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Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

Page 15

by Debra Holland


  Indaran scowled at the nomad’s back.

  Jora placed a kiss on Jasmine’s cheek before hugging her. She studied Indaran with her bold, dark eyes. “That handsome man looks like he’s going to tear my beloved in half.” She laughed. “You’ve been busy while you were gone.”

  Jora’s breezy banter made Jasmine giggle. “If you call escaping from the Evil One and getting married busy.”

  Jora laughed with delight. “You’ve beaten us to the fire. Roe-al insisted on waiting until you could be present. We shall do so after this battle.”

  “Tonight then.” Jasmine sobered. “If…”

  “We’ll survive.” Jora reassured her.

  “You’d better,” Jasmine warned. She turned Jora to face Indaran and made quick introductions.

  When Indaran heard the two nomads were engaged, his scowl relaxed into a charming grin. He slapped Roe-al on the shoulder. “I hear you’ve had adventures with my wife.”

  Roe-al whooped. “Wife. You and Jasmine must jump over the fire when Jora and I do. You will be mated in the Che-da-wah way.”

  Indaran glanced at the distant soldiers. “First, we need to get Jasmine to safety.”

  “Don’t worry. The Evil One’s soldiers move slowly. They’re on foot and peer around every hill, expecting us to ambush them.”

  Indaran raised his eyebrows. “You’ve probably given them just cause.”

  “That we have,” Roe-al said cheerfully. “The tall grass hides us as we slither through on our bellies, ambushing anyone foolish to stray outside his line.”

  Indaran had visions of trying to crawl on elbows and knees. “I hope you’ll doing other kinds of fighting as well.”

  “We brought extra horses.” Roe-al flashed Jasmine a grin. “Darklady for you.” He slanted a glance at Indaran. “The one she stole from me.”

  Indaran regarded Roe-al with interest. “That’s a story she neglected to share.”

  “One night.” Roe-al dropped his arm around Jora’s shoulders. “But not tonight. We’ll sit around the fire and tell stories.”

  “I’d like that.” Indaran’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know some of your people were fighting about two hours ago? Jasmine saw…” He steepled his hands. “Tents with women and children. The warriors protecting their camp.”

  Roe-al let out what sounded like a curse. “The West clan insisted on remaining in their traditional territory, not camping near Exonlah with Arvintor like the rest of us. Stubborn fools!”

  Jasmine placed her hand on his arm. “Arvintor was giving all His energy to protect them.”

  “When this is over and you are safe in Exonlah, I’ll send warriors out to check on them.”

  “Good plan.” Indaran made a jab with his thumb in the opposite direction. “But first, I want to get Jasmine to safety. Where are the horses?”

  Roe-al pointed behind them. “My little sister is holding them.”

  Indaran gave Jasmine a kiss and a squeeze. “Go, dearheart.”

  Jasmine’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to leave him. “Make sure you tell them to disable, not kill.”

  He gave her a nod, his attention turning to the approaching soldiers.

  Jora grabbed her hand. “Come.” She pulled Jasmine away. Together they jogged to their mounts.

  A young girl, who seemed about twelve, held the reins of three horses. She looked like Roe-al except with rounder cheeks. Several other children her age stood with groups of mounts, waiting for riders.

  “Surely they’re not fighting?” Jasmine was appalled at the idea.

  “No. They’re just here with the horses. They’ll go back with you to Exonlah.”

  Jasmine shook her head. “I’m not a fighter, so I’m ordered to safety. But I’m only going far enough to stay out of danger. When the battle is over, I need to be here for healing and to break the Evil One’s bond with his soldiers.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve a way to free those men from Ontarem’s enslavement.”

  Jora’s lips pressed together. “I don’t like the idea of you staying nearby, but I see the necessity. The children, however, must ride for Exonlah and the safety of Arvintor.”

  “Agreed. I’ll be fine by myself,” Jasmine assured her. “You’re the one who’ll be fighting.”

