The Bad Omen
Xandon threw his shovel aside, judging the grave was deep enough. The sun was rising in the morning sky, and he'd been digging since sunrise.
A Berune tiger's white and black striped body lay lifeless on the ground. Morning sunlight swept across Kumata's form, revealing a cunning predator thick with muscles. He was the most dangerous creature Xandon had ever known, and he had been Xandon's closest friend.
Anyone who had seen Kumata in life had revered him for his threat and his beauty. Berune tigers were among the fiercest of animals, though Xandon had never seen him harm a thing, except once.
Xandon often wrestled with Kumata. Over the years, he had gotten better at reading Kumata's movements and anticipating his actions. He could slip out from under Kumata's holds before Kumata could place his mouth around any part of Xandon.
When Kumata got his mouth around him, the fight was lost, as there was no escape from the jaws of a Berune tiger once you were in them.
During one of their wrestles, Kumata closed his mouth around Xandon's bicep, meaning defeat. Xandon patted Kumata on the head. "That's twice in a row."
He pulled away, but Kumata didn't release his arm. Instead, he bit down, sinking his teeth into Xandon's flesh.
Xandon winced from the pain as Kumata held his arm in a firm grip. Xandon locked eyes with Kumata. They shared a long, fixed stare that went deeper than each other's eyes.
When a trickle of blood ran down his arm, Kumata released him. Xandon's left bicep held a circle of distinct gashes. The places where the teeth of Kumata had pierced his skin.
Now, looking down at Kumata's body, he wondered if there was something more in that moment. His fingers traced the scars that remained on his bicep. The teeth marks had risen in a half-circle, marking him with the bite of the Berune tiger, his friend.
Xandon dragged his impossibly heavy body into the hole, inch by inch, and filled it. He sat next to the grave and smoothed over the top of the soil with both hands. At its center, he placed a fist-sized rock he'd dug out of a garden.
He pressed his palm into the dirt. "I thought you'd always be here."
The soft patting of paws sounded behind him. Writ, a sleek, black dog with lavender colored eyes, trotted toward him. She stuck her wet nose in the crook of his neck. Her breath tickled his ear. Xandon smiled and put his arm around her.
"Come to cheer me up?"
Pulling her close, he gave her a long hug.
Writ's appearance at his side meant the other animals were awake too.
Xandon went to the barn and pulled both barn doors open. Morning sun silhouetted Xandon's lean frame and unkempt hair, throwing it across the barn floor in front of him in shadow. Sunlight fell over several sets of eyes and all the residents of the barn in the McQuibble Estate knew it was morning.On this fine estate, with a grand mansion of fourteen bedrooms, Xandon is the boy who lives in the barn.
He prefers the animals he lives with to people. The animals don't care that Xandon is young or that he has no money. They never disregard him because he doesn't have a last name. Never complain about his clothing, though frayed and terribly dirty. Nor do they make a fuss over the state of his dark brown hair, which has always been quite out of control. Xandon often brushed it out of his eyes and patted it down, but the end result just looked as if bits of his hair were standing up to cheer for the other bits of hair that figured out how to look normal.
Dropping to his straw bed, Xandon reached underneath, withdrawing a leather-bound student's workbook. A gold coin with a hole in its center slid out from its pages. On one side of the coin, there was an eye, and the hole sat where the pupil would be. The other showed design work and raised writing that read:
The way is not a place.
He'd owned the coin for as long as he could remember, and he kept it hidden, as it was the only money he had. Looking down at his dirty bare feet, the thought of buying some shoes put a smile on his face.
He checked his workbook. No assignments today. He noticed the date and his heart sank. Today was his twelfth birthday, and nothing good ever happened on his birthdays.
The sound of Puck's voice emanated from the back door of the McQuibble manor. Xandon's stomach turned over in dread. Not only had he buried his friend this morning, but he'd also buried his protector and only line of defense against Puck McQuibble.
Puck was the son of Forbentle and Everlyne McQuibble. While Xandon wasn't sure of all the things Puck liked or disliked, he was certain that Puck hated animals and despised him.
When Puck would show up to cause an incident, Kumata would respond by frightening him back into the house. Kumata's roar alone would send Puck screaming in terror. Unfortunately, with Puck's tears came punishment. Whenever the animals had misbehaved, it was Xandon who was punished, and Xandon had gotten more lashings for Kumata than all the rest of the animals combined.
