Tokens and Omens

by Jeri Baird

Zander had missed the class when Melina Odella explained the curse. After Alexa repeated it, she said, “We’ll be fine if we complete the quest alone.” But even as she said it, she wondered—wouldn’t their chances be better if they worked together?

  “We have three months until the quest.” Zander appeared unsure. “Can we keep the secret until then?”

  “We have to fool the whole village. Everyone has kept the secret, hoping we beat the curse.”

  “We can do it.” Zander reached over and gave Alexa a quick hug. “I have to hurry to the stables, or Fulk will yell at me for being late.”

  She nodded. “I need to help Mother at the bakery.”

  He hesitated. “I’m glad we found each other before the quest, in case . . . well, you know, in case one of us doesn’t return.”

  When Zander uttered those words, Alexa’s heart split open. She’d do anything to make sure they both survived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Two Months until the Quest

  Zander

  Partly sunny, partly cloudy skies greeted the villagers as they rushed to the Quinary for the beginning of the May Day Festival. Traveling bands of Raskan performers had been arriving for a week, and their joyful singing teased at the hint of summer for the villagers weary of the drab mud of spring. The Raskans were the one tribe not represented in their village. Zander often wondered what it would be like to not have a permanent home. He couldn’t imagine a life spent traveling from one remote village to another.

  Jugglers, dancers, and storytellers came like the spring birds and drew visitors from other far-off villages. Puck’s Gulch population doubled for three days.

  Painted wagons had settled around the market, seeming out of place next to the daily stalls. Their fine metalwork and sturdy horses attracted buyers with plenty of coins. Colorful tents sprang up on the outskirts while children, who had been confined in small wagons for the long journey, squealed their joy and danced in the sun. Temporary stables housed weary horses and donkeys.

  In past years, the May Day festival had been Zander’s favorite celebration, but that morning filled him with dread. Although lessons were cancelled for three days, the relief didn’t counteract the anger threatening his happiness at finding Alexa. If he wasn’t careful, it would spill over and ruin the calm he cultivated, the facade he wore for others.

  Spending time with his twin had opened something in his heart he didn’t know how to contain. He’d spent his life shutting off his emotions. They hurt. When his drunken father had collapsed into bed before dinner, Zander had learned to take care of himself. Anger didn’t cook for him. It wasn’t his way to let himself feel. Not anger, not hurt, and not love. Alexa had cracked open his heart, but as it opened, the anger he had stuffed deep snuck out and wound its way from his gut to his heart. He was having trouble holding onto this new feeling of love, as old feelings of anger threatened to overcome it.

  Living at Elder Warrin’s estate hadn’t made his life easier as he’d hoped. As if to make up for getting him out of jail, Dharien had turned crueler. He mocked him during lessons, and it seemed with the priest’s blessing. When Zander retired at night, he frequently found his room in shambles or muck in his bed. He kept his tokens tied in a bag hidden under his tunic even as he slept. He knew Fulk had suspicions, but Zander wouldn’t give Dharien the satisfaction of denying his accusations. He kept the bullying to himself.

  Under his false calm, Zander experienced a rage he barely controlled. He hated his father for being a drunk, and he hated the mother who had deserted him. He hated the priest, and he hated Dharien. A war waged in his head, and a hornet omen appeared at his feet.

  Although thrilled to find his twin, he now feared the quest. He recalled his shock when she had told him of the curse of only one twin returning from the quest. Alexa believed they’d be fine if they stayed away from each other in the quest, but Zander’s view of Moira didn’t lead him to think she could be fooled. What if he lost Alexa?

  His father’s words echoed in his ears. “There’s no cheating Fate, Son. She’s a foul mistress.” For the first time in his life, Zander cursed Fate and hated her for the control she held over his life. When the second hornet omen appeared, he threw it against the wall.

  His thoughts turned to the festival. The wrestling tourney started after the noon bells, and Zander couldn’t wait to fight. There, he’d use his anger to his advantage.

