Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

Khan opened his eyes and rolled his head to stretch his neck, feeling how the tension had seeped away. As he gazed into the face of his dear friend, he saw a familiar light in her eyes. The sight relieved a knot inside that he hadn’t realized he’d carried. “We did it, Jazy.”

  This time her smile looked real. “The connection felt wonderful, Khan. Different than with Indaran.” Pink rose in her cheeks.

  “Ours lacks the passion of the bond we have with our mates,” he said, holding back the impulse to tease her. “Our othersense link is more companionable.” khan sobered. “We’ll have to practice more…make sure we can maintain the connection under…stressful conditions.”

  Hopefully, we can work as well under attack.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sadie drove the Jeep deeper into the desert, following the medallion’s lure. Beside her sat her Bedouin guide, Azab, recommended by a friend of a friend of Bubby’s when she’d called him from the village on the edge of the desert. No matter how strong the pull of the medallion, Sadie wasn’t foolish enough to brave the desert by herself, nor trust an unknown man with her safety.

  Azab’s family had lived near the desert for generations. His father, who had a broken leg, claimed his son knew almost as much as he did about the area Sadie wanted to travel. Azab seemed a little older than her, a quiet man with a handsome, narrow face and long-lashed liquid brown eyes.

  In the Jeep, Sadie carried two extra cans of gas, as well as plenty of water and a spare tire. She eyed the gas gauge. Soon they’d be beyond the mileage limit she’d set for the trip. If she didn’t reach the place where the medallion wanted her to go within the next hour, she’d have to turn around. If I can. The compulsion had become so strong it was almost an ache in her heart.

  Azab pointed. “Look,” he said in Arabic. “Something is there.”

  Sadie squinted. Even with her sunglasses, she struggled to see against the glare. She aimed the Jeep at distant dots on the horizon. As they drew closer, she could see what looked like the sand-scoured remains of structures. The force pointed her toward the biggest one—a small, round building with a domed roof made of bricks the same color as the desert sand. She drove to toward it and then slowed until the Jeep barely moved.

  A breeze, like an unseen hand, brushed across the ground, sweeping sand out of the way. The gust uncovered a worn brick road, then abruptly died. Sadie exchanged a startled glance with Azab, took a deep breath, and steered toward the road. She parked in front of the…shrine was the only word that came to her mind.

  As the motor silenced, the stillness of the desert settled over them. She studied the shrine, then looked around, noticing the difference between the intact building and the worn bits of wall she saw here and there, and wondered what this place was and why she’d been drawn here.

  In the pocket of her jeans, the medallion burned her hip, although the heat didn’t cause her pain. This is the place all right.

  “Have you been here before?” she asked Azab.

  He shook his head, then burst out in a torrent of Arabic that was almost too fast to follow. Something about legends.

  She tilted her head toward the shrine. “Shall we?”

  He nodded, although his eyes looked apprehensive.

  Sadie climbed out of the Jeep, her body stiff from travel. She straightened and stretched, trying to get the kinks out of her legs and back. As she walked, sand crunched under her tennis shoes. A breeze, carrying a hint of dampness unusual in the parched air, danced playfully around her legs and bounced the grains off her jeans.

  Azab followed behind her, his robe flapping.

  Up close, Sadie could see the worn brick of the shrine. Although the little building looked ancient, it was far more preserved than it should have been given the state of the surrounding ruins. She stretched out a hand to touch the rounded wall, but before her fingers made contact, a portion slid aside to reveal a dark passageway. The movement startled her, and she jumped back, almost bumping into Azab. Light shone on the floor where the brick of the road continued inside, the edges sharp, unworn by the sands of time.

  Alarm skittered shivers up Sadie’s spine. She gaped at the entrance for a minute, then turned to see a similar stunned expression on Azab’s face. Legends indeed!

  She should have felt apprehensive, but as Sadie stood there, the compulsion faded, replaced by a feeling of peace, of welcome. She wanted to step into the shrine…to follow the brick path, but she hesitated. If I go into this, there’s no coming back.

