Just before she touched Him, she realized why the ships had dropped back. The tidal wave is about to hit.
~ ~ ~
The captain shouted orders, and sailors scurried to lower the sails. When Thaddis glanced at the other ships, he could see the rest of the fleet was doing the same thing.
With the slowing of the vessel, Sadie pushed out of his arms, and moved several feet away, her back stiff.
He missed the close contact with her.
“I couldn’t make out what the captain said. Why are we stopping?” Sadie asked, the first words she’d said to him in hours.
“So the tidal wave can hit the land before we sail too close and risk becoming caught in the pull. Even Yadarius, with His command of the water, will have to expend much energy working in Ontarem’s territory. If He also has to protect our ships…”
She nodded her understanding, but didn’t move closer.
He wondered what was wrong.
“We have tidal waves on my world. And no SeaGod to control them. We call them tsunamis. They can cause such devastation... After the last one, a lot of information about them circulated on the…” She shook her head. “Anyway, I read about tsunamis.” She pointed to the cliff. “If there’s a steep drop off on shore, the wave will build in strength and size. Yadarius may not even have to work too hard…for a God, that is…to make one the size he wants.”
In awe, Thaddis watched the tidal wave build in height, growing higher than the cliff and hoped tsunami, as Sadie called it, would take out the opposition.
Through his othersense, Thaddis felt the SeaGod coil His power.
Yadarius raised His trident, then brought it crashing down.
The wave smashed up and over the cliff. When the water receded, the seadogs’ ship was no longer moored at the dock.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The flagship berthed at the quay, washed clean by the tidal wave, leaving only the stone of the dock and the buildings intact. As long boats rowed in men, weapons, and supplies from the vessels anchored in the harbor, the captain approached Sadie and Thaddis carrying a tube that was as long as he was tall. A sailor walked behind him, hefting a square wooden box. Both stopped in front of Thaddis.
The captain gave him a short bow. “With Withea’s compliments, Lord Commander Thaddis. The Archpriest bade me give these to you before you disembarked in Penutar.” He held out the tube.
“What are they?”
“I don’t know. But he bade me to tell you to use them only in Ontarem’s presence and to let no one other than yourself touch the bare metal.”
Curious, Thaddis took the tube, which was heavier than it appeared. He twisted off the end and carefully reached inside, feeling something hard under a covering of padded velvet. He pulled out the long, thin object and laid it on the deck. The padding proved to be a carrying case of emerald green velvet—Seagem’s colors—with a long strap and two ties used as a closure.
Thaddis untied the strings and unrolled the fabric to expose a gray spear with strange markings on the shaft. Something about the metal made him reluctant to further examine the runes. He re-wrapped the spear and stood. “Hold this for me.” He handed the weapon to the captain.
With a grimace, the man gingerly held the spear away from his body, as if it would turn into a snake and bite him.
Thaddis took the box from the sailor and set it on the deck. When he flicked open the clasp and lifted the lid, he saw a large pouch made of the same material as the covering for the spear. This time, when he ran his fingers over the velvety surface, he could discern a helmet lay within, and his othersense jangled at touching the evil object. He didn’t want to undo the string holding the pouch closed, much less think of wearing the thing.
With both hands, he lifted the bundle and saw two strips of cloth attached to one side.
“A backpack.” Sadie took the straps from him and held the pouch in front of her. “What’s inside?”
“A helmet. I can’t even bear to open the covering.”
Sadie glanced from the spear to the helmet. “You can’t hold both and keep your hands free to fight. I’ll carry the helmet on my back.”
Thaddis wanted to protest, but Sadie was right. He couldn’t do both. He glared at the evil object. “I shudder just thinking about wearing that thing on my head, putting myself in Ontarem’s control that way.”
“Hopefully, you won’t have to.” She tried to sound matter of fact, but her eyes looked worried.
As much as Thaddis agreed with Sadie’s statement, his othersense told him differently. The time would come, and soon, when he’d have to don Ontarem’s helmet.
