two marksmen in both age groups will advance to the finals.”

  The group of younger boys would compete first. The proctor called Zander’s name.

  “The worst luck,” Zander muttered as he entered the arena. He flexed his hand to release the cramp from clenching his bow. As he glanced into the packed stands, the elders scowled. Zander took a swig of water to wet his mouth.

  The proctor announced to the crowd, “Zander, son of Theron, in his time of magic, competes at Elder Warrin’s request.”

  The villagers murmured their surprise. The elders glared at Elder Warrin. They didn’t like change, and especially not if it meant two village boys would be competing against their sons. Zander grinned. Nope, not happy.

  Elder Warrin caught Zander’s eye and nodded. Zander had at least one person supporting him. Father was likely drunk in the mead tent. Zander hadn’t told him he’d be competing. Now, it seemed foolish. Father was sure to hear of it.

  The proctor motioned for Zander to shoot.

  Beads of sweat popped up on Zander’s forehead. His inner voice reminded him, Calm down. Jittery hands make for a shaky bow. He nocked his arrow, inhaled, and pulled back the string. He sighted along the arrow as he’d done hundreds of times since Father had taught him to hunt at the age of five. He could outshoot every boy there. Probably.

  Willing himself to stillness, he tried to shut out everything but the target. The crowd disappeared. The chatter of the boys faded. The bull’s-eye filled his vision.

  As Zander released the arrow, Dharien yelled, “Low-lifes don’t belong here.”

  Zander jerked the bow to the side, and the arrow struck the edge of the target. Zander’s face burned at the laughter from the stands. He would begin the competition with one point.

  As the next contestants shot, Zander pulled his energy into his gut and sent it deep into the earth imagining himself as a sturdy oak tree. Calm flowed into his body. Confidence replaced nerves. At his next turn, he stepped again into the arena. The target filled his vision, and he lifted his bow with relaxed shoulders. He sighted, breathed in, and released. The arrow flew true. Bull’s-eye.

  With that second shot, Zander’s shoulders snapped back, and his chest thrust out. He stared into the stands, daring them to laugh now. He would overcome his first bad shot. He could still win and he would. He’d prove to Dharien and all the elders he deserved to be in the competition. He’d prove being a elder’s son wasn’t enough to cheat him from what he deserved. With a jolt, Zander realized he wasn’t thinking of only this competition.

  On his next eight turns, Zander hit the bull’s-eye. With each round, the applause from the stands grew. At his tenth and final attempt, the peasants and merchants stood hushed as he prepared to shoot. The elders and Protectors who filled the front rows remained seated. Tied with Paal, and Dharien one point behind, the last round would determine the winners. Zander’s pulse raced. If he bull’s-eyed the last shot, he’d advance to the finals. And if the other two boys shot less than a ten, Zander would win.

  He strode to the arena and breathed deeply to slow the adrenaline racing through his blood. He couldn’t let his nerves control him. Not now. Not with the chance of winning so close. He nodded to the proctor and faced the target. He wiped his palms on his pants.

  Time slowed as he nocked the arrow and lifted the bow. Everything around him stilled. The pounding of his heart drowned out every other noise. He sighted, released, and followed the arrow as it flew.

  Bull’s-eye.

  The arena came back into focus, and Zander turned to the wild cries of the audience. With a wide grin he couldn’t conceal, Zander graciously acknowledged them and bowed. He had advanced to the finals. When the round ended, Zander had won. Paal finished second and Dharien third. Cobie seemed pleased with sixth.

  After his adrenaline subsided, Zander tucked Shadow under his tunic and relaxed with Cobie in the shade. Zander couldn’t stop thinking of his final shot and the cheers from the crowd. He’d done it. He’d proven himself to the elders, and more importantly, he’d given Fate a reason to grant his dream. He didn’t even care when the peacock omen for pride formed next to him. He’d work on earning sparrow tokens later.

  He enjoyed the older boys’ competition. After a close contest, Dharien’s older brother Greydon finished first and Elder Terrec’s son, Lash, finished second.

