The Reawakened (11 page)

The living void had left her empty, even as she laughed in its nonexistent face. Now she was filling again.

The rising sun shot through her body, burning her without pain. She cried out in welcome as its warmth flowed into her like the love of a man.

The clouds came. Rain soaked her for hours, but she didn’t crawl inside the nearby cave. She lay on the ground, listening to the rhythm of the water on the rocks. Her fingers followed the trails of drops over her neck and shoulders and breasts.

As the dirt turned to mud, she sank into the earth. It oozed around her, cradling like a mother. She had come from the earth, as surely as she would return to it.

The sky darkened into evening, and she noticed a new faraway light, steadier than the meteors, brighter than the torch. It drifted closer, as if sailing on the breeze.

A bird filled her vision with feathers of every color, and she sat up quickly as she realized who it was.

Raven.

Sura scrambled to her feet, then fell to her knees and dipped her forehead to the mud, cursing her own boldness. How long had she lain there, lazily watching the Spirit of Spirits approach her as if it were an everyday occurrence?

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

Raven landed without a sound on the edge of the ridge, casting a white light, warming and soothing Sura’s outstretched fingers.

“Rise and behold,” She said in a voice that shamed the wind.

Sura stood on shaky legs and gazed at the Mother of Creation, who towered twice her height. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I come for everyone.”

Sura quaked inside, not from fear, but from gratitude. She was truly a part of her people now, a privilege denied to her fellow Asermons.

Her fingers curled into fists. She would give her people this freedom to honor the Spirits, or she would die trying.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You have honored me.”

“We need you all,” the Spirit said, “as much as you need Us.”

Sura stared into Raven’s endless dark eyes. “What can we do?”

“Because of the acts of humans, some of Us will fall.” Raven bent close to Sura’s ear. “But what you asked the Eagle,” She whispered. “Soon.”

The Spirit folded Her wings against Her sides as all the feathers darkened to black. For a moment She looked exactly like a crow, and Sura took a startled step backward.

Then the bird’s body lowered to the ground, lengthening, then twisting and curving into a familiar shape.

Snake.

Though the night was cloudy, the ridge was filled with a light like the moon’s, glistening on the Spirit’s ink-black scales. She lay coiled, golden eyes gleaming.

She raised Her head to Sura’s height. “Greetings, my love.”

Sura began to weep. “I knew it.” Her lungs heaved into a sob, and she covered her face with her hands. “I was afraid you would come, and afraid you wouldn’t.” She should be grateful, but a part of her mourned the fact that she could never be with Dravek.

“Shame saps our power,” Snake hissed. “I choose those few who are strong enough to do the right thing out of honor, not the fear of guilt.”

“But how do we know what’s the right thing?”

“It’s not always obvious. It’s not always popular. It’s almost never easy.”

Sura sniffled. “That doesn’t much help.”

“We can’t give you all the answers. You’d just misinterpret them.” Her tongue flitted out. “Besides, how else would you learn except through mistakes?”

“I’ve already made too many.”

“There’s no such thing as too many mistakes.” Snake dipped Her head. “Let me show you something.”

Inside the cave, a pool of water appeared. It glowed blue-white from within, and a faint veil of steam rose from its surface.

Sura’s skin itched with mud and sweat. She took a step toward the pool, and it promptly vanished.

“Not for you,” Snake said.

Sura spread her arms, displaying her muddy body. “But I’m filthy. I need to wash before my Bestowing.”

“You have already been cleansed. By fire. Last year.”

Sura’s knees went weak at the memory. “That water could heal me. Bring it back.”

“You are as healed as you will ever be. You’re as clean as you will ever be. You’re ready.” Snake uncoiled Her long black body and glided toward her.

“No!” Sura backed up against the cave wall and tore open her shirt, revealing the scars that covered the left half of her back and chest. “Can’t you see what happened to me?”

“I see more than you ever will.” Snake slid forward, unblinking.

She pulled her shirt closed, clutching the edges as if to shield herself. “If I’m healed, why does it still hurt?”

