Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  He studied the pit. In an area no bigger than his bow writhed a shiny, sucking mass, looking like some combination of slimy tan centipede and jellyfish. If he were in a Star Trek episode, he’d say the little animals had stumbled into a Klingon’s meal. Gagh or some such food name. Good as anything to describe the worms. They seemed to possess suction, because like quicksand, the gagh slowly dragged down the trapped animal.

  As the gagh surrounded its shoulders, the little monkey-bat whimpered.

  Khan crouched, making eye contact. The stench of the gagh gagged him. Three-day-old fish smelled better. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you, ole fellow,” he crooned. Setting aside his arrow, he held out the bow. “Here, grab this.”

  The animal flinched, letting out a mew of fear.

  He’d read somewhere that animals communicate mentally in pictures, and he tried to visualize the monkey-bat grasping the bow.

  As if understanding, the animal grabbed the end of the bow. Then it chittered at Khan. Hurry, hurry, was the impression he received.

  “Hold tight. I’m going to tug you. Easy now.” While Khan spoke, he exerted gentle pressure, but although the monkey-bat’s arm stretched to a full extension, the small body didn’t move.

  “All right. We’re going to have to do this the trusting way.” Slowly Khan leaned over, hoping the gagh wouldn’t develop some squirting poison or leaping suction ability, and clamped his right hand around the spindly arm. Soft fur, like a cat’s, slid under his palm. He took away the bow and tossed it aside. Then he reached and, with his left hand, grasped the monkey-bat’s other arm. “Here goes.”

  Not knowing how fragile the creature’s arms were, he tried for a steady pull.

  The monkey-bat screamed as if in pain, but the body moved an inch, shoulders appearing above the gagh.

  Khan winced. He’d have to risk touching the gagh. Walking his fingers up the animal’s furry arms, he slipped his hands, palm up, under the shoulders. The gagh brushed the back of his hands and latched onto his skin. Like the slimy jellyfish he’d likened them to, they left behind a sharp sting. He gritted his teeth against the pain and ignored them.

  The monkey-bat chittered again, seeming to urge him to hurry. “All right, ole fellow. Here goes.” He yanked up the little body. With a long sucking sound, the gagh released its prey. The loss of resistance tumbled Khan onto his back, the monkey-bat clasped in his arms. The quiver of arrows crunched under his shoulder, and he hoped he hadn’t broken any fletches.

  Instead of struggling to be released, the animal lay across his chest like a sleeping baby, obviously exhausted.

  Khan held still a few seconds and, without moving his body, raised his arms, tearing the clinging gagh off him and the monkey-bat and tossing them back into the pit. Then, with great care, he rolled to a sitting position. “Let’s look at you.” He loosened his hold.

  The animal mewed in protest.

  Khan had been right about the monkey body, although two large lumps on its back must make the creature look hunchbacked when upright. A tail uncurled and waved at him. A prehensile tail. Then another joined the first. Two tails.

  “So you’re a two-tailed monkey-bat. Your official species name. What do you think about that?”

  One tail waved like a cat’s. Great. What did that mean? He’d had a lifetime’s experience watching cats communicate with their tails, but damned if he ever knew what they were saying. That is, except for that tail-thumping against the floor when they were annoyed.

  “I want to take you home with me, old fellow. Bathe you in the pool—” he visualized the pool at the goddess’s shrine in the compound “—put some medicine on you. Make you all better.”

  The little head lifted. Anxious blue eyes searched his face. Then letting out what sounded like a sigh, the monkey-bat laid its head back on Khan’s chest.

  That settles that.

  Cradling the monkey-bat against his shoulder, he rolled into a kneeling position.

  With a screech, the second monkey-bat launched itself into the air and flew to hover over Nika’s head.

  Wings. Those bumps on the monkey-bat’s back were wings. Golden-colored bat wings. He’d given the little creatures the right name.

  The second one seemed bigger, but that could be because its fur wasn’t slimed against the thin body. The flying one also had bumps that could be male genitals. As if scolding him, the monkey-bat chittered at Khan, tails pointed in a V. But Khan received the impression that he was warned to be careful, rather than told to put down the injured one.

  “Make yourself useful,” he told the flying one. “Keep an eye out for reptile-dogs, while I take care of getting us home.” He sent a mind picture of the reptile-dogs to the monkey-bat.

  The monkey-bat shivered in his arms. The bigger one screeched, high-pitched and shrill, but seemed to obey, lofting higher and turning its head back and forth as if scanning the area.

  These two must be mates. He thought of the family legend of Shir and Shad, ancestors who’d fled a long-ago tribal war across an arid desert. They’d had many adventures, saving each other’s lives several times. When they’d finally found safety, they married, founding Khan’s dynasty. Appropriate names for these two.