With Kumata gone, things would certainly be different in the estate and not for the better.
After feeding the animals, Xandon checked the sun. Judging by its placement in the sky, it was nearing lunch, and he was running behind with his chores.
He took the reins of two horses and led them to a small paddock outside the barn. One was a dark brown horse with a black mane and tail. Along its flank and neck lay spotty swirls of mossy green. He was followed by a pale brown horse with a white mane and tail, and gold wheat colored swirls of spots. Both trotted handsomely around the paddock.
They were Everard chargers, and they were the fastest horses in all the kingdoms. Everard chargers were also the most expensive horses money could buy. All Xandon could do was take them for a simple trot in the paddock. They were only for show, like all the animals that lived in the McQuibble estate.
The animals that lived with Xandon were either rare or expensive or both. Forbentle would only buy the most extravagant animals to show off to his guests.
Forbentle McQuibble was the owner and heir of the McQuibble Estate and nowhere else in the kingdom of Avondale was such a fine estate. The McQuibble Estate was the second largest in Avondale after the newly constructed Tulpit Estate.
If you asked Forbentle, however, he would tell you the pond in Tom Tulpit's Estate wasn't really land and therefore didn't count, so his estate was still the largest.
The McQuibble manor was a beautifully constructed mansion, accommodating many rooms for pleasure and leisure. Balconies ran along the second floor, displaying glass doors and windows decorated with rich curtains. Columns stood in front of the manor, warning people of lower stature that they were about to enter a world of nobility and importance.
The McQuibbles had a new floating chandelier that slowly spun
as its soft gold glow lit the dining room with majesty. Xandon watched it through the window and knew the McQuibbles were enjoying a fine breakfast.
Xandon walked Museymuse around the estate, watering the gardens and bushes. Museymuse was a water mule. Xandon thought that water mule was an odd name for a four-legged animal that lived on land. Once Museymuse drank water and Xandon was left dripping wet from ears to toes, he realized why she was called a water mule.
She drank massive amounts of water and stored it in sacks under her jaw. Museymuse enjoyed spraying cascades of water from a spout on the top of her head.
Odd as she was, Xandon found her perfectly useful, as it was his duty to care for all the gardens in the McQuibble estate.
All Xandon had to worry about this morning was staying out of trouble. Life for Xandon was simple, unlike life for the McQuibbles.
The McQuibbles had to have everything perfect, as though the whole manor would come crashing down around them should one petal of a flower become out of place. That was the life of a noble.
From what Xandon could gather, being a noble meant you needed plenty of extravagant things, like rare animals that you never look at, expensive dishes and silverware you never use, and fine coats and hats you never wear. Having anything that other people wanted was of great importance.
With a manor of fourteen bedrooms, two kitchens, six bathrooms, three sitting rooms, a private library, and a dining room, the McQuibbles certainly couldn't provide room in their mansion for a boy who didn't even have the courtesy to have a last name.
While watering the flowers, Xandon encountered a mountainous, white-furred creature enjoying some fine blossoms in the McQuibble's flowerbeds.
"Pelly," Xandon yelled, "you're going to get me in trouble."
Pelly was a cornish, another of the McQuibble's extravagant creatures. Pelly reminded Xandon of a life-size version of the stuffed bear that Puck had: large, round ears, small beady eyes, and a squished snout.
“No other noble had such an exquisite animal as a cornish,” Xandon had heard Forbentle say, and Xandon thought he knew why. Pelly's size made him difficult. He was twice the size of Xandon, ten times the weight, and he had an extraordinary talent for sitting in the way.
Xandon pushed against Pelly, but the ground slid out from under his feet. "C'mon, Pelly. Move!"
Pelly continued chewing a tasty flower as if nothing were happening.
"What good are those big ears if you don't listen?" Xandon groaned.
Xandon heard barking behind him. Museymuse was playing with Writ. Museymuse shot a blast of water into Writ and her rear end collided with a large gold cage that was on the ground behind her.The impact with the gold cage caused the gate to swing open.
"Writty, no!" Xandon cried.
Writ spun around to watch a cat-sized harpatrice lizard scurry out of her cage. Its azure tail disappeared behind a wooden planter trough.
