Jabberwocky (3 page)

Before long they met Elora’s anxious parents and brother on the road. She embraced each of them in turn, and finally let her tears flow. They held her firmly as sobs of relief racked her body. When she was able to control her tears, she told them the entire story.

Tjaden listened, feeling both exhilarated at her obvious pride and uncomfortable with the abundant praise. After all, he wasn’t the real hero.

*****

The whole town knew before the day was out that Tjaden and Elora had survived an encounter with a frumious bandersnatch, if only for a short while. Methos, the town physician, was first to hear the account. He listened while sewing up half a dozen gashes in each of Tjaden’s arms, using over one hundred and fifty stitches. By the time Tjaden, his father, and Ollie left Methos’ workshop, people in the street tried to stop them to hear the tale.

Dozens of people found reasons to come by the orchard over the next few days. Sami Thatcher decided to return the awl he had borrowed two years previous. Coles and Hettie, the bakers, came a day early for lemons. Galla, the town gossip, didn’t even have a reason; she just wanted to hear the story. Each went away highly disappointed after finding his father as reticent as ever, and Tjaden unwilling to brag.

In truth, Tjaden wished nobody had learned about it. The fuss bothered him. For one thing he was embarrassed at being unable to defend Elora by himself. She was mere heartbeats away from death because he had failed.

Every time someone else came to the farm, Tjaden shuddered. He just wanted to work the days away with his father until the upcoming Swap and Spar. His goal was to be a soldier in the King’s Elite and there wasn’t anyone in town who could gab him one step closer to the Academy.

The day after the attack, his father had asked if Tjaden was up to working. Tjaden said he could manage and that was the last time it came up. They went through their daily routine, working from sunup to sundown, ignoring the interrupting townsfolk as much as possible. The days were growing shorter, so they had to fit more work into less daylight.

Working alongside his father, Tjaden felt like a child. He thought he should be strong and fast enough to keep pace, but a half century of working in the orchards made it second nature for his father. Though Tjaden was growing, it wasn’t fast enough to suit him.

When Ollie worked with him, Tjaden could tell his own speed and proficiency had increased immensely. He never tried to push Ollie or tell him what to do. He just picked up the tools and went to work and Ollie usually followed his example.

With the exception of the swelling tide of gossip, the days leading up to the Swap and Spar passed uneventfully. The evening before the festivities, Tjaden went with his father into town to add his name to the list of pugilists.

The innkeep, Tellef, sat at a worn table in the day room of his inn taking names. In his younger days, as Tjaden often heard, he was a frequent Swap and Spar champion. Now middle aged and big bellied, the only reason he entered the battle circle was to referee. “Mikel,” he greeted warmly. “Are you going to put wood to bone and teach the young men what it means to strike staves?”

“No,” his father said with a chuckle. He was close to Tellef’s age and hadn’t entered the tournament for years. “Tjaden will be the only one from the family competing this year.”

“Jolan and Hannon are going to fight, aren’t they?” Tjaden asked.

“Yes, I suppose your brothers will compete. But they’ll be in the men’s group.”

“As will I,” stated Tjaden, feeling his heart race.

“Have you reached sixteen years already, lad?” asked Tellef.

Tjaden was resolute. “The older group is open to anyone, and I choose to compete against men.”

His father took Tjaden aside a few steps and said, “You know you could easily best any boy in town at staves.”

Tjaden nodded.

His father continued. “And you have to win the competition for the King’s Legate to consider you for the Academy. You’re a natural with the staff, Son, but there’s more than one man in town that might give you more than you can handle.”

“I’ll be sixteen in less than a fortnight, Father. I don’t think it’s fair for me to compete against boys anymore.” His father listened intently. “Besides, the Legate won’t be impressed by someone who beats kids. By winning the open competition I can prove myself.”

“And what about the stitches?”

“My arms are practically healed.” Tjaden slapped each forearm for emphasis. Pain betrayed the lie, but Tjaden tried to keep the wince from his face.

