When she reached the wheelhouse, Pasinae scrambled up the ladder and yanked the spyglass out of the captain’s hand. Lifting the instrument to her eye, she adjusted the lens. A ship sprang into view. She searched for the flags, and the orange and black of Ocean’s Glory leaped out at her, but…? She squinted to be sure of what she saw. The familiar banner sported a W, instead of a B.
They’ve displaced Besolet. With the people of Ocean’s Glory worshiping Withea, She’ll soon gain in power. Pasinae thrust the spyglass at the captain so strongly that the end smacked against his chest.
Without a word, he took the instrument from her.
She changed her mind and grabbed it back.
Not caring to remain in close quarters of the man, Pasinae climbed down the ladder. Carrying the spyglass in one hand, she struggled to the stern, often having to grasp the side with her free hand.
When she reached the stern, Pasinae watched the enemy ship for a while, trying to discern if the vessel could catch them. Before long, she became impatient and paced back and forth. The speed of the ship made her steps ponderous, and she often had to grab for the rail to steady herself. After a time of restless movement, she stopped to lean against the rail and peer out to sea.
More triangles appeared on the horizon. Fear clenched her stomach. Ours or theirs? She lifted the spyglass to her eye. Fuzzy images of ships came into view. She adjusted the eyepiece, and the lines of the vessels and the banners flying from the masts gave her the answer.
Theirs.
~ ~ ~
In the darkness of early morning, Arvintor’s army continued their celebration of the SeaGod’s return while they ate. The glow of the campfires provided their only illumination. No one bothered to set up the lanterns when dawn was only an hour away. Indaran, sitting between Khan and Jasmine, with Daria on the other side of his brother-in-law, finished his bowl of some kind of grain mixed with meat and studied the people around him. Knowing the battle lay before them, their spirits were more subdued from the wild jubilation earlier, but on each face he saw a peaceful expression at odds with the circumstances ahead of them.
Roe-al walked over and crouched in front of Jasmine. He touched her knee, and gave Daria a friendly glance. “I thought when I connected with Arvintor that I had the most blessed of experiences. I didn’t know that my encounter with the Good God could grow to a meeting with another One. What happened today took my breath away in awe and made me weep with joy. I want to thank you all for bringing such light to the Che-da-wah.” He shook his head, an expression of wonder on his face at the memory. “You have given us a gift that’s beyond words.”
Jasmine directed her gentle smile at Roe-al. “We all have shared in the gift. You and your people have given, as well. Without your energy, Arvintor would still be powerless, and I wouldn’t have escaped from Ontarem’s clutches. And if I hadn’t stayed free, then I wouldn’t have been able to free Indaran and his crew. And he freed the slaves. If Ontarem possessed the slaves’ power when Daria and Khan came to the rescue, they too might have been taken captive.” She spread her hands in front of her body, palms up. “So you see, we’re connected—all our people and the Deities of Kimtair.”
Wishing he could prolong the peace and calm, Indaran handed his bowl to one of the adolescents collecting the dishes. “It’s time.” A gust of hot wind flared the flames of the fires and blew his hair across her face. With an impatient gesture, he pushed back the long strands.
Daria laughed. “Wait, brother.” With the grace and strength characteristic of her, she rose to her feet. “I remember how you were always pushing your hair out of your face. How Cihkel would tease you, threatening to shave your head. You retorted that the ladies loved your hair. And you were right. You had more girls admiring you…” As she recounted the story with only a slight hitch in her voice at Cihkel’s name, Daria finger-combed Indaran’s hair. Then she deftly began to braid the sections into a long tail. When she came to the end, she pulled off the leather tie from her own plait to secure his. “Keep it, I have more with me.”
The sisterly gesture moved Indaran. They were missing fourteen years of teasing and taking care of each other. Even an act as simple as braiding his hair was not something he could take for granted. Especially on the brink of going to battle.
