Authors: Jeri Smith-Ready

Voice of Crow (34 page)

“If anything, it will help. I know how they fight.”

Filip took a long stick and scratched a plan in the dirt. “We’ll follow Koli’s path to pass them by nightfall, then wait in ambush under the cloak of the woods. When they arrive, first Bolan and I will drive the soldiers on horseback away from the caravan so that Adrek and Alanka can shoot them without endangering the children.”

Bolan cleared his throat. “You want me to attack cavalry officers?”

“I want you nowhere near them. Use your powers to frighten their mounts. If it becomes necessary to engage them one-on-one on horseback, only I will do so. Understand?”

“I have no problem with that,” Bolan said.

Filip focused on his stick sketch again. “As the guards peel off, Arcas and Lycas will dispatch the drivers. Rhia and Koli will grab the reins to make sure the cart horses don’t bolt.”

“What do I do?” Marek said.

“Make sure no one carries off any of the children. It’ll be after dark, so you can pursue them invisibly.”

“No, I can’t,” Marek said.

“But we’re out of the city,” Alanka said. “My powers are back to full—so are Adrek’s and Lycas’s.”

“You don’t understand.” Marek looked at Alanka, then Rhia. “I’m not a Wolf anymore.”

Rhia felt the world tip as she stared at her husband. “Not a Wolf?”

“It was part of what I tried to tell you before. Wolf couldn’t help me in that place. So another Spirit claimed me.”

Her mouth went dry. “Which one?”

He faded. She watched him melt into the background—not invisible, but camouflaged. Everyone gasped but Rhia, who couldn’t find the breath.

Then Marek shifted his weight and reappeared.

Her husband had become a Fox.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“I didn’t want to live.” His eyes filled with agony. “The things that happened to me, the things I did—I thought my soul would leave forever. Fox showed me how to survive, and I’ll always be in Her debt.”

Rhia stepped close to him. “Marek, what was so horrible?”

He looked at the others and said nothing.

Filip pointed downhill into the trees. “There’s a stream not far away. Let’s water the horses before we go on.”

When they were alone, Rhia took Marek’s hands. “What is it?”

“Don’t touch me.” He pulled out of her grip. “I’m not clean anymore.” He covered his face and sank to his knees. “Forgive me.”

“For what?” She lifted his chin. “Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

The shadows beneath his eyes seemed to stretch over his cheeks.

“I’ve betrayed you,” he said. “My owner made me—do things.”

“What things?” Her voice rang hollow inside her head.

His gaze wavered beyond her shoulder, but came back to her face. “Some of the slaves, the men she liked, she—we—”

A cold fist closed over her heart. “Marek?”

He shut his eyes. “I’m saying this wrong. No one forced me. I could’ve died instead. I would’ve rather died, I swear to you.” He looked at her. “But she said she’d send Nilik away if I didn’t—serve her in bed.”

Rhia let go of him and took a step back. She wanted to turn away, wanted to run and hide under a rock. But if what he said was true, it sounded like…

“She raped you,” Rhia whispered.

“It’s not that simple. She couldn’t have forced me.” He covered his face again and looked as though he would claw away his own skin. “Rhia, I lost my soul. It was the only way.”

“No…” She dropped to her knees, tears clouding her eyes. “I still see you. I feel you.” She held his face in her hands. “You’re here. All of you.”

He grabbed her wrists as if he wanted to push her away. “Forgive me.”

“Shh.” She swept the hair off his forehead and kissed it. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Do it anyway.”

Rhia looked into his eyes, though the pain in them sliced her. “Marek, I forgive you. I love you for what you did. You did it to save Nilik.” She clutched his face. “Please don’t let this destroy you.”

Rhia kissed him, and his mouth pressed back hard. She tried not to think where that mouth had been, of the skin it had tasted. The ferocity of Marek’s kiss told her that Wolf lay waiting to take him back, the moment he was ready. But she didn’t care. Fox or Wolf, he was Marek, and he was hers again.

