The dog’s othersense felt different, more raw, less controlled than a human’s. Thaddis fumbled to match the energy stream and sent on what he could to Sadie. He visualized himself as a conduit from Cheta to her and that seemed to work. She stirred and some color came into her cheeks. But she didn’t awaken.
Should I wake her?
Sadie’s eyebrows drew together, creasing the skin between them. She shifted and moved her legs.
All of a sudden, Thaddis had a bad feeling. With an intuitive leap, he realized that with the Goddess’s preoccupation with healing the wounded men, Sadie might be vulnerable to Ontarem. He’d never heard of that happening, but othersense dreams came from the Deities and many times were as real as reality. Who knew what the Evil One could do to her, especially if He sensed the inherent strength of her othersense and wanted Sadie’s power for Himself. Could He drain her completely?
I’ll be vulnerable to Him, too.
Thaddis squeezed her hand. “Sadie, wake up.”
She didn’t open her eyes.
He reached over to shake her shoulder. “Sadie!” he commanded.
When she didn’t respond, he took her in his arms, rocking her with some jostling bounces. “Wake up!”
He lifted her limp body into his arms and stood, preparing to run to the temple. But first, he used his othersense yell for Guinheld’s attention. But the Goddess was too deeply immersed in the wounded men’s healing to respond.
Frantic, he cast around for help, seeking priests or priestesses, anyone available. But all kept their attention on the flow of energy going from their bodies to the Goddesses.
Sadie moaned.
His fear for her safety ratcheted up. I have to save her.
Thaddis threw himself into Sadie’s othersense dream. After a jolt of disorientation, he found himself surrounded by fog. A noxious burning odor permeated the air, reminding him of the smell in Ontarem’s temple. He groped for Sadie, following a trickle of life that said Sadie, and shouted her name.
“Tharon?”
Her voice sounded faint but was enough to give him a guide. He blundered through the fog in her direction, until he saw her mist-shrouded figure.
She called his name, holding out her hands.
With a leap, Thaddis bounded to her and grabbed her wrists. He pulled, at first careful not to hurt her.
“Pull harder,” she ordered.
Digging in his heels, he gave a hard yank.
She cried out, her body moving a few inches. Her feet seemed stuck.
Thaddis released her wrists to brush his hands down her legs, finding them tangled in a rope that felt smooth and slippery to the touch. He reached for the knife in his boot and sawed across the rope. The blade didn’t make the slightest dent in the material.
He strained for power with all his might. Something inside him broke open, a reservoir of energy buried deep within. Thaddis didn’t even have time to marvel at his strength. His power flared outward, desperation giving him the strength of ten priests, and raced across the miles, through Zacatlan, past Ocean’s Glory, and across the sea, seeking help from anyone who could give it.
From that direction, an arrow sped toward him, trailing green, red, and blue energy that sparkled in the gray mist. Before he could move, the arrow penetrated Thaddis’s chest. Pain shot through his body, followed by a current of power like he’d never experienced. But some part of the wavelength seemed familiar enough for him to welcome the energy into himself.
The fog vanished, and he saw Sadie suspended, as if swimming in mid-air. A black rope undulated around her ankles.
Drawing upon the power arrow, Thaddis slashed down with the knife.
The evil rope snapped. The ends grew into wide mouths with fanged jaws. Hissing, the snakes snapped at Sadie.
Thaddis yelled and yanked Sadie away. With her in his arms, he willed them out of the othersense dream and into Sadie’s room.
They tumbled back into their bodies, the force knocking them onto the bed.
Sadie screamed and thrashed.
Thaddis should have let her go, but he couldn’t. He needed to feel her against him. “It’s Tharon, Sadie. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He repeated the words.
“Tharon!” All the fight left her, and she collapsed into his embrace, burying her face in his chest. Her body shook.
He tightened an arm across her back and brushed kisses on her head, while the other hand rubbed calming circles and pats on any part of her he could reach. He murmured reassurances, so very grateful to have her in his arms.
