The Reawakened

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  “Uh-oh.” A young female voice called out. “He’s waking up already.”

  “Impossible.” The old woman he’d heard earlier approached. “I sedated him enough to last a…”

  Her voice faded as Lycas pushed himself to his hands and knees. Though he could still feel the arrow in his back, the pain was gone. He could breathe.

  “Pull out the arrow,” he said.

  “Absolutely not,” the old Otter said. “Your lung will collapse and you could bleed out internally.”

  “I promise that won’t happen.” His guts felt as hard as iron. “Take it out while you still can.”

  “I won’t. Now lie down right now before you go into shock.”

  “Lycas?” said a hoarse voice.

  He raised his head to see Rhia staring at him. She knelt next to Marek beside Nilik’s body. Her face was soaked in what must have been tears, now that the rain had stopped.

  Lycas heaved himself to his feet, prompting a gasp from the Otter and a squeak from her young assistant. He staggered over to his sister, who gaped up at him.

  “What happened to you?” she said.

  He looked down at his torn shirt to see the mark of Wolverine traveling from his throat to his navel, one long, jagged claw mark.

  “I’m third phase.” He stared at Nilik’s broken, battered body. “Not soon enough. Maybe if I’d run faster—”

  “He couldn’t be saved.” Her voice broke. “Why was he here?”

  “He must have escaped his guards at the camp and come to the garrison to avenge Lania’s death. Tonight was his only chance, and he knew it.”

  “Did he kill her murderers?” Marek asked in a hard voice.

  Lycas nodded. “All six. Let them out of their cells one by one, as far as I could see, even gave each of them a sword.”

  “Message for Lycas!” shouted a man behind him.

  The crowd cleared a path for a young Bear, who ran up to Lycas and stood panting before him.

  “Sir. The Eagle says—” The messenger stopped and gaped at the arrow coming out of Lycas’s back.

  “I almost forgot.” Lycas turned around. “Pull it out.”

  “Sir? I don’t know if—”

  “That’s an order.”

  The Bear grasped the arrow in trembling hands. “Are you sure?”

  “Hurry!”

  The young man yanked hard, but the arrow wouldn’t give. He tried again and again. Lycas’s flesh had closed upon the arrow, forming steel-hard scar tissue.

  Lycas cursed. “Just break it off.”

  The Bear snapped the arrow, then handed the rest of it to Lycas. He frowned at it—at least a two-inch portion, including the sharp head, was now a part of his body.

  He tossed it onto the sand. “What’s the message?”

  “First of all, the Ilion general has been injured but not killed.”

  “Good. Bring him with us.”

  “Yes, sir. Also, the Eagle sees the Ilion troops landing south along the coast. They could be here in as little as an hour. What are your orders?”

  “We retreat to the hills like we planned,” he told the young man, “with all of us gone in half an hour. Get as many weapons as we can carry. Use the Ilions’ supplies and horses to transport the wounded.” He looked at Rhia and forced out the last order. “Leave the dead.”

  A fresh flood of tears slid from her eyes, and she turned away.

  “Yes, sir.” The Bear ran for the garrison.

  Lycas looked at his sister. As Marek cut several locks of Nilik’s hair, Rhia knelt at the boy’s feet, unlacing his boots.

  “They’re almost new.” She wiped her sleeve across her face. “Someone else can use them.”

  Damen approached Lycas. “I’ll make sure he and the others get a proper burial.”

  “You’re staying?”

  “Rhia can’t, she’s an escaped prisoner.” He pointed down the bay to the lights of Velekos. “I’ll head halfway to the village, then turn around and come back, pretend I’ve just arrived, that I’m here to perform my duties to the dead.”

  Lycas gave him a narrow look. “They’ll suspect you. You’ll be arrested—soon, if not tonight.”

  “I can’t leave.” Damen looked at the bodies strewn on the beach. “I stay for the dead. I stay for Velekos.”