They stared at each other in silence. He wasn’t surprised by his father’s doubt, after the bandersnatch incident, but Tjaden knew he could compete with anyone in Shey’s Orchard.

“My son will compete in the open competition,” he told Tellef without looking away.

Tjaden smiled.
And I’m going to win.

*****

The first day of the Swap and Spar started with vending, trading, and crafting, and ended with an auction. Tjaden, Mikel, and Lira spent most of the day selling grapefruit, oranges, and honey. They sold more than usual to the steady stream of townsfolk intent on hearing Tjaden’s account first hand. He tried to deflect the questions before folk from outlying towns overheard and started rumors of their own.

Tjaden volunteered to pick up the glass his father had ordered for a framed mirror he was making for Mother.

“I need a break from all these questions,” he explained.

His father handed him the coins with a knowing smile and Tjaden rushed to find the mirror maker’s booth. His excitement peaked when he saw Elora tending it. She was singing quietly to herself while polishing a large mirror.

The small booth was lined with dozens of mirrors and he could see Elora’s beautiful face from every angle. As always, the sight of her made him feel ten feet tall.
If I could only talk to her without sounding like a fool.

She must have seen his reflection because she turned and their eyes met, his quickly falling to the ground. Her dark hair, smiling eyes, and wide grin always made him comfortable and nervous at the same time. He could make it through life as happy as a tove under a sundial if he could see just that smile once in a while.

“How are your arms?” Elora asked, reaching for one arm at a time and inspecting them both carefully.

“They’re fine,” Tjaden said, flushing. He’d stopped bandaging them, but wore long sleeves to avoid drawing attention. Judging by the stares he’d received all day, covering his arms only added to the intrigue.

Elora pulled up the cotton sleeves and softly traced the rows of stitches in each wound. The tingle her finger sent up his arms and down his spine made Tjaden blush even more deeply.

“When will you remove the thread?” she asked.

“After the sparring tomorrow. If I got hit after taking them out it would break them wide open again.”

As Elora finished inspecting his arms she said, “Tjaden, I didn’t thank you for saving me.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

He’d never felt so pleased or tense in his life. “So is the mirror ready?” he blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

“Of course,” Elora replied, smiling broadly at his uneasiness.

From the back of the makeshift shop she produced a rectangular tin-backed mirror. It wasn’t the fanciest type of mirror her father made, but it was a step up from the bronze style. His reflection was clear enough to make him self-conscious.

How can she look at me without thinking that I failed her?
Tjaden took the mirror in order to turn it away from himself. After handing her a silver and two coppers he hesitated a moment to appreciate the scene of a dozen Eloras. With the exception of the fiery image of her looming over the bandersnatch, it was the most beautiful sight of his life.

As he turned and walked away she called, “Good luck tomorrow. Those boys don’t stand a chance.” Tjaden didn’t bother telling her that he wasn’t in the boys division; he just walked away with the new glass and a smile that didn’t leave his face for the rest of the day.

The first item up for auction was Zelena’s turtle pie, which led to a heated bidding war between two brothers, Burt and Talex. Talex paid a staggering nine coppers for the pie and most people figured the brothers wouldn’t speak to each other again at least until the next Swap and Spar.

The auctioneer took a bad step and tumbled off the stage, uninjured. Appropriately he was offering a cask of aged whiskey at the time. The crowd roared with laughter as Caleb shouted, “That must be some good swill!” The bid doubled in seconds.

Toward the end of the auction a Yew longbow made in Palassiren was offered for sale. Tjaden was surprised to see his father bid on it since his bow was still in decent shape. Besides, this one looked too small for his large frame. It was a fine bow, maybe the finest in Shey’s Orchard, but Tjaden couldn’t figure out why his father would want it. Mikel won the auction, but it cost him ten silvers.

Ollie leaned over to Tjaden and said, “Looks like you’re getting a new bow.”

