Indaran nodded his understanding. “Khan!” He shouted for his brother-in-law, who was giving last minute instructions to his archers, and waved for him to come over.
With a raise of his hand, Khan signaled an acknowledgment. He rode his horse closer.
“Can Shad and Shir do some reconnaissance?” Indaran asked, the Outworlder word Khan had taught him feeling strange on his tongue. “To make sure Ontarem hasn’t held back some soldiers or hidden them somewhere?”
Khan nodded. He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle.
Shad and Shir, perched on the top poles of the tents, took to the air and headed straight for them, dipping to hover about three feet in the air in front of Khan.
Khan made a series of gestures and combined them with the mental imagery he used to communicate with the animals.
The two monkey-bats chittered, each pointing with one tail in the direction they planned to observe—Shad to the left, and Shir to the right. They swung their second tails in a curving motion to indicate how they’d return.
In spite of his worry, Indaran couldn’t help feeling amused by the creatures…Maybe when this is over, Jasmine and I can add two-tailed monkey-bats to our family. The thought lightened his spirits.
He turned in his saddle and glanced behind him at the healing area set up just outside the forest to the right of the tents, where he could see his wife organizing her helpers. She, Anza, and half of the clan healers and their helpers planned to operate what Jasmine termed a field hospital near the battle. Sha-na and the other half would work in the clearing near Arvintor. This morning, he and Jasmine had argued about her decision to put herself near the danger—the first fight of their marriage.
When fear for her made Indaran insist she remain with Arvintor, safe in the midst of Exonlah, his usually compliant wife had dug in her heels. When he’d tried a direct command, pointing out that he was her husband and and king, and she should obey him, Jasmine retorted that she wasn’t yet a citizen of Seagem and would go wherever the wounded needed her. Knowing she was right, he’d given in. But he’d carry worry for her with him into the battle.
As frustrated and afraid as Jasmine made him, Indaran couldn’t help feeling pride in her. His wife, strong in conviction and compassion, would make a fitting queen for Seagem. She’d changed so much in the short time since she’d arrived in Kimtair, and he wanted nothing more than a long, peaceful life with her at his side.
Please, Yadarius! Indaran prayed. He spared another moment of gratitude for the renewed connection with the SeaGod. He turned to face forward and saw Shad arrow onto Khan’s outstretched arm.
Shir aimed in his direction.
Indaran just had time to throw up his hand, so she could land on his shoulder. “Good girl.” He stroked her head. He and Jasmine had enjoyed playing with the two animals, and the monkey-bats had adopted them as second “parents.”
Shir preened under his fingers. She stared at him with intelligent eyes and sent him some fuzzy images of empty grassland.
Surprised, he glanced at Khan. Neither monkey-bat had attempted mental communication with him before.
His brother-in-law grinned and scratched under Shad’s chin. “They’re quite something, aren’t they?” His expression sobered. “Shad reports only emptiness.”
“Same for Shir.”
“Ready?” Khan asked the monkey-bat. He must have received an answer for he tossed the animal into the air.
Indaran did likewise. For a moment, he worried about the missing enemy, and then shrugged. He didn’t like not knowing where Ontarem’s other soldiers were, but all he could concern himself with right now was the battle heading his way.
We’re still outnumbered.
~ ~ ~
Hot and uncomfortable in her heavy uniform, Daria watched Ontarem’s soldiers approach, a solid ominous line growing nearer, the ground rumbling with the sound of marching feet. Something about the men seemed different, taller? She squinted, wishing she had a spyglass. In a few more minutes, as the miniature figures grew larger, she realized the first rows carried pikes and long-handled hooks shaped like man-sized shepherd’s hooks.
Dread skittered down her spine. They’ve figured out how to counter our mounted attack. We’ve just lost some of our advantage. She glanced at her brother, but his expression remained impassive. He made an engage sign to Khan who signaled the start of battle with his attack.
In one fluid motion, her mate drew and released, sending the arrow whizzing straight and true to pierce the heart of a soldier in the opposite line. The man crumpled to the ground, and another stepped forward and took his place.
