Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Page 3

  Devorah paused, obviously trying to remember, then shrugged. “In the desert.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “There’s a lot of desert out there.”

  “That there is.” She shrugged. “Near some ruins that weren’t on the map.” Devorah glanced around at the empty apartment, and her mouth quivered. “I hate to see you go, Sadie. What time’s your flight?”

  “No flight yet. I’m giving myself a week or so of driving around in Dad’s old Jeep. Sightseeing. As much as I’ve visited Israel, I’ve seen very little of the Middle East. I want to explore—” mourn “—before heading back to Massachusetts.”

  Devorah’s face scrunched in concern. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “I have my sabres with me,” Sadie said, grinning. “You know I have to keep practicing.”

  “Sadie, I’m serious!”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “I’m not going to sleep a wink worrying about you until I know you’re safe in America. You will let me know, won’t you?”

  Sadie gave the woman a hug. “Of course. I can’t have you losing your beauty sleep.”

  Devorah choked back a sob.

  Sadie couldn’t help feeling her own tears well up. Enough!

  One more hug, and Sadie picked up the backpack she’d left just inside the doorway, slinging the straps over her shoulders. Her suitcase and travel case for her sabre gear were already in the Jeep. She handed the keys to the apartment to Devorah, gave her a last smile, and headed out the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  KIMTAIR, ZACATLAN

  EIGHT MONTHS AFTER THE SACK OF SEAGEM

  Thaddis stopped yelling, but only because his voice gave out. He lay paralyzed and blind in a wagon, escorted by his former soldiers. As if wakening up from the worst nightmare, the memory of his last clear minutes returned—capturing Daria only to have her and a dark stranger combine their othersense with an unknown Goddess to overpower him.

  He tried to sit up, but still couldn’t move. The attempt made his bones ache. His strength had not returned along with his memories.

  “Finally,” said someone marching to his right side, whose raspy voice sounded like he’d smoked too many emas sticks. “If I had to listen to that bloody screeching for another hour, I’d have taken my sword to his throat.”

  “Can’t kill the king.” The second soldier seemed younger, cocky. “Captain Boerk wouldn’t let us.”

  “He ain’t a bloody king no more,” Smoke Throat growled.

  “He’s evil,” a third soldier chimed in, his voice thin as a girl’s. “I’m telling you we should just dump him in this desert. The council wouldn’t know any difference.”

  “Guinheld will,” Smoke Throat said. “Don’t want no Goddess mad at ya, do ya?”

  The shrill voice argued, “He’s the one who sent us to fight. Made us invade Seagem. I still have nightmares about what we did there.”

  “Shut up, infant,” snapped Smoke Voice. “We was following orders from King Thaddis and the Goddess. Thaddis and Besolet betrayed us—betrayed all of Ocean’s Glory.”

  “I knew in my gut it was wrong,” Infant said. “It’s hard to live with myself.”

  Oh, my Goddess. Thaddis wanted to slink back into oblivion.

  “My big brother Sami grew up with him,” the second soldier bragged. “They had the same birthing day. The king ain’t all bad. He’d slip me candy. Send Sami a present on their birthing day. Can’t forget that. Course, that was long ago.”

  “Can’t forget what he did to Seagem, either,” said Infant.

  “Killed the whole royal family, except the princess,” Smoke Throat growled.

  If Thaddis hadn’t already been lying down, the regret of that memory would have brought him to his knees. He wanted to scream the pain out of his body, but his throat wouldn’t cooperate.

  “Saw the princess at the palace. Sure is a looker. Different from that Lady Pasinae. Never did like her.”

  “Then why did you always stare at her?” asked the second soldier.

  “Every man with eyes stared at her, bewitched. But I kept an eye on her cuz I knew she was trouble.”

  Pasinae was trouble all right. The Evil God’s priestess. If Thaddis could have sunk his head into his hands, he would have. He tried to move his arm to cover his face, but his withered muscles lacked the strength. He couldn’t even open his eyes.

  “Look,” said the soldier whose brother he’d befriended. “I can see the cliffs.”

  “You have better eyes than I,” said Smoke Voice, “but I’ll take your word for it. Means we’ll come to the tunnel entrance by evening.”

