The Reawakened

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  He placed his hand on Lycas’s desk to steady himself. The connection to his uncle strengthened his resolve.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said finally. “If I’m meant to die here, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Nilik, please…don’t do this to us.” His mother sounded as if she were choking on her words. Marek’s face twisted and his eyes closed, but he said nothing.

  Nilik took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “Crow takes us in His time. If I leave, I might still die the same day as I would here.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said.

  “I’m not supposed to know when my life will end,” he said bitterly, “so I can’t make my choice that way. I have to ask myself, what would I do if I didn’t know?”

  His mother held her breath, as if expecting him to change his mind. He stared at the map of Velekos on the table. The Ilion garrison was marked in a ragged red rectangle. Lania’s killers lived there, charged with manslaughter. In five years, they’d be home with their families, walking in the sunshine, enjoying the blood in their veins and the air in their lungs. She would still be dead.

  He turned to his parents. “I’ll stay and fight. It’s what I do.” He stared hard at Rhia. “Promise to be proud of me, not angry.” His voice lowered to a whisper, despite the strength of his words. “I’ll die to bring Lania justice.”

  Rhia squinted against the noontime sun reflecting off the white buildings below. From this vantage point on a high rock wall above Velekos it was easy to make out the Ilion settlers’ houses—they tended to be painted white or pale yellow. Closer to the ridge was the Acrosia, the highest neighborhood in Velekos, where most of the rebels lived in homes painted a defiant blue.

  She and Marek awaited two of them now. It had been two days since Lycas had “asked” Feras to find the Velekon spy or be tarred with the tag himself.

  “Some days,” Marek said, “I still can’t believe the invasion happened. Remember when we used to visit Damen’s family in Velekos every summer?”

  Rhia managed a smile. “Nilik and Jula would eat fresh oysters until they were sick.”

  “They never learned.” He put his arm around her. “Stop worrying. How can your vision come true, now that Lycas ordered Nilik to stay here during the garrison attack?”

  She rubbed her arms, though the afternoon was warm. “Crow never alters His flight.”

  “How do you know?”

  She remained silent, keeping her secret inside.

  Marek turned her to face him. “Have you foreseen others’ deaths beside Nilik?”

  She nodded, reluctant to be specific. “When I first came into my powers, I had a vision.” She shut her eyes against the image of a man writhing in the golden oak leaves, covered in blood. “It came true.”

  “Did you do anything to stop it? Did you tell that person?”

  “No, it would have gone against my sacred duty as a Crow.” Her gaze dropped to the ground. “And now I’ve violated it.”

  He pulled her close. “How could you not? Nilik’s your son. Family comes before everything.”

  She smiled against his chest. He was talking like a Wolf, for whom devotion was the highest calling.

  “Besides,” he continued, “you haven’t technically told anyone your vision. We inferred it on our own.”

  Her smile faded. Now he sounded like a Fox, muddying the rules to suit his own rationalizations. His wily side left him vulnerable to the temptations of deception and duplicity. She accepted the Fox in him, but it was the fierce, noble Wolf she’d fallen in love with.

  He drew her away and looked into her eyes. “You saved our son.”

  “You saved him first.”

  “There was nothing else I could do.”

  She swallowed hard at the memory of Marek disappearing into the night after their kidnapped baby. He’d risked his life and sacrificed his freedom, following Nilik to the Ilion city of Leukos, where a noblewoman and senator had bought Nilik to raise as her own, and used Marek as a slave in her home.

  And eventually, in her bed. His Wolf Spirit, weakened by the city, had left him in the care of Fox, who reminded him to do whatever it took to stay with Nilik. Rumor had it that his killing of the senator during his escape had prompted a backlash against their people and hastened the invasion of Velekos and Asermos.

  The Eagle sentry gave a bobwhite whistle, the signal that a friendly party was approaching.

  Marek pointed past Rhia and smiled. “Jula will be happy.”

  Rhia looked over the rock face to see her Crow-brother Damen and his young son Corek riding over the sandy soil toward the camp, followed by Feras.