  As Jora walked away, Jasmine reached out to Arvintor in a plea to keep Indaran and all her friends and the fighters safe.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Khan took the reins of a spirited gelding from a Che-da-wah boy who led the horse to him. The dappled-brown animal was larger than Nika, with heavier shoulders and hindquarters. But he had the same intelligent eyes as the mount he’d left behind in Ocean’s Glory.

  Daria touched his shoulder. “You’ll ride to safety?”

  Khan turned and took her hand. “We made the plan thinking we might not have horses, and I couldn’t fight hand-to-hand. But I can shoot on horseback as well as I can on my two feet. I’m not leaving, habibti.”

  “And if the horse goes down?” she said in a bitter tone.

  “I’ll run away and keep shooting.”

  Daria rolled her eyes. “And if you’re in the midst of the battle?”

  “I’ll stay back from the fighting, I promise. I’m not stupid. I won’t throw my life away because of male ego.”

  “Ego?” Her black brows arched.

  He wanted to laugh but knew she wouldn’t understand. “Never mind.”

  “Please, Khan?”

  He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Go, love. Your soldiers await you.”

  She pressed a desperate kiss to his lips.

  Khan pulled her to him for a fierce embrace.

  When they stepped apart, Daria cupped his cheek. “You stay safe. That’s an order.”

  “You too, habibti.

  A few yards in front of them, Jasmine mounted Darklady and began cantering away, urged on by a young girl riding next to her. As Jasmine passed him, she waved good-bye.

  Khan saluted, grateful his friend would be away from the fighting. She’s already been through enough. He picked up his bow and the quiver of arrows and mounted the horse, adapting to riding with only a pad instead of a saddle. Once on the horse, he leaned over to adjust the stirrups, then straightened and watched his wife stride toward her archers, the set of her back determined.

  He’d known Daria for such a short time, yet had already loved her for what seemed like a lifetime. Please…he had to stop and think which God to pray to…Arvintor…keep her safe so we may truly have a lifetime together.

  As the line of Ontarem’s soldiers drew closer, Khan could see they carried long pikes and swords but held no shields. He squinted, trying to discern if they had archers or any other type of projectile weapon but didn’t see any.

  The closer the enemy marched, the more nervous Khan became. He knew he’d wound and kill men today, and the thought nauseated him. Many of the soldiers heading toward him weren’t bad men, and they had family who loved them and whom they loved. They had no choice about becoming Ontarem’s slaves, and he pitied them. But if any soldier threatened his wife, he’d have no compunction about doing whatever it took to protect her.

  A sharp whistle and a wave of an arm from Daria had her people moving to the top of a long rolling hill. The Ocean’s Glory soldiers in dark green uniforms formed ranks—archers first, then the swordsmen. Not for the first time, Khan wondered about their lack of shields. But when you fight from a ship, they just get in the way. There’d been no chance to have shields made before they left Ocean’s Glory, much less train with them on land.

  Khan took a position behind and to the side of Daria on a higher knob of ground, where he could see her every move. The mounted Che-de-wah grouped on both sides of the hill, ready to race down the flank of the army. Their reins were tied up. They’d guide their horses with their knees, freeing their hands to throw their spears, and, if they had a good shot, one of the knives strapped to their legs. When they reached the end, the riders were supp
osed to circle out and back, retrieve new spears from the adolescents serving as weapons holders, and then make the run all over again.

  Not the plan he would have chosen because Khan believed the Che-de-wah were too vulnerable once they’d discharged their weapons. Yet, this was how the nomads had been fighting and there wasn’t time to teach them new ways of warfare.

  He studied Ontarem’s approaching soldiers. With a twist of his gut, Khan realized they were outnumbered.

  * * *

  Sitting on his black stallion afforded Indaran a view of the advancing soldiers, and he tried to make a rough head-count of the enemy. Judging by Jasmine’s information when she’d watched the army march out of Penutar and from speaking with Landers—one of Ontarem’s soldiers who’d helped them escape the city—an officer was in charge of ten halhores. A halhore contained twenty men. To his relief, he saw only two mounted officers. Two hundred soldiers, far fewer than Ontarem’s entire army, probably sent out for a quick raid and seizure.