  That thought broke the spell. Why did I think that? She gave her body a shake, kind of like a wet dog, then turned and walked back to the Jeep, climbed inside and sat, thinking.

  The compulsion had stopped, and somehow Sadie knew she was supposed to make up her mind willingly. She sensed a great need on the other side of that passage, and that appealed to her. Since Bubby’s death there was no longer any one who needed her. Nor anyone, besides her teammates, who cared about her. She’d focused too much energy on her training to have time for social activities and relationships. Plus, she never lost sight of the fact that her friends on the team were also her competitors.

  Who’d miss me? No one really.

  Azab hadn’t followed her back to the Jeep. He watched her for a minute before turning his attention back to the shrine. He stretched out his arms and spanned the entrance, placing one hand on each side. Keeping his feet planted outside, he leaned his head in, obviously looking around and studying the situation. She wondered if he felt compelled to enter or was just curious.

  Sadie thought quickly, ticking off loose ends. Tick one: She’d already called Devorah from the last village. When the woman hadn’t answered, Sadie left a message, implying she was safely home, and thanking her again.

  Tick two: She didn’t have a home to go to in America. She’d sold the condo after her father’s death, not willing to live there without him. The money was safely invested in a bank in Boston if she ever returned.

  Tick three: Her Olympic training….

  Sadie rolled her shoulder, feeling the ache. Sitting there in front of the shrine, she had to admit what she’d denied up to that point. There will be no Olympics for me. My shoulder won’t heal in time.

  Once she arrived at the training camp, the doctor would just send her home. Sadie squeezed her eyes closed to stop the welling tears. The loss of the dream was too painful.

  The doctors had warned her; her coaches had known the truth. She’d seen the pity in their eyes after her injury. But Sadie had stuck to the belief that she could overcome the injury, train hard, and still make the United States Olympic sabre team.

  Sadie sniffed, holding back the tears. She fished a handkerchief of Bubby’s out of her backpack, the square of linen lined with crocheted lace and a green embroidered monogram—one she’d often seen her grandmother use. The reminder of Bubby brought her comfort, and she resolutely blew her nose.

  Azab took a step into the shrine, hesitated as if waiting to see what would happen, and walked another few feet inside, still in view of the Jeep. Then he ran his hands over the walls on first one side, then the other. After a thorough examination, he returned to the Jeep and climbed in. He started to say something and paused, studying her face. “Are you all right?”

  Sadie gave him a smile that trembled. “I’m all right,” she answered.

  “The legends talk about this being a door to elsewhere.”

  “Elsewhere?”

  He shrugged. “That’s all I know. People sometimes search for this place, but no one finds it.”

  Sadie thought of the medallion in her pocket. “I think you need to be invited.”

  Azab cast a longing glance toward the shrine. “I’d go with you, but my family…With my father unable to work, they need me.”

  “How do you know I’m going?”

  “I can feel…something.” He tipped his head toward the shrine. “You are meant to go through that door.”

  Reaching into her backpack, Sadie pulled out a notebook. If she
didn’t return, she doubted most people would notice. Her friends on the team would assume she was avoiding them because she couldn’t compete, and she had no one else she was close to. But just in case, she needed to absolve Azab. She didn’t want him blamed for her disappearance. Plus, she wanted him to have the Jeep.

  She put thought into the letter, so anyone reading it could tell she wasn’t coerced. She mentioned the Jeep had once belonged to her father, that it had sentimental value, and she believed her father would appreciate Azab using the vehicle to improve his guide service.

  All the time, Azab sat patiently, waiting. She reached over his knees and opened the glove compartment, pulling out the title for the Jeep. She scribbled on it in English, Arabic, and Hebrew. Then Sadie handed the letter and slip over to Azab, explaining.

  Waving his hands, he vehemently shook his head and launched into a rebuttal that seemed to focus on his not leaving her here.

  Sadie went through it all again, and then made a chopping motion with her hand, cutting off the conversation.

  He acquiesced, then nodded.