  He remembered when Moira first came to him. She’d said his favor would be useful. Maybe he could use it in the tournament. He’d learned secrets changed with situations. He dismissed the nagging idea that a Protector wouldn’t use his favor to gain an advantage over his opponent. He’d only do it this one time. Moira had given it to him. He would use it.

  The priest had requested the students meet at the beginning of the celebration, but Zander stayed at the stables. When Fulk questioned him, Zander lied. “I don’t need to go until the wrestling at noon.” He snatched the snake omen from the ground and grimaced when he noted Fulk’s recognition of the lie.

  But Fulk didn’t care. He threw his arm around Zander’s shoulder. “Everyone from the estate is gone to celebrate. Let’s see how Helios takes to the saddle. You’ve spent more hours with him than anyone but Greydon, and Elder Warrin won’t let his first-born ride until Helios is gentled. If he’ll let anyone sit on him, it would be you.” He squinted at Zander. “You’re not going to ride Helios. Just sit in the saddle.”

  Fear seized Zander, and then as quickly, his destiny opened to him. This was his chance to prove he was capable of being a Protector. He didn’t have to ride, just sit on Helios. He’d let the outcome choose if he used his favor in the tourney. If Helios allowed Zander to stay seated, then Zander wouldn’t have to prove himself in the games.

  And if he didn’t? Then it would be up to Zander to make his dream come true.

  “By the stars, yes!” For the first time in days, Zander’s anger receded.

  “I’m ready.”

  Helios pawed at the ground, and his nostrils flared when Zander laid the blanket across his back. He’d worn the saddle, but now the whites of his eyes showed as Zander ran his hands under his belly checking the girth.

  Fulk held the lead as Zander took a deep breath, slipped his foot into the stirrup, and in one smooth movement, mounted. Zander clenched his knees against Helios’s flanks.

  The horse skittered sideways.

  Fear consumed him, and Zander hated his weakness. Anger bloomed in his gut and spread through his chest.

  Helios tensed and lowered his head. He bucked and sent his rider flying over his head. Zander rolled as he hit the dirt.

  Fulk swore while Zander scrambled out of the way. As he walked the horse, Fulk glanced at Zander, who moaned and rubbed his backside.

  Fulk scratched at his stubby beard. “Guess old Helios isn’t ready for a ride.”

  With his body already beginning to ache, Zander felt his dream to be a Protector die. A darker desire settled over him. If Dharien could lie and steal without punishment because he was an elder’s son, then Zander could use his favor for his own gain.

  He would use it, and he would win the tourney.

  Zander’s gut clenched and warned him to stay at the stables. Nothing good would come of going to the festival. He shook away the warning. He had to go. He had to win.

  As he sat on the ground, a tiny black horse materialized at his feet. Glaring, he grabbed it. Was it an omen or a token? What had he done to deserve it? Helios stamped his foot and neighed.

  When Zander glanced up, he swore the horse smirked.

  An hour later, Zander limped to the festival and registered for the wrestling tournament. Shadow had grown too large to carry in his pack, so he’d left him asleep on the bed. He glanced at the other boys waiting and waved at Greydon. All the young men in the village were encouraged to enter—supposedly, wrestling skills could a
id in the unlikely event of an attack on the village.

  The registrar eyed Zander and assigned him to a group based on his size. Dharien would be in his group, and Zander could think of no boy he’d rather beat than Dharien. Anger flushed Zander’s cheeks when he spied him warming up.

  “Hoy, Zander!” Cobie clapped him on the shoulder.

  Zander spun and raised his hand to strike.

  Alarmed, Cobie stumbled backwards.

  “Sorry,” Zander muttered. “I’m a little jumpy.”

  They practiced holds and take downs. Evenly matched, Zander hoped not to wrestle Cobie. He didn’t want to cheat against his friend.