Ocean’s Glory archers fired their first round straight ahead, dropping soldiers in the front lines. Then, in their second round, arrows arched across the sky like a shower of splinters. The Che-da-wah were the first to move—charging the enemy line, throwing spears as they galloped by, only to peel off to the right or left, depending on which side of the battlefield they were on. They raced back in a wide arc to grab a new spear from the adolescents holding armloads of them and started all over.
Daria tried to close her ears to the screams of the wounded. She kept her attention divided between the fighting and her swordsmen, making sure they stayed in formation, engaging only on her orders. As the each archer used up his supply of arrows, he dropped behind the rest of the shooters, and ran to the back to ease into the last line. Only then would he pull out his sword.
As the enemy army pressed forward, she marked each officer on his mount and tried to spot in the enemy ranks some of the men they’d saved, but couldn’t recognize any.
Her othersense thrummed, pulling her attention to the back of the enemy formation to a man mounted on a gray horse.
As if sensing her attention, he turned his head and made eye contact across the battlefield. You will be my God’s! She heard the thought as strongly as if he’d spoken it aloud not three feet away from her.
He’s so strong! He must be the other Trine Priest. Daria tried to block her reaction, to keep him from sensing any fear. She pulled up her anger, used the strength of her defiance to gather her othersense power, and hurled a response at him. Go ahead and try!
~ ~ ~
Wearing scarves tied over their heads to keep their hair back, Jasmine and Anza knelt over a Seagem soldier. The Archpriestess tried to stem the blood flow from a slice that had almost severed the man’s leg, while Jasmine carefully knit the two halves together. The process was time consuming, and, as she worked, Jasmine was aware of the press of the other wounded who needed her. I’m not the only healer, she reminded herself. I can’t rush this.
Once her patient was stable, and she’d saved his leg, Jasmine waved to one of the adolescent Che-da-wah. He and his partner came running with a stretcher to take the soldier into Arvintor’s clearing, which they’d designated as the recovery center and place for further healing once a patient was stabilized.
Jasmine glanced over at the battlefield, trying to shield herself from the wounded and dying, to search for Indaran through the clash of the warriors and the dust kicked into the air from feet and hooves. She caught sight of the leader of Ontarem’s soldiers, remaining alone on his horse behind the action, a mounted man on either side of him.
She blinked, wiped her sleeve across her eyes, and blinked again, only to see the same sight—a man who looked just like the priest who’d briefly kidnapped her. Her body stilled. It can’t be. Indaran with the help of her monga, Shareef, had killed him.
He must be the brother…Nabric…the third of the Trine with Pasinae and Kokam!
She examined him with her othersense. This time Jasmine knew what to look for—the dark gray chord stretching from Nabric’s brain back to Penutar—to Ontarem—although this tentacle looked twice as thick as the ones the regular soldiers had with their God.
She and the Archpriestess exchanged glances, and Jasmine could tell by the expression on Anza’s face that she could see the tentacle too.
There must be a way we can save him. “If only we could sever him from the Evil One,” Jasmine said to the Archpriestess.
Anza grimaced. “We can’t get close. Doing so would be too dangerous.”
“Let’s try from here, Anza. Maybe if we combine our energy…with the aid of the Gods…”
The Archpriestess nodded. She reached over to take Jasmine’s hand in her long, thin fingers.
Jasmine gathered Anza’s power, green and powerful from her distant connection with Yadarius. She twined Anza’s with hers, the red and green ribboning together. She visualized a blade, like a knife, and sent the weapon hurling in the Trine Priest’s direction, thudding the point home near where the tentacle attached to Nabric’s brain.
For a moment, Jasmine breathed in relief that her tactic had worked. But a beat later, the weapon slid off from the thick cord, leaving no sign it had penetrated or caused any damage at all.
Unwilling to expend more power to try again, Jasmine disengaged, discouraged.
Anza pressed Jasmine’s hand before releasing. “We had to try.”
A man stumbled over to them, holding his arm to his shoulder. Blood dripped from beneath his hand.
Jasmine stepped up to heal him. As she set her hand on his shoulder, something made her glance over at the Trine Priest.