  Cobie left to help his father in the market. “I’ll cheer for you in the finals,” he said with a backward wave.

  While the crowd filtered from the stands for a break before the final competition, Zander inspected his arrows and pulled one with torn quills from his pouch. The rest remained perfect. As he slid his bow over his shoulder and across his back, Dharien punched his arm.

  “I should have been in the finals. Not you! You don’t belong in this competition”

  “It was your father who gave permission,” Zander shot back.

  “You must have cheated. Magic helped you win. Did Moira give you the favor of shooting straight? I’ll have you thrown out!” Dharien ran to the man in charge.

  This could be trouble. The proctor was sure to side with an elder’s son. Red-faced, Dharien shouted and pointed at Zander.

  A shadow passed over the proctor’s face. He strode toward Zander. “Is this true? Did magic help you win?”

  Wondering how he could prove otherwise, Zander’s pulse raced. No way would this man believe him after Dharien’s accusation. Zander had one chance. He held the proctor’s gaze long enough to see his secret. Suddenly, Zander laughed.

  “You think this is funny? I disqualify you from the competition!” The proctor grabbed Zander’s arm. “Come with me to the judge.”

  Standing behind the proctor, Dharien smirked. “I knew it. No peasant could win without magic.”

  Zander pulled away and held up his hand. He couldn’t reveal his favor, but he could use the information he saw. He bent and whispered into the man’s ear. “You steal from your land holder to gamble and drink. What do you think Elder Martin would say if I told him?”

  Through clenched teeth the proctor muttered, “You lie. You cannot know this.”

  “And yet I do.” Zander said. “It’s no lie.” He hoped the proctor wouldn’t disqualify him for his boldness. Not many wanted their secrets known, and Zander didn’t think he was brave enough to expose him to Elder Martin.

  The proctor turned to Dharien. “No cheating has occurred. Zander moves to the finals!”

  Dharien’s mouth dropped and then his eyes narrowed. “You won’t win.” He pushed Zander against a corner post and held him. “You’re nothing but a low-life furrier’s son. You don’t deserve to win. I’ll see to it you lose in the next round.” Dharien stomped on the scorpion omen that appeared next to his foot.

  Zander jabbed his finger in Dharien’s chest. “Empty threat, Dharien.” He ducked under Dharien’s arm and picked up the omen. He tossed it at Dharien before he sauntered away. For the first time, gratitude for his gift filled him. It might prove useful, after all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Alexa

  Alexa didn’t care about the shooting competition, but thankfully, Dharien had to leave her to compete. He kept trying to hold her hand. Merindah had been disgusted with Dharien’s puppy eyes and left with Kaiya to cheer for Zander and Cobie. At any other festival, Alexa would have been happy to join them, but she needed to talk to Melina Odella. With the crowd headed to the stands, the fortune-teller should be easy to find.

  Despite the sun’s warmth, Alexa clutched at her tunic, shivering. She wandered past a half-empty cart of copper kettles for sale. The grilled venison drifti
ng from the next booth turned her stomach, even as it grumbled. She’d skipped breakfast, remembering all the treats the festival would offer. Now, nothing smelled good. She bought a small bag of roasted hickory nuts. Maybe they’d settle her stomach and her nerves.

  Laughter and music drifted from a large tent. After the quest, Alexa would be old enough to enter. As she cracked a nut and popped it in her mouth, she peeked through the open door. From her pocket, Fiona begged for a treat and Alexa absently gave her a nut. In one corner of the tent, a Protector played a fiddle tucked under his chin. His foot vigorously tapped out the beat. Next to him, Eva, the midwife and healer, played a flute, her eyes sparkling. Alexa loved watching her. Eva was Mother’s best friend and had helped birth Alexa. Kaiya’s father beat a drum and sang a duet with Merindah’s mother who tapped a tambourine against her leg. The potter played a recorder.