Xandon's hand slipped off Pelly, and he collapsed face down in the dirt. Pelly plucked another flower, uninterested.
Xandon made a chase after the harpatrice.
Of all the animals that lived in the McQuibble estate, the harpatrice lizards were Xandon's least favorite. They had mouths full of sharp teeth, strong barbed tails, and clawed feet, all tools perfect for drawing blood.
Being as nasty as they were, it was no surprise to Xandon that these were the McQuibble's favorite animals. They were a popular animal with nobles because of the gold plume of feathers atop their heads and skirting their ankles, making them look kingly.
The harpatrice darted underneath a wagon. Xandon dove under the wagon, but his hand missed the lizard. An azure tail whipped him across the face. He tasted blood and touched his stinging lip. A slow hiss warned him not to try that again as it disappeared.
Xandon lost track of the lizard until he heard barking and realized Writ had tracked it down. She hunched low over a hole in the ground at the base of the oak tree.
Xandon patted her on the head. "Good girl."
In the hole was a pair of golden eyes looking back at him. ‘I'm not turning my fingers into harpatrice food,’ he thought. He scanned the ground for a small branch.
He inserted its end into the hole. The branch gave a sudden jolt and Xandon tightened his grip. He dragged the harpatrice from the hole by its razor teeth latched on the stick. The harpatrice let go and tried to make a run for it but Xandon's hand swept down and pinned her.
"Gotcha." Xandon lifted her up by her golden underbelly with both hands. Holding her at arm's length, the lizard tried biting and clawing with no success. Xandon had learned how to handle the nasty creatures over the years. She hissed as Xandon placed her back into the gold cage with the others.
Other than looking majestic, Xandon thought harpatrices were altogether unpleasant, kind of like the McQuibbles.
Xandon spotted an empty patch of loose dirt in the flowerbeds. His stomach sank.
"Musey!" Xandon called. He pulled Museymuse to Pelly. The great, white lump of an animal was an easy target. He lined up Museymuse's head. With a tickle of Xandon's finger, her front legs kicked, and she shot a blast of water into Pelly.
Pelly rose to his feet, sopping wet. Surprised and annoyed, Pelly decided the bluebelles weren't so tasty after all. He shuffled off to sit somewhere else that would be in the way.
The bluebelle flower massacre would be difficult to disguise. The petals of the bluebelle flower drew down from the bud and draped around the stem like the blue dress of a woman going to a ball. They didn't look like any other flower. Even worse, the bluebelles were Everlyne's favorite flower. Xandon cringed at the thought of Everlyne seeing the empty patch in the garden.
Everlyne McQuibble was a nasty woman who reserved a particular hatred for anything that looked like Xandon, acted like Xandon, or had the name Xandon.
His eyes sought the back door. Next to it hung a whip. The whip's purpose was to keep the animals in line, though the only time they had ever used it was on Xandon. A punishment that Everlyne decreed was the only punishment worth giving. It was one he'd get if he didn't figure out a way to hide the destruction Pelly had left behind.
"Xandon?" a voice called out, startling him. At the back door stood Hogu, the McQuibbles' chef. "How about those eggs already? It's nearly lunchtime, isn't it?"
"Oh, eggs. Right."
Xandon opened a small hatch at the top of the cage. He reached in and pulled out several golden harpatrice eggs, carrying them to the back door in both hands.
He wasn't allowed in the house, so he stood on the porch of the back door waiting, watching Hogu. Hogu was a sizable man who wore two aprons to cover his front. His bushy orange mustache practically covered his entire mouth, making it difficult for Xandon to tell if he was ever frowning or smiling.
"Bring them eggs here, why don't you?" Hogu asked, turning around and stirring something in a large mixing bowl. "My hands are full, aren't they?"
"Right," Xandon agreed, and with hesitation, stepped inside. He was on forbidden ground. Each step he took toward Hogu was careful and quiet.
The aroma of food cooking in the kitchen was intoxicating. Xandon couldn't remember smelling so many delicious foods at once. Hogu had many foods baking, boiling, roasting, grilling, frying, and toasting. Xandon wasn't sure how one person could cook so many things without a few extra arms hidden under their apron.
He glimpsed Everlyne through the kitchen door, and his body became rigid. He wanted to run but didn't dare move a muscle, hoping she wouldn't notice him.