  Lycas watched him turn and head for the village. Damen had taken only a few steps before he stopped and sat beside a nearby soldier, one who was clearly nearing his last breath.

  Lycas knelt beside his sister. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “You tried.” Rhia tied the laces of Nilik’s boots together. “Some things must happen.” The bitterness in her voice chilled his blood. “Only Crow knows why.” She dropped the boots and covered her face. “I’ll never understand.”

  He slipped his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him and sobbed, her body quaking.

  Lycas stared at Nilik and for the first time, did not think of his own twin brother. Instead he imagined Sura lying dead at his feet, her life stolen by a Descendant sword.

  Wolverine’s edict faded in Lycas’s mind, as his rage burned on.

  25

  Tiros

  “Dinner’s ready.” Sura stuck her head inside the tent to see Etarek sitting in the dark, hands over his ears. “It’s almost midnight. We should eat and get some sleep.”

  He shook his head. She crawled inside and gently pried his hands from his ears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The voices—everywhere.” His hands shook in her grip. “Feels like they’re trying to get inside my head.” He pulled away and rubbed his scalp.

  She sat beside him. “You’re not used to being surrounded by so many strangers. But if you come out, you can meet our neighbors and see they’re not so bad. The couple next door used to be friends of my mother before they escaped Asermos.”

  “It’s not that I don’t know them.” He seemed to be trying to steady his breath. “It’s that they’re there.”

  “You feel their moods when they talk?” “They’re not as content as they pretend to be. Those so-called friends of your mother’s, they’re glad she’s in prison.”

  Sura’s curiosity overcame the momentary hurt. “How do you know?”

  “It’s in their voices.” Etarek turned to her suddenly. “Do you feel different?”

  “Different than what?”

  He rubbed his eyebrows. “Different than you did yesterday.” “I’m in a new village. Of course I feel different.” I wish I’d never come here.

  He squinted and cocked his head. “What did you just say?” “I said, ‘I’m in a new village. Of course I feel different.’” She wondered if he were going deaf or just not paying attention.

  “I’m not deaf, and I always pay attention to you.”

  She gaped at him. He stared back.

  She pointed at her head, which was starting to swim. “Did I just— Did you—”

  “I heard your thoughts, not just your feelings.” Slowly he turned and took her shoulders. “I’m in my second phase. You’re pregnant.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You’re joking.” Sura’s thoughts formed a wordless storm of panic.

  “You can’t tell?”

  She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. “No.” Was something wrong with her? Was someone else having his child?

  “We’ve been in the wilderness. Where would I have found someone else?”

  Her eyes popped open. “You hear exactly what I’m thinking? In words?”

  Etarek winced and nodded. “But only when you speak. It’s like an echo to the words I hear out loud.” He put a hand to his head. “That’s a Deer’s second-phase power, but I’m supposed to be able to control it. I can’t. I hear everything.”

  She clamped her lips together.

  “Don’t worry,” he added, “if you say exactly what you think, I won’t hear anything. At least that’s what the Deer woman here in Tiros said would happen.”

  Her gaze darted around the
tent, then alighted on the door. She moved out of his grasp to leave.

  “Wait,” he said.

  She turned back to him.

  He opened his arms. “We’re going to have a baby.”

  She attempted a shaky smile, then moved forward and hugged him. Her pulse pounded in her temple as her head rested on his shoulder. Then she pulled back, pointed her thumb at the door and made eating motions, afraid to speak.

  Sura found Dravek and Kara sitting on opposite sides of the campfire, sharing a silent dinner. She grabbed two plates and began to fill them with food, wondering how to broach the topic.

  “Dravek,” she said in a low voice so Etarek wouldn’t hear. “When you turned second phase, did you feel different?”

  “My senses of smell and touch sharpened, but not all of a sudden. I didn’t notice my new skill until I accidentally used it.” He gave Kara a guilty glance. She glared at him with contempt. He turned back to Sura. “Why do you ask?”