  Six rings were scattered across the grounds to accommodate the differing classes. The boys lined up in front of the stands as the proctor announced the rules. “Two will wrestle until one pins the other, with both shoulders to the ground, for the count of three. Winners advance to the championship round. The defeated wrestlers go to the loser’s bracket where they can earn their way to the finals by winning every match thereafter. Two losses and you’re out. At the championship match, the undefeated wrestler is the champion after one win. The wrestler from the loser’s bracket will have to beat his opponent twice to win the purse.” The proctor jingled the coins in a green velvet bag.

  Zander checked the post for his first opponent. It wouldn’t be an easy win, but he’d beaten Waku in the last tournament. Waku would fight hard. Winning would mean his peasant family had enough food for the coming year. Even the second place purse provided enough money for half a year of food.

  Nervous energy charged through Zander as he paced the sidelines. The calm he craved eluded him. Images of Alexa, his father, and the mother he didn’t know flashed through his head. Hatred warred with love until his body trembled.

  “Zander?”

  Yanked from his thoughts, Zander blinked at Alexa, who stood against the fence. The pounding in his chest slowed as he focused on her anxious face.

  She came forward to touch his arm. “I wanted to say good luck.”

  Zander pulled her behind a corner. “Alexa, we have to be careful no one sees us.”

  “Mother’s still at the bakery. Is Father here?”

  “No, he’s likely lost in his cup of mead.”

  Alexa glanced around. “No one’s watching.”

  Zander’s eyes traveled past her to where Dharien lurked in the shadows. Hatred flashed between them. Zander cocked his head toward the shade. “Dharien noticed.”

  “Don’t worry about Dharien. I’ll talk to him.”

  Zander didn’t think talking would help. He’d show Dharien by winning the championship. “I fight for both of us, Alexa.”

  She nodded. “Never again will we be apart.”

  “Never. I’ll talk to you after the match.”

  He watched as Alexa wound through the stands and sat next to Merindah and Kaiya.

  At the call of his name, Zander strode to the ring, ready to fight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Alexa

  “I’m nervous. Zander’s different today.” Alexa chewed on the hem of her sleeve.

  “He looks angry.” Merindah stroked a strand of rose colored prayer beads. “I’ll pray for him.”

  Kaiya leaned forward. “Hurry. He wrestles next.”

  With Angel snuggled on her shoulder, Merindah chanted the prayer of protection.

  Zander faced Waku and shook his hand. When the referee lowered his arm, Alexa’s heart thumped out of sync and then found a rhythm with Merindah’s chanting. She wanted Zander to win, but the menace in his eyes frightened her. Today he wasn’t the gentle boy she thought she knew.

  Zander rushed in and grabbed Waku. He slammed him to the ground and struggled to press his shoulders down. Alexa caught her breath. Zander’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes wild.

  She yelled, “Go Zander!”

  Zander glanced at her and when he hesitated, Waku flipped him to his back, hooked one arm behind Zander’s knees, and lifted. With his other arm he pressed his elbow and palm against Zander’s upper chest.

  “One, two, three!” the referee yelled and slapped his hand against the ground.

  Waku jumped up victorious while Zander lay as if stunned.

  “What have I done?” Alexa cried to Merindah. “I distracted him. It’s my fault he lost. He’s going to hate me.”

  Alexa stumbled from the stands, bolted for the bakery, and flew up the steps to her bedroom. With trembling hands she cut a square cloth, quickly stitched a faceless figure lying on his back, shoulders pressed against the cloth, and then added Zander, large and strong, with his arm raised in victory. She grabbed thread and a pair of scissors and stuffed them with the cloth into her bag. Breathless, she raced to the stands and slipped into her seat next to Merindah.

  “Zander came to find you.”

  “Does he hate me?”

  Running her fingers over her beads, Merindah frowned. “No, he said to tell you he’s sorry.”

  “When does he wrestle again?”

  Pointing to the far ring, Kaiyah squinted. “Now.”

  With sure fingers, Alexa stitched the blond hair and blue shirt of Zander’s opponent on the cloth. As the referee lowered his hand, she added his blue eyes and stitched a large black X holding him to the ground.

  Merindah spat, “What are you doing?”