“Thank you, Little Bird.” He gave her a hug, stepped back, and glanced around. “I don’t want to grab everyone’s attention with strident bugle blasts or anything else that would jolt as a call to order. That doesn’t fit with what happened earlier…with the mood. So instead, quietly pass the word. Have everyone ready themselves to march in thirty minutes.”
~ ~ ~
Thaddis stood with Sadie in a corner of the wheelhouse of the Wind Racer, Cheta sitting at her feet. One hand held the side of the ship, and the other grasped the rail in front. He braced himself as the ship crashed through the waves, sending powerful sprays of water into the air.
Sadie rocked into him, then righted herself.
Feeling the speed of their journey, the leap of the vessel through the water, sent elation racing through Thaddis. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do—the first major step in overthrowing Ontarem. And, equally important to him at this moment, Sadie had stopped pushing him away. For a few hours he could relax, savor the victory and enjoy the company of the woman in front of him. All too soon he’d pick up the responsibility of command. He, along with those he cared about, would be plunged into the midst of battle.
The sail of Pasinae’s ship steadily grew larger. He spied the first smudge of gray land and a flood of apprehension changed his mood, making his body heavy with dread and flashing him back in time.
Prince Thaddis stood in the wheelhouse of the royal flagship, spyglass to his eye, watching the first sight of land appear after several long weeks at sea. As each day passed, he’d grown more concerned that he wouldn’t be in time to rescue Indaran from whatever trouble his foster brother had gotten himself into. But after the first flush of relief, the sight of the land growing ever closer depressed his spirits, and dread grew within him. Only his certainty that Indaran yet lived and needed his help kept him from ordering the ship to turn about.
A squeeze on his arm brought him back to the present. “Returning to Louat must be difficult.” Sadie had to raise her voice to be heard over the sound of the wind, the flap of sails and rigging, and the rhythmic smack of waves against the hull.
“You have no idea,” he replied through clenched teeth, holding in the anger caused by the memory. Then realizing she hadn’t heard him, he leaned closer to her ear. “This time I know what I’m sailing into, who my enemy is. And when I catch hold of her, I’ll wring her neck.”
“Pasinae?” Sadie’s eyebrows pulled together. “Can you really do that? Kill her?”
“Of course, I could.” But even as he said the words, Thaddis wondered if they were true.
“Have you ever killed a woman?” Her eyes widened.
He grimaced. “Probably thousands.” Familiar guilt tugged at him.
She raised one eyebrow. “By your own hand?”
“No. Not directly.”
“Then could you kill a woman?”
“Perhaps not just any woman. But Pasinae is Ontarem’s tool, and she’s as evil as the God Himself.”
“Is she? Or is she another victim like you were? Like Indaran was.”
Thaddis ground his teeth. “Everyone under Ontarem’s thumb is a victim. But that doesn’t make her any less dangerous.”
“But can you kill her?” Sadie persisted, her grip on his arm tightening.
“I probably won’t know if I can slay her until I have my sword at her throat.”
“Is there some way we can save her? Have her bond with one of the other Gods or Goddesses?” Sadie made a rueful expression. “In my world, we’d say convert her?”
Thaddis shook his head. “Although I didn’t realize it at the time, Ontarem is deeply embedded with His people of Penutar. They won’t convert, as you call i
t, easily.”
“But we can try.”
“Even if we could find a way, I doubt we’ll have time. We’ll be fighting, Sadie. Not just for our lives, but for the lives of every man, woman, and child on Kimtair. We’ll have to kill her the minute we have a chance.”
~ ~ ~
Thaddis’s words sent a chill down Sadie’s spine. Perhaps before, she could have logically agreed about the need for Pasinae’s death, when the act of killing was only a theory. But now she had blood on her hands. While she didn’t regret the deaths and knew she’d had no choice at the time she’d slain the pirates, Sadie felt something within herself had shifted and would never be the same.
And for Thaddis to calmly talk about killing Pasinae, a woman he must have cared about to have as his mistress for so long, even if he’d been under Ontarem’s influence…
The wide gap between their cultures—no, their worlds—yawned between them. He grew up practicing sword fighting to kill. I practiced to compete.