“Sura, my love.” Her name slithered off the Spirit’s tongue. “Some things hurt forever.”

Snake began to sway. Sura held Her gaze, mesmerized. She felt herself start to fall, and her fingers clutched the stone wall. She slid down, desperate to feel the earth beneath her.

Finally she lay on her belly, her head turned toward the Spirit.

Snake’s eyes glowed, and Sura fell inside them.

Sura put her hand out, into the heart of the flame. It danced through her flesh, into her bones, daring her to join it. She moved her hips, her feet, her shoulders to its rhythm. It seemed as if her own heartbeat depended on it. Joy filled her as it had when she’d danced with the deer, but this was better, because it was for her alone. She spun and writhed with the fire, the only parent, lover, companion she’d ever need.

People appeared beyond the flames. Running, shrieking without sound, clutching at each other in terror. Her people.

She tried to reach them, but the fire held her back as if it were a solid wall. It wanted them, and unlike her, it could hurt them. It could kill them.

“No!” Sura breathed in hard, and the flames leaped into her mouth. She swallowed them, then reached for more. Only she could eat them, only she could save the screaming, burning people.

As she filled herself with the fire, it began to sear her throat and stomach. She looked down to see the flames pulsing through her skin, working their way out, desperate to join their cohorts in the frenzied feast of life. Sura ate faster, and the fire darted down her legs and arms, then pushed against her toes and fingertips.

“Please…” Her tears sizzled as they flowed, scalding her cheeks. If she kept the fire, it would consume her as she had consumed it. But if she released it, the others would die.

“Take me,” Sura whispered.

Her eyes swelled in her skull, and just before they burst, she saw her people live.

Snake lay coiled across the cave, just out of reach. The strange moonlight surrounded Her.

“I do not choose my servants lightly,” She said. “Only the strongest enter my realm. If you can resist the temptation to misuse fire, I can trust you with a far more dangerous power.”

Sura shivered at the thought of her second-phase Aspect, the ability to burn away memories with a mere gaze into another’s eyes.

“Many mock your power. They fear you.” The Spirit’s tongue flicked out as She moved closer. “But this passion will save you. It may save us all.”

She slid over Sura’s legs, smooth and cool, around her back, finally curving around her waist in an embrace that felt as welcoming as an old friend.

This was it, Sura realized. The Bestowing. She prayed she would remember it always.

“Be mine,” Snake whispered. “I accept you. I love you forever.”

Sura’s reverie was broken by an urgent thought. “What about—”

Snake squeezed Sura’s breath from her lungs. She tried to finish the sentence, had to know if what she shared with Dravek was against the will of the Spirits. She had so many questions, but only one that truly mattered.

It was too late. Power surged through her, along with a peace that quenched every doubt.

“Spirit, you’ve come.” He lifted his head from the ground, then wavered with dizziness. It was morning.

He turned to see Snake standing near him in the form of a woman with long, tangled black hair, an earth-soaked face and eyes that glowed like stars.

Dravek blinked, and when his eyes reopened, he realized it was no vision. “Sura.” He got to his feet, then swayed and stumbled. “Are you all right?” His voice was a bare rasp, his throat raw and dry.

“I’m wonderful, but you—what’s wrong? How long have you been on your knees?”

He tried to shake the clouds from his head. “What day is it?”

“The third day is over. My Bestowing is finished. Look at you, you’re shivering.” She opened her pack and yanked out a blanket. “And so pale. Have you eaten?”

She stood on tiptoe to drape the blanket around his shoulders. Her body came close, radiating heat, making him shiver even more. He turned away to keep from trapping her in his arms.

“What are you?” he managed to choke out.

“A Snake, of course. What have you been doing all this time?”

He stared at the ground, his mind sinking into despair at her news. Had he really kneeled there for over a day?

“I was praying.”
For all the good it did.
He tightened the blanket around his chest.

“I could see your fire every night,” she said. “I wasn’t afraid.”

He turned to her. “I’m glad.” He gazed at her mouth, chapped and red from her three-day ordeal. He licked his own lips, wanting to share what little moisture he had with her, cover her mouth with his own, heal its sunburn with his tongue.