  He looked back, counting. Between Daria’s soldiers, the volunteers from Seagem, and the Che-da-wah, their group had about a hundred and thirty defenders. Although outnumbered, Arvintor’s rag-tag army had the advantage in the horses and archers. But we’re shooting to disable, not kill. A definite disadvantage.

  Stomach tightening, Indaran glanced over his shoulder. Daria had taken a position to the other side of their warriors, slightly behind his position. His sister had tacitly stepped back from command, allowing him the leadership role. What if I fail them like I did when I led my people straight into Ontarem’s trap?

  No! When his hands tightened on the reins, the stallion shifted, bringing Indaran’s attention back to the present. I’m no longer a callow youth. I’ve been tested and prevailed. I will again!

  As Ontarem’s soldiers drew closer, his heart thumped to the ominous beat of their marching feet.

  Still Indaran had his people wait. No need to waste arrows. The first few minutes of the conflict was the only time they’d have total advantage. He made eye contact with those he knew—Tempor who’d been captured after Seagem’s fall; Paup the first mate of The Treasure; Roe-all on his horse….

  Squinting ahead, Indaran could distinguish individual faces of the enemy. These soldiers wore short tunics exposing bare legs and high strapped sandals, not the kilts and leather straps crossed over their torso like Ontarem’s temple guards. But their dark, round faces, their black hair slicked back into long tails, thrust him back into horror-filled memories.

  The flashback paralyzed him. Hatred welled up. Indaran wanted to let out a yell, charge, and slay any who crossed his path. But he couldn’t move.

  Indaran fought for breath, for release from a nightmare so strong it bound his arms to his side. I’m free, he told himself fiercely. These men aren’t the Evil One’s guards. Many are innocent of anything but serving their God.

  That thought broke his paralysis. Indaran raised his arm and dropped his hand.

  His sister saw the motion. “Fire,” Daria yelled.

  Arrows flew. The archers in the front ranks aimed straight for the enemies’ front lines. The archers in the back aimed high, their arrows arcing into the sky to land in the middle ranks.

  Wooden shafts hit home with the sickening sound of dull thunks, striking torsos, arms, legs. Men screamed and collapsed. The forward march wavered. Some soldiers turned to flee from the relentless barrage.

  Officers on their mounts yelled for their men to charge. Indaran knew whips of pain-energy from Ontarem’s shadowy presence forced His men forward.

  Again, Indaran raised his arm, slashing his hand forward.

  With a spine-tingling howl, Roe-al sent his nomads galloping down the line of the soldiers, the horses spaced far enough apart so if one went down, the next rider could avoid running into it. They flung their spears into the mass of men.

  In response, Ontarem’s soldiers threw their spears at the riders, but distracted by the rain of arrows and the fall of the injured comrades, their aim was off and only some connected. Once the enemy had thrown their spears, they pulled out their swords.

  The Ocean’s Glory archers dropped back behind the swordsmen.

  Khan and Daria on horseback continued firing arrows until they emptied their quivers.

  Go back, Khan. Daria commanded with her othersense.

  Indaran spared a quick glance to the other side of the battlefield.

  Khan wheeled his horse around and galloped away. But he only went far enough to stay out of spear shot. He dismounted to grab some spent arrows. There weren’t many that had gone wide. He leaped back onto his mount and began to shoot.

  Indaran tracked the battle. So far all was going to plan. The Che-da-wah had pulled back—unable in the embroiled mass of men hacking at each other to get a clear spear shot at the enemy. He yanked his sword from the scabbard, and the sun glinted off the blade.

  On the other side of the battle, Daria also drew her sword. Are you with me, brother?

  Let’s go! “Seagem!” Indaran yelled and kneed the black stallion.

  The horse leaped into the fight.

  Indaran slashed and stabbed, thrust and blocked, quickly learning to keep his legs tight around the horse, guiding with his knees. He adjusted his fighting to use mostly his upper body strength, slashing downward. Protecting the horse as well as himself was awkward and sometimes dangerous.

  After leaning over to swing his sword at an enemy and almost unbalancing himself out of the saddle, Indaran cursed and vowed to change the training of the future. If there is a future.

  No, there will be!