They parted, and she traced the corners of his lips with her thumb, wondering if they would ever rise in another smile or smirk. A sudden rage curdled inside her. “Where is this woman?” she said. “I’ll kill her.”

“I already did.”

She thought she saw a pang of regret in his eyes. “Good.”

“It was an accident, though for weeks I dreamed of nothing else. I wanted to kill her almost as much as I wanted to live.”

“You sound as if you’re sorry.”

“Rhia, I’ve killed three people this last year. Maybe they were justified, but I can’t forget the light fading from their eyes.”

“I know.” Though she’d never taken a life, she’d felt Crow carry more souls from this world than she could count. “They each leave a mark. This war’s deaths will haunt us long after it ends—if it ever ends.” Rhia stood. “But now it’s time to add a few more.”

A lanka pressed her forehead against the back of Filip’s shoulder and waited for the signal. In the cover of the dark woods, they sat astride the black mare, who shifted her feet impatiently. Filip murmured a series of indiscernible words, and the horse quieted.

Alanka’s stomach somersaulted at the thought of riding into battle, though she knew she fought for her family, her people, her land. She wouldn’t let them down.

Filip reached back and rested his hand on her knee. She covered it with her own.

Ahead through the trees, the road to Surnos glistened gray in the twilight. In the woods on the opposite side, Adrek and Bolan waited on the dark bay pony, whose white star and stocking had been covered in pitch to blend with the darkness. Marek, Arcas and Lycas lay in a ditch on the other side of the road.

She and Filip heard the wagons at the same time, judging by the way his shoulders tensed. The children’s whimpers could be heard over the squeaking cart wheels and the clopping of hooves.

Far to their right, Koli and Rhia turned onto the road, their horses ambling toward the wagons.

Filip took his hand out of Alanka’s and sat up straight. She could feel the energy spark from him. Slowly, quietly, he unsheathed his sword.

The wagons appeared to the left. Alanka’s mouth went dry.

From the right, Rhia and Koli hailed the wagons, which stopped directly in front of Filip and Alanka.

“Step aside,” the lead guard shouted. Filip cocked his head at the sound of the man’s voice.

“We’re lost,” Rhia said. “Can you help us?”

“No, we’re on a mission.”

A baby in the first wagon began to cry.

“Is this the road to Leukos?” Koli asked.

That was the signal. Alanka squeezed her legs tight around the horse’s flank as Filip urged the mare forward with a shout. They galloped forward, Filip brandishing his sword high and hurling a war cry he’d learned from Lycas.

Alanka nocked an arrow against her bowstring, trying to keep her balance long enough to get off a shot.

Just as the attackers reached the wagons full of screaming women and children, the guards recovered from their shock and drew their swords. Suddenly the four cavalry horses reared, their eyes showing white rims of panic. They reeled away from Bolan and Adrek, who were approaching from the other side. Whatever Bolan had said to them, it had sparked a primal terror.

The lead guard’s horse crashed into Filip’s, spilling Alanka from the black mare’s back. She eased into a roll, ending up on her knees next to the first wagon.

“Are you all right?” Filip called to her. In response, she nocked the arrow and shot one of the fleeing guards in the back.

Before she could lower her bow, something hard and heavy landed on her. Alanka heard the faint zing of a blade withdrawing from a sheath. She kicked out, and the weight disappeared. She rolled to her feet to see Lycas atop the wagon driver, who had been a moment away from killing her. Over the shrieks of the frightened children and horses, she heard the man’s skull crack against the road.

Hooves pounded, fading into the distance. She looked ahead to see Filip in full pursuit of the lead guard. They disappeared around a bend.

Two Ilion horses trotted past her, riderless. Another
crack-thwong
sang through the air, and the fourth rider, heading back toward Leukos, fell from his saddle. Adrek let out a whoop from the other side of the wagon, where he sat on his horse behind an alarmed-looking Bolan.

Alanka ran to Koli, who was bending to grasp the reins of the second wagon horse. Its driver was lying lifeless under Arcas.