Sura glanced past him, then broke into a sudden smile. “Look.” She moved to crouch at the base of the closest boulder. He peered over her shoulder to see a pale, mottled snakeskin. It draped across her hands like a ribbon.

Dravek knelt beside her. “You should keep it, to remember your Bestowing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It was left here for you.”

“I insist.”

She pursed her lips. “We’ll each take half.”

“Don’t break it.”

“It’s already in two pieces.” She raised her hands to reveal the two halves. “Head or tail?” Before he could answer, she held out the head. “I’ve had enough staring for a while.”

He took the skin from her carefully. It was still fresh and supple, a perfect mold of the animal it once contained. The skin’s head featured two tooth holes and two transparent scales that had covered the snake’s eyes. Sura was right; those vacant orbs seemed to be watching him.

He watched Sura wrap her half of the snakeskin around her tanned bare arm. “If it dries like that,” he told her, “you won’t be able to get it off without breaking it.”

“Then I’ll keep the pieces.” She held out her arm and shone a smile that made his ribs ache. “What do you think?”

He gazed at her, covered in mud and sweat and snakeskin, and couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful. “I’m getting married in three days.”

She looked away and swallowed. “I know. Do you have time to train me?”

“I’ll make time.” Before he could say anything stupid, he stood and collected their packs. “You need to rest and recover. Day after tomorrow I’ll show you some exercises to practice until I come back.”

“You’re not coming back.”

“I will, once I’m in my second phase and I’ve had some training.”

“I’ll be gone. I have to save my mother.” She took her pack from him. “Maybe I’ll find my father, fight with his soldiers against the Descendants.” A smile twisted her lips. “It’ll be fun to burn them.”

“Careful. Your hatred will devour you.”

“And what would you know of hate?” Her eyes teased him, but there was a hardness behind them. “You’ve lived in peaceful, happy Kalindos your whole life.”

“I was born in Ilios.” He fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I was conceived in Ilios.”

“Oh.” She put a hand to her throat. “Your mother—”

“She was captured in the invasion of Kalindos. Daria, too. Your father rescued them a year later, but she’d been a slave all that time. My father—whoever he is, there were several men who—” He stopped, sparing her the details. “Ilion noblemen.” He ran his palm over his hair, grimy with three days’ worth of dust and sweat. “Adrek told me that they wear their hair longer. It’s a sign of their class, whatever that means.”

“That’s why you cut yours.” Sura’s dark eyes drooped at the corners. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He attempted a shrug, but his shoulders were too tight. “At least we were rescued. Not everyone was so lucky.”

“A friend of mine in Asermos is also…like you. And I know what it’s like having a mother who was misused.”

“Misused?” He tried not to scoff. “Your father might not be the world’s greatest family man, but he’s a hero.”

She frowned. “He’s killed a lot of Ilions, for whatever good that’s done.”

“If my father was one of those Ilions, it’s done a lot of good.” He kept his voice as smooth as ice. “I hope it was slow and painful, and his body was left out in the open, all alone. I hope that before he died, he felt the ravens eating his eyes and the vultures shredding his balls.” He glanced away. “Sorry.”

“I’ve heard my mother say worse.” Her brows pinched, and she squinted up at him. “Where’s your mother now?”

He swallowed hard. “They killed her.”

Sura gasped. “But you said she returned from Ilios.”

“She did. Adrek said she was never the same, though.” He stepped away from Sura, to avoid the pity in her eyes. “One morning, when I was five, she threw herself off the porch, down onto the forest floor.” He wiped his hand against the side of his shirt. “I don’t think she knew I was watching.”

Sura’s hand went to her mouth. “Dravek…” She took a step toward him. “It wasn’t your fault. Please don’t be sorry to be alive.”

He wondered why she would say that, how she could understand him so well when they’d known each other only a few days.

“I’d rather never have lived,” he said, “if it would’ve spared my mother. But now that I’m here, I’m in no hurry to leave this world.” He stared into her eyes, a moment too long, then turned for home. “Especially now.”