The Reawakened

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  The general turned to the door of the balcony as the soldier with the parchment appeared. He snatched the paper out of the soldier’s hand and unfolded it hastily.

  “Give me a moment.” He and the other senior officers disappeared inside the prison.

  The settlers were eyeing the Asermon natives with growing hostility.

  Mali turned to Rhia and Marek. “We’ve got to do something about them. If they rush us, the soldiers will get involved, and things’ll get bloody.”

  “We have no weapons,” Marek said. “That was the point. Besides, most of our warriors’ Spirits are dead, and the Ilions know it.”

  “We have a weapon,” said a voice behind them.

  Rhia turned to see Dravek staring into the distant woods, his eyes unfocused.

  “Raven said the time for fighting was over,” Dravek said. “We need to win them, not conquer them.” He turned to them. “I’m going to call the Spirits.”

  A shiver went down Rhia’s spine. “Here? Now?”

  “The Reawakening,” Marek breathed. “Yes.”

  “Do you think it’ll work?” Mali asked.

  “Raven commands the Spirits,” Marek told her. “If anyone can do it, it’d be Dravek.”

  She examined the young man with a skeptical gaze. “How?”

  Dravek searched the sky as if the answer were written on the puffs of pink and orange clouds. Finally he looked at them.

  “I’ll just ask them to come.” He shrugged. “There’s no ritual for this sort of thing. No one’s ever been Raven before.” He wiped his hands against the sides of his shirt, as if they were sweaty. “Anyway, it’s all I can think of.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing.” Tereus stepped forward. “Four of the Spirits are dead. How can there be a Reawakening without Wolf and Wolverine? Or Cougar and Bear? Their people protect and feed us.”

  Rhia put a hand to her chest as she felt her breath escape. She knew now why Crow had given her the third-phase power.

  “I’ll bring them back.”

  Together, Rhia and Dravek entered the Gray Valley.

  Within a few steps, she had forgotten the real world, where her friends and family shielded her and the Raven man from the prying eyes of the Ilions, and where Marek softly tapped two stones together to simulate the drumbeat. She’d been relieved that this journey had not required burning the thanapras herb, but she supposed that with Raven, all things were possible.

  Speaking of which, Rhia looked at Dravek, who stared, slack-jawed, at their stark surroundings.

  “People come here when they die?” he asked her.

  “Just the bitter ones.” She touched his arm. “Let’s go.”

  As they walked through the Valley, she called the names of the four dead Spirits. Nothing but her own voice echoed from the high rock walls.

  Finally Dravek stopped. “Maybe if I call the rest, the others will come, and you can bring them back.”

  She nodded. “Try it.”

  He brushed his hands together and muttered, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Raven chose you for a reason.” Her tone, unfortunately, conveyed the fact that she couldn’t fathom it.

  He gave her a short, dark glance. “Right.” He took a deep breath, then cleared his throat. “Spirits. All of you. We need you now like never before, and hopefully never again. We’re on the verge of taking back our lands. Or we’re about to lose everything. We need you.”

  They waited for several long moments, but nothing happened.

  Dravek gave a harsh sigh. “I’m begging you on behalf of all my people, and even on behalf of the Ilions, who don’t know how much they need you. If you accept them again as your own, they would love you as much as we do.”

  When nothing continued to happen, Dravek closed his eyes for a long moment, then took a step forward and raised his arms to the sky.

  “I am Kalindon, and I am Ilion.” His voice stretched forth. “I exist because of this war. Four Spirits died because of my part in it. If it’s a sacrifice you want, if it’s a life you need, then take mine.”

  Rhia put a hand to her mouth. Perhaps Raven had chosen well after all.

  Silence reigned in the Gray Valley.

  Dravek lowered his arms. “I don’t know what else to—”

  “Wait.” Rhia held up a hand. “Do you hear that?”

  From far away came the sound of wings and hooves and claws, flapping and pounding and scratching. Rhia looked around but saw nothing. No animals approached in any form. “Where are they?” she asked.

