Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  Sadie shook off the image, dug out various articles of her fencing uniform, stood, and shed her clothes, tossing them on the bed. She wiggled into a sports bra, yanked a tee-shirt over her head, and strapped on the hard plastic chest protector. She pulled up the knee-length knickers, added an underarm protector over the chest protector, and lastly donned her jacket.

  The men hadn’t worn armor, or at least not outer armor, so they should have enough control not to hurt her. But still, they’d be fighting with real weapons, even with the sharp edges wrapped in leather. No matter how controlled the sword-wielder, bruises and cuts still happened. The underarm protector and the jacket provided better safeguards than regular clothing and wouldn’t slice easily. Though a direct stab will penetrate, she thought, uneasiness blunting her excitement.

  On Earth, Sadie never would have approached a group of soldiers who had experience with killing. But in this Goddess-controlled city, she figured the men wouldn’t dare seriously hurt her. And, she rolled her shoulder, Guinheld would heal her if something happened. I hope.

  She tugged a glove onto her right hand, hesitated at the mask, and then decided to bring it along. Wearing the mask was such a hard and fast rule in her training, she didn’t feel right fighting without it. Plus, if she fought bareheaded, her coach would appear and smack her upside the head for going without her mask. She doubted even Guinheld could protect her from an irate fencing coach.

  Cheta trotted over to her, eager for action, but Sadie made the dog sit on her cushion and told her to stay. Cheta gave Sadie a reproachful look.

  Sadie laughed, refusing to feel guilty. “It’s for your own protection,” she told the dog. “Mine as well. I can’t worry about you when I have lethal blades coming my way.”

  The dog seemed to understand. She sighed, curled up, and laid her head on her front legs.

  Carrying her favorite sabre in one hand, with the mask tucked under her other arm, Sadie headed for the door. Something made her hesitate. Turning, she went back to her bedroom, and picked up the second sabre. Carrying both, she trotted out the door.

  Her jog served as a warm-up, and she arrived at the practice area with good wind. Over the past months, even though she couldn’t practice her sabre, at least not with her dominant arm, she still jogged regularly, including hill and staircase sprints. She also continued her physical therapy exercises, some of which included weights, so she hadn’t lost strength in her injured arm—or so she hoped.

  This time, Sadie didn’t hide behind the tree. She sauntered into the open, matching the arrogant posture she’d seen the rooster use, but toned down to display quiet confidence, not cocksure bravado. The breeze fanned her face, wafting the smell of the orange flowers and sweaty men her way.

  She waited until the rooster dispatched another opponent before striding forward. The men facing her saw her coming. One pointed in her direction, and the rest turned to stare.

  Sadie knew they saw a slender, medium-size woman. Unlike many female athletes, she didn’t have bulky muscles, but toned, compact ones. Although, in the weight room she could out-lift many bigger women, many of her opponents, especially men, often underestimated her.

  As she headed towards the man she’d pegged as the leader, some of the other soldiers broke out into jeering grins and lewd comments, which were silenced by a gesture from the captain.

  When she reached the leader, Sadie gave him a slight bow, which he returned.

  The man had a leathered harsh-featured face. His broken nose made him look sinister, so she imagined that after the wound had stopped hurting, he might have even welcomed the change in his appearance—he’d scare all his enemies.

  He eyed her sabre and worked to keep his face expressionless, although his mouth twitched.

  Go ahead, laugh. All of you laugh.

  “I’m Captain Boerk. How can I help ya, lady?”

  “I’d like to spar with your men.”

  “The soldiers of Ocean’s Glory don’t fight with women.”

  “You’re not in Ocean’s Glory now,” Sadie said in a firm tone.

  He looked thoughtful. “I know some women in Seagem are fighters. We fought a few.” Killed a few. He might as well have spoken the words out loud, for his gray eyes took on a haunted look.

  “I’m Sadie Issacson.” She made her tone formal to turn his thoughts away from the painful past. “I’ve come from another world at the invitation of the Goddess Withea.”

  His expression changed, and he shuffled back a half step. “I’m familiar with Withea. And word has already spread through Zacatlan of the outworld woman.”