Everlyne McQuibble was an enormous woman, and her entire body filled the giant cushioned chair she reclined in. Her legs, thick like tree trunks, were propped up on a footstool. She was eating peanuts, one by one, and throwing the shells on the floor. Ms. Mapple, the McQuibbles' maid, bent down and picked up each shell as it landed at her feet. She placed the shells on a serving tray next to Everlyne.
Ms. Mapple was always nice to Xandon, and he hated seeing her treated poorly.
"Here we are, then?" Hogu said as his huge hands took the golden eggs from Xandon's.
"What is he doing in my house!" Everlyne shrieked from the front room, and Xandon thought his heart stopped.
"Needed him to bring me the eggs, didn't I?"
"Don't get smart with me, Hogulus!"
Xandon cringed. Getting yelled at by Everlyne McQuibble was the worst thing that could happen, and if it wasn't, it was certainly followed by whatever was. Hogu moved from one pan to the next, going on about his cooking without noticing the worst thing that could have happened just had.
"No filth in my home!" Everlyne screamed. "Get out!"
Xandon’s legs moved on their own as he ran out the back door into the safety of the estate yard. He didn't want to be in the house any more than Everlyne wanted him in it.
Sitting on the porch next to the open door, Xandon waited for lunch. Lunch was the only meal the McQuibbles fed him, and they always served him last after everyone else had finished eating.
He smelled freshly cooked ham, possibly some potatoes, definitely bacon. Bacon was Kumata's favorite. Whenever he had gotten a piece, he'd always saved it for him.
Over the last year, Kumata had grown tired. He spent more time lying inside the barn and less time outside. This last week he'd stopped eating. When Xandon tried to have a wrestle to cheer Kumata up, he nipped at him. Xandon scratched him behind one of his ears and let him be.
This morning, he woke up early and found Kumata sleeping next to him, only he wasn't sleeping.
Xandon first came to the McQuibble estate when he was six years old. That first day, he was terrified of the Berune tiger. His mouth looked large enough to swallow Xandon in a single bite.
Xandon was careful to keep his distance. When the tiger was in the yard, Xandon made sure he was inside the barn, and when the tiger came into the barn, Xandon slipped out.
That evening, after a long day of avoidance, the Berune tiger had laid in the barn and fallen asleep. Xandon crept into the barn, careful and quiet, to a pile of straw where he laid down. His eyes fixated on the tiger, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.
Xandon awoke the next morning with a fright. There was a full-grown white and black striped tiger lying next to him, sleeping soundly. It was the same way he awoke with Kumata this morning six years later. Only this time, the tiger didn't nuzzle him and lick his face when he woke up.
Writ was standing next to the porch. She was looking at him with a long branch in her mouth.
Xandon smiled, "Always here to cheer me up, aren't you?" He took the stick from her mouth and threw it for her. She chased it and brought it back to him a few times until the stick landed by Pelly, who began snacking on it. Writ laid down next to Pelly and watched him eat her stick.
"Ahem."
The McQuibbles' butler, Mr. Ignus, stood in the doorway holding a plate. His unamused face was as long as he was tall.
"Oh, sorry."
Xandon pulled the bottom of his shirt forward and held it out. Mr. Ignus tipped the plate, sliding its contents into Xandon's shirt. When Xandon looked up to say thank you, Mr. Ignus had already gone.
He picked through the food. One half-eaten piece of bacon, some fat from a ham, a couple of stale crackers, a dirty napkin with butter wiped on it, and a spoonful of mashed potato with a hair stuck in it. Xandon plucked the hair out and bit into the potato.
Something collided with Xandon's back, throwing him from the porch to the ground. Puck McQuibble stood on the porch, sneering down at him.
"Watch where you're sitting," he said. "I might’ve tripped and hurt myself."
Puck was taller than Xandon and a few years older. His blonde hair was a sharp contrast to Xandon's, as every piece of hair was an even length and in its proper place.
Xandon picked up his bits of food and placed them back in his shirt.
"You know what day it is?"
Xandon opened his mouth to answer, but stopped, surprised. Had Puck known it was his birthday?
"Training today. Make sure my armor shines." Puck threw a tin can of wax on the ground next to Xandon and left.
Training. Xandon had completely forgotten. Dismayed, he picked up the tin can full of wax.