  With steely eyes, Alexa stared at her friend. “Your prayers didn’t work, Merindah.” She pulled the cloth to her heart. “I’ll help him. Zander will win.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Zander

  Zander strode to his second match. As a loser, he had to win every contest to reach the championship. He had to use his favor.

  When he’d glanced at Alexa earlier, she’d seemed frightened, and he’d lost his concentration. He couldn’t let it happen again.

  As Zander shook his opponent’s hand he peered into the boy’s eyes. Zander detected his plan to rush for his left side.

  The referee’s arm dropped, and the boy lunged for Zander, who stepped back and to the right. As his opponent faltered off balance, Zander flipped him and pinned the helpless boy.

  “One. Two. Three.” The ref grabbed Zander’s hand, raising it high amid cheers from the crowd.

  Match after match, Zander exploited his favor to read his opponents’ moves. And match after match, he won. Some easily, some not, but all wins.

  With some time before his next bout, Zander relaxed with Alexa under the stands where they could talk unseen.

  “Where’s Merindah?”

  Alexa shrugged. “She left after your second match.”

  “What about Kaiyah?”

  Alexa gave him a funny look, and Zander felt heat creep up his neck.

  “She’s sitting with Bindi and Tarni.”

  They stood in the shadows and followed Dharien’s match.

  “I hope he loses.” Alexa tossed her hair. “He’s too smug.”

  “No, I want him to keep winning. I want to face him for the championship.”

  “That would be perfect.” Alexa glanced sideways at Zander. “I know you can beat him.”

  Dharien continued to win, as did Zander. Between matches, Zander scanned the crowd for Alexa. He frowned as she cut threads from a cloth and quickly re-stitched them. What was she doing?

  By the end of the afternoon, Zander had wrestled his way through the loser’s bracket, and Dharien remained undefeated. They would fight for the championship, but Zander would have to win twice.

  During the long break, Zander and Alexa meandered through the crowd, avoiding villagers who might recognize them. With the extra people in for the festival, they blended with the crowd. They stopped first at a booth selling quince pie and bought one to share. As they turned to the cider table, Zander remembered the festival when he’d tried to prevent
Alexa from giving the potion to Paal. He scowled as he recalled the results. Dharien had drunk it, and now he believed he loved Alexa.

  When they headed toward the colorful trinket wagons, Alexa skipped to keep up with Zander’s longer legs. “You’re going to beat Dharien. I know it!”

  Zander grinned at Alexa’s enthusiasm. “I’ll make him regret getting to the championship.”

  They moved with the flow of the crowd toward the row of amusements where the Raskans had booth after booth of games and contests.

  “Let’s play a game, Zander, please?”

  They passed by the marbles, ring toss, and shuffleboard before Alexa clapped her hands together and dragged Zander to the Wheel of Fortune.

  A red-haired girl not much older than Zander smiled and beckoned to him. Unable to resist, he drifted over to stand in front of the large wooden circle divided into twelve pie pieces. A black arrow pointed out from the middle.

  “For a bronze, win a prize, and learn your future.” The girl leaned into Zander, and an exotic spice he couldn’t place filled his nose. Patchouli, perhaps, but he couldn’t say for sure, only that he felt light-headed and weak in the knees.

  “I’m Sophia,” she whispered.

  The Raskan women were known for their enchantments. Each year after the festival at least one young man left with the wagons, dreaming of love and faraway adventures. For a moment, Zander considered how easy it would be to leave with the red-headed girl before the quest. No worries about tokens or pleasing Moira. As Sophia held his eyes, he decided. He’d go.

  “Zander?” Alexa clutched his arm. “Are you all right?”

  As if released from a dream, Zander stumbled back a step. He couldn’t leave Alexa. He’d just found her. “Uh, I don’t want to play. You do it, Alexa.”

  The disappointed look on Sophia’s face almost made him change his mind. He dug in his pocket and pulled out one bronze. As he handed it to Sophia, he whispered, “For my sister.”

  Her smile returned, and she trailed a finger down his cheek. “Your sister. Not your girlfriend?”