Finally, she released a big exhale and looked up at him. Her eyes were shadowed, her skin pale. “What was I caught in?”
“Some trick of Ontarem’s.”
She swallowed. “I couldn’t get away.”
“I know.” The memory curdled his stomach.
“What helped us?”
Thaddis gave a slow shake of his head. “I don’t know.” He rested his head on her pillow, thinking. “Three colors. I’ve never seen that before. One of the colors, the blue, felt familiar, though.” He lay still, trying to figure the sensation out. The familiarity felt like a memory, old and dear. But the more he reached for understanding, the more the sensation slipped away. Finally, he let it go.
Sadie sat up, and squared her shoulders. Her skin was still pale, her dark eyes full of sorrow. “Tharon...Thaddis...” She paused. “I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t come to my rescue. Thank you. I’m very grateful.” She took a deep breath. “But I still can’t forget what you’ve done. I hate Thaddis! But he’s you, and I care...cared about Tharon.” Glancing at his hands, still touching her, she shook her head. “I can’t...Thaddis. I just can’t.”
As she spoke, a chill shot through Thaddis, and every word, every sad expression on her beautiful face, iced him more. He swung up to a sitting position, careful not to touch her, although he wished he could at least take her hand. “I understand, Sadie. And I agree. You shouldn’t have anything to do with me. I don’t want to have anything to do with myself.”
Tears gleamed in her brown eyes.
Seeing them twisted a knife in his heart.
She sniffed and brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “You hurt so many people,” she whispered.
“I know. I’m deeply, deeply sorry, Sadie, but my remorse doesn’t erase my past actions.”
“Please go.” She turned her face away.
“I’m going.” He firmed his voice. “But tomorrow morning, we have weapons practice. You can work with Philan, but I’ll still be there. We’ll face Ontarem’s minions soon, Sadie, and you need to be prepared. If that means sparring with Thaddis the Destroyer, than so be it.” He stood.
She refused to look at him.
His heart frozen in pain, Thaddis walked out of her suite.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Thaddis’s call for aid plunged Indaran into a foggy othersense dream. His wife joined him, standing by his side and taking his hand.
Without stopping to think, Indaran reacted, gathering energy from Jasmine and Arvintor combining their power with his and shooting it toward his friend. His co-joined awareness followed his arrow of energy as it sped into the air above the ocean.
The power thunked into Thaddis’s chest. He staggered, absorbing it all.
Indaran was amazed that Thaddis’s othersense was so strong.
Why did I come to his aid? I should have let him struggle on his own. But even as the bitter thoughts came to him, Indaran knew they didn’t feel right.
He had only seconds to assess the rest of the changes in his former friend. Thaddis looked older than Indaran remembered, his face lean, lined. But he wasn’t the withered old man Daria had described. Indaran wondered if he saw the real man or an othersense version of him.
Jasmine, who’d come with him into the dream said, “We’re seeing him as he is now.”
In front of Thaddis, a woman floated in mid-air, her feet bound by a black, undulating rope th
at reminded Indaran of the tow Ontarem had attached to their ship. He blinked to see her more clearly and recognized Sadie.
Thaddis attacked the snake-like tendrils, freeing Sadie by slicing his sword through them. The snake heads snapped, but he evaded them, determination on his face
“He loves her,” Indaran whispered, and Jasmine said, “Yes.”
In the distance, Indaran saw a roiling storm cloud, ominous and oily with evil. He shouted a warning.
Thaddis pulled Sadie close, and they disappeared.
Not wanting to stick around to become another target for Ontarem, Indaran yanked on Jasmine’s hand, and the two fled the othersense dream.
They awoke in their beds in the teepee.
Jasmine gasped and clutched him. “What was that?”
“Ontarem captured Sadie, and Thaddis battled to free her.”
“Do you think it was real?”
