Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Read online

  THE GODS’ DREAM TRILOGY

  BOOK ONE:

  SOWER OF DREAMS

  by

  Debra Holland

  THE GODS’ DREAM TRILOGY

  BOOK ONE:

  SOWER OF DREAMS

  Copyright © 2011 by Debra Holland

  Kindle Edition

  All other reserved by author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law.

  Sower of Dreams is dedicated to Andre Norton, the Grand Dame of Science Fiction and Fantasy.

  I first read Andre’s books in eighth grade and fell in love with science fiction and fantasy stories.

  Andre’s Witchworld series inspired The Gods’ Dream Trilogy.

  She was kind enough to read the book, offer feedback, and give me an endorsement.

  I’ll always be grateful!

  PROLOGUE

  SEAGEM, ON THE PLANET KIMTAIR

  YEAR 23 OF THE REIGN OF ICEROS

  “Indaran,” Daria called to her eldest brother.

  He stood at the prow of his ship, gazing at the white-capped swells. As she ran to him, her feet skimmed the wooden deck, seeming to take on wings. “Indaran!”

  He whirled. The blue tunic and pants he wore as sleepclothes billowed around his strong body. The wind whipped blond hair across his face. He pushed away the blowing strands with a familiar impatient gesture.

  He grinned at her, his white teeth a stark contrast to his tanned, handsome face. Taking two strides, Indaran caught her as she jumped into his arms, and spun, twirling her until she squealed.

  Wrapping her arms and legs around him, Daria squeezed her beloved brother with all the happiness in her heart. She pressed her nose against his chest, sniffing sea brine and Indaran’s own man-scent, almost forgotten after the months he’d been away.

  He kissed both her cheeks, and the stubble of his beard scratched her face. “Daria, little bird. Only six years old and look how strong you’ve become to appear like this during our dream time. Even Mother’s othersense can no longer reach me when I sleep. Now I just hear the faintest voice, like a breeze.”

  “I miss you so much, Indaran. I wanted to see you. You’ve been gone sooo long.”

  He carried her to the prow. The ship sped over the olive-gray sea, each dash of the vessel through the waves sending up cold spray to mist her face. Daria wrinkled her nose at the murky depths, disliking the chill the sight of the water gave her, and how the dull sky weighed on her spirits. Even the sullen glow of the early morning sun failed to lighten the surroundings. She wanted Indaran to turn the ship around and sail back to Seagem’s translucent emerald-blue ocean and beautiful lavender skies.

  He pointed to a distant smudge, a smoky outline against the pale horizon. “Look, little bird, the land of our ancestors, unseen by any of our people for generations.”

  Daria shivered. The view of Indaran’s destination gave her a pain in her belly, and she glanced away. To one side and behind, another trading ship kept pace with Indaran’s, sails taut against the wind, while a third followed from a distance, looking like a miniature she could cup in her hands.

  Indaran nuzzled her hair. “I’ll bring back the ships back with interesting goods. Just think of all the stories I’ll have to tell. I’ll even seek out a special trinket for you, little bird. Or would you prefer a toy or a new pet?”

  Even this enticement couldn’t divert Daria from her purpose. “I want you to come home, Indaran. Father’s counselors grumble that their prince is out—” she deepened her voice, trying to sound like a man “‘—gallivanting on a useless chase for glory.’”

  He laughed. “I can see them now. It’s not for glory, Daria, but for exploration, for adventure. And...maybe a little glory.”

  “Mama’s worried. She walks around with her forehead like this—” she used two fingers to pinch the skin of her brow “—when she thinks I’m not looking.”

  His merry smile vanished. He set her down and crouched to stare at her face, his green eyes intense. “Yadarius will keep us safe.”

  She wanted to believe him. Surely, the SeaGod who walked through her dreams, played with her, and brought her the wisdom she needed, would take care of her brother. “Mama says you are sailing beyond Yadarius’s realm. We don’t even know what gods rule where you are going.”