  A slow smile crept across Dravek’s face. “They’re not here. They’re out there.”

  She looked at the sky. It seemed as if the sound were coming from beyond it.

  “Of course,” she whispered. “The Spirits don’t live here in the Gray Valley. They’re not dead.” She listened to the steady movement of the sounds from one horizon to the other. “They’re going to our world.” She turned to Dravek. “You did it. You called the Spirits.”

  His smile faded as he looked past her. “Not all of them.”

  She turned slowly, knowing what she would see.

  Stumbling toward them, weak-limbed and wavering, were four animals. A wolf, a wolverine, a bear and a cougar.

  Postures slumped, they dragged their feet, leaving trails of bloody paw prints. The wolverine looked the worst, its thick brown fur, black face and legs, all patched and tattered like an old coat. Each of its long claws was shattered into yellow splinters.

  She readied herself to resurrect the Spirits, though she wasn’t exactly sure how. And then she remembered.

  There was always a price. For every moment of new life granted, another must be sacrificed. When she had died as part of her first Crow ritual and her mentor Coranna had brought her back, every Kalindon had offered a piece of his or her own life as ransom—what amounted to a month each, if she lived to Coranna’s age of fifty-three.

  But the Spirits were eternal. All the human life in the world couldn’t bring them back.

  Tears stung her eyes. It couldn’t be done. There was no ransom large enough. Her people would have few warriors and hunters. Even if the Ilions were Reawakened and became their allies, another enemy would come along later and prey on their weakness.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  She turned to explain to Dravek, but he was staring over her head at the top of the cliffs.

  She followed his gaze to see Raven. The Spirit of Spirits, the Mother of all Creation, was no longer glowing with feathers of every color. Instead She looked like nothing more than a raven, larger than Her brother Crow, with ragged feathers at Her throat, and a thick curved beak.

  “If it’s a ransom you need,” She said with a voice clear and loud despite the distance, “I shall give it.”

  Rhia shook her head. “I don’t understand. Whose lives do You offer?”

  “The only one I can.” She bowed Her head and ruffled Her wings. “My own.”

  “No!” Rhia shouted. “We need You.”

  “Yes, for this. Before, now and again one day.”

  Rhia looked at Dravek, who was gazing at Raven with misty eyes.

  “She’s right,” he told Rhia. “She’s played Her part, and so have I.” He lowered his gaze to her face. “You’ll have to take them across alone.”

  “You’re not staying here.” She looked up at Raven. “Tell him.”

  “Rhia’s correct,” Raven said. “Dravek, you must continue. Find another Spirit, one that’s right for the rest of your life. Know that you have served Me honorably.” She turned Her head to Rhia. “Take what I offer and give it to My children.”

  Raven leaped from the cliff and plummeted, wings tucked tight against Her body. Before Rhia could draw her next breath, Raven hit the floor of the Gray Valley in a glorious white shower of sparks. The fire from the impact cascaded over the four injured animals, drowning them in flames.

  When the smoke cleared, the bear, wolf, wolverine and cougar lay still
. Rhia and Dravek crept closer.

  The animals were whole now, and breathing slowly. Rhia slid her arms under the cougar and found it as light and soft as a blanket.

  Dravek knelt beside the wolf and tried to pick it up, but his hands went through the fur as if the animal were made of air.

  “Only I can take them across.” Rhia nodded to their surroundings. “It’s my Spirit’s realm.”

  “Then I’ll walk with you.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  They made their way back to the dead tree. Rhia looked up at its branches, half expecting to see a leaf or flower growing at the tip of a twig.

  It hadn’t changed. Some things never would, she guessed.

  She set the cougar down at the edge of the fog that led to the natural world. It stretched, bowing, extending each claw, toes flexing. Then it gave her an impassive look, as if to say, “Eh, not bad,” before springing into the fog.