  Climbing out of the Jeep, Sadie lifted out the travel case for her sabre gear, a long flat tube made of black plastic, and set the wheels on the ground. Then she took out her backpack and suitcase. The suitcase would roll on the brick floor, and if she had to abandon it, she’d take out some things and put them in her pack. She scrounged around in the boxes in the back of the Jeep and added water bottles and food to her pack and stuffed a few more in the travel case.

  Azab scrambled out of the Jeep and ran around to her side.

  Although it cost her a pang to part with the vehicle, Sadie didn’t show her feelings. Instead, she dangled the keys in front of him. “The Jeep’s yours. Enjoy.”

  On his face, disbelief warred with gladness. He extended his hand for the keys.

  “You know how to drive?”

  He shrugged and gave her a mischievous grin. “Enough.”

  Sadie laughed. “Have fun.”

  He profusely thanked her, calling upon Allah to shower her with blessings.

  I’ll need them.

  She started to turn away, but had a sudden impulse. The medallion had towed her all the way here, yet now, Sadie sensed the piece had done its job. The metal warmed against her hip. Perhaps it has new responsibilities. She pulled the medallion from her pocket and held it up between her thumb and forefinger. “I want you to have this.” She tossed it to him.

  Automatically, Azab caught it and, with a puzzled look, studied each side.

  “Maybe it will guide you back here someday.”

  Before he could say anything, Sadie turned and slung the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. She walked toward the shrine, pushing her suitcase in front of her, and pulling her travel case behind her. The wheels caught on the bricks, and she cursed. I’ve never read any fantasy stories where the heroine takes a suitcase along. She shook her head at the idea. I’m leaving everything else, so the least I can do is take the damn thing.

  Her annoyance with her baggage helped keep her growing apprehension at bay. At the entrance, Sadie paused and looked back at Azad. Am I doing the right thing?

  Azab gave her a wave of farewell.

  With no free hands, all she could do was nod in return. She slipped off her sunglasses and tucked them into a case in her backpack. Her heart banging against her chest and butterflies the size of bats flapping in her stomach, Sadie stepped over the threshold.

  ~ ~ ~

  In dim grayness, Sadie shuffled down the brick corridor, pushing her suitcase with one hand and pulling the travel case with the other. She carried her backpack slung over her good shoulder, figuring her suitcase would bump into any obstacle, or fall into any hole, thus giving her a warning. Yet an odd sense of safety kept her from imagining—for more than a few images—things that had happened in Indiana Jones movies or the dangerous travels of the Hobbits and Gandalf in the Lord of the Rings.

  Under her feet, the brick changed to a smoother surface, making navigation of the suitcase easier without straining her arm.

  Mist in the air wafted against her face, refreshing her. The tinkle of a fountain or tiny waterfall urged her onward. Seeing an arch-shaped light in the distance made her quicken her pace. She entered a circular room with a domed ceiling illuminated with tiny lights like the night sky. A large pool in the center held the statue of a larger than life size veiled woman draped from head to toe in a long gown, not unlike the chadors worn by Arab women. Water dripped from her outstretched hand into the pool.

  The peacefulness of the underground room beckoned Sadie closer to the water.

  Welcome, daughter.

  Sadie gasped, dropped her pack and the suitcase, and looked around. Goosebumps prickled her skin. “Who’s there?”

  I am Withea, Goddess of Binch-Alat on the world of Kimtair.

  The hair on her neck stood up. Sadie spun a 360 but didn’t see anyone. She looked toward the exit. Not too late to leave.

  The statue waved a hand toward the pool. Come, bathe and refresh yourself in my water.

  Curiosity niggled through her fear. Sadie studied the figure, possibilities flitted through her mind. A Disney animatronic? A hologram? A larger-than-life woman dressed as a statue?

  Laughter sounded in her mind.

  None of those, Sadie. I’m a Goddess, and this is my manifestation.

  “Goddess?” She shook her head in disbelief. “There’s no such thing.” Sadie couldn’t believe she was talking to herself.

  Perhaps it’s best if you just consider me a magical statue.

