It was shocking to be alive. It filled Raven with such a strange, overwhelming feeling of happiness that she barely knew what to do with herself. She wasn't used to being happy.
As yet, she hadn't actually done anything at all. She hadn't even opened her eyes. She was lying prone, and it felt like others were nearby, gathered around her. She knew something had happened to her, and it was something bad.
But she could feel her lungs working, drawing in air, and her heart beating in her chest. She was alive! And the fact that she was so amazed to be alive made her realize that she hadn't expected to be. That was right, wasn't it? Whatever bad thing had happened to her, she had thought it was going to kill her, right? It was hard to organize her thoughts. Her memories were a jumble.
But there was something very wrong about all this.
Suddenly, Raven's eyes sprang open and she lurched upright, her left hand grabbing for a spot on her back, at the base of her neck, just above her right shoulder. There was some vague, frightening, urgent memory of trauma there. Something had struck her from behind, violently, with deadly force. Struck her just as... as she was running to protect General Weisel.
"General!" she cried out, in a strange voice.
Calm down, Raven. Lord Weisel is quite well.
Her eyes were wide open but her vision was blurry. She felt very strange, and the happy thrill of being alive suddenly evaporated. Something was indeed very wrong. The voice she had just heard seemed to have come from inside her own head.
Who... who is that? Raven felt foolish, like a child scared by a noise in the dark. But she asked the question silently anyway, in the confines of her own thoughts.
She was answered. My name is Vadya. Welcome to my body.
Maybe she'd gone insane. That would certainly explain the extra voice in her head.
What... what are you doing here? Raven asked.
Actually, you're the guest. I am the host. We're going to get to know each other very well.
This isn't real. Raven raised her hands to her face.
Oh, it's very real. Why don't you take a look at yourself? Examine your new lodgings. I'd like to know what you think.
Raven's hands rested oddly over her face. She moved her fingers. Something wasn't right about the shape of her face. It wasn't as full as it was supposed to be. The bones were sharper, more pronounced.
Her hands were shaking as she lowered them. Her eyes were still unfocused. She couldn't see where she was. She had the dim impression of two or three figures standing nearby, watching her, but she couldn't make out any details. She was in a room or a tent, some enclosed space.
Look at yourself, the voice in her head said, more forcefully.
Raven found that her immediate field of vision was functioning better. She was able to focus on her hands as she dropped them from her face. Her fingers were long, elegantly narrow, the backs of her hands graceful. Her fingernails weren't chipped or bitten, like they were supposed to be.
These weren't her hands.
Even so, they moved as her mind commanded them to. She waggled her thumbs experimentally, and the strange hands obeyed without hesitation.
She was sitting half-upright on a bed. A dark blanket covered her. With a sense of awe, fear, and curiosity, she reached for the top edge of the blanket. She could feel that she was wearing no clothing. She slowly peeled the cover away, letting it drop to the floor.
Raven looked down in absolute wonder at her new body.
It's so beautiful, she whispered inside her own thoughts.
The strange occupant in her head let out a happy burst of laughter. I knew you'd like it.
Raven more than liked it. She adored it, immediately and completely. She gazed down on her naked flesh. Her breasts were firm, nicely rounded, not too small, but not so big they were awkward. Her belly was smooth, not protruding at all. Her hips curved perfectly. Her thighs were molded as an artist of pornographic illustrations would make them, taut and supple. Where they joined her slim, sleek, beautifully healthy body was a thatch of golden curls.
"Raven? Are you there?"
She blinked. This voice had come from outside the borders of her skull, and it sounded somewhat familiar. But Raven couldn't yet tear her gaze away from the spectacular sight of herself. She raised a hand and touched herself here and there, testing the impossible flesh. Incredibly, it all felt real.
But it couldn't be. She didn't look anything like this. She was shapeless and heavy. Her body didn't curve this way, or have this sculpted tone. This was the body of someone beautiful, someone ideally feminine, one of those females who had total confidence in their physical selves. Raven wasn't one of those.
She was ambitious. She was a fledgling wizard. She had been assigned by Lord Matokin himself, leader of the Felk Empire, to spy on General Weisel in the field. It was a hugely important duty.
By the madness of the gods, she wasn't even a blond! Her hair was dark and stringy and as unsightly as anything else about her. What was happening here?
"Raven? Bah! This is foolish. How are we supposed to know it's worked?"
"Have some patience, General," said another voice. "And some faith. You certainly should trust the process."
Raven thought she recognized this voice as well as the first. She blinked more, rubbing her eyes, tearing her stare away from further study of this body.
