Eyes of Crow (30 page)

“Do you like it?” he said. “I made it for you.”

She turned to him. “You did this?”

“It’s a sunrise.” His arm swept the expanse of trees. “Those red and orange maples are the clouds, and the golden oak in the middle is the sun.”

The golden oak?
Her gaze jerked back to the trees.

“No…”

She kicked the pony into a gallop and dashed across the field to the yellow tree. As she approached its roots, a dizziness overcame her. She halted the pony and slid off onto her feet before she could fall.

Arcas rode up. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

“How did you do this?”

“Spider magic. I didn’t hurt the trees, I promise. They’ll grow back green next year.”

“Will the leaves fall early?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“You have to know. It’s important!”

“Why?”

“I’ve seen this.” She knelt on the ground and put her hand on the thin grass. “Something happens here.”

He drew in a breath as he grasped her meaning. “The battle.” Arcas looked at the sun. “To get here from the southwest, the Descendants will go around Velekos, which means they’ll arrive sooner, and probably stronger.” He dismounted and knelt next to Rhia. “Is it me you see?”

“I couldn’t tell you if it were.” She relented at the sight of his fear. “It’s not you.” She touched his cheek. “That doesn’t mean you won’t die.”

“I’ll be careful.”

A golden leaf fell between them.

She sprang back as if it were covered in poison. “Tell your father they’re coming. Go now!”

“But the scouts—”

“Don’t wait for them. Get your troops ready.”

Arcas leaped onto his pony. She grabbed his leg.

“Don’t tell Galen how you know.”

“I won’t.” He leaned over and pulled her into a kiss, then let her go before she could protest. “May I see you tonight?”

Rhia knew he was asking more than what he said out loud. “Arcas, I don’t think—”

“Just to talk.”

She nodded. Their business was unfinished. “Come for dinner.”

He gave her a bleak smile. “I love you, Crow woman, more than ever.”

His pony took off through the field toward Asermos. Rhia gazed into the woods as two more golden leaves drifted to the ground. They would come through here, with swords and spears and Spirits knew what else.

Death was on its way.

Arcas revealed the Asermon army’s two-tiered strategy to Tereus, Alanka and Rhia. First they would try to defeat the Descendants using only “mundane” magic—the natural fighting abilities granted to warriors by the Spirits, along with certain weapons enhancements such as “spelled” arrows that could penetrate armor. If the invaders were not deterred and Asermos faced a desperate situation, they could call on the Spirits for more extreme measures. This last-resort plan, however, might cost more power than they could use without self-destructing.

“We must plan for either contingency,” Arcas said, “because we don’t yet know the enemy’s strength. Our scouts haven’t returned.”

“Maybe they’ve been captured,” Alanka said.

Tereus shook his head. “Bats and Weasels are too fast, too stealthy. Even if one or two were captured, the rest would make it back, on foot if they had to.”

They finished the meal in silence, and Rhia wondered if the others were imagining the same scenarios of horror as the one in her mind.

After dinner, Arcas and Rhia went for a walk in the woods, to finally discuss the subject that filled her with almost as much dread as the war itself.

“You used to be afraid of the forest after dark,” he said.

She thought of the night Marek had taught her not to fear. “That was before.”

“Of course. The Bestowing changes us in many ways, though for some of us the changes take longer to understand.”

She touched his arm to reassure him. “I’m proud of you, Arcas, for being who you are. And for fighting as a Bear, though I worry for your safety.”

“Why?”

She stopped and turned to him. “You know why.”

“I don’t think I do. And I’m not being coy.”

Would he really make her say it? “Because you’re my friend.”

His face seemed to pale, even in the moonlight. “A friend? That’s all?”

“It’s all I can be to you now. Maybe forever.”

“Then you do love someone else.”

“Yes.”

“Someone who isn’t here.” His voice hardened. “Someone who failed you. Someone who was too much of a coward—”

“He could be dead for all I know, and if he’s dead, it’s because he’s not a coward.” She reined in her indignation. “But if he’s alive, he’ll come.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know. I just believe.”

“Rhia, can’t we just try?” He took her hands in his. She knew she should pull away, but they were so warm, and she was so afraid. “I’ll be going to war soon, and I might not come back.” He brushed her hair from her cheek, then followed it over her shoulders with a touch that made her shiver, a touch that recalled distant memories of laughter and pleasure and heat.