  “What if they don’t let us in?” For the first time, the cocky soldier lost his confidence. “Besolet’s Archpriestess—” the bitter man said.

  “Ya mean Withea’s Archpriestess, Stonehead,” Smoke Throat said. “We don’t worship Besolet anymore.”

  “Withea’s Archpriestess bespoke Guinheld’s Archpriest through the temple window.” A fourth soldier spoke in an instructional tone.

  “Then why didn’t they take him through the temple window,” the green soldier burst out the words. “Instead of making us march through the desert?”

  “Quiet, you,” said Smoke Throat. “Don’t question the way of the Goddesses.”

  “I think,” said the reasonable man, “it’s because She wants Thaddis in the cleansing chamber before he is allowed into Zacatlan.”

  “What’s the cleansing chamber?” the young soldier asked.

  “Don’t know. Don’t like the sound of it though. Glad it ain’t me.”

  At the ominous thought, all the men fell silent.

  The cleansing chamber? Thaddis tried to think about all he knew of isolated Zacatlan, but came up with little. He would have made a ritual visit to the country once he became king, but after Ontarem possessed him, Thaddis couldn’t visit the Goddess Guinheld’s kingdom. Premature discovery would have overset all Ontarem’s plans. There was something about that cleansing chamber though…some rumor… The details slipped away.

  What’s She going to do to me?

  Does it matter?

  There’s nothing She could do that’s worse than what I already have to live with. She might even kill me and release me from this agony.

  ~ ~ ~

  Pasinae, Trine Priestess, swept into Ontarem’s temple. The flared hem of the tight-fitting silk dress she wore swished around her ankles. My brother, dead. Kokam wouldn’t be waiting here to greet her…tease her about wearing red.

  A wave of grief swept over Pasinae, but she hid her feelings of betrayal deep within her heart. She’d be punished if Ontarem discovered that she blamed Him for Kokam’s death. The God didn’t usually penetrate her conscious mind so deeply. But Ontarem was desperate now, weakened from His brother Arvintor’s attack, and who knew what He’d do.

  Needing reassurance, she touched the pearl of power, resting against her forehead in a crown. The thrum of energy under her fingertips brought her comfort.

  As she walked past the pektats lining the interior of temple, empty now of the slaves that had given the God so much power, Pasinae steeled herself for the onslaught from Ontarem. She wasn’t about to have the God rip away her energy like He had before. Although how I can withstand Him?

  The statue gazed straight ahead, not seeming to see her. The familiar cast of His perfect features, the arrogance that sparked in the carved eyes hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been here. His kilt, the same crimson she wore, was the only bright color in the temple, indeed, in the whole of Penutar. Until my dress. With damp palms, she smoothed the material over her hips with damp palms.

  As she approached the larger-than-life-size statue that drew the eyes of all who entered the temple, Pasinae couldn’t help but feel a clutch of fear in her stomach. She took deep breaths of the incense-laden air, trying to keep the emotion at bay. Fear would fuel the God just as readily as any energy she voluntarily gave Him.

  Ontarem had the distracted air H
e’d worn ever since His brother, Arvintor, had attacked Him. She didn’t like how the powerful God she’d thought all-knowing and invincible had proven to be no such thing. He’d withheld important information from the Trine, which, if the triplets had known, they’d have made different plans.

  And Kokam would still be alive. Pasinae tried to dampen a flare of resentment. She eyed the large statue of the God at the front of the temple, searching for clues to His mood.

  Trine Priestess, Ontarem greeted her. I war with My Brother.

  “The Brother you didn’t tell us about.” She worked to keep the criticism out of her tone. “We need to make a new plan to capture Princess Daria. You need her power now more than ever.”

  It is not for you to know the doings of Gods.

  She had to tread carefully, not sound argumentative. “Knowledge can help us better carry out Your will.”

  You must first apprehend the slaves before they give homage to Arvintor. Order more soldiers to the plain.

  “The slaves escaped by ship. You must unleash the dogs of the sea after them.”

  For the first time, He turned and looked at her. His eyes sparked blue flames. Ships dared to invade my territory without my permission?