  She hurried down the ridge, Marek on her heels. By the time they reached the grassy slope on the outskirts of the camp, Damen had dismounted. She rushed forward to embrace him.

  “I’m so sorry about Lania,” she whispered. “How are her parents?”

  He pulled back and nodded, his lips forming a tight, straight line.

  She turned to Corek, who with his short mop of dark straight hair, looked like an eighteen-year-old version of his father. As he dismounted, she noticed he’d lost his usual sprightliness, inherited from his mother Reni. Grief weighed heavily upon all of them.

  Corek hugged her without speaking. As she let him go, she said, “Jula’s here.”

  His brows popped up briefly, then settled back into sadness. “I’ve missed her. That is, I’ve missed all of you.” He turned and led his horse toward the camp, his steps lighter.

  “Corek’s staying here from now on,” Damen told them. “It’s getting too dangerous in town. The Ilions have declared martial law until the end of the festival.”

  She grimaced, then gave a brief wave to Feras as they made their way up the hill to the camp. He followed about fifty feet behind, still on horseback. Rhia didn’t need to ask Damen why the Bear was so sullen.

  They made their way along the wooded trail until they reached the clearing at the center of the camp, in front of Lycas’s tent. Feras dismounted, then untied a long gray bag from the pack attached to his riding blanket. The bag held a large, round object.

  Rhia’s stomach tilted. “He didn’t.”

  “Lycas gave him a loyalty test.” Damen’s lip curled. “How else to pass it?”

  Lycas came out of his tent. “You have something for me?” he said to Feras.

  The Bear tossed the bag toward him. It rolled until it hit Lycas’s toes.

  Rhia and Marek stepped closer as her brother knelt and untied the bag. He opened it, then looked inside without expression. “I don’t recognize the face.”

  Feras shifted his lower jaw. “He was my brother.”

  Rhia clutched Marek’s hand. Lycas just stared at the Bear.

  Finally Feras added, “My stepbrother, to be exact, but I’ve known him all my life. Kalias runs—rather, he ran the Prasnos Tavern. The Velekon resistance has held many meetings in its back room.” He clamped his mouth shut, his face twisted.

  “Are you sure it was him?” Lycas said.

  Damen stepped forward. “We used Nathas when we—asked Kalias about it.”

  Rhia wiped cold sweat from her forehead. As a second-phase Owl, Damen’s mate Nathas could detect lies, but he’d no doubt never been used in such a brutal way. Her people were turning into the thing they despised most.

  Lycas let out a long breath, then retied the bag. “How do we know there aren’t more?”

  “He gave us the names of three other collaborators,” Feras said. “If we can find them, we’ll deal with them. At least we know who to avoid when we make our new plans.”

  Lycas nodded. “I regret that this had to happen.”

  The five of them stood silent for several moments, then Lycas got to his feet. “Speaking of plans, I have a new one. A bigger one.”

  He opened the flap to his tent and beckoned them inside. As Feras passed, he snatched the bag out of Lycas’s hand.

  “You go on in,” she said to Damen. “We already know the plan
.” Her chest felt leaden at the thought of it. Even though Nilik would not be taking part in the garrison attack, casualties would abound. She and Damen would be needed as Crows to perform triage for the Otter healers, telling them which soldiers could be saved and which needed nothing more than a peaceful passage to the Other Side.

  Damen entered the tent, leaving Rhia and Marek alone.

  “What are we becoming,” Marek whispered, “when men turn on their own brothers? Treachery, then murder?”

  Her stomach felt sick. “The Spirits won’t let this stand.”

  His eyes narrowed. “This is what the Ilions have done to us. We’ll never be the same. But what else can we do? We have to win this war.” He looked at the sky. “Speaking of which, it’s getting late, and I haven’t made today’s arrow-making quota. See you at dinner?”

  She nodded. “I’d better go help cook.” Regardless of their culinary skills, Crows were expected to assist with meals, to help make up for the amount they ate. But right now, she felt as if she’d never look at food again.