The man in the gray flowing robe sat on his horse, watching her like a hawk eyes a mouse.
Jasmine shivered, realizing she’d just made a serious mistake by drawing his attention to her. I’m protected. We have the whole army between us. But even as she tried to reassure herself, to focus on healing the soldier, she couldn’t completely contain her fear.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The pearl resting against Nabric’s forehead throbbed. He stayed safely behind his men—his attention divided between directing orders to several aides who raced his commands to the officers and funneling the battle energy to Ontarem.
Like a giant seasponge, Ontarem absorbed the power generated by the battle—the fear and pain and death of His men. Once the rain of arrows had passed, and the two armies came together with shouts and a mighty clash of metal-on-metal, the potent othersense of the dying defenders enriched the force channeling to Ontarem. Each wave magnified Ontarem’s strength, and Nabric gloried in his God’s satisfaction, as He in turn funneled power back to His Trine Priest.
With a flash of blond hair, Seagem’s king came into view, fighting in the middle of the battle, almost straight in front of him. Foolish for the leader to put himself in danger. The last time he’d seen the man, Indaran had been immobile on a pektat in the temple. And you will be so again.
Another blonde head, a woman fighting to the right, caught his attention. Nabric touched the pearl at his forehead to bring her into sight. Ah. From his sister’s description, he beheld Princess Daria. He dropped his arm and settled back in the saddle. Seagem’s princess wielded her sword with unexpected skill. He imagined her immobile on a pektat. You will be my God’s, he sent the message to her.
As if she’d heard him, Daria jerked her head up to glare at him.
The strength of his sending amazed Nabric, until he remembered his brother. With Kokam’s death, he’d absorbed half of his brother’s ability. For a moment, he toyed with how he’d feel if he could control Pasinae’s as well but dismissed the idea. He wasn’t ready for his sister to die. Yet.
Go ahead and try!
Daria’s defiant rejoinder displeased him. Perhaps the princess would also serve as a vessel for Nabric’s progeny. With such a strong mother, his offspring would well serve the God. But first she must be punished. Taught to obey me. Nabric touched the pearl...
Something thumped against the side of his head, unsettling him and disturbing his thoughts. His tether to Ontarem shuddered. Through the pearl, Ontarem’s protections around Nabric’s cord thickened. Forgetting Daria for the moment, he turned to see from whence the attack had originated.
Behind the battlefield, he saw two women holding hands, their immense combined power directed against him. He dismissed the older, lesser one as fit for a pektat, but the younger…As strong as the princess, although her othersense had a different flavor, rich with healing ability. He wanted her.
Time to take action. Nabric signaled to his aides, who ran to notify the men carrying unlit torches. When he had the attention of each one, he slashed his arm forward.
Ten torches flamed in a half circle around the front of his army.
Nabric touched the pearl and sent energy to each one, increasing their heat and deadliness.
The men tossed the burning brands high and far, and the torches flew into the air, landing on the ground with showers of sparks. With loud poofs, the dry grass ignited into an inferno.
Defenders shouted and ran to stomp out the flames.
With a wave, Nabric made a bonfire surge at each spot, torching the nearest people. Their screams of agony cut through the air. Smoke billowed, obscuring the battlefield. Reveling in his power and his control, he fanned the flames, darkened the smoke.
Once he was hidden from sight, Nabric made his move. He signaled for a bodyguard to come to him and with a few words sketched out his plan. Followed by the guard, he galloped around the fires toward the vulnerable energy signatures he could sense as strongly as if he could see them.
~ ~ ~
Jasmine coughed from the smoke, which clogged her nose and mouth. As soon as Drayleth ignited into a conflagration, burn victims started pouring into the field hospital—some ambulatory and others helped by their comrades. The healers worked tirelessly to soothe the pain and heal the wounded.
Edd, a burly Seagem soldier who was fond of Shareef and often carried her monga around, was hauled over by two of the nomads, holding his arms and legs. They deposited his charred body in front of her and ran back to the battle.