  “Apparently, You were busy.” Her anger slipped out as sarcasm. Stupid, Pasinae scolded herself, bracing for the blow she knew would come.

  The statue of Ontarem waved His hand. A force like a giant smack struck Pasinae’s face and chest, knocking her back several feet. The stinging pain took her breath away, made tears leap to her eyes, and set her ears ringing. She blinked to clear her vision and struggled to breathe and contain her reaction.

  Nabric must return. I need a member of the Trine with me who is suitably respectful.

  “We are no longer a Trine.” Sadness clogged her throat, and Pasinae had to swallow the feelings down.

  Yes, you are. Kokam’s power belongs to you and Nabric now. You will do my bidding.

  Shock at Ontarem’s lack of emotion over Kokam’s death made Pasinae speechless. He took us from our family…raised us to be His. How can He not care about the death of His own Trine Priest? Does He only care about our power?

  The God didn’t seem to notice her reaction. You will take his place guarding Yadarius. I want Nabric at my side.

  Jealously stabbed her. Now her brother, Nabric, would be the favored one. The last thing Pasinae wanted was to go live on the Triangle Islands. She could barely tolerate the seadogs when she sailed aboard one of their disguised vessels to and from Louat. Those people were boisterous, dirty, profane… She couldn’t imagine having to live among them. She opened her mouth to apologize, grovel if necessary, to avoid being sent to the Triangle Islands, but before she could, Ontarem spoke.

  Yadarius stirs.

  Pasinae held in a scream of frustration. Of course, with Ontarem having less power to constrain Him, Yadarius would struggle to awaken.

  The pain radiating through her body from the God’s punishment helped her come to a decision. Nabric could deal with Ontarem, and she’d take charge of the situation with Yadarius. She’d be better off away from Penutar until she purged her grief and resentment and could control her emotions and her tongue.

  ~ ~ ~

  Thaddis woke from a nightmare, afraid Ontarem still gripped him. When he realized his mind remained free, overwhelming relief sped through him, and he let out a long, slow breath. He tried to move his body. Pain shot through his arthritic joints. Weak, flabby muscles refused to move. Nor could he open his eyes. In despair, he stopped fighting his paralysis and listened to his surroundings.

  Hoofbeats echoed on a stone floor, accompanied by the sound of wagon wheels and the marching of men. Maybe about twenty? Not that he could separate the footsteps, but the noise seemed like more soldiers than had escorted him before. The sound echoed around him instead of drifting away into the desert, making him think they rolled through an enclosed space.

  Even the quality of the air on his face had changed. Instead of the arid breeze that parched moisture from his body, the air lay heavier on him, with a hint of coolness. We must be in the guarded tunnel under the cliffs, leading from the desert to Zacatlan. Thaddis couldn’t help the clenching of his stomach at the thought of what, or rather, Who awaited him.

  The party came to an abrupt halt. Thaddis could hear an exchange from the front of the convoy, but couldn’t make out the words.

  The marching steps resumed. With a jolt, the wagon followed, taking a sharp turn to the right, and then rolled to a stop.

  Through his eyelids, the light seemed brighter. Thaddis inhaled the faintest fragrance of citrusy incense. The scent gave a slight lift to his spirits.

  They waited for a while, no one moving. Then he heard the sound of footsteps coming from the opposite direction. They stopped near what must be the beginning of his convoy.

  “I’m Captain Boerk,” a new voice spoke up. “From Ocean’s Glory.”

  Thaddis recognized Boerk’s name. He’d been one of the soldiers Thaddis led into the desert chasing after the princess of Seagem. How did Boerk become a captain?

  “We’re escorting Thaddis,” Boerk continued, “son of our beloved King Stevenes, to the hall of the Goddess Guinheld.”

  No longer Prince. No longer King. While the loss of his title stung, the pain of remembering why was a soul-deep agony that would never go away. Even a healing Goddess wouldn’t be able to tolerate him. Her followers would probably lock him away. He’d go mad long before his aging body gave out.

  “Welcome, Captain.” A different voice spoke in cool, calm tones. “I am Archpriest Devore. Here are my assistants, Priest Taton and Wenda, a priestess of Yadarius.”

  “Yadarius?” The captain said, a note of relief in the word.