~ ~ ~
As the derli carriage careened down the main road of Penutar, the horses’ hooves pounding on the stone street, their sides lathered, Pasinae gripped the side so she wouldn’t be thrown about. They passed an older man collapsed in front of a fish shop, then a child crumbled at the foot of a pillar, and a pregnant woman, belly distended against her gray robe, sprawled in the middle of the road.
Some kind of illness?
The driver slowed and guided the horses around the human obstacle. Apparently feeling they’d gotten far enough for safety, he didn’t urge the horses to full speed.
Pasinae leaned forward. “Why are these people laying in the street? Are they sick?”
He shrugged and shook his head, unable to meet her gaze. “Someone will remove them before too long,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Dissatisfied with his response, Pasinae probed with her othersense and received an answer. Those who’d collapsed lacked any spiritual energy. They were attached to life only by the slightest threads, and as she watched, their cords unraveled further. She could feel the faint beat of their hearts, but knew even that physical function would extinguish in minutes.
She bit her lip, shaken to her very core. Ontarem is draining His people to death.
They passed the open-air market, usually the busiest place in the city. Today was no exception. The smell of roasting nuts drifted over to her, a favorite childhood treat. The rich scent brought back the memory of the crunch of the hot kernels, her mother playfully slapping her hands away from the fire when she tried to sneak some from the vendor’s grill. Pasinae eagerly searched the marketplace for anything else that reminded her of those long-forgotten times, for she certainly hadn’t frequented the market once she’d gone to live in the temple.
The small stalls of the vendors displayed sparse selections, and the people wandering the aisles looked thin and drawn. A child wavered and sank to her knees, tattered robe pooling around her. The mother, her face anxious, leaned to pick her up, hugging her tight. The girl’s robe hitched up, showing stick-thin legs.
Her stomach clenched. Pasinae didn’t care if the God chose to drain the life from the seadogs. Previously, she wouldn’t have thought she cared much about anyone besides Ontarem, and to some extent, her brothers. But, she flashed back to the hallucinations she’d experienced in the Cave of Crystals—seeing visions of her parents, remembering the love and closeness of their family—made her discover a hithertofore unknown feeling of connection with, perhaps even a sense of ownership for, the citizens of Penutar. They’re My people.
And my God is killing them.
She tried to force her mind back into the old mold—that whatever Ontarem wanted, whatever act the God did—was right. But she couldn’t see how destroying His people—His loyal power base—would benefit Him. Unless, He didn’t care who did the worshiping, as long as His needs and wishes were provided for. Would that concept hold true for His priests and priestesses as well? What about His Trine? Would He be equally satisfied if Daria, for example, willingly took my place?
Before she could answer yes to her own question, a rumbling sound and an ominous feeling of dread made Pasinae lean out of the carriage to look behind her.
Down the street at the cliff edge, she saw the crest of the tidal wave appear—higher than she’d expected, than she’d believed even possibl
e. Her heart jumped. “Go!” She screamed at the driver.
The man whipped the horses, and they lurched forward.
But even the increased speed of the carriage was too slow. Pasinae watched the water wash around the buildings nearest the cliff and race down the main street as if it were a river. People screamed and ran. The woman with the child slipped and fell, losing her hold on the girl, then shrieked as her child was swept away, to wedge against the side of a building.
Acting on instinct, Pasinae scrambled to her feet, ducking around the overhang of the derli shell canopy. She faced backwards and propped her arms on the ridged top, squeezing with her elbows to keep her balance on the bouncing vehicle, while she held her hands up in a stopping motion. Pushing with her othersense, she visualized damming back the water. As she thrust her power in front of her, she simultaneously yanked from Ontarem’s reserves.
The wave paused as if frozen, held in place by her strength. She continued to press her energy against the wall of water, her muscles quivering with the strain. Slowly, the water ebbed over the cliff and back into the sea, leaving slick streets and flotsam in its wake.