She looked around. She was indeed inside a room, one with stone walls, and there were three others with her. Two wore the dark robes of mages, and the other was dressed in military garb. A sudden burst of modesty overcame Raven, and she grabbed up the blanket from the ground and covered herself.
"I imagine by now your new host has introduced herself," said one of the robed wizards. "You will get to know Vadya very well. I have only this to say about her. She is a loyal subject of the empire, and she didn't hesitate when called upon for this duty."
"Lord Matokin!" Raven said, finally recognizing the man. He was short and heavy, with lively eyes and hair as dark as hers was supposed to be.
"Yes. And you are Raven."
"Am I?" She felt profound doubt about that. Again she had to wonder if she hadn't gone insane.
"Yes, you are. But you now live inside the body of another, the aforementioned Vadya."
"But that's... impossible."
"It's not," said the second mage. This one looked drained, wiping sweat from his forehead, his face colorless. "Lord Matokin, if I may go...?"
"By all means, Mage Kumbat," Matokin smiled. "You have our thanks for a staunch effort."
The one named Kumbat exited the room. The figure in the military uniform stepped forward. This, of course, was General Weisel himself. What a mighty pair they made, Raven thought with some amazement. The ruler of the Felk Empire and the commander of its army, both standing side by side at the foot of her bed, both apparently here to see her. It was a fantastic honor.
Yes, I'm honored as well.
The voice leapt unbidden into Raven's thoughts. It was not quite an intrusion, at least not an aggressive one, but Raven found herself unsettled by it. If she was indeed sharing this body with its original owner, how exactly were they supposed to share the mental space of one mind? Would their thoughts and memories and personalities somehow meld together?
No. Kumbat explained it. It won't be like that. We will have a certain privacy from each other but we will be intimate as no two other beings can be. You'll see.
Very well.
Raven returned her attention to her two distinguished visitors.
"General Weisel," she said, still disturbed by how strange her voice sounded, "I am glad to see you are well. I remember..." But she couldn't remember yet, not quite.
"You remember saving my life?" Weisel filled in, offering her a smile. "You stepped in front of a crossbow bolt meant for me. That was valiant. I shall reward you for it."
Raven tilted her head. Crossbow bolt? Yes. That was right. She had seen it from the corner of her eye, falling toward the general.
She reached again toward the place at the base of her neck.
"There's no wound there, Raven," Weisel said. "That was another body. You'll get used to it. I feel sure you'll develop an appreciation for this new form you're wearing."
"But does that mean...?" she tried to ask, barely able to consider the concept.
"It means," Matokin put in, quietly, "that the body you knew, the physical person you remember as Raven, is no more. But the essence of that being, everything that made her who she was, all of that crucial substance remains. It has been reborn." His dancing eyes settled on her. "You have been resurrected."
Raven started to shake, and then couldn't stop. Her whole body trembled, this new, wonderful but totally alien body. She wasn't herself anymore. She was someone else. Actually she was sharing someone else's body.
Obviously, this was magic. But it was magic of a magnitude that she'd barely suspected. She had traveled through the portals, hurtling across distances in a few steps that would take days to traverse on horseback. And yet, this was even more amazing.
Portals...? The portals! Yes, she remembered now, Weisel's daring and unorthodox plan to use the portals in the invasion of the city-state of Trael. Rather than using those magical portals to transport the army's troops, Weisel's scheme was to simply open them around the target city, allowing whatever creatures dwelt within that otherworldly realm to roam freely into this world, and straight at Trael.
When Raven had been shot—and apparently killed—by that crossbow, Weisel had been on the cusp of giving the final order to open those portals. She didn't know if he'd gone through with the plan.
Raven pulled the blanket tighter around herself. Neither man came forward to physically comfort her, but that would have been unseemly anyway, considering their elevated positions. It didn't even matter that Lord Matokin was her father. Raven was the daughter of one of his retired mistresses, but such a thing might actually carry very little weight. Regardless, she had yet to tell him of her identity.
"Are you all right, my dear?" It was Weisel, peering at her closely.
With an effort of will, Raven brought her shaking under control. "Yes, General. It's just all... a bit of a shock."
Weisel gave her a droll look. "Yes, isn't it just? Well, you'll need a little time to recover. Perhaps, Lord Matokin, since we have this rare opportunity to meet face-to-face, we should discuss the progress of this great Isthmus campaign."