Indaran gathered her to him, grateful to hold her. “I don’t know. But I think that Thaddis has taken a stand against Ontarem.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like he’s on our side.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated, resting his chin on her head. “How can the man who attacked my city and murdered my family be on my side?”
~ ~ ~
Philan sat on the floor of Withea’s shrine, his back against the curved wall, watching his wounded men float face down in the pool. The Goddesses’ healing power charged the room like an electrical storm; the air crackled.
He did his poor best to send the Goddesses his own energy and could faintly sense as the combined force from Zacatlan, funneled by the Archpriest and priestess, channeled to Withea. He could even feel Thaddis and Sadie as they directed their own power to help.
In awe, Philan watched the men with missing limbs as their stumps slowly grew. Others, like Lial, whose mind had never been the same after the invasion, floated motionlessly, and he could only imagine what might be happening to them.
Philan lost any sense of the passage of time. He and the men might have been there for moments or hours.
The statue moved Her hand. Droplets outlined an arch on the opposite side of the pool, forming a doorway. Go Philan, Withea ordered.
“Go where?”
I will guide you.
Philan cast a reluctant glance at his men but knew there wasn’t anything he could do for them. He pulled off his boots and socks, rolled up his pants, and waded across the pool, careful to give each man a wide berth.
Once on the other side of the pool, he stepped out, and dried his feet with the balled-up socks. He pulled on the damp socks and his boots and rolled down his pant legs, and then stepped into a tunnel.
In the distance, Philan could see the light of an exit, a glow that cast enough illumination to faintly see his path. He strode through the tunnel, eager to get this errand of Withea’s over with so he could return to his men. As he moved, his sword in the scabbard thumped against his thigh. Under his feet, he felt the smooth floor change to brick. Ahead was the arched exit, opening to the outside, through which sunlight poured. He approached with his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Philan hesitated in the archway, blinking in the bright outdoor light. Once his eyes adjusted, he surveyed his surroundings, expecting to see a sear desert. Instead he saw a verdant land with thick grass, stately trees, and masses of multicolored blossoms. No buildings rose nearby.
Obeying an inner prompt from the Goddess, he stepped outside. The air smelled rich with green growth and the scents of flowers. As he walked away from Withea’s shrine, the grass cushioned his feet.
With the balmy day and the beautiful surroundings, Philan would have loved to stroll and explore. But instead, he started to jog in the direction he sensed the Goddess wanted him to go. I’ll return, he promised himself. When we are at peace.
The thought sent a buzz of pleasure through his body. Philan placed one hand on his sword to keep the blade from banging his leg and increased his pace, no longer struggling with his depth perception and grateful for having two eyes to judge the distance.
Past a grove of pine trees, he saw some ruined buildings in the distance and headed toward them. The Goddess didn’t correct his course, so he kept going, only slowing to a walk when he reached a wall of rubble. Green vines with scarlet trumpet-like flowers climbed over this wall and would soon completely screen out the piles of rock and brick.
Sensing he was alone, Philan plucked a blossom and absently fingered the petals while he studied his surroundings. Wrought-iron gates tied closed with a rope made of dried woven vines looked to be the only entrance. But when he moved closer, he noticed the metal of the gates wasn’t iron, but a purplish alloy that he’d never seen before.
Undoing the vine was a simple matter, and Philan surmised the primitive lock wasn’t meant to keep out humans. He canted open one gate and slipped though, closing it behind him.
He found himself in a lush garden. Carefully worked beds of vegetables and herbs, some he knew, many unfamiliar, marched in straight rows across the area. He didn’t have to travel far before a gentle tug reined him in next to a bush that held beautiful multi-petaled pink flowers with a sweet, heavy scent. “What?” he said to the air, hoping the Goddess would give him an answer.
Dig.
Wishing he had more than a single word to go on, Philan knelt down on one knee. Since he didn’t have a shovel with him, he poked an experimental finger into the dirt at the foot of the rosebush. The soil was loose, easy for his hand to burrow into, so he scooped the excess into a little mound next to the hole.