  The music wound into Alexa’s soul and her tension eased. The happy beat was contagious. Her eyes flitted to the couples dancing in the center. One of the men, already drunk, fell against a chair and landed flat on his back. His laughing wife pulled him up, and held him tight as they continued to dance.

  Alexa wrinkled her nose. She hoped her future husband wouldn’t drink. She shuddered. Would it be Dharien? She didn’t know him well, but most of the elders enjoyed their mead. Zander’s father sat alone in a corner with a pint clutched in both hands. He didn’t look like he enjoyed the festivities.

  She backed away from the tent. She’d check to see if Mother needed help. She could find Melina Odella later. When she reached the bakery, the door was closed and Mother was gone. The racks were empty. As usual, Mother’s breads and cakes had sold out. There went her excuse not to find the fortune-teller.

  She wandered down the market street and turned at the row with the jewelry. She ignored the call of the sparkling gems and instead purchased a copper leaf pin for her tunic. She passed the woven coverlets and stopped at the corner booth of games for the younger children. The sack races started and Alexa laughed with the others as a small boy fell and then wiggled to the finish line. It wasn’t so long ago she’d played those games.

  She turned the corner and her stomach lurched. Melina Odella stood in a booth and held out a coin for a bolt of purple silk. Alexa sighed. She had to talk to her sometime.

  Melina Odella stepped into the sun and spied Alexa. Her eyes flashed. “How did the priest come to drink the potion?”

  Fiona took one look at the fortune-teller’s wolf and disappeared into Alexa’s pocket, trembling.

  “I don’t know what happened.” Alexa spread out her hands as she pleaded with the fortune-teller. “He took one cup, and Dharien drank the other. This isn’t what I wanted. Can you make a potion to undo this one?”

  “No, I cannot,” the fortune-teller replied hoarsely. “We both have to deal with your mistake. The cards warned you, and yet, you ignored them.”

  Surprised at the fortune-teller’s reproach, Alexa stammered, “But you said I’d achieve what I wanted.”

  “And you did. An elder’s son is in love with you.”

  “It’s the wrong one.”

  Melina Odella stared at Alexa. “The priest thinks he’s in love with me.”

  “He can’t . . .”

  “Exactly.”

  The priest was forbidden to love one person. His love was sanctioned for the village as a whole. There had to be a way to undo the potion. For the priest and for Dharien. Alexa shaded her eyes as she squinted at Melina Odella. “What will happen?”

  “What do you think? If the elders believe Chanse has broken his vows, he’ll be removed from his position. Is that what you wanted when you gave him the potion? Was this always your plan, Alexa? To disgrace the priest?”

  “No. I didn’t give it to him. I tried to stop him, but he gave me an omen for greed and took it anyway. I promise, Melina Odella. I didn’t want this.”

  Melina Odella stepped toward Alexa, until inches separated them. She gripped Alexa’s arm. “You’d better hope nothing comes of it. I can make the quest difficult for you. You don’t want to cross me, Alexa.”

  Alexa jerked her arm away and ran. She needed to talk to Merindah. She found her with Kaiya in the stands where the two sat with their patrons on their shoulders.

  “Can I talk to you?” she whispered to her best friend. “But not here, not with Kaiya.”

  Kaiya leaned across Merindah. “Zander shoots next. You should see him, Alexa. He’s tied with Paal and Dharien.” She bounced against the wooden seat. “Can you believe it? A peasant is winning. He’s a hero!”

  A hero? That seemed a little strong. Alexa glanced at the smiling faces of the villagers. If Zander won, each and every one of them would share in his celebration.

  As Zander continued to hit bull’s-eyes, she couldn’t help herself. Alexa cheered and screamed with the rest of the villagers. They were peasants. If Zander could do it, if he could rise above his station and beat the elders, then they could. She could.

  Zander won and the crowd roared. The elders sat quiet as if stunned. Dharien didn’t seem happy to place third.

  Alexa sat through the older boys’ competition waiting to talk with Merindah. At the break she grabbed her friend’s hand. “Kaiya? Can I talk to Merindah for a few minutes?”