  Indaran looked toward the land. His eyes lost their intensity, becoming distant. “We only know that they’re TwinGods,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Even their names are lost to us. But I’ll find them out.”

  He shook his head slightly, as if coming back to himself, and brushed her brow with his lips. “Tell Mama not to worry. Yadarius will never forsake us.”

  “But how do you know?”

  He flicked the tip of her nose with one calloused finger. “Because when we started this trip, He told me so.”

  The ship shuddered.

  Indaran’s eyebrows drew together in the same frown-crease she’d seen so often on their mother’s forehead. He stood, then patted her sleeper-clad bottom. “Go, little bird, I must awaken.”

  She knew the futility of protesting. Once Indaran woke up, their visit would end—although she’d still be able to touch his heartline—the same as she could any other member of her family. “I’ll visit again.”

  He smiled. “Promise?”

  Daria slashed her fingers across her chest. “Sword’s oath.”

  Indaran laughed. “My little warrior.”

  The ship gave another thudding shudder. Then, as if a knife cut between them, her connection to Indaran severed, pitching her into total darkness. In the silence, her heart pounded louder than waves breaking on rocks. Daria reached out her arms and othersense in a frantic grab for her brother. Only black emptiness met her attempts.

  She couldn’t sense his heartline.

  Daria awoke, screaming Indaran’s name.

  CHAPTER ONE

  SEAGEM, YEAR 37 OF THE REIGN OF ICEROS

  In the palace weapons salon practicing the pas-sa-ra, Daria paused, watching for the shift of her older brother’s body. When the thrust came, Daria parried, a pattern so familiar she could dance it blindfolded.

  Daria’s breath wheezed, and her limbs seemed leaden, as if sand ran beneath her skin instead of muscles. A cramp squeezed her side. Ignoring the discomfort, she whirled, crouching and swinging her leather-wrapped sword near Setteff’s ankles.

  He leaped—barely high enough.

  In spite of her exhaustion, she grinned at him, with a smile guaranteed to taunt. “Too much alcohol last night?”

  Setteff grunted in response. Sweat beaded on his thin, long-nosed face and coated his copper-colored hair. His heavy padded tunic looked damper than hers. In the sword dance, Setteff had the advantage of superior brawn and a longer reach, but Daria had the greater speed and agility.

  He tried to slow their rhythm, but she compelled him to pace her. With no breath left to goad each other, they fought in silence, the only sounds the scuff of feet on the floor and the clack of the swords striking.

  Just a little more, she promised herself. Stay focused.

  His two-handed overhead blow came next.

  She sidestepped, raising her sword to block, then slid her blade along his toward his face. With his slow shift and parry, she could have shaved him if she’d wanted. And he knew it, too.

  She put all her remaining strength into her final move.

  But Setteff also knew the end approached, and blade met blade in the finishing cross.

  They held their positions for the required five seconds, straining into the pose. Then both stepped back
, lowered their swords, and fisted hand to chest.

  Micfal, their weaponsmaster, strode across the wooden floor. The late-afternoon sun gleamed through the high windows, gilding his white-streaked bronze hair. Although a peer of their departed grandsire, Micfal moved with the agility of a man half his age, and his blue eyes under bushy brows had lost none of their sharpness.

  He turned his penetrating gaze on Setteff and tugged his braided beard, a sure sign of displeasure. “You’ve been spending too much time at Sailor’s Tavern, Setteff. It’s reflecting in your pas-sa-ra. Tomorrow, freeform blade workouts. First with Cihkel and Joshel, then with your sister.”

  Setteff rolled his eyes, but accepted his sentence without complaint, knowing any protests would only add to his discipline. They both knew their two older brothers would wear him out before he sparred with Daria, making him easy prey for her.

  Daria grinned at Setteff. “Better get to bed early.”

  Micfal’s attention shot to her. “You were lazy in the delt-tay, cutting your moves short. Tomorrow you will work that section through many times...with me.”

