The Reawakened (37 page)

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.”

Rhia took in a deep breath. Marek smiled at her, teeth shining white against his soot-stained face.

“Power should no longer be an end in itself,” Raven continued. “What Our people need now is not another military victory, but a spiritual revolution. The time for force has ended. The enemy must be won, not conquered. Most of you already have what you need to make this happen.”

She looked at Rhia, whose heart tripped at the sight of the endless dark eyes.

Raven’s light vanished. In place of Her many-colored feathers, sleek black ones appeared. The curve of Her beak straightened to a point, and She shrank until She looked just like—

Crow.

The crowd recoiled. Rhia realized that none of them had ever seen Him or ever would except at the time of their death.

“Be calm, everyone,” He said in the most human voice of all the Spirits. “I’m not here for you.” He looked at Rhia. “I’m here for her.”

“No,” Marek gasped.

Rhia smiled. Crow didn’t mean it was her time to die.

The Spirit bowed gallantly. “Rhia, I grant you your third-phase Aspect, to enter the land of the Dead and bring a soul back to this world.” Crow brushed His wing over her head, and she felt a surge of power course through her. Then He bent close to her ear and whispered, “You’ll be needing it soon.”

She shivered at the thought of wielding the ultimate magic of life and death. No one should have to make that choice, but she would now, again and again for the rest of her life.

“Choose carefully,” Crow said, and then disappeared.

The crowd let out a sigh of relief. Though Rhia sympathized, she’d never felt fear in the presence of her Spirit. He’d been her guide and friend her whole life, even when she’d rejected Him.

With Raven and Crow gone, everyone stared at Dravek. He helped Sura to her feet, and they fell into a tight, wordless embrace.

“Mother!”

Rhia’s heart stopped at the sound of Jula’s screech. She and Marek turned to see their daughter lurching toward them down the main street of the hamlet. For a moment Rhia thought she’d been injured. She’d been given strict orders to stay with Corek and the healers, far from the battle area.

“It’s Uncle Lycas!” her daughter shouted. “Hurry!”

Rhia was swept up in the crowd, as the fighters and the hamlet survivors together crushed toward the gate to see their leader. Jula waited for her and grabbed her hand.

“It might be too late.” Tears choked her voice. “Corek’s with him now, and Mali.”

Rhia ran, her heart twisted in fear. Not again. She couldn’t lose another brother to this madness.

They followed the crowd beyond the gate, down the hill to what must have been the battlefield, judging by the bodies strewn on the grass. She recognized several Bears and Wolverines, along with Vara the Snake.

The sorrow made her stumble. Marek took her hand and pulled her along.

“Over here!” Jula called from a nearby pile of refuse covered with honeysuckle vines. Someone stood near it holding a long torch. She and Marek pushed through the crowd, following the light, until they stood at her brother’s feet.

Lycas lay on his back, eyes closed, hands on his chest, clutching his dagger. Her heart quickened with hope, for Crow’s wings were silent. Perhaps her brother was out of danger.

Then Corek looked up at her from where he knelt beside Lycas. The torch cast grim shadows over his face as he slowly shook his head.

“No…” Tears spilled from Rhia’s eyes. The monsters had stolen too much from her. Nilo, then Nilik and now Lycas.

Corek stood and let her take his place. She looked across her brother’s body and saw Mali holding a blood-soaked cloth.

“We tried to clean him up before everyone came back.” Mali nodded at Corek. “He already said the prayer of passage.”

Lycas’s clothes were spattered with blood, but held no single pool indicating an injury. “Was he wounded?” Rhia choked out.

“Not today. He fought well, even without Wolverine. The bastards never cut him.” Mali smoothed her hand over the broad chest of her former mate. “Maybe he broke a rib. The way he was breathing, it sounded like his lung was punctured.”

“Not a rib.” Rhia hung her head. “An arrow.”

“Father!”

Rhia closed her eyes. In her own grief, she’d forgotten about Sura.

The girl broke through the crowd, Dravek on her heels.

“No…” Sura sank to her knees next to Lycas’s head, fists clenched in her hair. She rocked back and forth, keening.

Mali waited a long moment before whispering her daughter’s name.

Sura’s head jerked up. “Mother…”

They embraced hard and fast, and Rhia thought that for the first time in her life, she saw Mali’s eyes turn wet.

“I knew you’d survive.” Mali stroked Sura’s hair. “I knew it, I knew it.” She looked over Sura’s shoulder at Rhia, then down at Lycas. “Your father made you even stronger,” she whispered to her daughter. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

Dravek’s voice shattered the moment. “Bring him back.”

Mali let go of Sura and turned to Rhia. “What does he mean? You’re third phase?”

“As of a few minutes ago,” Dravek said. “Rhia, hurry, before it’s too late.”

The crowd pressed in. “I’ll pay the ransom!” a man shouted, and several people echoed him.

Rhia’s mind wrestled with the possibilities. Without her brother, the revolution would be weakened, perhaps irreversibly. If many volunteers gave time from their lives, each would feel little sacrifice, considering Lycas’s relatively advanced age.