As Xandon made his way back to the barn, Ms. Mapple caught up to him. The immense cloth sack of laundry she was carrying dwarfed her slight frame.
"Dear," she whispered, and pulled a bundled crimson napkin from her sack. "It's the rest of my food. I had seconds, of course." Ms. Mapple handed it to Xandon. "They must wonder where all my food goes."
Xandon opened the napkin and found fresh ham, a hefty clump of potato, and two whole strips of uneaten bacon. "I'm sorry about..." Her words trailed off, but Xandon knew what she meant.
"Thank you," Xandon said.
Ms. Mapple gave his shoulder a squeeze before she hoisted the heavy cloth sack and made her way back into the manor.
In the barn's corner stood Puck's armor on a wooden stand. Xandon dabbed the wax in several places on the suit of armor from the tin. He slipped off his shirt and rubbed it in a circular motion over the wax, giving Puck's armor a fine, polished sheen.
Awhile later, Puck strolled into the barn. It was what Xandon feared. Without Kumata, Puck knew he had free rein of the barn.
"Smells worse than I remember," Puck said. With a swift kick, he moved Writ from Xandon's side. "So, that old cat finally died," Puck said while Xandon began suiting him up, piece by piece. "That wretched maid saw you burying him this morning."
Xandon said nothing. His conversations with Puck were one-sided.
As he fitted Puck in his chest piece, Puck pushed him aside.
"Thought you might enjoy this."
He withdrew a folded red letter from his pocket and let it fall to the barn floor. An official gold seal was stamped at the bottom.
"Prince Val Haruk got another law approved by the Magistrate. I don't remember if you know how to read, so I'll tell you what it says. Four years' service required by all orphans in the Magistrate Royal
Guard," he said. "They're sending you to Ozimar."
Xandon purposefully accidentally pulled a strap too tight.
"Ow! Not so tight!" Puck cringed. "Wish Father would pay for a real squire. One that knows what he's doing."
Being a servant of the Magistrate Guard was something Forbentle had threatened Xandon with regularly. According to Forbentle, service at the Magistrate Royal Guard consisted of polishing hundreds of sets of armor, washing heaps of dirty dishes, and scrubbing out an infinite amount of toilets. The only job Forbentle thought Xandon might be worthy of.
"Father says they want to collect on the money they send for you every month."
"They send money?"
"Not to you."
The red letter felt like an intruder in Xandon's world. He would have to leave the barn and the animals.
"Four years in Ozimar," Puck said. "Imagine polishing a hundred sets of armor every day. You'd learn how to do it properly then.
“Ow! Not so tight!"
Puck and Xandon met Forbentle McQuibble in the paddock. Puck stood tall in his polished armor with a wooden practice sword and shield.
"Remember to keep your shoulders up, son. You're still a McQuibble in that armor," Forbentle said.
Puck straightened his posture, jutting his chest forward a little too much, Xandon thought.
"Into position."
With no armor, no shield, and a flimsy tree branch for a sword, Xandon faced Puck in the center of the paddock.
According to Forbentle, the art of sword combat was comprised of a few important moves:
A slash is where you swing your sword into Xandon's side. Then there is a thrust where you joust your sword forward directly into Xandon's chest. A parry uses your sword to deflect attacks. A block is where you use your shield to obstruct thrusts and slashes from deadly tree branches. And a lunge is one foot forward, closing the distance between you and your opponent and stabbing your wooden sword tip into Xandon's bruised ribs.
Training was always the same. Puck and Xandon had practiced until Puck got the routines exact. Now, practice was a matter of repetition. Sword combat training had become so predictable that Xandon couldn't help but find it boring.
Today's routine was slash, slash, parry, block, and lunge. The routines always ended with a lunge, at which point Xandon would fall to the ground in defeat.
"Engage!" Forbentle announced.
Xandon watched Puck's body to predict his movements, something he'd learned while wrestling with Kumata.
Puck stepped toward Xandon with his right foot, putting all his weight on it.
‘In all that armor, that'd be a lot of weight,’ thought Xandon. ‘If I could get behind him and kick him behind that knee, he'd be defeated.’
Puck's wooden sword swung out, striking Xandon in his left side. A sharp pain ran through Xandon's ribs, as he'd been expecting. Xandon had learned to stop crying out every time Puck struck him, because he knew Puck enjoyed it. Though Puck had hit him harder and harder, trying to evoke a shout of pain, Xandon kept his mouth shut. His fight with Puck was a silent battle.