Exhausted, Pasinae dropped her arms to relieve the throbbing. The carriage cut to the left, and she lost her balance, toppling over the side. She made a grab for the edge of the roof, but her hands slipped off. She tumbled out of the carriage, realizing with horror she was going to land on the stone street. Dredging up the last of her power, she slowed her landing, but still hit hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs.
Flat on her back in six inches of salty water, Pasinae felt the jar of landing on the street on her back, hip, and shoulder. In shock, she took a minute to take stock of what had just happened. Her body throbbed in pain, and cold invaded her muscles. Before her mind started to work again, she heard the sound of running footsteps. Gentle hands helped Pasinae to her feet. Several people surrounded her, and more ran over. Trembling, she allowed them to steady her.
Quiet expressions of praise and gratitude flowed from the people around her.
“You saved us, Trine Priestess.”
“Praised be to the God you were here.”
“You held back the ocean!”
That last sentence was uttered by an older man holding onto her elbow. The respect in his brown eyes, so different from the forced deference she usually received from the citizens of Penutar, softened Pasinae’s heart toward him.
The woman whose child was swept from her arms, rushed over, carrying her daughter. “Thank you, Trine Priestess. Thank you for our lives.”
The sopping wet child turned her head to watch Pasinae, her big brown eyes frightened and teary.
From multiple directions, people surrounded her, daring to place the tips of their fingers on her body. Before she could shake them off, tiny spurts of energy flowed into her. Shocked, Pasinae realized these people, even the mother holding her daughter, already depleted to gauntness by Ontarem’s demands, were sharing the minute bits of their life energy—taken from their own debilitated bodies—all the sweeter for being given with love and gratitude.
Her pain faded, and her heart filled. She’d never experienced anything like the mild gifts of power from these people, not even during the times of the strongest connection with her God.
“Are you all right, Trine Priestess?” asked the young woman with her hand on Pasinae’s hip.
“Yes.” Pasinae had to swallow against a suddenly thick throat before she could speak more. “Yes, I am. My thanks, good people.” Her gaze swept them. She reached out to stroke the child’s cheek, pulling on Ontarem to provide the little one some much-needed energy. The potential strength of the girl’s othersense astonished her. “She should be in the temple, training to become a priestess.”
The mother swung the girl away. Her othersense was equally as strong as her daughter’s. “Please don’t take Tashta from me. She’s all I have left.”
Pasinae pursed her lips. The child belonged with Ontarem. She was much the same age as Pasinae and her brothers had been when they’d begun their training. She gave the woman a reluctant nod. “The temple’s not the safest place now, anyway.”
A withered crone with thin gray braids and a tattered robe wet from the knees down, hobbled over, cupped Pasinae’s cheek, and looked up at her with shining eyes. “Your mother will be so proud.”
Stunned by the intimate touch, Pasinae took a moment to absorb the words. When their meaning seeped into her dazed mind, she grabbed the woman’s wrist and pulled her a few feet away from the others before letting go. “You know my mother?”
“And you too, dearling, from the day you were born.” She tapped Pasinae’s nose with a gnarled finger.
The gesture felt familiar somehow, and Pasinae’s heart beat faster. “Who are you?”
“Rebda, dearling. I’ve lived next door to your family these thirty years. You were always such a sweet child. So kind and considerate. You’d keep me company, help me bake cookies. But those brothers of yours…” She rolled her eyes and threw up her hand. “Such mischief-makers.”
A wave of dizziness washed over Pasinae.
“After you three were taken from her, your mother cried every day for months.” The woman shook her head. “And your father had the saddest look in his eyes, as if the life had gone out of him. He passed on to Ontarem’s Hall five years ago. Your mother always watches the main road, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of you riding by. Kokam’s death hit her hard. But she saw Nabric a few days ago, and that perked up her spirits. She hadn’t seen him in so long.