Tereus knelt beside Rhia and took her hand. His own eyes crinkled in grief. He’d known his stepson Lycas longer than any other living person had.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” he whispered. “But your heart knows, doesn’t it?”

Rhia gazed down at her brother. His resurrection would provide inspiration to the resistance. And she would get to hug him and hear his teasing voice drive her crazy once more.

But for how long? Without his Spirit, he’d have little strength.

She looked at Mali and Sura. They exchanged a long glance, then shook their heads at Rhia.

“He was ready to die,” Mali said. “He was finished with this stupid world.”

Sura spoke in a whisper. “He hated living without Wolverine. If you brought him back, and he was still alone inside himself—”

“But we need him,” Dravek said. “He knows that, and he’d want to lead us, no matter what.”

Mali turned her sharp gaze on him. “Who are you? And why are you glowing?”

“This is Dravek, Mother,” Sura said. “He’s my mate. He’s also the Raven.”

“Oh.” Mali looked at Rhia. “Do we have to do what he says?”

Rhia’s eyes met Dravek’s, which narrowed. For a long moment, she thought he would order her to bring her brother back to life.

Then he blinked and lowered his gaze. “Do what you think is right. You’re the Crow.”

Rhia touched her brother’s cold cheek and struggled to listen to her own heart. What would Lycas ask of her? Did his wishes matter more than the good of their people?

She closed her eyes and felt for Crow. He’d given her a lifetime’s worth of wisdom, but it all seemed feeble in the face of her sorrow.

First she considered whether it was even possible. He’d been dead much longer than Rhia herself had been when Coranna had brought her back to life. And she had little idea how to do the ritual. He might come back a shell of his former self. Her heart ached at the thought of her brother wasting away in a barely animate body, or with a half-conscious mind.

As a Crow, she’d been taught to hold the wishes of the departed above all else. Her first duty was to the dead.

Regardless of his wound’s origin, Lycas had died on the battlefield after a hard-won victory. He’d died saving his people’s lives and fighting for their land and freedom. He wouldn’t want to come back.

Her tears fell as she whispered goodbye.

Mali let out a deep exhale.

“Thank you, Rhia,” Sura said.

Rhia’s gut felt full of lead as she stood and addressed the crowd. “We are deeply grateful for your offers of life to trade for my brother’s. But he won’t be coming back.”

A collective wail of sorrow rose, but the faces of those nearby showed bitter understanding. Most people had never known anyone to return from the dead other than Crows themselves.

Tereus slipped his arm around Rhia’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She buried her face in her father’s chest and sobbed.

He rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles. “Your brother’s at peace now.”

Rhia wasn’t sure that was possible, in this world or any other.

At the first light of dawn, Mali took her aside.

“I’ve been thinking,” the Wasp said. “This is the end for the Ilions.”

Rhia stared up at her with exhausted eyes. “How?”

“I know it looks bad for us, but it’s worse for them.” She gestured to the smoldering hamlet. “This was an act of frustration. What would it accomplish, strategically? Nothing, and once word makes it back to Ilios of what they’ve done, their people will demand a withdrawal. I’ve read the headlines and opinions in the Ilion newspapers. They hate to see themselves as mass murderers. It offends their honor.” She spat the last word.

Rhia thought about the Ilions’ incentives to stay. “The vineyards are almost gone. Replanting them would cost a lot of money and time.”

“They still have the quarries,” Mali said, “but no one will work in them after this. It’s either give up and go home or kill us all and start over.”

Rhia quailed inside at the latter option. “We need a final blow, besides this. Something to convince them to leave.”

“All we have in Asermos are a couple dozen fighters, plus the thirty I brought with me tonight.” Mali frowned. “Most of our warriors ended up in Tiros, in jail or in the ground.”

Rhia heard the sound of a trotting horse. She looked north past Mali at the hill they had descended to approach the hamlet.

A man was riding toward them at a brisk pace. He slowed to a walk as he neared the hamlet. In the light of the torches she could see his astonished eyes stare at the wreckage. Then he turned to the crowd.

“Message for Lycas.”

The people parted for him, and he rode forward at a walk.

“Lycas is dead.” Rhia walked up to him as his horse halted, snorting. “Are you bringing news from Feras?”

He handed her a scroll with a blue Bear paw seal.

“I followed your trails from Lycas’s headquarters,” he panted. “Feras asks for an immediate reply.”

Rhia tore open the parchment and held it up, using the barest gleam of dawn to read the Bear’s words:

Rhia’s mind raced. Could they strike the final blow today? Lycas’s troops numbered in the hundreds, but they were dispersed all over the Kirisian Mountains and Asermon hill country. It could take weeks to organize them for an assault on the village. They could use Feras’s troops, but the soldiers stationed within Asermos could fight them off. The last thing she wanted was to bloody the streets of her home village.

Unless…

She turned to Mali. “We take back Asermos now.”

Mali looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “This minute? We have hardly any troops here. Our leader is dead.”

Rhia remembered the words Lycas had repeated to her at least once a year since the war had begun.

“This isn’t his revolution,” she told Mali. “It’s everyone’s.”