Another swing and Puck's wooden blade slammed into Xandon, striking the same place as before. Xandon didn't flinch.
Xandon thrust his tree branch forward toward Puck for the parry. Puck crossed blades with Xandon's tree branch and a few leaves broke free.
"That's how it's done, son! They won't stand a chance against you!" Forbentle bellowed.
Xandon could imagine lots of things that would stand an excellent chance against Puck. Puck's shield arm was exposed. Xandon knew he could strike him if he had the chance, but he wasn't allowed to alter the training one bit.
He had found out once what happened when you try something new. He had gotten several lashings. It was made clear that Xandon wasn't allowed to try anything different, and he was taught the rules:
“No comments. No opinions.”
Those were Forbentle's rules for Xandon.
“No exceptions.”
Now, block and lunge and they'd start again.
Xandon stepped back and thrust his tree branch toward Puck, who raised his shield, blocking. Xandon's flimsy tree branch end bent against the wooden shield.
Xandon knew Puck couldn't see, since his shield was covering his face. He could sweep his left leg out from under him, or even tackle him around the waist, and Puck would be on his back, defeated. That heavy armor might be for protection, but Xandon thought it must be more cumbersome than helpful.
Puck dropped his shield for the lunge. He threw his right foot forward too far, and it landed on Xandon's left foot.
"Ow!" Xandon cried as his bare foot was crushed under Puck's armored boot. Xandon brought his right knee up in defense, straight into Puck's armored chest. The impact of Xandon's knee, as Puck had his sword arm raised and his weight on Xandon's foot, resulted in Puck being launched backwards.
Puck collided into the ground with a heavy thud. Xandon stared in surprise, hardly believing he had the strength to knock Puck away from him in all that armor.
Within a breath's time Forbentle was at Puck's side, and then it dawned on Xandon. He had altered the training. He was in serious trouble. As Forbentle helped Puck to his feet, Xandon panicked.
"I'm sorry!" Xandon apologized. "It was an accident!"
"You imbecile!" Forbentle shouted, acknowledging him for the first time.
"But he stepped on my foot!" Xandon pleaded, pointing at his left foot, which was red and swollen.
Forbentle didn't bother to look at Xandon's foot. He stared at him under a pinched brow.
Forbentle's face turned a deeper shade of scarlet the angrier he got, and right now, his face looked like a shiny red beet. "What have I told you!" he yelled in measured, angry tones. "You are not to interfere with the training!"
Forbentle put a comforting hand on Puck's shoulder, who was still regaining his breath. "Done for the day, I think." Forbentle pointed a fat finger at Xandon.
“Ten lashings!"
“Ten!” Xandon protested. "That's not fair! It was an accident."
"No opinions!" Forbentle reminded him. "And no comments about it!"
Puck grinned at Xandon.
As Forbentle walked his precious Puck into the house, they left Xandon staring at the ground. He could think of little else than the ten lashes that waited for him.
Xandon could see the chandelier slowly spinning in the air through the dining-room window. The lashings would be after dinner.
The red letter sat on the ground next to Puck's armor stand in the barn. Xandon snatched it up and read it over. He could read it just fine and even knew most of the words. Puck was telling the truth. He would have to serve four years.
Xandon walked to the back of the barn and handed the red letter to Pelly, who started eating it.
Xandon collapsed next to Writ on his bed of straw. "This is the worst birthday ever."
The front of his workbook contained a map that spanned both pages. It was for his geography lessons, but Xandon had spent many evenings looking it over, imagining he was going somewhere else.
"Where should we run away to this time?" Xandon asked Writ. His finger trailed over several named locations on the map. "The
McQuibbles will never look for us in the swamps of Armoroth." Writ snorted.
"No? We've already been there, haven't we?" he joked. "Everard plains, then? Arianhod Wastes? How about the Berunite Forest? We'd find Kumata's family there."
Writ perked up, sniffing the air. Xandon thought she must smell the McQuibbles' dinner, but he accepted her reaction as a yes.
"Berunite Forest it is then," he said as Writ walked out of the barn.
Xandon flipped through the pages of his workbook, looking over his past assignments.
