The Reawakened

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  He swallowed hard, staring at the child. Moonlight broke through the haze of smoke, and Rhia thought that Marek’s blue-gray gaze had lost its haunted look. Perhaps for good.

  Dravek wished he could see Sura in the full light of day, naked and perfect under his hands. But tonight, for a few minutes at least, they would revel in their Snake senses of exquisite touch and scent, while they still possessed them.

  With his back to the wall, he drew her close and kissed her. Her breasts pressed against his chest, where he could feel the tiny contours of her nipples. His fingers outlined the scar on her back, and his blood surged with the desire to protect her from suffering.

  Her hands roamed his neck and shoulders, as though memorizing his shape. His skin came almost painfully alive at her touch, feeling it for the first time without the barrier of clothes. It seemed like an eternity since he’d first seen her in the forest and fallen asleep craving her body.

  “Touch me inside,” she murmured.

  Her voice held an ache, as if she had an affliction only he could cure. He lifted her off her feet, sliding her up against his own body. Her knees grasped his hips, and he reached around and between her legs.

  “Please,” she moaned.

  He slid one finger within her, then another. Sura clutched his shoulders, groaning and grinding against him, riding his hand with her tight, wet core. He curved his fingers, sending her into spasms of delirium that brought him near the brink himself.

  Dravek turned them around to pin her back to the wall. “I need you now.”

  “Yes.” She curled her legs around his hips. “No more waiting.”

  But he had to wait, one long moment to savor what was about to be, to bid good riddance to the endless aching void of denial. Then he sank himself deep inside her.

  They cried out together, their voices bombarding the warm, dry air. Dravek pressed his forehead against her shoulder and fought for control as the sensations swept through him, pulsing hot. Every hour for a year he’d imagined this moment, but the reality of her body was another world beyond.

  They remained still and silent, sharing shaky, astonished breaths. Waiting. For the world to end? For Snake to leave them? It was done now, and he wasn’t sorry.

  He brushed his mouth across hers, inhaling her scent, wishing he could taste every inch of her at once.

  “More,” she whispered, and slipped her tongue under his lip. The velvet shock flew down his spine, and he gasped with the effort to hold back.

  He moved within her, slowly, their breaths mingling. The sinews of her thighs tightened in his hands as she rocked her hips against him.

  “More.” Sura clenched him with every muscle, and he groaned in wordless ecstasy, his control slipping away. They slid together, faster, harder, sweat slicking their flesh. His skin felt as heavy as a fur coat, suffocating him as their heat built higher. He began to struggle for breath, but couldn’t care. Nothing had ever felt like this.

  Something sizzled. Through the haze of pleasure, he realized it was their own sweat, turning to steam.

  “Dravek?” Sura’s voice slurred. “What’s happening?”

  “Burning…I have to…” He moved faster, desperate to end it before they burst into flames. His heat-possessed mind clouded and wavered, and he felt a blackness reach for him, ready to drag him into unconsciousness.

  “Yes…” Sura pulsed and shuddered against him in a flaring orgasm he could feel deep in his own core. She screamed and clawed his shoulders, pulling him back to this world.

  All at once he came, long and hot and loud, the blood boiling in his ears. He thrust into her again and again, clutching her body and gasping for the last few breaths of life. If he died right now, he would regret nothing. Sura knew he loved her.

  At last the heat receded, and breath returned. Dravek realized he would live. He kissed her trembling lips.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I thought I was about to lose you.”

  He lowered her to the floor, knees shaking. “You almost did.”

  “You think that’ll happen every time?”

  “No.” He gulped and struggled to put words in the right order. “Not unless I have to go another thirteen months…eleven days and…three hours without an orgasm.” He sat gingerly on the bed, every inch of him exquisitely sensitive.

  “You denied yourself because of our training?”

  “Partly.” He waited until he had a full breath to finish. “And I vowed that the next time I came would be inside you.”