  “Yes, Captain Boerk,” said the priestess from Seagem, her voice echoing with sadness. “Right before the fall of the Temple, Archpriest Caifed ordered us through Guinheld’s window. We tried to get as many of Seagem’s people through first, so only a small number of the priests and priestesses escaped in time.”

  “I’m more sorry than I can express, Priestess Wenda,” Captain Boerk said. “For what happened to Seagem. My participation in those actions will forever be a stain on my soul. I will spend my life in perpetual atonement.”

  “I hope you and your men will find healing and peace here in Zacatlan,” the sad-voiced priestess said.

  “Please, lift Thaddis from the wagon,” Archpriest Devore commanded. “Then take him through that door and lay him on the bench.”

  Thaddis felt rough hands seize his limbs and lift him, carrying his body a few paces before lowering him onto a cool hard surface.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Devore said. “Your men are welcome to bathe, change to appropriate garments, and eat. Tomorrow, you’ll start your studies.”

  “Our studies?”

  “No one stays idle in Zacatlan.”

  Was there a trace of humor in the Archpriest’s words?

  “You must follow our way of life until your duty is finished. And…” The Archpriest’s voice trailed off. “As you know, our country is one of peace. We have our guards of course, but we are not prepared to face a battle. Counselor Ogan has assured Archpriestess Rodna that you’ll help train our guards and all who wish to learn to defend our land.”

  “We will do our best to help,” Boerk said.

  “Captain.” Priest Taton took over the conversation. “If you and your men will follow me?”

  The soldiers’ march faded away.

  A hand touched Thaddis’s brow as if taking his temperature, the first gentle touch he’d experienced in a long time.

  “Ontarem’s Spawn!” Wenda’s words were edged with bitterness. “How can you touch him that way, Devore? I can’t even bear to look at him. I think I’ve made progress toward peace…toward healing. Then Thaddis comes here, and I feel as if I’ve lost it all.”

  “Rather say, Ontarem’s Pawn.” Devore said in a dispassionate voice. He lifted his hand from
Thaddis’s forehead. “He was as much a victim as those whose lives he took or ruined.”

  I feel more spawn than pawn.

  “At heart, he was a good man,” Devore continued. “A little spoiled, with an air of entitlement, as most kings’ sons have.”

  “Not our princes!” Wenda said hotly. “High-spirited, perhaps. But good men. They were friends with this murderer, and he betrayed them.”

  Thaddis wanted to weep at what he’d done to his foster brothers, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

  “Thaddis would have grown up to be a good ruler,” Devore said, his voice losing the dispassionate tone. “Even under the auspices of that frivolous Goddess of Ocean’s Glory. With the guidance of a Deity like yours or mine, he would have become a great king.”

  “At least, he had to pay somewhat for his crimes.” Wenda’s voice sounded closer. “I’d not recognize him now if I passed him on the street. The arrogant, charismatic king with the glowing auburn hair is gone. In his place is this white-haired, wrinkled, withered creature. A fitting punishment. But what do we do with him?”

  “Now we see,” was the Archpriest’s cryptic answer.

  What’s undone may be done up, and what’s done may be undone.

  The voice echoed in his mind. Guinheld. Without being told, Thaddis knew the Zacatlan Goddess was present, and fear weighed heavy in his belly.

  “Goddess,” Devore intoned. “Will you accept this man to be healed?”

  I will heal his body. It is up to him to heal his heart and mind.

  For a moment, Thaddis felt the faintest glimpse of hope, but he banished it almost immediately. There’s no healing for me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  In the bow of the Comali, Jasmine leaned against the shoulder of her husband, Indaran, King of Seagem, as they talked to his sister, Daria. She couldn’t get over her amazement at the beautiful lavender sky arching overhead and blue-green water of the ocean, so different from the gray shades of Ontarem’s land or the blue sky on Earth.

  The wind whipped Jasmine’s gray chador to flap against her body. She took surreptitious glances at her new sister-in-law. Daria seemed like a feminine version of Indaran. She noted how similar the siblings looked—their blond coloring, with the dark brows and lashes, vivid green eyes, the way they carried themselves. Even some of their gestures were the same, which gave Jasmine a feeling of kinship to the princess.