“This man you love, if he were coming, he would have arrived by now.” Arcas spoke with sympathy, as though his first concern were for her happiness, not his own. He pulled her closer, so slowly it was as if they had grown together. “Would it be so bad to be with me again?”

He kissed her, full and deep, and she knew it was over. She could kiss a thousand men who weren’t Marek, and they would all feel fake. Her body now knew it as much as the rest of her.

Rhia shrank back and lowered her head. “I can’t.”

Arcas let go with a groan, then pressed his fists to his forehead. “I was such a fool. If we’d promised ourselves to each other before you left, you wouldn’t have fallen in love with him.”

She hesitated only a moment. “Yes, I would have.” He stared at her. “I’m not sure it would have made a difference,” she said, “whether you and I were together or not. With him, everything felt—feels—so honest.”

He held up a hand between them. “There’s such a thing as too much honesty.”

“I’m sorry.”

Arcas wiped his face hard with both hands, as though he could obliterate his own emotions. He let out a long sigh. “All right, then. I’ll walk you home.”

“Go,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Torin wants to discuss how I can help the healers help the troops.”

“By figuring out which of us can’t be saved?”

She nodded, a gesture he echoed ruefully.

“It’s an honorable duty,” he said. “I pray you don’t get hurt on the battlefield.”

“So do I, for you.”

His face pinched the way it had when he was a misbehaving child. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Go,” she repeated. “I just want to be alone.”

He lingered for another few moments, as if he wanted to say more, then disappeared down the path.

She sat on a nearby rock and watched the trees shift in the faint breeze until tears blurred her vision. Everything was lost to her, or soon would be. The Asermons had little time to prepare for the Descendant troops. Aid from Kalindos would not come. She would feel the slaughter of her people as Crow carried them away, one by one. Sobs racked her ribs, unhindered by pride or shame.

When her breathing slowed and she felt able to face Tereus and Alanka with dry eyes, she dragged herself to her feet to begin the short walk home. The crescent moon hung low in the sky, angling silver rays beneath the tree canopy to shine on the path before her. In her dark mood, the night felt like home.

Rhia came to a clearing on the outskirts of her family’s farm. She looked past the horses’ paddocks at the small log house, wondering who would live in it if the Descendants overtook Asermos. A sudden movement startled her.

A man was hurrying through the clearing, about a hundred paces away. When he saw her, he stopped.

It’s true what they say, she thought. Too much moonlight can drive a person crazy. For the vision before her was both familiar and foreign, like a reflection in a rippling pond.

Marek. In the moonlight.

“Rhia!”

Stunned, she watched him run toward her. She could see him. It was night, and she could see him.

He neared her, and Rhia’s shock gave way to joy. She closed the gap between them and threw her arms around his neck, ignoring her shoulder’s yelp of pain. He repeated her name as he clutched her back. She closed her eyes to revel in the sound of his voice, but only for a moment. She had to look at him.

Rhia drew away a few inches, pushed back his light brown hair, and gazed at his face. “Marek, I can see you.”

“I can see you, too.” He kissed her with a hunger that matched her own.

She broke away. “Why? Why are you—”

“Visible? Because I came for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The night we set out from Kalindos, three days ago—” his breath came fast “—the sun went down, and there I was. Because I came, because I’d give my life to protect you. I guess Wolf decided I was finally worthy.”

She hugged him hard again, then let go suddenly. “What do you mean, ‘the night
we
set out’?”

“There’s a hundred of us. We disobeyed the Council’s orders and came.”

“A hundred?” Nearly a third of Kalindos. “Where are they?”

“Meeting with your Hawk right now. Coranna came, of course, and Elora and many of the Cats and first-phase Wolves.” His words spilled over one another. “The other second-phase Wolves stayed behind with their families. But all of us hunters can shoot, though most not as well as Alanka. She told me where to find you tonight, by the way, and for me to hurry.”

Rhia was still pondering the ramifications of the Kalindon force. “The Descendants know nothing of Wolves—”

“So we’re your secret weapon.” He gave her a sly grin.

She caressed his cheek, rough with the stubble of a long journey. “Marek, thank you. This could mean everything.”

He flinched as her hand came near his left eye. She turned his head toward the bright moon. One side of his face was swollen, and a deep cut slashed the skin above his eyebrow.

She took a step back. “Skaris.”

Marek’s gaze grew guarded. “I went to his home to—talk to him. Skaris knocked out the guard, overpowered me and took off. I followed, but he was faster.”