  She laughed, a sound he’d sorely missed, then drew her fingers through his hair. Suddenly she gasped and pulled her hand away. “It’s short again. Someone in your family—”

  “No, we couldn’t have made love if I’d been in my month of mourning.” He drew her to sit next to him on the bed. “I cut my hair out of shame. For Kalindos.”

  She leaned against his shoulder and held his hand between both of her own. “You did what you had to do.”

  He kissed the top of her head, wishing the smell of her hair could blot out the memory. But they both carried the scent of smoke and ash.

  “Where did you put the hamlet’s heat?” she asked.

  “There’s an underground stream that lets out not far from here. Rhia showed me on the ride in.”

  She gave a light groan. “I wish I’d thought to look for something like that. I was too busy thinking about the fire.” Her breath slid out over his skin. “I assumed I would die.”

  “I would never let you go,” he said, though he knew he was powerless against the strength of her will. “Never again.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. “Next time I’m going with you.”

  “There won’t be a next time. After Kalindos, I’m never using my powers to kill again.” He traced the edge of Sura’s face, studying its shape in the darkness.

  Suddenly he realized how cold his hand was against her warm cheek. He drew in a sharp breath.

  “Sura, do you feel that?” He cupped her chin in his palm.

  “I don’t—” She gasped and touched his hand, then his neck, chest and shoulders. “You feel different.”

  Dravek closed his eyes and searched inside himself for the presence that had inhabited him for over two years. The Spirit always lurked within, waiting to comfort and strengthen him.

  She was gone. Snake had left him.

  The chill spread through his body. “She died? Like Wolverine?”

  “No,” Sura said. “I can feel Her inside me.”

  Dravek’s throat thickened. “She’s abandoned me for what we did. Why not you?”

  “Maybe She thinks I’ve been punished enough.”

  “You have.” He touched her face. “I’m not sorry for what just happened.” His hand went still on her cheek. “Unless you don’t want me, now that I’m nothing.”

  “How can you think that?” The mattress creaked as Sura turned to face him. “I want to be with you, whatever you are.”

  He drew her into his arms and kissed her. The heat between them was that of nothing but lovers. He was only human now, but it was good enough.

  Several moments later, he opened his eyes, amazed at how much time had passed. It seemed that sunset was only a few hours ago, but already the light of dawn shone through the window, glowing pale blue on Sura’s face.

  Or at least it should have been blue. This light was pure white—not even silver like the moon.

  They turned their heads to the window.

  “What is that?” Sura whispered.

  Dravek stood up, holding his breath. Could it be a new Descendant weapon, a hotter fire than any he and Sura had ever extinguished? Whatever it was, it would have to go through him to get to her.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.

  The light brightened, giving him enough illumination to find his clothes. Sura rifled through the dresser of the house’s former occupant and pulled out enough clothes to cover her, though the sleeves were too short and the shoes too big. As t
hey dressed, Dravek stood near the window, watching the western sky turn a color he’d never seen before.

  Or rather, colors. The horizon formed a glowing white canvas. Every hue played upon it, twisting and curling around and inside each other like ribbons made of air. It reminded him of his Bestowing, just before Snake appeared, when—

  His heart stopped. It couldn’t be.

  “Can you see it yet?”

  He turned to answer Sura, who was tying a loose pair of trousers at her waist. Only two words came out.

  “She’s here.”

  “Who?”

  He couldn’t speak the name, could only take Sura’s hand and lead her out of the bedroom, through the front door and out to the street. Others were gathering in the hamlet’s central square, their clothes torn and covered in soot. He saw Rhia and Marek and Elora, but only spared them a glance as another extraordinary sight caught his eye.

  A large scorched black circle lay in the dust where they had kissed. He pulled Sura to stand at the edge to await their people’s salvation.

  The light took the form of a giant bird, as he knew it would. Sura yelped, then dropped to her knees, yanking him with her. Everyone around them did the same, most of them pressing their foreheads to the ground. Dravek knew he should lower his gaze, out of humility and the desire not to be blinded. But he couldn’t take his eyes off Raven.