“Lend me your mount,” she told Koli. “I have to help Filip.”

The Bat scoffed. “You’ll never be able to handle this one.”

“But he’s the fastest.”

Koli groaned and dismounted. “Good luck.” She offered Alanka the reins, then cupped her hands to boost her onto the horse’s back.

Alanka guided the dark red gelding in front of the wagons, onto the open road, then gave the horse his head. He swerved under her and took off.

She clutched his mane and leaned low over his neck, riding a wind she didn’t know how to stop.

Rhia slipped off her horse into the wagon. “Nilik!”

Five small faces stared at her, red and strained with tears. Two frightened young women hunched over the infants in their laps. Rhia recognized them, but her mind couldn’t bring up their names, not until she’d found her son.

A hearty wail came from a large white basket near her feet.

She knelt and lifted the basket’s cover. The world melted away.

Nilik.

She reached in, carefully, and took him in her arms. He was twice as heavy as she remembered, with twice as much hair, but he was her son.

“Nilik…” She couldn’t breathe. Tears welled up inside her, but her eyes refused to release them. She would never cry, never be unhappy again. She brought her face close to his, to kiss him, smell him, make him hers again.

“Daria!”

Tucking Nilik against her left shoulder, Rhia turned toward the second wagon. Adrek held a three-year-old girl high over his head, then pulled her into an embrace. The girl’s mother, a young Kalindon Spider named Nelma, beamed up at him, an infant in her arms. The size of the bundle made Rhia fear Nelma had become pregnant here in Ilios.

Adrek rubbed noses with the curly haired girl in his grasp. Daria scrunched up her face, then clutched his hair so tight he yowled.

Rhia tore her gaze from the happy reunion to search for Marek. He had sacrificed so much to be able to hold his son whenever he wanted.

Bolan appeared at the back of the wagon. “Everyone all right?”

“Where’s Marek?” she asked him.

“He went after a woman carrying a baby.” He pointed into the woods. “She started running as soon as we rode up, probably thought we were bandits.” The Horse climbed into the wagon, sat down between two crying children and lifted them onto his knees. “Guess where we’re going?” he asked them. “We’re going home.” He opened a small bag tied to his belt. “Who wants cake?”

The children’s sobs turned into shrieks of delight. Koli covered her ears as she passed, leading a dead guard’s horse. One of the wet nurses, an Otter woman Rhia recognized from Asermos, laughed, then began to weep.

Rhia’s eyes strained to see who else was missing. Alanka and Filip. She glanced at the darkening sky and hoped for their quick return. They needed a head start to outrun the Ilion army, which would no doubt send a search party when the children failed to arrive at the camp tomorrow.

She lowered Nilik into the crook of her arm. He wasn’t safe yet, not by a long way.

Marek crashed through the woods after the woman and child. “Wait!” he called. “We’re from Asermos!” Her steps slowed but didn’t stop. “And Kalindos!”

She halted and turned to him. As he drew nearer, he saw her pale face and light brown hair in the dim light. A young Bobcat he’d known since childhood. Skaris’s mate.

“Lidia?”

She crept toward him, clutching the baby to her chest. “Marek? Is that you?”

“It’s me.” He half turned away toward the others. “And Alanka and Adrek and—”

She struck him hard across the face. “That’s for killing my mate.” She spit on his feet. “I’d give you worse if it weren’t for the child.” She hunched her shoulders over it and glared up at Marek.

He rubbed his cheek. “I hope you’ll forgive me someday. In the meantime, let us rescue you.”

She gave him a guarded look, as if she didn’t dare believe her captivity was over. He knew the feeling.

“We’re here to take you home to Kalindos,” he said. He motioned for her to precede him down the path back to the others. As she passed him warily, he looked at the baby. It was hard to tell its size from the bundle of blankets around it. “That’s not Skaris’s child, is it?”

“No. If he’d been second phase when you fought, it’d be you lying at the bottom of that gorge.” She stepped over a fallen branch. “I don’t know who the father is. I was a slave in Leukos. A couple of men…had me.”