“Did you find him?”

“The next day—” he hesitated “—at the bottom of a deep gorge near Mount Beros.”

She swallowed, afraid of her next question. “Was it suicide?”

He spoke slowly, as if uttering carefully chosen words. “It looked like it.”

She decided to probe no further, wanting to hear neither lies nor the truth.

Marek filled his hands with her hair and kissed her again. “Will you forgive me?”

Rhia’s breath stopped. “For what?”

“For leaving your side to avenge you. It was stupid. I could have been killed or arrested, when I should have been helping you.”

“I understand.” She locked her gaze on his. “If anyone hurt you, I’d do the same.”

She didn’t say, “I’d kill for you, too,” words that would acknowledge Skaris’s possible fate out loud, but it was what she meant. Inside, she begged Crow not to take Marek in the upcoming battle. If she lost this man to death, it would be the Spirit Himself who would taste her revenge.

When Rhia brought Marek home, Alanka chattered endlessly, telling her Wolf-brother everything she’d learned about Asermos and warfare.

“They have these long bows for battle—” she held her hand high off the floor as they sat around the table “—that shoot really, really far. And the arrows are heavier. It’s hard to get used to, but we won’t exactly be hunting turkey out there.” Her smile flickered off as the concept of killing a person became less abstract.

Tereus entered the house then, home from a late meeting with Galen and the Kalindon arrivals. He welcomed Marek like an old friend. They became acquainted over a pitcher of ale while Rhia and Alanka fed and watered the hounds.

Rhia’s father joined her in the stable as she checked the ponies a final time before bed.

“I told Marek he could sleep out here in the stable.” He handed Rhia a soft blanket. “The hayloft is more comfortable than the floor in the house.”

She hung the blanket over a rung of the loft’s ladder. “Thank you for letting him stay with us.” She looped a thin rope through the latch of the gray mare’s stall door. The wily pony had a knack for escape.

Tereus sat on a bale of hay. “He told me about his mate and child.”

Rhia nodded as she tied a double knot in the rope. The revelation didn’t surprise her; people opened up to her father. More than anyone she knew, he listened without judging.

“The well of Marek’s devotion runs deep,” he said. “You need that.”

“Because I’m difficult?” Her teasing grin made him laugh.

“I lived with your brothers for five years before you came along. Compared to them, you’re a lamb.” His voice turned serious. “But your path is a hard one, and you need someone who will remind you that this world is a good place to be.”

She remembered the promise she had made to Crow, that she would hold on to her love of life even in the face of despair. “I do. The Other Side is so beautiful and peaceful. I think about it every day.”

His gaze mixed gratitude with sadness, and she knew he was imagining Mayra in that realm, as Rhia often did. “For you it’s the Other Side,” he said, “and for me it’s the dream world. We Birds love our wings so much, sometimes we forget our feet and where they belong.”

She sat next to him on the hay bale and watched his face in the lantern light. “I miss her.”

“Yes.” Tereus seemed unable to say more, so he took her hand and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“In the—?” She understood suddenly—he did not expect her to return to the house that night.

A short while later, she and Marek climbed into the hayloft. The air was stuffy, so she opened a small window under the eaves.

“It’s not a tree house,” she said, “but at least we’re sleeping up high. Sorry about the horse smell.”

He chuckled. “I’ll get used to it eventually.”

She wondered what he meant by “eventually.” Over the course of the night? During his short stay in Asermos while the battle raged? Or longer? She had been so happy to see him alive—to
see
him at all—that it only now occurred to her to wonder how long he would stay, how long she would stay and if they would stay together.

He spread the blanket over a deep cushion of hay and sat cross-legged upon it. She mirrored his position, and he took her hands. After a long silence, he cleared his throat.

“I spoke with your father.”

“He told me.”

“He did?” Marek’s face showed surprise, then indignation. “Why would he do that?”

“Do what?”

“Tell you.”

She shook her head. “Tell me what?”

“Oh. He didn’t tell you.” He chided himself with a slight smile. “I’ll start over.”

“Please.”

He took a deep breath. “I asked him about marrying you.”

A glow of joy flared inside Rhia, and she wanted to throw her arms around him and shout, “Yes! Yes!” but she realized he hadn’t actually asked her to marry him yet. She kept her face impassive and said, “Why? You wanted his permission?”

Marek blanched at her lack of reaction, then recovered. “No, I wanted his opinion.”