Matokin turned with a look that was just slightly cool. He said, "General, I am satisfied with your very able handling of the Felk army. But that army needs you now. Surely you see that you must return to the field immediately. We have used up critical time seeing to this... indulgence."
Weisel didn't wince. He gave Matokin a hard little smile, glanced again at Raven, and exited the room.
Raven's thoughts and memories were still somewhat jumbled, but things were gradually clearing. She had remembered her spying assignment for Lord Matokin. Now she also remembered what she had learned from Weisel. The general had taken her into his confidence and had told her he suspected that Matokin was deliberately sabotaging the war effort. This was a war of magic, at least in part, and Matokin, the empire's greatest mage, was withholding vital information from Weisel about the army's magical faculties.
Matokin, Weisel claimed, wanted the war to go on indefinitely, so as to keep his position as emperor secure. It was a heinous, treasonous accusation.
It was also something she had never reported to Matokin.
"My Lord?" Her voice had an odd purring quality to it, a kind of casual sensuality that went well with this body.
"What is it?"
"Could you tell me where I am?"
"You're in the city of Felk, in a room of the Palace we had prepared for you. A great deal of effort has been expended in this venture, but General Weisel was very insistent that you be recalled to the living. Still, there's no getting past the unsettling effects of what you've been through."
The general must have transported here via portal magic from the southern part of the Isthmus, where the Felk army was in the field.
"You will adjust to your new condition," Matokin continued. "Recovery will depend on how strong you are, physically and mentally. And how eager you are to resume your work."
"I am very eager, my Lord."
"Good. I want you back at Weisel's side. It may just be that he'll find your new shape a pleasing one. You may in fact become something more than his confidant. Are you prepared for that?"
"I am prepared to serve you any way I can, Lord Matokin."
"Good." Matokin smiled. "I wonder if the general is truly aware that we have the power to snuff out his life any time we choose." He shrugged. "Rest now, Raven." He turned and left the room.
Yes, Raven. Rest some. And I'll tell you about myself.
Raven lay back on the bed, which was very comfortable. Go ahead, Vadya, she said silently to her host. I am listening.
It was a game of dressing up, of make-believe, of playing their roles as surely as actors played theirs on rude creaky stages. In Radstac's judgment she and Deo were currently enacting a farce. But, like most comedies she'd experienced, she didn't think this one especially funny.
She crossed the open ground toward the squad circle, steps measured, unhurried. But not so slow as to draw the interest of a supercilious junior officer looking for a subordinate to reprimand or order about for sport. There were significant differences between serving in a national military, such as this one made up of the Felk and conscripts from the states they had conquered, and serving in a mercenary force, which was Radstac's true element. Mercenaries weren't required to do anything but fight on behalf of their employers. They needn't waste faith on foreign causes, and the code of discipline they adhered to did not include servile fealty. One need only go through the motions of loyalty when one was a mercenary. And what was more, nothing greater than that was expected.
Masquerading as a Felk soldier, however, meant that Radstac had to submit to all manner of affronts, to personal offenses she would not otherwise have tolerated longer than an eye blink. This army's hierarchy, its complex chain of command, was quite annoying. She had thought several times of appropriating an officer's uniform for herself, even if it meant bodily removing that uniform's rightful occupant. But, no. She and Deo needed to maintain a minimal visibility. Going about this huge encampment in the trappings of a typical Felk foot soldier was the smart thing to do.
Radstac wasn't a member of this particular squad, but she slipped casually into the meal line with a tray and waited until she'd reached its head. The squad circle's cook dully scooped out a load of the hot, not particularly appetizing food.
"Put a second portion on top of that," she said quietly.
The young cook blinked, as surprised as if his ladle had started speaking to him. "What?" He sounded utterly mystified.
"Double the portion." Radstac gave him a meaningful gaze from her colorless eyes in her scarred face. It seemed to convince him that the easiest thing to do would be to just dump another share of the stewed meat and vegetables onto her plate and let her be on her way. Which is what he did.
Rations of course were just that—rationed. No soldier, at least none in these lowly ranks, was permitted additional servings. If you wanted extra food, she knew, you had to be lucky and skillful enough to forage it on your own.
She still possessed all her familiar accoutrements of combat, despite the Felk costume she was reluctantly wearing. Leather armor, bracers, kidskin boots, and the finely balanced throwing knives tucked therein, hidden from view. Naturally her left hand still wore the weighted leather glove. A weight of gears, of twin recessed prongs that she could extend with a sharp snap of her wrist. And, just as naturally, she retained her faithful combat sword, a companion through more battles than she could bother herself to number.
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