  Kaiya nodded. “I need to find Odo. I’ll meet you here for the finals.”

  Alexa pulled Merindah to the top of the stands and waited for the arena to clear. She curled forward and wrapped her arms around her knees. She wasn’t sure she wanted to confess.

  Merindah blurted out, “What’s going on with you and Dharien?”

  “I think I made a mistake. I went to the fortune-teller for a potion.”

  “What are you talking about?” Merindah’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done?”

  After taking a deep breath, Alexa confided her secret and what happened with the mix-up and the priest. “But it didn’t turn out as I wanted. What should I do?”

  Merindah chewed a fingernail. “You have to tell Dharien.”

  “No! I couldn’t!” Alexa hid her face in her hands.

  “Does Zander know?”

  “How could he? But it’s his fault Paal didn’t drink the cider.”

  “It’s not fair to condemn him for your mistake.” Merindah glared at her. “How could you think this would work?”

  “You blame me too?” If Merindah was mad at her, she had no one on her side.

  “Who else?” Merindah shrugged and her black curls bounced against her shoulders.

  Alexa rubbed her arms. “I’ll fix this. I have to! I can’t have Dharien thinking he loves me.” He didn’t really love her, did he?

  “And what of the priest?”

  Remembering Melina Odella’s anger, Alexa didn’t care what happened to the priest. “The fortune-teller threatened me. She can deal with him.”

  Merindah snorted. “She’s our teacher. She wouldn’t threaten you. It’s always about you, isn’t it, Alexa?” She shook her head.

  Alexa’s face fell. “Is that what you think?”

  “In your scheming, did you ever consider what Paal wants? Or what he would think of you tricking him?”

  Alexa closed her eyes to calm her sudden anger, but before she could answer, Merindah stood. “I think you deserve Dharien.”

  The sting of Merindah’s words cut through Alexa’s anger and tears threatened. When Merindah rushed off, Alexa bent over her knees and pressed her palms into her eyes. How could she fix this?

  She felt someone standing in front of her.

  “Alexa?”

  Dharien. He must have been waiting. She forced a smile as she glance up. “Congratulations. Third place is still good, isn’t it?”

  He scowled. “Third is terrible. Zander stole my place in the finals. He never should have been allowed to shoot.”

 
She shrugged. What could she say. “There’s always the next one.”

  Dharien’s scowl turned to a smile. “Forget that low-life. Let’s enjoy the festival. Let me buy you sweets.”

  If Zander was a low-life, what was she? Dharien wanted to spend time with her because of the potion. This was never going to work. She held back her tears. “I can’t. I have to find Mother.” It was a small lie. She did need Mother if she wanted to be rid of Dharien.

  Dharien looked hopeful. “Maybe later?”

  “Maybe.”

  Dharien took her hand as they walked down the steps. Alexa reminded herself it wasn’t real. He was under the spell of the potion.

  “Dharien!” Elder Warrin’s voice boomed from the bottom steps.

  Dharien jerked his hand from Alexa’s. His cheeks reddened.

  Elder Warrin frowned and ignored Alexa. “Your mother is looking for you. She wants to celebrate Greydon’s win as a family.” He spun on his heels and strode away. He commanded over his shoulder. “Come now.”

  Dharien pouted at his father’s back before he turned to Alexa. “If it weren’t for Zander, we’d be celebrating my win too.”

  “I’m sorry, Dharien.” Not really, no, not sorry at all.

  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Then he was gone, hurrying after his father.

  Alexa’s stomach lurched. Even if she liked Dharien, his family would never accept a peasant into their family. The look in Elder Warrin’s eyes confirmed that little truth. No longer interested in the festivities, Alexa threaded through the crowd and stumbled to the bakery. She climbed the steps to her room, fell to the bed, and cried herself to sleep with Fiona tucked in her arms. The day had been a disaster.

  As Alexa tossed in bed, she dreamed of potions and boys who loved her and then hated her. When she woke, the last dream she remembered was Zander’s face. His eyes were the blue of the sky while hers were the black of night.