Although, irked that Thaddis had so quickly dismissed the idea of conversion, Sadie tried to think through the idea and figure out another way to present the possibility. Perhaps the concept of changing beliefs and relationships with Deities was just too foreign for him. After all, look at the problems the people of Ocean’s Glory had with switching allegiances to Withea?
For the first time since committing to Kimtair, Sadie missed America with a fierce ache, and she wanted to go home. If only I had ruby slippers or a fairy godmother.
How ironic to live in a magical world and want more magic to solve my problems. For a moment, she wondered if there was a portal to a planet where fairy godmothers and ruby slippers existed.
Then she shrugged aside the idea. Magic didn’t make life…love…any easier.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Standing just outside the light of the fire, Nabric watched the twenty-one men, kneeling in two lines with their arms bound behind their backs, whom he’d identified as missing their tether. A ring of armed soldiers surrounded the group, close enough to respond to a threat, but far enough away to avoid contamination if the situation was contagious. To his othersense, the men looked healthy enough—more so then their companions in arms. While their energy wasn’t strong, what there was of it sparkled with pale colors, reminding him of flickering rainbows.
He’d never seen anything like the othersense of the prisoners. And while the expressions of some looked fearful, they all had a calm aura about them, at odds with the precarious situation they found themselves in.
As much as Nabric searched and poked and prodded, he found not the slightest trace that they’d ever belonged to Ontarem. A search had turned up enough soldiers who’d known each man for a long time, some going back to childhood, which ruled out the possibility of foreign spies. But with his othersense, he could discern two slight indentations on each man’s brain where their tethers should have attached. What happened? A disease?
Nabric strolled into the firelight, projecting intimidating strength, and stopped in front of the first man, wondering if he needed to apply torture to receive the information he wanted. He crossed his arms across his chest. “You will answer my questions, or you will die, slice by slice, piece by piece. Is that clear?”
The man swallowed. “Yes, Trine Nabric.”
“What has happened to your connection with Ontarem?”
The man glanced down the row. He received faint nods, slight smiles, and looks encouraging him to speak.
Nabric had a sudden feeling these men had grouped themselves into a pack. If he were able to reattach them to the God, he’d separate them so they’d have little contact with each other.
The man he’d addressed had the temerity to smile. “Arvintor severed me from Ontarem,” the man spoke with quiet confidence. “He has filled our hearts with love.”
Love! Nabric reared back as if struck, the ramifications of Arvintor’s freeing Ontarem’s people racing through his mind. He imagined the seductive enticement of love for a God, not bondage to a Deity. He could lose the whole army to Arvintor without even a fight. Just this kind of knowledge could cause division in the ranks, and he was glad he’d stationed the guards too far away to hear the man’s words.
Would it even do any good to reattach them to Ontarem? He pulled on his power and raised his hand to start the process. But when he connected with Ontarem, started to convey what was happening, the God gave him a little shake for his attention.
Yadarius is free. He has sunk the ships of the seadogs. The fleet of Ocean’s Glory sails for Penutar.
What? Nabric shook his head as if to clear it. Feeling as though he’d just been pounded, he walked away from the prisoners, turning his back on everyone and gazing out to where he knew Arvintor and the Che-da-wah dwelled. “We must march to Penutar.”
No!. Send half my army back with Commander Sughar and keep the rest there with you. Attack the Che-da-wah tomorrow and wipe them out.
Nabric had to restrain a curse. We’ll be fighting on two fronts. “My God,” he dared protest. “Ocean’s Glory is strong in numbers. Their army might take the city. They may slay many of Your people and thus diminish Your power. We must defend Penutar with all our might. We can return later to finish capturing the Che-da-wah.”
Dare you argue with ME?
Nabric heard the edge in Ontarem’s voice. No, he didn’t dare argue with Him. “It shall be as you command, my God.”