Jasmine reached for Edd’s arm, but before she could send her energy into his blackened body, he died. She felt a brush across her cheek as if he’d touched her on his way to the Hall of Yadarius. With a gasp of protest, she made an othersense grab for his soul but ended up snatching her hand away. She knew, even if she could call back the dying, pulling Edd into his ravaged body would be wrong, no matter how her healer’s instincts prompted her to intervene.
Jasmine couldn’t stop to mourn a good man who loved animals. For she had more who needed her help, but she left her hand on Edd’s arm for a few other seconds and blessed his soul on his journey. She started to rise but while still bent over, heard the sound of hoofbeats. An arm scooped her up, squeezing the breath out of her. The Trine Priest, she knew as soon as he touched her.
Nabric tossed her into the saddle in front of him, and she landed sideways facing the scene of carnage—the sight and stench of blood and guts, the cries of the wounded and dying, which she could do nothing to assuage. Her stomach clenched.
Her mind flashed back to Kokam kidnapping her, to the pearl he’d worn on a necklace, which had paralyzed her with its touch. Not this time. Jasmine thrashed, elbowing him in the side, and drumming on his mount’s neck with her heels.
The horse bird-hopped, unbalancing Nabric. He had to grip hard with his legs to right himself, pulling Jasmine back to center.
She screamed for Indaran, knowing he couldn’t see her through the thick smoke. Then she shouted for him with her othersense.
Another horse appeared through the smoke, and Jasmine had a brief spurt of hope, until she saw one of the enemy officers carrying a struggling Anza.
The women made eye contact, exchanging a silent message.
Jasmine kicked Nabric’s horse again to distract him and grabbed for the line of power Anza tossed her. In her mind, she reached for both Gods’ power, formed the othersense saw, and drew the blade along the Trine Priest’s tentacle. But as strongly as she pulled and pushed the tool, she couldn’t even penetrate the surface of the thick rubbery protuberance.
~ ~ ~
Roe-al and Jora had just thrown their spears, killing two of the enemy,
and made the wide turn to head to the back of the ranks when the firebursts flared around them. Darklady whinnied in fear. Both his horse and Jora’s gelding Hadded shied to the left. The dried grass blazed higher than Roe-al thought possible, and smoke billowed across their path.
Jora coughed. “Roe-al,” she yelled over the noise of the battle. “This smoke isn’t good for the baby.” Her eyes, usually so confident, were filled with fear.
What baby? He glanced around as if to see a child crawling underfoot or hoof, but when he turned back to Jora, he saw she held her hand protectively over her stomach.
An overwhelming flash of joy was followed by the feeling of a herd of horses galloping over his chest. Terror made him lean over and grab Hadded’s reins. “You will leave now! Protect yourself and our babe. Go to Arvintor.”
Eyes wide, she nodded. “I love you.”
He slapped a hand to his chest. “You’re my heart.” He released the reins and smacked Hadded on the rump.
Jora kneed the horse, galloping wide away from the smoke and flames.
Roe-al wiped his stinging eyes and watched until he was sure she’d ridden far enough to be safe, then he turned back to the battle, searching for a Che-da-wah spear-carrier. But in the smoke-obscured chaos of the battle, he couldn’t find one. He grabbed his long knife from the sheath strapped to his leg just above his knee.
The smoke parted. On the other side of the fighting, Roe-al spied a man—a priest from his robe—galloping toward the back of the enemy lines, with Jasmine struggling in his arms. He let out a Che-da-wah war cry, wheeled his horse, and raced across the battlefield after his friend, slashing with his knife at the face of an enemy who got too close.
With relief, he saw Porval-nic coming from the opposite side in close pursuit of Jasmine’s captor, his spear poised to throw. The South Clan man would reach Jasmine before Roe-al could.
With a wave of his hand, the priest gestured in his pursuer’s direction.
Fire spurted in front of Porval-nic, blazing higher than his head, and cutting him off. Instead of riding through the barrier, the cowardly South Clan man turned his horse to avoid the flames. By the time he went around the bonfire and cast his spear, it was too late, and the weapon flew harmlessly to the ground.
Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Page 36