At about six inches, his fingers touched something hard, and he dug around the edges before pulling it out. Holding the object on his palm, he brushed off the dirt with his sleeve. The glint of metal rewarded him—a familiar round pin, the emeralds forming a Y on the gold background.
My grandfather’s seal of office!
From nowhere, a sob burst out of him, followed by a second. His chest heaved with the pressure of his grief, and Philan struggled for breath, for control.
The feel of a comforting hand brushing across his back gave him permission to break down and mourn. Here in the Goddess’s garden, there was no one to see him, no one to know of his tears.
The fight left him. Philan crumbled to the ground and wept, Micfal’s badge clutched in his fist.
~ ~ ~
Close to tears and still feeling shaky from the othersense dream, Sadie watched Thaddis’s rigid back as he walked away from her and had to hold in the urge to call him back. No matter that he’d just saved her or how she felt about him, her mind couldn’t get past the atrocities he’d committed, even though her heart yearned for him.
Cheta put her front paws on the bed and yelped for attention.
Sadie rubbed the knobby head. “So much for trusting your judgment about people. ‘Dogs always know,’” she mimicked. Something hard poked her hip, and Sadie rolled onto her back, groped next to her side, and felt her sword, strapped to her waist.
She rolled off the bed and stood, unbuckling the belt and setting it on the bed. After drawing out the sword, she studied the blade for a few seconds. As Sadie examined every inch of the blade and the hilt, the sword’s energy began to vibrate, pulsing with the beat of her heart. As she concentrated on the waves of energy, her shakiness subsided.
Although tempted to go work out with her new weapon, Sadie still felt too weak from Ontarem’s drain and knew she probably needed to eat and rest. She slid the blade back into the scabbard and set the sword on the bed.
In the bathroom, she used the facilities and debated about taking a bath but figured she needed to refuel, or she might fall asleep in the tub. Calling to Cheta to follow her, she left the room and headed for Zacatlan’s equivalent of a cafeteria, the dog padding at her side.
Inside the room, Sadie saw the soldiers from Ocean’s Glory eating at one of four long stone tables set perpendicular to the door. The men, except for Lind, smiled and nodded greetings.
Eac
h table had ten carved stone stools per side that rose from the ground like mushrooms. On the far wall of the room, near a door leading to the kitchen, platters of food were set out for the guests to help themselves. The rich scent of roasting meat permeated the room, making Sadie’s stomach growl.
She picked up two white plates, one for herself and one for Cheta. Holding both in one arm, waitress-style, she spooned some meat stew on to both plates, then added a serving of mashed starchy vegetable to hers. She turned to face the room, debating where to sit.
Boerk waved her over to join them. He elbowed the soldier next to him, gesturing for him to move over to an empty seat.
Sadie set Cheta’s food on the floor, slid her plate onto the table in front of the vacated seat, and went back for utensils, a napkin, and a mug of the tart fruit drink served at every meal.
When she rejoined the soldiers at the table, the men nodded in recognition but continued to plow into their food, as if they hadn’t eaten in several days.
Sadie recognized the feeling and dug into her own meal. The stew tasted close enough to beef to seem familiar, and she ate in silence until she’d taken the edge off her hunger.
Cheta finished and looked up at her with imploring eyes, conveying to Sadie she wanted more.
“No, baby,” Sadie admonished. “You’re still becoming accustomed to rich food.”
With a long-suffering air, the dog grunted and slid down to lay at Sadie’s feet.
Before Sadie could finish, the door opened.
The priestess Wenda walked in, followed by the formerly wounded soldiers from Seagem, who now appeared hale and hearty. Their once-tattered and faded green uniforms looked pristine. Their othersense power glowed, showing a faint nimbus around their bodies.
Sadie gazed at them in awe, moved almost to tears to see the formerly wounded, beaten-down men walk with confidence, their expressions alight with gratitude.
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