  That wiped the grin off Daria’s face. She took a gulp of the sweat-reeking air, and then nodded her acquiescence. The most difficult section of the sword-dance, the delt-tay, took a burning toll on the leg muscles. She’d be as worn out as Setteff by the time they partnered up again.

  She resisted an inward sigh. She had no one but herself to blame, she had eased up on the delt-tay, conserving her strength for the final buth-hay when she knew Setteff would start to falter.

  In the long mirror lining one wall, Daria saw her brother make a face at her. She winked back, tossing her braid over her shoulder, then wiping the perspiration from her brow with her sleeve.

  The door opened, and their father, Iceros, stepped through. The sun caught the emeralds in the gold coronet set on his blond head, haloing sparkles of green-and-yellow light around his reflection in the mirror. A kingly vision, indeed.

  Iceros wore the jade-colored silk and velvet tunic and trews he’d donned to meet the delegation from his friend and ally, King Stevenes of neighboring Ocean’s Glory. A heavy gold chain hung around his neck, from which dangled a small case containing a collapsing telescope—the symbol of his kingship, and his most precious possession.

  She started to call out a greeting, but something about her father’s expression stalled the words in her throat. Bleakness froze his austere features into lifeless stone. Under the neatly trimmed beard, he’d set his jaw, as if to hold back overwhelming emotion.

  Fear charged Daria’s tired muscles with immediate energy. Her pulse skittered through her veins, and she clenched her hand around the hilt of the sword. She’d seen that look on her father’s face eighteen years ago when Indaran’s ship had been lost at sea. Then again a few months after when her mother, Iselda, made weak from grief, had succumbed to the firefever, and joined Indaran in the Hall of Yadarius.

  Something happened to Cihkel or Joshel on their hunting expedition.

  The thought numbed the rest of her mind. A few seconds passed before Daria checked. She still could othersense her brothers’ heartlines, strong and pulsing with life. Her shoulders relaxed.

  Not her brothers. Then who?

  Setteff beat her to the question. “Father, what’s wrong?”

  Iceros moved toward them, his steps heavy. “I’ve received word from Ocean’s Glory. King Stevenes...my friend...my foster brother...has passed to the Hall of his Goddess, Besolet.”

  Daria nearly sighed in relief. Stevenes was just a vague memory. Then guilt swept her.

  Micfal bowed his head, the slump in his shoulders showing his age. The old weaponsmaster had mentored Stevenes when the young prince fostered at Seagem.

  Setteff also looked stricken. Like the rest of her brothers, he’d spent months in Ocean’s Glory and was close to Stevenes and his son, Thaddis. But her father’s reaction stirred Daria’s deepest concern. His grief from the loss of his lifelong friend radiated through her othersense.

  Iceros dropped a hand on Setteff’s shoulder.

  Setteff placed his hand over his father’s, squeezing. “Ill news indeed. What happened?”

  “The court physician thinks his heart gave out. A quick end, while he slept.”

  Setteff bowed his head. “He will be missed.”

  Iceros swallowed, lifting his bearded chin. His sorrowful gaze swept the three of them. “I’ve sent riders to recall your brothers from the hunt. Go, prepare. Tomorrow, we all leave for Ocean’s Glory.”

  Deep within Daria’s othersense, protest stirred. How or what, she couldn’t name. The wrongness tornadoed up her chest and out her mouth. “No.”

  The sadness in Iceros’s eyes changed to anger; a flush suffused his countenance. “No?”

  Her stomach tightened with trepidation, and she tried to find diplomatic words to persuade her father to leave her behind. “I mean...I believe someone should remain here to govern Seagem. You and my brothers have the relationship with Stevenes and Thaddis. It is right you all go to honor him on his journey. I’m the logical one to leave behind.”

  The glacial glint in Iceros’s eyes softened. “Your sense of duty to Seagem is admirable, my daughter.”

  “I will take care of our people in your absence, Father. Besides...my othersense doesn't feel right about my going.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure?”