  They repeated the action for the bear and wolf. They should have been too big and heavy for her to carry, but she managed it with ease—they were Spirits after all.

  As the wolf trotted off through the fog, she motioned for Dravek to follow it. “I’d like to do the last alone.”

  He nodded. “But hurry. I have the feeling you won’t want to miss this.”

  Rhia trudged back to the sleeping wolverine. She hesitated at the sight of its sharp teeth and long claws. Then she bent and picked up the strange animal.

  “Thank you.”

  She whirled in her tracks, almost dropping the wolverine.

  Her brother stood in the center of the valley, not ten paces away.

  “Lycas…” Her throat tightened with tears. “You shouldn’t be here. Go with Crow. Go to the Other Side.”

  “I will now.” He stepped closer, and she longed to embrace him.

  “Why are you here at all?” she asked him. “You died a warrior’s death.”

  “I died from an old wound delivered by one of my own men, a wound that never would have happened if I’d been a better warrior. A nobler one.”

  “A noble war would have left us in chains.”

  He lowered his gaze to the bundle of fur in her hands. “He looks so harmless.”

  A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “Not for long.”

  He gestured behind him, toward the fog. “May I go with you?”

  “As far as you can, yes.”

  They walked together, ambling in a comfortable silence, as if they were back home on the family farm in Asermos.

  “I hate that you’re gone,” she said at last.

  “Well, that’s some comfort for me, knowing my death will eternally annoy you.”

  A laugh broke through her tears. “You never stop, do you?”

  He didn’t answer, and her heart grew heavy again. He would stop everything now, forever.

  They reached the fog without another word. At the edge, she set the wolverine on the ground. It snarled at her as it scrambled away, loping hunched over like a cross between a bear and a dog.

  Lycas shook his head. “All my life, I’ve never seen one of those. Elusive little bastards.”

  She heard Crow before she saw Him, heard the great flapping of wings from far away.

  “It’s time for you to go,” Lycas said.

  “You first.”

  The Spirit landed beside them, then bowed, but said nothing.

  “Goodbye,” Rhia managed to choke out. She took a breath and steadied her voice. “I love you.”

  Lycas smirked. “I knew you’d say that.”

  She decided to let him have the last word, and merely smiled.

  Lycas turned to Crow and nodded. A violet light shimmered around them, and they were gone.

  In hope and grief, Rhia stepped through the fog.

  She woke in the center of the village with everyone staring down at her. Dravek and Marek reached out and helped her to her feet.

  “Are They here yet?” she asked.

  Marek pointed past the crowd of settlers, into the place where the road curved up into a stretch of woods.

  “They’re coming,” he whispered.

  She looked where he was gazing and saw nothing at first. Then, bit by bit, another crowd came into focus.

  Animals.

  One of each kind, crawling, walking, flying, buzzing. Predators ambled side by side with their prey—cougar and deer, hawk and squirrel, wolf and rabbit.

  Sura turned to her, wide-eyed. “What should we do?”

  “Nothing.” Rhia shook her head slowly. “They’re not here for us.”

  The animals and birds, dozens of them, were all in full sun now, and everyone had fallen silent watching them, even the Ilion settlers.

  When all the animals had reached the prison yard, they lined up and faced the group of settlers. Each person moved to stand in front of one of the animals.

  A chestnut horse stepped forward. Its low, female voice rang out over the world.

  “Greetings, people of Ilios.”

  The settlers looked at each other with apprehension, clearly unaccustomed to talking animals. The Spirits had chosen well in a speaker—Ilions loved and respected horses.

  She continued:

  “Many generations ago, We abandoned your people for what We saw as arrogance. You created gods in your own image and erected places that separated you from the earth.”

  Rhia thought of Leukos, the Ilion capital city. Its cold beauty made it feel far from home in more ways than one. But other areas of Ilios still verged on wilderness, and there her people’s magic had thrived. It wasn’t too late for that nation to turn back to the Spirits.