  She watched Marek trot off, then made her way alone to the mess tent. On the way there, she stopped when she saw one of the sentries accompanying a pale, hulking man with a mass of dark curls and a grubby beard. They drew closer, and Rhia stopped in her tracks.

  “Sirin.”

  He halted, too, staring at her without expression.

  “You’re alive,” she whispered.

  “No thanks to you.” He advanced on her. “Did they set you free after you did their bidding?”

  The hairs rose on the back of her neck. “I had no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  “What was I supposed to do, overpower three soldiers, bite through your chains and set you free?”

  “You could have refused to stand by and watch your own people tortured and murdered.” He glared at her. “But it’s no surprise—you always were a coward.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “It wasn’t out of fear.” Not entirely, she thought. “I did it to learn what they knew about the resistance. It worked. Lycas has changed his plans to attack Velekos.” She gestured behind her toward Lycas’s tent. “He’ll be happy to have your assistance. Not to mention see his best friend alive again.”

  Sirin pulled in a deep breath through his nose, then let it out. He nodded to the sentry. “Let’s go.”

  As they passed her, she asked Sirin, “How did you survive?”

  “The water was ice cold,” Sirin said while continuing to walk away. “It must have slowed my pulse.”

  “Did they bury you alive?”

  Sirin snorted and turned to her. “As if they would give me that respect. They dumped me in the river. That woke me up, and I managed to get the stones off me and swim downstream underwater.” For a moment, his eyes flashed amusement. “A pretty little huntress found me washed up on the bank. She fed me, set my broken arm, which is nicely healed now.” He gave her another dark look. “Again, no thanks to you.”

  When he turned away again, she continued toward the mess tent. She hoped that one day Sirin would realize she’d actually saved his life, by announcing his death too soon.

  Until then, she would watch her back.

  22

  Kirisian Mountains

  Sura and the three Kalindons traveled for another week without incident. The dry weather let them make good time, but water was scarce for drinking and nonexistent for bathing.

  She and Etarek were fast becoming friends. His sunny nature complemented her dark, dry outlook. After the first tentative encounter, their nights of passion grew long and adventurous, turning a burden into a gift. Yet despite their mutual enjoyment, she couldn’t forget that their union held a purpose beyond their own pleasure.

  Their compatibility contrasted with Kara and Dravek’s disharmony. One moment the Wolf displayed an ingratiating sweetness toward her husband; the next her barbs turned as sharp as her arrows. But Sura couldn’t feel too sorry for Dravek; he’d built an emotional wall of ice that deflected his wife’s insults and affection. One day Sura realized she couldn’t dredge up a memory of his smile.

  As they came within a week’s walk of Tiros, the terrain grew rockier and the trees sparser and stubbier. The few flat places for camping lay along the cliffs now. After weeks in Kalindos and its heavily forested surroundings, it felt strange to come out of their tents in the morning and see the sky.

  One evening during dinner, Kara seemed unusually quiet and inward-looking.

  “Can’t wait to sleep in a real bed again.” Etarek screwed the top onto the meloxa flask and winged it across the campsite.

  Dravek deftly snatched it from the air. “And have a long bath,” he said before taking a swig.

  Etarek shook his head. “Not in Tiros. I hear they barely have enough water for drinking. Right, Kara?”

  The Wolf gave a guarded glance at their surroundings, apparently ignoring the conversation.

  “Why would anyone live where there’s no river?” Dravek tossed the flask back to Etarek. “How do they survive?”

  “They have wells,” Sura said. “My mother told me there’s a reservoir that fills in the springtime. And the Tiron River is only a few hours’ walk away.”

  Kara stood suddenly, spilling her uneaten food to the ground. Dravek leaped to take her hand.

  “What’s wrong?” He followed her gaze to the west. “Someone coming?”

  She shook him off and walked to the edge of the ridge. The Wolf stared at the sun as it touched the flat horizon of the Tiron Plain. Flaming red, it seemed to bulge and shimmer.

  Kara gasped, then took several sharp, quick breaths.