  Daria sank her awareness into her othersense, trying to block the intensity of her father’s emotions and strengthen her grip on the illusive sense of dread. But instead of solidifying, the intuition slipped away. She made another grab, but could only pick up nebulous impressions. Not for the first time, she wished for the training she would have received from her mother.

  “Well?”

  Daria shook her head, frustrated with her inability to put words to the warning.

  “Then you will join us at the funeral. We will only be gone a few days, and the council can handle any problems.” The tone of his voice brooked no refusal.

  “Yes, Father.” Daria bowed her head in acquiescence, but foreboding lingered in her heart.

  ~ ~ ~

  Daria leaned over the side of the Iselda, the flagship of Seagem, watching the blue-green waves play over the shoals. Orange boatbirds danced on the warm air currents, dipping and gliding in an animated show. With joyous caws, they chased each other through the rigging of the billowing sails, their wing feathers sparkling against the background of the lavender sky.

  Up on the king’s deck, her father and three brothers spoke with Micfal and the captain. Her family made a striking picture of manhood, their tall, strong bodies silhouetted against the sky. The royal party stood in all their finery, knowing the sail to the neighboring kingdom would take less than a day.

  All the men wore emerald-velvet tunics and trews with paler silk shirts trimmed with gold lace. Yellow silk lined the velvet cloaks billowing behind them. Their long hair, confined by gold circlets around their foreheads, shaded from Joshel’s fire-red, to Setteff’s copper, to the blond of Iceros and her oldest brother, Cihkel.

  The breeze blew a strand of hair across her eyes. Daria tucked it behind her ear with an impatient gesture. She could have stayed pristine in a cabin, but had elected to remain on deck, watching the vessel thread its way through the rocky girdle, protecting the peninsula of Seagem for generations.

  She had given up trying to control her appearance. The wind teased tendrils from her tightly woven braids to curl around her face, toyed with the gold ribbons crisscrossing her pale-green silk bodice, belled her jade-colored velvet skirt, and fluttered her half-cloak.

  Daria glanced behind her at the ragged protuberances dotting the water all the way to the land, except for the small circular harbor, dipping into the peninsula like a dent in the toe of an old boot. A sandy green beach tucked in a crescent to the right of the quay, her favorite walk at low tide.

  Above the rocky cliffs, the city, built almost entirely of greenstone, loomed
monotone against the lavender sky. The palace dominated the vista. A high central tower flew Yadarius’s banner. Balconies dotted the wide front. She could even pick out the one on the corner outside her sleeping room.

  Only a league out to sea, and I miss my home already.

  Yet duty called her to Ocean’s Glory. She shivered, feeling the dark quiver of her othersense.

  To still her yearning to return to safety, she turned her back on the city and looked ahead to where Pilot’s Point sat a league or so farther out to sea. Their ancestors had built the enormous greenstone tower and dock, so the ancient story said, with the help of Yadarius. How else could the tower have withstood the pounding winter storms these many centuries?

  The tower rose from the rocks at the beginning of the reef. Inside, a winch held an enormous chain, stretching across the only entrance to the shoals. The tower housed a force of Iceros’s guards and a rotating shift of pilots.

  Joshel appeared at her side, his step so quiet she hadn’t heard his approach. His enticing smile could charm a chiten out of its spiral shell, and many ladies had happily followed the lure to his bed. The wind ruffled his shoulder-length, fire-colored hair. His narrow face stilled, and his normally dreamy eyes focused with concern. “Why so pensive, sister mine?”

  Daria made a quick decision. Joshel, the brother most attuned to her, wouldn’t tease her for her fears. “My othersense tells me...this journey is wrong.”

  “How could that be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Not going would be unforgivable. Our absense would offend Thaddis.”

  Like a cord plucked from a duraharp, her othersense thrummed. “Tell me more about him.”

  “Thaddis is a good man, as close to Indaran as Father was to Stevenes. He refused to accept Indaran’s death. Thaddis even made a voyage to try to find him. Afterwards, he withdrew…changed.”