He found the strength to say it out loud. “Me, too.”

She stopped and stared at him. “You, too, what?”

“I was a slave in Leukos until this morning. My owner also—she threatened my son if I didn’t.”

Lidia let out a long breath. “Why did they do this to us?”

“They want to conquer our people completely. They would have used these children to build a magical army loyal to Ilios. They would’ve killed you or sent you away once the children grew old enough to understand who they really are.”

Her eyes formed slits. “I believe it.” She began to tremble. Marek held out his arms, and she let him take the baby. They walked on, Lidia kicking every stone in their path.

“Thank you for saving us,” she said finally.

“I only saved myself. They did the rest.” He gestured to the road, which had become visible through the trees.

“Who’s ‘they’?”

He shook his head. “You won’t believe it.”

Filip’s enemy fled before him. He wore the colors of one of his brothers-in-arms and the rank of a captain. It should have felt strange to want to slice through the red-and-yellow uniform Filip had once borne so proudly. All that mattered now was the heat of the hunt.

As soon as his steed’s black head stretched past the left hindquarters of the Ilion’s dappled gray, Filip raised his sword and swung.

The blade reached the uniform’s material, tearing a hole in fabric but not flesh. The other rider jerked his mount hard to the right. Filip cursed. He’d struck too soon.

To his surprise, the guard pulled to a halt and drew his own sword. Filip stopped and turned, staying in the shadows of the overhanging trees. The Ilion and his horse glowed in the blue summer twilight.

The officer’s steel helmet covered his face, all but his eyes and mouth. Filip reached into the mind of the gray horse. Battle steeds were acutely tuned to the moods of their riders. This man was excited but far from nervous about this confrontation. Perhaps he’d been yearning for a good battle after playing babysitter.

“Come out of the shadows and fight,” a familiar voice inside the helmet called.

Filip stayed where he was, blocking the escape route. The sword he’d ached for lay light and elegant in his hand, ready to sing at a flick of his wrist.

“Come and get me,” he said.

The captain rode forward—not in a rush of attack, but a steady walk. “Sir? Is that you?”

The voice sounded boyish now, and even more familiar.

“Kiril?” Filip uttered the name with disbelief. Of all the people, in all the places. The Ilion who would have been a Firefly, the one man to escape Asermon captivity alive and whole. “What are you doing here?”

The rider halved the distance between them. He took off his helmet to reveal the gleaming brown eyes and shoulder-length dark hair Filip had seen every day for three years. “I think that’s my question for you.”

“I asked first.”

“Right.” He seemed to defer to Filip out of habit. “When I came home, they asked which Asermons were pregnant, so I told them of two women I’d heard Zelia discuss with her assistants.” His voice faltered a fraction. “The third child was a lucky find. They heard about him after arriving in Asermos.”

“For this they promoted you to captain?” Kiril had been a second lieutenant when he escaped Asermos. Progressing two grades of rank in less than a year was unprecedented.

“I was due for first lieutenant before I got home. Because of my time in Asermos, they assigned me to this—project.” Filip thought he detected disgust in Kiril’s voice. “I helped set up the camp,” the captain continued, “and got a field promotion two days ago when I agreed to lead this mission.”

“You’ve done well for yourself.”

Kiril scoffed. “By some measures.”

Slowly, Filip rode out of the shadows. “You told everyone I died.”

“As promised.”

“Thank you.”

Kiril stared at Filip’s rough clothes. “Your turn. Why are you dressed like a peasant and attacking convoys?”

“The third child. His parents are…friends of mine.”

“Ah, you’ve become one of them.” He shook his head sadly. “Still talking to animals?”

“Yes. Your saddle is too tight at the withers, by the way.”

Kiril slid his fingers under the front of his saddle. “Feels fine to me.”

“You’re not the one wearing it.”

Kiril broke into a smile, which Filip couldn’t help returning. “It’s good to see you, sir.”