I have felt my brother freeing MY soldiers. You will slay each one of his people, making an example of them to the rest. I will feast on their essence. Ontarem cut their connection.
Nabric exhaled a sigh of frustration.
The commander looked askance at him.
“We’ve just lost half our army. Ontarem has recalled them to the city. We are being invaded by Ocean’s Glory.”
“Only half?”
“Our God is determined to bind His brother and bring Arvintor’s people to their knees.”
“As the God wills,” the man piously intoned, although doubts lingered in his eyes.
“Call your men to arms. You will be in command, while I remain here. Force march your army to Penutar. Don’t bother with supplies. You must stop the invasion at the harbor, not let the fighting spill over into the city.”
“Yes, Trine Priest.” Sughar gestured at the prisoners. “What shall we do with…?”
Nabric narrowed his eyes at commander for being too stupid to see the answer for himself. “Kill them!”
~ ~ ~
In the early morning, Pasinae stood at the stern of the seadog ship, holding tight to the rail to stay upright and watching the sails of the Ocean’s Glory fleet inch closer. When darkness had fallen, she’d laid down for some fitful sleep but was up at first light watching for the sails on the horizon. From time to time, she’d glance forward, searching for the land of Louat. A journey that normally would have taken days to make had passed in less than a day.
As soon as she’d seen the fleet, she’d sent word to Ontarem to recall the army from the plain. Pasinae could only hope the God’s blind focus to all but His war with His brother would not extend to the threat of an invasion of His city. Without the army’s protection, the people were doomed. She wouldn’t let herself think about what would happen if Ontarem were rendered powerless by the decimation of His people.
Finally, a dark mass smudged the horizon. With relief Pasinae watched the land loom larger.
She left the stern, and walked hand-over-hand along the railing to reach the bow. From time to time, she’d turn to check on the progress of the ships behind them, but as Ontarem’s power grew stronger the closer they sailed to Penutar, so too could the God push back the other ships. The fleet from Ocean’s Glory soon stopped gaining on them and fell behind.
Yadarius had held back the power of the tidal waves she was sure He’d used against the Triangle Islands. She had no doubt one would soon hit Pentar. But the SeaGod had to be careful of His own ships, and unlike the Triangle Islands
with their towns on the shorefront, Penutar was built on the cliffs, with Ontarem’s temple in the middle. She’d be safe once she made it to the top. Or so she hoped.
But will there be enough time for our army to march back from Drayleth?
The dock came in sight—a long stone quay with several buildings used for storage of goods and the housing of the dockworkers and a priest of Ontarem. She was relieved that her God had anticipated her arrival and instructed the priest to have the derli carriage waiting.
As soon as they docked, she moved to the side of the ship by the gangplank.
The captain joined her.
Pasinae hadn’t learned his name, nor did she care to now. “Once I disembark, engage the enemy.” She turned her back on him before he could respond.
The crew rolled down the gangplank. Once they’d secured the end. Pasinae gingerly made her way down to the dock.
A priest strolled out of the building on the quay, a young one she didn’t know. “Welcome home, Trine Priestess,” he called, moving as if he had all the time in the world.
She ignored him and hurried toward the carriage. He’d be dead soon.
Her normal driver, a small, shriveled man, waited on the seat. He glanced behind her searching for her luggage.
Pasinae shook her head and scrambled into the passenger seat without waiting for him to help her up. “Go,” she ordered. “As fast as you can. There’s a tidal wave coming, and if we’re not at the top of the cliff by the time it hits…” She didn’t need to finish her sentence.
Fear leapt into his eyes. He flicked the reins, and the pair of horses began to plod up the steep path. The driver took the whip. “Aha,” he yelled, and snapped the thong over their heads.
The horses picked up the pace.
This time the tip of the whip flicked the horses’ backs, and they pulled away.
Pressed against the seat by the incline, Pasinae twisted to the right to peer over the ocean. To her relief, it seemed as though the sails hadn’t gotten closer. Good. She closed her eyes and leaned back, opening her connection with Ontarem.
Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Page 34