  That was fast. Sadie raised her sabre, although she kept the tip down. “As you can see, I’ll need to familiarize myself with your style. In the fight against Ontarem, I’ll need every advantage possible.”

  An expression of anger crossed Captain Boerk’s face, although Sadie sensed the emotion wasn’t directed her way. He brought his anger under control. His face impassive, he touched one of the sabres. “I’m not familiar with your insect stinger there.”

  His men guffawed.

  “Let her fight, Captain Boerk,” the rooster man called out. “What’s the harm?”

  “You’ll fight with that?” Captain Boerk indicated her sabre.

  “I’ll fight with this,” she echoed.

  Captain Beork stood still, pensive for a long moment. “If we were in Ocean’s Glory, I wouldn’t permit it. Besolet wouldn’t have spared the energy to heal ya if ya got hurt. But Guinheld will, although—” he raised his voice “—I don’t doubt the Healing Goddess might take retribution on any that harmed an offworlder called by Withea.” He said Withea’s name in reverent tones. “I’ve met Her,” he said to Sadie. “Withea healed me, even though I didn’t deserve it.”

  “She must have thought differently,” Sadie commented. “Sometime, I’d like to hear your story.”

  With a short nod of acknowledgment, he sent a pointed glance at his men. “I’m not sayin’ be easy on her, lads. Just exercise control.”

  They shuffled, looking uncomfortable. All except for rooster man, who if anything puffed up further. Obviously, he didn’t fear the wrath of the Goddess.

  Captain Boerk gestured for the youngest and least competent man to step forward.

  “No.” Sadie shook her head, feeling her braid bounce on her back. She pointed the tip of her sabre at the rooster. “You.”

  The rooster looked startled. A sly look slid over his face. He strutted forward a few steps up as if proud to be chosen.

  The captain shook his head. “Not Lind.”

  She turned her head so the men couldn’t see and gave the captain a wink.

  Startled, he didn’t protest as she donned her mask and sauntered into the “ring.” She stepped in front of the man, bringing her fist up in the salute motion she’d seen the soldiers use.

  He mirrored her, and then they both lifted their weapons. As soon as he brought his sword up, Sadie lunged forward, tapping him on the wrist and stepping back.

  The men laughed. “She’s stung you,” one called out to Lind.

  He growled and lunged.

  She tested him for a few minutes, moving her body in and out of striking distance. Knowing her lighter weapon would have difficulty blocking the heavier sword, Sadie used her quickness to deceive his slashing blade and tapped him on the arm.

  Lind increased his efforts. With the heavier sword, his swings took longer to recover, leaving openings that Sadie took advantage of. At first, the men laughed and jeered as the hapless Lind received his comeuppance, making him more furious. But as Sadie continued to land hit after hit, they fell silent.

  Lind’s eyes narrowed, and he tried to compensate, once landing a blow to her side, which stung and would leave a bruise. But she didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing he caused her pain, and she saw the surprise in his eyes.

  Sweat dripped from his brow, and he swiped his arm across his forehead. His breathing grew heavier. “Stand still.” The wor
ds burst from him, expressing obvious frustration.

  Sadie laughed, paused, and quickly retaliated to avoid his lunge.

  Lind seemed to realize what he’d just said, and his face turned red. He tried to pick up the pace but couldn’t match hers. As exhaustion overtook him, his slashes grew bigger and his swings wilder, but he didn’t lose his temper, although she could tell he verged on the edge.

  The tip of his blade narrowly missed her arm. Sadie realized that as Lind lost his control, he also became more dangerous. I need to finish this before I get hurt. Her sabre wasn’t strong enough to disarm him, so she would have to get him to drop his weapon. She launched forward, feinting to his side.

  He attempted to parry, exposing his hand.

  Sadie put all her speed and strength into smacking his fingers as hard as she could—a precise hit.

  He winced and almost dropped his sword but tightened his grip before the blade hit the ground.

  Before he could recover, Sadie lunged forward, the point of the sabre driving into his heart. She pulled the blow so it wouldn’t bruise. Much.

  They stood still, with the tip of Sadie’s sabre to his chest. She was breathing heavily but not panting like her opponent.