  She stood up straight. “Why do you think I ask?”

  His plate slid off his lap to the ground. “You’re pregnant?”

  “How wonderful,” Kara said without expression. She scowled at the meat in her hand. “This chicken is greasy.”

  “It’s supposed to be that way,” Sura told her. “They don’t fly, so they have more fat than wild birds.”

  “They sit around their whole lives waiting to be eaten?”

  “At least most chickens get to grow up. They don’t have to search for food, they don’t have to watch out for predators.”

  “Sounds like the life of a plant.”

  “Excuse me,” Dravek said. “Are you really talking about chickens when you just told us you’re pregnant?”

  Sura turned to him. “Etarek hears all our thoughts when we speak. He can’t block them.”

  Horror crept over his face, and he shut his mouth.

  “His Spirit is punishing him.” Kara glared at Sura. “You weren’t meant to have this baby.”

  She stepped back and touched her belly, already feeling protective. “It’s too late now.”

  “Poor Etarek.” Kara shook her head. “I probably knew this would happen.”

  “We all knew,” Sura snapped. “We accepted the consequences.” Which had seemed much less frightening in the abstract.

  “You should get back to your mate,” Kara said, her voice flat with sarcasm. “Celebrate.”

  Without another glance at Dravek, Sura returned to the tent. Etarek was sitting with elbows on his knees, hands over his ears again.

  He looked up when she entered. “You’ll all avoid me now.”

  She shook her head but said nothing.

  “Well, I wanted silence, and now I’ve got it.” He took the plate. “What’s this?”

  She focused her thoughts on the food. “Chicken.” She realized how abrupt that sounded. “It’s a domestic bird. Mostly they’re used for eggs, but when they get old and unproductive—”

  “I’ve heard of chicken,” he said gently. “I just didn’t recognize it.” He took a bite, chewed slowly, then swallowed. “Tastes like pigeon.”

  They ate in silence. Sura noticed that with every bite, the meal tasted stronger, its scents richer, just like Dravek had said would happen.

  She tried to get beyond her trepidation over their new powers and focus on the baby itself—herself, himself, whatever. It seemed impossible that this time next year she’d be lugging around an infant. What if she stole its memory? Would it have to learn to love her all over again?

  She thought of her parents. Though Lycas and Mali weren’t Spirit-siblings, their Aspects could be considered counterparts. They were each called by a Spirit who aligned itself with only one sex; Wolverine called male warriors, while Wasp called the female ones. Lycas and Mali shared the same realm, which should have prevented them from falling in love.

  But it hadn’t, and they’d been miserable.

  She put her plate down suddenly, her throat too tight to swallow.

  “What’s wrong?” Etarek said.

  She tried a breath, but it jerked in a sob. He put his arm around her shoulders, and her face twisted, her eyes and nose filling with water.

  “I don’t know—” she hiccupped “—if my mother will ever see her grandchild. And my father—”

  “They will.” Etarek pulled her closer. “They’re practically invincible now. So’s my father, as a Bear. You did that for them.”

  “The Descendants could starve her to death, or give him a disease. They can drown.”

  “Don’t think of it.” He kissed her temple. “Think of this. My mother’s third-phase now. She can speak directly to Galen here in Tiros. In the morning we’ll go see him, have him reach for her, if she hasn’t called to him already.” He handed her a plate of food. “Tonight, just eat, then sleep.”

  She stared down at the plate of pale meat and summer squash. “What is this?”

  “You just told me it was chicken.”

  She scrunched up her face with the effort to remember. Something wasn’t right.

  “A lot of the houses here have chickens,” he said. “Your cousin’s place had a nice garden. Too bad they’re in Velekos or we could’ve stayed there.”

  She thought about her day, trying to fill in the missing blank spot. She and Dravek had met Vara, then the four of them had visited Rhia’s house and found it empty. Then tonight she and Etarek had realized they were having a baby.

  Then what? How did she get this plate of food?