  “We were too hasty in judgment,” Horse said, “and far too harsh. Forgive Us. We want all people to be one again with the Spirits and with each other. Though this new Reawakening will not be complete for many years, We hope that one day all of your people will choose to accept their Guardian Spirits. Those who do will be bestowed with powers such as you’ve seen here in Asermos.” Her head bobbed, making the red mane shimmer in the early-morning light. “In return for such magic, you must honor and respect Us and the land from which We come. We cannot be separated from the earth, and neither can you.

  “Believe in Us, and We will love you forever. Never again shall We turn away.” She let out a small chuckle that sounded like a whinny. “Even Spirits can learn from mistakes.”

  The horse bowed, then returned to the mass of animals. Rhia walked into the square, closing the distance to the settlers by half. A few of the others followed.

  Just then, the senior officers returned to the balcony. She spoke before they could deliver another threat.

  “People of Ilios. We offer you the chance to stay, to learn and grow with the Spirits. We will train you in your powers, escort each of you to your Bestowing so that you may come into the fullness of your Aspects. All we ask in return is for you to watch, in peace, as your army leaves our shores.” She turned to the officers on the balcony. “Today.”

  General Lino stared at the animals on the street. The enormous black bear reared up on its hind legs. The cougar roared, a sound that ripped the air, and crouched, muscles bunching, as if to leap onto the balcony.

  “Do it,” Daria whispered to her cat Spirit.

  The general backed slowly away from the railing and drew a short, curved sword from his sheath.

  Sura snorted. “Does he think he can kill a Spirit with a sword?”

  Mali spoke softly. “That’s not what he’s doing.”

  Rhia saw jewels sparkle on the hilt as General Lino raised the weapon before him and spoke to her.

  “Don’t you understand?” he said. “I can’t leave. My mission was to bring order to this land. I failed. I can never go home.” He handed the sword to one of his staff officers and slowly dropped to his knees on the balcony. “May my life be sufficient payment for my dishonor. May the gods forgive me.”

  “No…” Rhia stepped forward as the staff officer pulled Lino’s head back a
nd sliced his throat. The general’s hands went up at the last instant, and Rhia turned away.

  Another death. She closed her eyes and prayed to Crow that it would be the final one of the war.

  As if in response, the Spirit’s wings rushed through her mind as He carried off the general’s soul.

  She opened her eyes to see the black bird hop out of the crowd of animals and stand before her. “You might like to know,” Crow said. “For the first time since I created it, the Gray Valley is empty.”

  Rhia stared at him until he bobbed his head to confirm it. She shed another pair of tears at the thought of all the dead finding peace at last.

  Then she wiped her eyes and regarded the bird. “Maybe you could take a vacation.”

  “Ha! You always had a sense of humor.” The crow cocked his head. “Then again, I’ve been overworked lately. Perhaps a few days off would do wonders for my mood.” He hopped away.

  Rhia watched the bird go, then looked up at the balcony, which was almost empty. They had carried General Lino’s body inside, and the last of the soldiers were filing into the prison building, hopefully to plan their voyage home.

  Finally she turned to Marek, who was embracing his fellow Kalindons one at a time. She tried to freeze the moment in her mind, the looks on all her people’s faces and the way they held their bodies.

  They were free.

  17

  Asermos

  Sura laid Malia in her crib, then drew the curtain against the afternoon light. The child had cried for two straight hours, no doubt missing her father and her home in Tiros.

  Malia’s home would be here now, in Asermos, with her mother and grandmother, at least until Kalindos was rebuilt.

  The last month had brought a fragile peace and a teetering sense of stability. The day of the Reawakening, Feras had sent two companies of men from the Asermon garrison to escort the Ilion commanders to their ships. The new Asermon leadership had decided to accept General Lino’s suicide as a sign of complete surrender. When faced with Feras’s troops, none of the other Ilion soldiers contradicted this assessment. They left begrudgingly, and were soon followed by their counterparts in Velekos.