  No one said anything. She supposed the men watching were in shock.

  Then she heard slow footsteps approach from the left. None of the soldiers forming a horseshoe around them had stood on that side, and she wondered who the person was. But she didn’t dare take her eyes off the rooster.

  “Step back and salute,” said a commanding voice.

  Lind glanced over, and his eyes widened. He hurriedly back-peddled and dropped the tip of his blade.

  Sadie followed suit, took off her mask, and turned to look at the speaker. To her surprise, she saw the white-haired man from the temple, the one whom Cheta had taken such a shine to. He wasn’t in a robe, just comfortable beige practice clothes. But unlike his attitude in the temple, here he radiated authority. His hooded tawny eyes studied her. Sadie felt a tug of attraction and wondered why this man had such an effect on her.

  ~ ~ ~

  From his spot behind a gray-barked tree opposite the sparing, Tharon had plenty of opportunity to observe his former cadre of fighters, including Beork

  He’d come upon the group and paused to watch, wishing he could join them—but knowing they’d as soon skewer him as spar with him. So he settled for the role of observer.

  Tharon tensed when the outworld woman appeared, striding with the attractive strength and grace of an athlete. Astonishment at the captain soon followed. Why had Beork allowed Sadie to spar?

  He watched her don a mesh helmet, almost like a mask, which didn’t look like it would provide much protection. When she glanced in his direction, he saw a glass faceplate and almost bolted from hiding to stop her before remembering Sadie was an Outworlder. What looked like glass might be as different as the stone in Zacatlan that turned into windows.

  Reining in his protective urges, Tharon waited, readying himself to step in and stop things if need be. After a few tense moments, he realized that Sadie Issacson from Earth knew exactly what she was doing, and, in fact, he could sense she was very much enjoying herself.

  So Tharon relaxed and leaned against the tree, breathing in the minty fragrance of the leaves, while he analyzed the outworld woman’s technique. Sadie’s long, thin blade fairly sang as it whipped through the air, and she moved faster than anyone he’d ever seen. He thought she’d even dance circles around Micfal, Seagem’s weaponsmaster. He grinned imagining the picture. But as he remembered that Micfal must have died in Daria’s defense, his burst of levity ebbed, replaced by the familiar stab of grief and remorse.

  Tharon heard from memory Micfal’s gravely voice, ordering him to pay attention. The weaponsmaster had always demanded a focus as sharp as a blade from his students. If Tharon had a coin for every time over the years he’d been told to concentrate, often followed by a smack with the flat of Micfal’s sword, he could buy himself a new horse.

  An idea crept into his mind. Tharon realized he had the benefit of all of Micfal’s years of instruction in his mind and in the muscles of his body. Starting today, he could take the weaponsmaster’s legacy; use what the man had taught him for good, instead of tainting it as he’d done while in Ontarem’s thrall.

  Sadie Issacson had been called by Withea, and that meant she’d be fighting Ontarem’s minions. She’d need more training with a real sword instead of the toy she whipped around so easily. Yes, her weapon would sting and stab, but in a battle, the woman could be overpowered by brute strength.

  He set himself to studying Sadie’s technique as if looking through Micfal’s eyes. Her quickness and reaction time were her undoubted strengths. But her weaknesses.… Tharon watched for a while, trying to spot them. She tended to move forward and back on a line rather than sidestepping and circling. She also ignored her opponent’s lower body and didn’t guard hers very well. All her points of contact were upon her adversary’s upper body and arms. Lind hadn’t realized that and thus wasn’t aiming for her legs like he should.

  When the bout came to an end, and the men watching looked suitably fish-faced at the outcome, Tharon pushed away from the tree and strode toward them. He might not possess his kingdom, but he could draw on the king within.

  As he approached, the two fighter turned to face him.

  Sadie took off her helmet, and held it under her free arm.

  Tharon held out his hand in an unspoken request to Sadie to hand over her blade, which she did.

  He slipped his hand into the grip and snapped the blade a few times, getting the feel of it. An insect stinger indeed. Unusual. He handed the weapon back to her.