  She set it aside untouched. Etarek finished his portion, then ate what was on her plate when she offered it to him, wordlessly.

  “You must be tired,” he said. “I’ll clean up.”

  She nodded. When he was gone, she slipped under the blanket, which smelled strongly of their mingled scents. It provoked an unbidden desire deep within her, for the one thing that would obliterate her confusion.

  Etarek came back momentarily. “Kara and Dravek said they’d clean up, on account of our good news.”

  She gave him a tentative smile, which he misread as politeness.

  “Good night, then.” He lay beside her and turned onto his side, facing away.

  She touched his back, trailing her fingers along his spine. He let out a deep exhale, then turned to face her.

  “You still want me?” His whisper filled with awe.

  She answered him with a kiss, so deep it made him groan.

  “I never dared hope.” He drew her body close against him. “I want to be with you, Sura. I know everything’s backward, but maybe we can make it work.”

  The conviction in his voice gave her hope. Maybe they could find their way to love one day, despite their odd beginning. Maybe one day it would give their child the security it needed, and their Spirits would no longer punish them. Maybe this was what Snake had meant when She said Sura’s passion could save them all.

  “You don’t have to speak.” He tore off his shirt and placed her hand on his chest. “Just touch me. Make the voices go away.”

  Sura pushed away her doubts and immersed herself in their passion, its patterns grown precious and familiar over the weeks. She’d thought it would feel empty and pointless after she became pregnant, for they weren’t in love. But she loved what he did to her body, and loved pleasing him back, to see the bliss on his face and hear his cries.

  In the onrush of pleasure, she struggled to keep her own voice silent so that Etarek wouldn’t hear her thoughts. His rhythm never wavered, and soon she was climbing a peak as surely as the wind crested the mountains around them.

  Unable to hold back completely, she gave a low moan as she climaxed, ending in one word, “Etarek…”

  He stopped. She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, even as the ice in her veins told her it was over.

  “You said his name.”

  “I said your name.”

  “Not in your mind.” He clutched her hair, and fear flashed thr
ough her. “Inside you said—”

  “No…” She reached for him. “Let me explain.”

  He pulled away from her. “I knew there was someone else there when we made love.” He put his head in his hands. “I thought it was your mate. I thought you were mourning a dead man. Instead you were thinking of your Spirit-brother.”

  She turned her burning face away. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Hurt?” His harsh whisper shook. “You were with me out of duty. Why should I expect you to want me for myself? You had to think of him to make it bearable.”

  “That’s not true.” She scrambled for an argument, though she knew each word condemned her. “Haven’t you ever thought of one person when you were with another? A flash of comparison, or remembering what pleased them?”

  “Stop it.” He covered his ears. “Your mind tells me it wasn’t a flash.”

  “What else does it say?” She pulled his arms down. “Does it say I’ve been with him? Does it say I’ve ever betrayed you?”

  He lowered his gaze. “Not with your body.” He tugged his wrists out of her grip.

  “I’m sorry.” She wanted to touch him but knew he’d shirk her off. “I can’t help the way I feel.”

  He reached for his trousers. “Put your clothes on. I can’t talk to you when you’re naked. Not anymore.”

  She picked up her shirt with trembling hands. Tears threatened to squeeze from her eyes again, but she’d cried enough for one night.

  When they were dressed, they sat in silence, listening to the crackling fire outside.

  Finally Etarek spoke. “Does he feel the same way?”

  She nodded.

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me.”

  Etarek paused with his head cocked, in that posture she already dreaded, hearing the echo of her thoughts. “He showed you. He touched you.” His fingers clenched. “I thought he was my friend.”

  “He is.”

  “It all makes sense now, why he’s been so sullen. He was jealous. And he and Kara—” Etarek suddenly looked at the door. “Kara.” He leaped to his feet and opened the flap.

  “Wait!” Sura grabbed his calf. “Leave them alone. Etarek—”