  Magic sounded just as absurd to Sadie. But she remembered the medallion, the draw to this place. She loved fantasy stories, and the idea she might have stumbled through the looking glass into her own wonderland appealed to her. But her rational mind wouldn’t allow her to take the statue’s words at face value.

  Bathe, Sadie, all will be well.

  “How do you know my name?”

  Sadie sensed amusement from the stature, but the figure didn’t answer.

  The arm trickling water into the pool lowered and beckoned.

  Sadie stooped to feel the water, which felt warm and familiar somehow. She groped for a memory—bathing in the Dead Sea with its high salt content, unlike any other pool or ocean. She brought her fingers to her mouth to taste the water. It tasted fresh, tempting her to plunge in. But still she hesitated. While a bath sounded refreshing, she stalled over stripping naked in an unknown place with a moving statue that claimed to be a deity. The thought made her feel too vulnerable.

  Go as you are.

  “With my clothes on?”

  I will dry them.

  If you say so. Skeptical, Sadie dropped to sit on the ledge of the pool. She untied her tennis shoes and toed them off, leaving her socks on. Stepping into the pool, she felt the liquid soak through her jeans to her knees. She crouched, then sat. The water felt so refreshing that she relaxed all the way, floating on her back.

  She sensed the Goddess touching her memories. Her life played out in a fast-forward movie, until the reel paused at her strange dream of the islands and the Neptune-like man on the throne.

  Withea lingered, studying every aspect of the situation. When she finished, she sped through the last few weeks until now.

  As she soaked, Sadie could feel her cares wash away.

  Her grief lightened. Somehow, the statue communicated that to mourn was to respect the importance of the losses. Sadie sensed Withea, herself, carried deep grief. How can a statue grieve? She shoved the question out of her mind.

  Sadie floated, feeling as if she’d plunged into a dream—a comforting one that had her feeling lethargic. She drifted for a while in the tranquil pool. Then she rolled over so her face was submerged and turned again until she floated on her back. Her injured shoulder burned, but not in pain. More like a heat lamp focused on the area, the rays penetrating deep and flowing over muscle, tendon, joint, and bone. After a few minutes, the warmth ceased.
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  Feeling refreshed, Sadie stood. She rolled her shoulder but found no trace of the pain that had become so familiar since her injury. Is this real? Am I drugged? But her mind felt clear and sharp.

  Withea must have read her thoughts because She said, You are indeed healed, Sadie Issacson.

  Buoyed by hope and wonder, Sadie stepped from the pool. Maybe she is a goddess.

  As soon as Sadie was out of the water, the statue waved her other hand, and Sadie instantly dried, hair and all. She glanced down at her long-sleeved loose white blouse, which had become worse for wear during her travels. Now the garment looked pristine.

  Sadie glanced up at the statue. “Thanks.” She slid a hand over her head and down her braid. Her hair felt clean and newly combed. “Was it you who called me here?”

  Yes, Sadie. But the choice to go further is yours.

  Sadie rolled her shoulder again, and joy tingled through her body. The joint moved easily, with no weakness and no residual pain. I’m healed! I can go home and try out for the US team! I can compete in the Olympics!

  Somehow, she sensed that Azad still lingered outside the shrine. If she hurried, she could catch him. She stooped to pick up her pack and hoisted the straps over her shoulder. “I appreciate you healing me…” statue, goddess, whatever you are. “I’ll never forget you.”

  The statue gave her the slightest of nods, but a feeling of deep sadness emanated from her, rooting Sadie’s feet to the floor and making her reconsider her decision. Maybe I should see what the lady wants with me.

  Withea gestured with her fountain hand at the far wall. The drops of water hit the stone and formed an archway. Inside the archway, a foggy screen appeared. A picture emerged of a city built of green stone, dominated by a castle with balconies and round turrets on either side. Flags on top of the turrets snapped in the breeze. A lavender sky arched overhead, and Sadie could make out a turquoise ocean in the distance.

  People bustled in the streets, going about their business. Sadie couldn’t see any cars, but there were some horses and wagons.

  Seagem, the city of Yadarius, SeaGod, during the reign of King Iceros before the invasion.