  From the looks on some of the men’s faces, his presence wasn’t welcome. Tharon didn’t blame them. The soldiers stared at him with various expressions. Awe, disgust, anger, blankness, and to his surprise—one had a friendly smile.

  Boerk stepped forward, and gave a slight bow. “My lord…ah, Tharon. Ya appear much improved since last I saw ya.”

  “I am indeed, thanks to Guinheld.”

  Tharon held out his hand to the man to the fellow who carried the lightest sword. “If I may borrow your blade?” Before the soldier could refuse, Tharon added, “For the lady.”

  The man looked uncertain but nodded, giving Tharon his sword.

  He thanked the man and turned toward Sadie, covering the distance between them. He handed her the sword. “It’s time to learn to fight our way.”

  With a nod, she pulled on her mask and took the weapon.

  He pulled his blade from the scabbard and raised his fist in a salute.

  Sadie echoed his gesture.

  Tharon lunged. He expected her quickness and ignored her swats to his wrists and sides, concentrating on forcing her off the line and attacking her sides and legs. He thought she’d be cumbersome with the heavier sword, and the weapon surely slowed her down. But he could tell she had some familiarity with it, or one like it, because she adjusted within a few moments.

  When Tharon had a chance, he gave her thigh a swat with the flat of his blade.

  Sadie sucked in her breath. She began to guard her lower body and even jabbed at his legs a time or two.

  Tharon picked up the pace. Even though he hadn’t touched a weapon for weeks, when the Goddess healed him, She’d restored his strength and stamina. He reveled in the feel of his body’s movements after having been helpless and weak for so long.

  Their bout lasted far longer than the other ones. Tharon saw when Sadie’s arms began to tire, and he pressed his advantage. With a smack of his blade against hers and a twist of his wrist, he disarmed her, sending her sword clanging to the ground.

  The soldiers broke out in a cheer, and he grinned at them. Some of the men obviously recalled their hatred of him and pulled their laughter into frowns, but the rest enjoyed their mirth.

  He exchanged the finishing salute with Sadie.

  She grimaced, picked up her b
orrowed sword, and pulled off her helmet.

  “That’s enough for your first lesson,” Tharon told her. “You did very well. Once you’re trained, I’ve no doubt you’ll best me.” He waited a beat. “Sometimes.”

  Sadie laughed. “You fight differently than they do,” she said, a question in her voice.

  Tharon lowered his voice so the men wouldn’t hear. He didn’t want to make them feel belittled. “I’ve received different training. Growing up, I spent a lot of time training at Seagem with the princes. Their weaponsmaster, Micfal, was probably the best fighter in the world.” He couldn’t help the pain from shading his next words. “But even he couldn’t stand against superior numbers.”

  Empathy showed in her brown eyes.

  He didn’t deserve such a response. Tharon straightened and raised his voice. “You are a natural blade-fighter, Sadie Issacson. From now on, you will join these men in their training sessions.” He waved toward the soldiers. “As will I.”

  A few of the soldiers shuttered their expressions. Others looked stunned, and one or two seemed eager to welcome him into their midst.

  “We face the enemy soon. The Evil God will devour your hearts and minds. We’ll need every bit of advantage to stand against Him.”

  Captain Boerk nodded, his face grave. He walked forward to give Tharon a differential bow. “My Lord, I welcome all that you can teach.” He scratched his head. “Maybe we can start with that little trick you used to disarm the lady.”

  “Gladly. But first….” Tharon strode over to Sadie’s weapons and picked them up. He handed one to her, hilt first. “Perhaps you’d like to change the swords on me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Surprised by Tharon’s request, Sadie stared at him. Her body ached with exhaustion. It had been a long time since she’d practiced the sabre, much less worked out with the heavier sword. Right now all she wanted was a soak in that stone tub and a nap. “Why would you want to learn the sabre? These aren’t real fighting weapons.” But Tharon was so charismatic that even as she spoke, Sadie accepted a sabre.

  “Knowledge is good for its own sake. But using your weapon will help me understand how you fight, which in turn will help me train you better.” Tharon grinned at her. “Besides, they look like fun.”