All those times she’d driven through the streets of the city on the way to or from the harbor, barely noticing the people going about their daily business. In her arrogance she’d dismissed them as beneath her notice, their drab lives uninteresting. Shame curled in her belly. If only she’d eagerly searched the crowd, gone among them even, would she have seen her mother or her father?
The woman babbled on. “Your sister’s birth eased their pain.”
A sister. Pasinae’s knees weakened.
“And now she has a son of her own, just as much of a handful as your brothers, although thank Ontarem, there’s only one of him. Lately though, he’s been ill. Your mother, too. I worry about them. But there’s not much I can do.” She gave Pasinae a wry smile. “I don’t feel like I used to, either.”
Ill! That fact cut through her befuddled mind. She had no doubt their sickness was caused by Ontarem’s drain. She straightened. “Thank you for telling me. Where do you live?”
“On the baker’s street, Pasinae. The same as always.”
A clear memory took her back to childhood—playing in the street with her brothers and their friends, the fragrant scent of baking bread lingering in the air. “I remember.” A sense of foreboding seized her. She grasped the woman’s hand. “Hasten back. Tell my mother, my sister and her child to get in the house and stay inside. You too.” She paused and bit her lip. “And give my mother my regards. I’ll visit her soon. Hurry, now.”
The woman nodded, but her eyes looked bewildered.
Pasinae raised her voice. “An invasion comes.” Extending an arm, she pointed to the sea. “Stay away from the temple and sequester yourself in your homes. Don’t try to fight. The invaders will focus only on the soldiers, unless given a target.” She hoped her words were true—that Ocean’s Glory wouldn’t sack Penutar in revenge for Seagem. “Spread the word to your neighbors to do likewise. Now go!”
The woman squeezed her hand, bunched up her ragged robe, and tottered down the street. Before they scattered, the people closed in on Pasinae again, giving her tender pats. Then they scooped up children, or aided the elderly or injured, and hurried home.
The derli carriage pulled to a stop in front of her. The driver set the break and swung down, his face scrunched with fear. “Trine Priestess, please forgive me. I didn’t know you’d fallen out of the carriage, or I would have stopped sooner.”
Normally, Pasinae would have blasted him, but after he
r battle with the tidal wave, the subsequent encounter with the townsfolk, and learning about her family, she felt only a strange sense of weariness. “Help me back up. Then make all speed to the temple.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Hot winds blew over Drayleth, and the milky pale light of dawn grayed the world around them. Overnight, the grassy plain had changed from verdant green to brown stalks that crackled under feet or hooves, sending the scent of dry grass into the parched air.
Indaran’s patchwork army lined up as they’d practiced for the last two days, similar to how they’d engaged in the initial skirmish—except this time, Indaran intended for them to attack both flanks of the enemy instead of one. Archers on foot stood in the front, ready to drop back when the enemy drew too close or they ran out of arrows. The swordsmen spaced themselves behind the first row of archers. Mounted Che-da-wah—including the four men from Ocean’s Glory whom Khan had judged competent enough with bow and arrow to shoot on horseback—bunched in two groups, one to the right and one on the left of the field.
Indaran sat astride his black horse and extended his father’s spyglass. He raised the instrument to his eye to see Ontarem’s army marching toward them. He swept the viewer over the ranks, surprised to see fewer soldiers than he’d expected.
How can that be? Indaran lowered the scope and let it dangle from the chain around his neck. He glanced over at Roe-al on his horse with Jora mounted on the other side. “The army’s half as big as I think it should be according to Jasmine’s report of the number of soldiers Ontarem sent here, the amount we or Ontarem killed in the last skirmish, and the estimate you think the Che-da-wah have whittled away. Is there any way the Evil One’s forces could come at us from the side or behind?”
Roe-al shook his head. “Drayleth is on a plain between a great canyon and the sea, with Exonlah at the foot between the two. Ontarem’s soldiers can only come straight at us. And with the grass withered, hiding more than a few scattered people would be difficult.”
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