  He dispatched his opponent and checked on his sister across the battlefield.

  With a fierce stab to the belly, she slew the soldier fighting with her.

  Pride warmed in him. She’s a warrior! Then he saw another man rush her from behind.

  His heart ground against his ribs. I can’t get to her in time! Indaran yelled a warning, knowing she couldn’t hear him over the clash of weapons, yells of fighters, and screams of the wounded. Look behind you, Daria!

  Hearing him through her othersense, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the soldier. In a flash, she kicked her mount and the gelding leaped over a body. She circled out of the melee, then charged at the man, killing him with one blow.

  Then Indaran had no more time for monitoring his sister, for his hands were full with his own attackers.

  ~ ~ ~

  Daria’s stomach wedged in her throat. With a flash of regret for killing the man, she guided her gelding around a dead Che-da-wah.

  An enemy grabbed her leg and tried to yank her off her horse.

  Leaning against his grasp, Daria slashed at him with her sword.

  He ducked, loosening his hold.

  She kicked him, landing her boot on his shoulder.

  He stumbled back, tumbling over a body, and went down.

  With no immediate enemy around, Daria risked a quick glance behind to check that Khan remained out of the battle.

  With relief, she saw he watched the fighting from a hill on her flank. He carried a sword in his hand—not that he knew how to use the weapon. But he looked scary enough that she figured none of Ontarem’s soldiers would dare attack him.

  Needing to do some reconnaissance, Daria cantered her gelding up a small hill and saw the ranks of Ontarem’s soldiers had considerably lessened. The tide of the battle had turned in their favor.

  She glanced upward to where the monkey-bats flew high above. They were supposed to remain safely aloft, only warning if unexpected reinforcements of Ontarem’s soldiers arrived. Relieved the two had obeyed, she turned back to the fighting.

  Sickened, she watched the scene. Daria had thought herself hardened to warfare. During the attack on Seagem, she’d shot reavers by the dozens. Later, she’d killed the soldiers from Ocean’s Glory—one in a sword fight. But this battle was an overwhelming blur of bodies and sounds. The screams of the wounded and the copper reek of blood and fetid stench
of ruptured guts impacted her senses.

  She searched for Indaran. Her brother on his black stallion looked like a warrior king of old. The sun glinted off his gold hair and sparked off his blood-covered blade.

  Indaran directed the soldiers around him to fan out. He leaned over to steady an Ocean’s Glory man who’d stumbled over a body and almost went down. Straightening, Indaran blocked the thrust of an enemy’s sword at his other side. He managed to turn the blade with his own and knock the man in the head.

  The soldier crumpled to the ground.

  With interest, Daria noted the tactic; she’d use it the next chance she had.

  Then she noticed Ontarem’s soldiers moving in a pincer formation directed at her brother.

  Watch out, Indaran. They’re coming from both the right and the left and will surround you. Back your horse and swing toward the right.

  She waited long enough to see her brother follow her direction. Then Daria took a deep breath and kneed her horse back into the fray.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jasmine rode Darklady between two wagons pulled by a team of horses and driven by Che-dah-wah men who were obviously too old to fight. The nomads had captured the supply wagons in a previous battle and now intended to use them to transport the wounded. She and the men waited a safe distance away until a messenger rode to alert them of the battle’s end and conveyed the welcome news that her husband and friends had survived.

  Jasmine rolled her shoulders, missing Shareef tucked in his backpack. One of the adolescents had taken the monga to the Che-da-wah encampment for safety, where her pet was no doubt having a grand reunion with family and friends.

  Away from the battleground, the beauty of Drayleth could deceive one into believing in the peaceful serenity of the flowing blue-green plain. The breeze brought the scent of fertile growth to her and ruffled the high grass. Yet, Jasmine wondered if she would ever ride through the Che-da-wah’s territory with a calm feeling in her mind and body. Hopefully someday.

  As she drew near the aftermath of the battle, Jasmine’s stomach tightened. She took deep breaths and tried to brace herself for what she was about to face. She also strengthened her connection to Arvintor, preparing for the multitude of healings she’d undertake.

 

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