  As She approached, Her light illuminated the devastation, throwing long shadows of the shattered houses and charred bodies.

  The Spirit of Spirits alighted in the hamlet square, in the center of the black circle.

  “Greetings,” She said in a voice that could shake the sun.

  Dravek saw Rhia lift her head. “You honor us with Your presence at our hour of need,” she said.

  “I come to bestow My Aspect.”

  The crowd drew in a collective breath. No Crow offspring remained who had not already received an Aspect. Nilik had died, Jula was a Mockingbird and Corek was a Crow himself.

  Unless…

  Dravek looked at Rhia. Of course. Born of a Crow in difficult labor could mean a Crow person would transform into Raven in a time of great pain. A Crow like Rhia.

  He smiled. The Spirits were clever, he had to admit.

  Raven turned Her curved beak toward Dravek. “It’s you I’ve come for.”

  The crowd went dead silent. Dravek’s smile faded, and the blood seemed to stop flowing as he stared at the Spirit.

  “What?” he said, ignobly.

  “Must I repeat Myself?” Raven said with what sounded like a grin.

  “But the—the prophecy said that the Raven child would be born of a Crow. My mother was a Spider, and my father—”

  He stopped, remembering what Rhia had told him a few weeks ago. Everyone had a Guardian Spirit, even Descendants, whether they knew it or not.

  His father was a Crow.

  “No.” He tried to get to his feet to run. Sura held his hand tight, keeping him on his knees. “Of all my people,” he said, “I’m the least worthy.”

  Raven came closer, spiking the panic in his heart.

  “Dravek.” Her head tilted, gesturing to Sura. “You would have sacrificed your life to save this woman and your people. You gave up your Spirit in order to love her. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be.”

  Sura squeezed his hand. To his relief, she didn’t say, “I told you so.”

  “Besides,” Raven continued, “you have always been Mine. Perhaps it’s why you and Sura loved each other, because something in you sensed you were not the same.”

  Dravek glanced around to see several nearby people giving them odd regards. There was no hiding their true feelings now, and no need to. He was no longer Snake.

  He bowed his head. “What do You require of me?” “That you accept My Aspect, and use it to do what only I can do.”

  Dravek had no idea what She meant. “When? Where?” Raven enveloped him in Her light of every color. “You’ll know.”

  Asermon Valley

  Lycas tried to move toward the light. The crowd pulled him along, but every jostle spiked the pain in his chest. Each breath came shallower than the last. He wouldn’t make it. He’d never see Raven.

  Finally he veered away from the crowd, away from the dead and injured soldiers. The battle was over, and he wanted to be alone.

  He found a pile of brush—discarded scrap wood from the hamlet’s construction, no doubt—and collapsed behind it.

  Sitting on the ground, Lycas watched the white and rainbow light glow against the yellowing leaves of the nearby maples. The hamlet couldn’t be more than a hundred paces away, but it might as well be a hundred miles.

  “You always were the lazy one,” said a voice behind him.

  Mali.

  With the rest of his breath, Lycas suggested where she could stick her observations.

  “Nice,” she said, “and here I am trying to help you.” She knelt beside him and took his arm.

  “Mali, no,” he said with as much force as he could. “If you pull me up, the pain’ll make me scream.”

  She let go. Of course she would understand. He couldn’t show weakness in front of the others.

  She sat beside him. “Then we’ll wait here together.”

  “No. You go see Raven. It could be your only chance.”

  “Eh. I’m sure it’s not all it’s touted to be. Besides, I hate crowds.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Rest now.”

  The weight of her voice said she knew he was dying.

  He tried to shift his position, but the movement jabbed the arrow deeper into his lung. He gasped in pain, which only made it worse. His next cough brought blood to his mouth.

  “Lie on your side,” she commanded. “I’ll help.”