“Are you kidding?” Tjaden shook his head. “That bow cost more than my horse. If I’m lucky I’ll get his old one.”

“What would you want with that old nag?” Ollie asked with a wink.

“The bow, not the horse,” Tjaden said.

Ollie shook his head and said, “Mark my words – you’ll be holding that bow come your birthday.”

The boys spent the rest of the evening at the bonfire. Ollie glutted himself on double helpings at the traditional bird buffet—quail, dove, borogove, duck, turkey, ostrich and even Jubjub. Tjaden ate a hearty yet moderate portion, wanting to be fresh in the morning for his first match.

The sounds from the festival trailed away as Tjaden walked home. He was only half a day away from the beginning of the first major turning point in his life. Excitement and anticipation coursed through his veins, and there was no way he could sleep. Alone in the moonlight behind his house, Tjaden went through all the forms he knew. He and his staff incapacitated hundreds of imaginary opponents.

After half an hour of sparring, he was exhausted. Sitting in the cool night air, he visualized his victory the next day. Eventually he stopped sweating and his body cooled. Feeling both peaceful and eager, he went to bed.

The next morning, Tjaden stood with the other twenty-eight entrants waiting to find out who each would face in his first match. The auction scaffolding had been removed from the wabe. In its place the battle circle and rows of elevated seating for spectators had been erected. The names for the first round were drawn at random, with the first two winners facing each other in the second round and so on.

The men ranged in age from Larse, who had seen more than four decades, to Tjaden. As they stood lined up in the morning sun, most stretched and attempted to shake their jitters down their arms and legs and out their fingers and toes.

But the worry was lost on Tjaden. He never expected to experience anything as daunting as the recent encounter with the bandersnatch with Elora’s life as the prize. Even when he became an Elite, the only stakes would be his life and the life of his fellow soldiers. As long as Elora was safe, he didn’t think he’d ever worry about a battle.

Despite his calm, the importance of the day weighed heavily on Tjaden. If he didn’t win, it would be two years until he had another chance. It might as well be twenty. But Tjaden was confident in his fighting abilities, and his self-assurance only grew as he stood unmoving in a line of fidgeting men.

“Whit versus Bren,” announced Mayor Tellef as the first names were drawn.

“Stefen versus Pratt.”

Stefen was the defending champion. In fact, the last six champions came from Stefen’s family. They were a rough crew with ten boys that lived in the hills and raised cows. Wrestling cattle their whole lives gave them the brawn they needed to be dominant in any physical competition. In addition, they were a cruel bunch and the older brothers ensured that each succeeding boy was tougher than the previous. Their constant mistreatment had turned the younger ones into an excellent bunch of brawlers. Stefen was the youngest in the family.

“Thom Cooper versus Willam.” Tellef’s booming voice filled the air. “Talex versus Rox.”

“Kill ‘im, Rox!” was heard from the crowd. No one was surprised to see it was Talex’s brother, Burt, doing the yelling.

“Thom Thomson versus Hannon. Larse versus Elis. Damen versus Jace. Tjaden versus Brune.”

Brune visibly paled and shrank upon hearing the match-up. Tjaden on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier. Not only was Brune an easy opponent to warm up on, but he could get even for the older boy’s actions of the previous week and previous years. Tjaden concealed his delight, determined to take vengeance in the battle circle.

Tjaden was also pleased that he wouldn’t meet Stefen until the final round, assuming they both made it that far. There was a possibility of facing two of Stefen’s brothers before that, but he felt Stefen was the biggest threat. Focused on Brune and Stefen, Tjaden didn’t hear the announcement of the last six match-ups.

The contest took place in a circle ten paces across. Each combatant’s staff was wrapped with wool to soften the blows. The goal of the contest was to land five blows or force the opponent out of the bounds of the circle. Strikes to the head resulted in the loss of one point, or disqualification if the struck fighter was unable to continue. One loss and the tournament ended for that fighter.