  Dravek hurried to her side. “What is it?”

  “No, don’t touch—” She dropped to her haunches, holding out a hand to ward him off. Her head tilted to the side as if she were listening to a faraway voice. Then she lifted her face to the setting sun. The red rays reflected off her dark golden hair and in the depths of her blue eyes.

  She disappeared.

  Dravek stepped back and whispered his wife’s name. She shimmered into view again.

  “Did you see that?” Her eyes overflowed with tears. “Invisible. Second phase. Dravek, I’m pregnant.”

  He whooped and swept her into his arms. They spun in a circle, Kara’s legs kicking the air. Etarek applauded, and Sura followed his lead, even as her gut twisted so sharply she almost doubled over in pain.

  Dravek put Kara down and kissed her with a passion equal to that of their wedding. Kara beamed up at him, and whispered, “We’re going to have a baby.”

  He gazed down into her eyes. “He’ll be as beautiful as you.” He pulled her close again. “I’m sorry we’ve been fighting. I’ve been so rotten.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I was scared and took it out on you.” She pulled back and smiled. “But that’s all gone now.”

  Sura focused on the remains of her meal. They looked as if the last eight days of bickering had never occurred. How could a baby make things simpler instead of more complicated?

  Kara stared at her hands. “Let’s see if I can do it on purpose.” Her outline shimmered, then dissipated as she vanished. “I did it!” A short silence fell, then her voice came from the other side of the ridge. “And my stealth is better, too. I can’t wait to hunt tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re not hunting when you’re pregnant,” Dravek said. “You could fall.”

  “When do I ever fall?” Her voice was teasing but held an uneasy edge.

  “Yesterday.”

  “That was just a skid. Barely scratched my knees.”

  Sura looked between Dravek and nothing. Here was the defensive tone she had come to expect from them.

  “You’re not used to this terrain,” Dravek told Kara. “You should try out your new powers somewhere safer.”

  “If I don’t hunt, what’ll we eat?”

  “There’s plenty of roots and berries in our packs.”

  Etarek spoke up. “Only a few days
to Tiros. We can go without meat that long.”

  “Stay out of it, Etarek.” Kara reappeared and advanced on her husband. “Why can’t you be happy for me? Why do you have to ruin everything?” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

  His face fell. “Kara, I’m just worried about the baby.”

  “And I’m not?” she shrilled. “I’m such a horrible mother that I won’t take care of myself?”

  “I didn’t say that. Look, just forget I said anything.” He turned away, clenching his fists. “Do what you want. I trust you.”

  “No, you don’t.” She followed him to the campfire. “You have no faith in me.”

  “I do. I’m sorry for what I said.” Sura saw his eyes flash as he passed her, but he had his back to Kara so she couldn’t see his pained expression. “I take it back.”

  “You can’t take it back this time.” She caught up to him, but he didn’t turn around. “I’m tired of you bossing me.”

  His mouth twisted. “Me bossing you?” he muttered. “Now she’s delusional.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” He rubbed his face hard with his knuckles. “Just forget it.” He tried to move away again.

  “No.” She grabbed his arm. “Look at me when you speak.”

  “Stop it.” He jerked out of her grasp. “I’m not a child.”

  “Then don’t act like one. You always do this, say mean things and then squirm out of the conversation.”

  Sura put her plate aside, her stomach too tight to take anymore. Though her father had left before she was too young to make memories, she imagined her parents having fights like this every night.

  “This isn’t a conversation.” Dravek moved away from Kara again, this time toward the edge of the cliff. “This is you haranguing me. Again.” His teeth gritted around the last word.

  Etarek cleared his throat. “Uh, maybe we should—”

  “It’s the only kind of conversation we have,” Kara told Dravek, “so that’s what I’m calling it.”

  “Please stop it.” Dravek uttered the plea to the sky, as if Raven Herself would swoop down and rescue him.

  Kara stalked over to him, hands on her hips. He made a move to avoid her, and his feet came close to the cliff’s edge. Sura stood up.