  She supported Lycas’s arm as he lowered himself to the ground. The cool grass against his shoulder soothed the burning inside him.

  Mali lay facing him and extended her arm to support the side of his head. The blood trailed from his mouth onto her skin, mingling with that of her vanquished foes.

  The flickering light played over her sweaty face as her dark gaze traveled down his body. “I guess I can’t punch you in the gut, like I’ve dreamed of doing for nineteen years.”

  They glowered at each other for a long moment, then the corner of his mouth twitched. Her eyes crinkled, and her thin lips tightened in a vague approximation of a smile.

  “You look good,” she said.

  “You look terrible.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Sura’s in there,” he said.

  Mali’s eyes widened, and he could tell she wanted to leap up and run to their daughter. But she stayed.

  “She’s a Snake,” he told her. “I think she stopped the fire.”

  Mali smiled. “She was a good snuffer, even before she left Asermos.”

  “More than that.” He closed his eyes. “I turned her into a weapon. My own daughter.”

  “You gave her the chance to help her people, something I was too afraid to do. I wasted her life protecting her.”

  He didn’t want to spend another breath arguing. He never won with Mali, anyway.

  “She named our granddaughter after you.”

  Mali’s mouth opened, but for several moments no words came out. “Have you seen her?”

  “Once. She’s beautiful.” Just like her namesake, he wanted to add, but knew he’d receive a fatal punch for it. “Red hair, black eyes. Striking.”

  Another stab inside, this time unprovoked. He gagged, and blood poured from his mouth, faster than before.

  “Let me get you an Otter,” Mali said. “They can at least take away the pain.” She started to get up.

  He clutched her hand. “Don’t leave me.” Lycas wanted to cringe at his own words. He was truly weak now, afraid to die alone. “I’m so cold.”

  She lay down again, her arm beneath his head. Behind her dark lashes he could still see the fierce young woman who’d always made him feel five
seconds from a heart attack.

  “I’m sorry,” he choked out.

  “Good.” Her hand still in his, she blew on his forehead to shift the hair out of his eyes.

  “Wish I’d been…anything else.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Wouldn’t have had to leave you.”

  She scoffed. “If you hadn’t left, neither of us would have lived this long.”

  She was right.

  “Besides,” she said, “you’ve never been anything but a Wolverine since the day you were born.”

  Another pain skewered him, but this time not from his body. “I killed Him.”

  He wanted to howl his anguish to the sky, give his own life to bring back his Spirit. But nothing could ever do that.

  Mali let go of his hand, then placed an object in it that was even colder than his fingers. He recognized the deer-bone hilt of one of his daggers, the one with the lock of Sura’s hair inside.

  He no longer had the strength to hold it. It slid from his grasp.

  She replaced the weapon in his palm, then wrapped her hand around his to keep it there.

  “You saved us,” she whispered. “You honored Him.”

  He tried to believe it, tried to glimpse her eyes to see if she believed it.

  But darkness stole his vision, and he slipped away, in despair.

  Rhia stared as Raven stepped back from Dravek. He looked the same as before, in all ways but one: around his edges shimmered an almost imperceptible iridescent glow, trailing him as he rose from his knees. She wondered how long the aura would last.

  One thing was for certain: he was no longer Snake. He had given up his Spirit to be with Sura.

  Raven turned to the rest of the crowd. “I have also arrived to announce a fundamental change, from this point on.” She looked at Sura. “Much misery has been caused by the progression of powers through reproduction.” Raven raised Her head and addressed everyone. “There was a time long ago when it made sense, when your people were in danger of extinction. But now, despite the many deaths this war has caused, the land has as many humans as it can sustain.

  “Therefore, We now decree that humans shall progress from the first to the second phase, and from second to third, when their Spirits deem them ready. This will end the perversion of powers that brings so much pain, and babies will be born to those who want them. Most important, those who cannot or choose not to bear children will not be hindered in their magic.”