The workbook was a gift from his teacher, Professor Fenton. It was magically linked to Professor Fenton's Teacher's Syllabus so that any assignments he wrote in his syllabus for his students appeared in Xandon's workbook. The magic worked one way, however, and whatever Xandon wrote had to be checked by Professor Fenton on his visits.
Professor Fenton always added the assignments the evening before, but Xandon had found a new assignment added this afternoon.
“If you came from the stars, you'd require the sky, where auroras and dragons have dominion to fly.
If you came from the darkness, you'd require a light, where the Fallmaker stands at the ready to fight.
If you came from the woodlands, you'd require the tree, that the druids have grown in a gold canopy.
If your future is locked, then your past is the key, where the seers make riddles with eternity.
If you came from the darkness, you'd set afire the light.
If you came from the fierce, you'd admire the fight.
If you came from the imprisoned, you'd inspire the free.
If you came from the river, you'd desire the sea.
What do you need to acquire the key?”
‘This isn't a normal assignment,’ Xandon thought.
He read it again.
"What do you need to acquire the key?"
Writ barked outside the barn. Xandon assumed she was announcing Forbentle. He closed the workbook and slid it under his straw bed.
Standing, he removed his shirt and took a deep breath to prepare himself for the ten lashes. When he stepped out of the barn, the evening was colder than he'd expected.
Writ stood alarmed near the barn door. Something had her attention. She focused on the McQuibble estate wall, not the house.
There was no sign of Forbentle in the yard. Writ barked again at the wall, and Xandon hushed her. He couldn't see anything odd about the wall, but he smelled a faint fragrance that was unfamiliar to him. A sweet spice.
Xandon put Writ in the barn, and she growled with a warning as he closed the door. Everything in the McQuibble estate appeared normal. Nothing was odd or out of place except the faint aroma.
Xandon walked back to the estate wall. He stared at the insignificant rock he'd placed as a marker above his friend.
"I wish you were here, Kumata," he whispered.
Something moving caught his eye. A ball of floating light rose over the wall. It was strange, unlike anything he'd ever seen. Its glow pulsed lightly, bobbing in place as if it were hanging from something.
Xandon walked to it. He heard a soft hum that rose in pitch every time it bobbed. When he stood underneath the ball of light, he reached his hand up to touch it. He couldn't feel any heat coming from it as his hand got closer and closer.
Xandon's hand was a finger's length away when a loud scream of fear came from behind him. He looked back, arm still raised, to see a white-faced Puck in the yard, eyes wide and mouth agape at Xandon, frozen with fear. The only movement was something in his hand dropping to the ground.
Xandon turned back to the wall. The mysterious ball of light had disappeared.
Puck ran into the house screaming, "Father!"
Xandon ran for the tall oak tree where he'd expected to receive his lashings. He scuffled up the tree to a heavy branch that reached over the estate wall. He laid across the branch, staring into an empty Avondale street.
A light fog was settling in, and the street lanterns were lit. They emitted a soft glow about them in the haze, but none of them were the ball of light he had just seen bobbing above the estate wall. Whatever it was, it had gone.
Xandon dropped from the tree as two figures came marching out from the manor. Puck was pulling Forbentle desperately by his hand.
"It was there!" Puck's arm shot toward the wall. "I saw it! It was a wisp!"
They stopped where Puck had been standing, and Forbentle's ruddy face was unusually pale. They stood motionless, wide-eyed at the wall as if the ball of light were still there.
What were they so afraid of? Not even Kumata had ever frightened Puck that badly.
Forbentle looked right at Xandon. "And where was he when you saw it?"
"He was right under it," Puck said. "Touching it, I think."
Forbentle considered Xandon for a moment. "Then, I'm sure it's his bad omen, not ours," Forbentle deduced loud enough for Xandon to hear and walked Puck back into the house.
‘A wisp? Bad omen? What did he mean, my bad omen?’ Xandon wondered.
For the second time that evening, a chill ran through him.
As Xandon headed back to the barn, he stopped to see what Puck had dropped on the ground. It was the whip. Ten lashes. He'd forgotten, and apparently, so had Forbentle.
In the mansion, lights were turning off. The McQuibbles were going to bed.
In the barn, Xandon nestled in next to Writ on his bed of straw.
"My own bad omen," Xandon said to Writ. "This is the first time
I've owned anything around here."
He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