  “What do you say?” he said to the one he cuddled in his arms. “Shall I call you, Shir? I’m going to assume you’re a girl.”

  He received no answer. The creature remained limp.

  Holding Shir against his chest with one arm, he scooped up the loose arrow and stuck it in his quiver. Then he looped the bow over the same shoulder and mounted Nika.

  A howl split the silence of the afternoon, followed by sharp yips.

  Reptile dogs.

  With a screech, the bigger monkey-bat dove at Nika, claws outstretched.

  The horse shied, trotting sideways.

  Caught off guard, his hands full with Shir, Khan made a grab for the reins, but they slithered out of reach.

  Shad maneuvered around, making another pass at them.

  He’s trying to herd us away from the reptile-dogs.

  Shad’s paws clipped Nika’s ear.

  The horse leapt over a small crumbling wall. Instead of landing on solid ground, Nika’s legs sank into a mass of jelly-like worms.

  Another gagh pit. A bigger one, trapping Nika to his withers. The horse thrashed, sinking deeper.

  Swinging one leg over, Khan jumped free.

  Through Nika’s frightened whinnies, the yips of the reptile-dogs sounded closer.

  The noise sent a spear of fear through Khan. Nika was helpless in the gagh pit.

  Setting down Shir, he leaned forward to grab the reins, yanking them over Nika’s head. “Steady, boy. Steady.”

  Shad darted upward into the air. The animal’s tails twisted. One pointed in the direction of the sounds, the other at Khan. Then Shad dove to hover above his companion, chittering as if to chivy her into the air.

  Shir mewed, but didn’t move.

  Khan tugged on the reins and grabbed the mane to help pull. “Come on, Nika.”

  The horse waded forwarded, his progress measured in inches.

  Another howl.

  “Hurry, boy.”

  Grunting with every thwarted lunge, Nika edged closer to the end of the pit.

  Khan reached over, rubbing Nika’s head. “Almost there, boy. Just a little further.”

  Nika neighed.

  “That’s it. Come on, now.”

  The horse scrambled out, his legs slicked with slime. A few gagh clung to his hide. Head lowered, Nika shivered.

  Khan yanked off the suckers, scooped up Shir, and vaulted onto Nika’s back.

  Nudging the horse’s sides, they headed for the park. He needed his hands free, so he shoved Shir inside his robe.

  The monkey-bat mewed in protest.

  “Sorry, little one. But I have to.”

  Nika had to move more slowly than Khan wanted, winding around unfamiliar clumps of ruins and between tottering walls. He didn’t dare risk further inju
ry to the horse. Then they’d really be in trouble.

  He rode with one ear cocked behind him, listening for the reptile-dogs. Hearing their howls sent shivers down his spine.

  Then came the sound he’d dreaded. Yapping. Close. Right behind them. He pulled an arrow from the quiver, readied to let-fly.

  A reptile-dog skidded around the corner.

  Shad shrieked and dove for the creature’s head.

  The reptile-dog twisted, jumping for Shad. The fanged jaws snapped shut, inches away from a dangling tail. But the vulnerable throat remained hidden.

  Khan dug his heels into Nika’s sides.

  The horse leapt forward, rounding another hillock.

  A brown goat-like creature broke from cover, skittering across their path.

  Nika shied, almost unseating Khan.

  He clung tight with his knees, bringing up his bow and arrow to aim at the goat weaving in front of them, frantic to escape.

  He shot.

  The animal collapsed.

  Nika galloped past.

  Looking over his shoulder, Khan saw the reptile-dog bound after them, but then skid to a stop in front of the downed animal. With a growl, the beast tore into the goat’s throat.

  They galloped around a broken wall, and the reptile dog disappeared from his sight. The howls and yips receded, but didn’t entirely fade into the distance.

  Nika slowed to a canter, then to a walk.

  In time, they edged past a stack of piled bricks and bent metal that Khan recognized as being near the compound, and he again urged the horse to quicken the pace. Once there, it took only a matter of moments to dismount, open the gate, tug Nika through, and slam it behind them.

  Shad flew over the barricade, following.

  Khan took a few seconds to release the breath he’d seemed to be holding for the last half-hour. Then, carrying Shir and leading Nika, he strode to the shrine, opening the inner gate for Nika to trot directly to the pool. The stallion tentatively stepped in.

  As always, the peace created by the lady’s presence welcomed him, and he knelt by the shallow pool and gently submerged Shir’s feet. Tiny claws extended, then relaxed. While this pool didn’t seem to have the healing powers of the hidden shrine, Khan had noticed the water still possessed tendencies to soothe and nourish.

  Shir seemed to agree. She wiggled out of Khan’s hands and into the pool, where she floated on her back, her wings extended to hold her up.

  Shad dropped from the air to splash next to her, his small hands patting her belly.

  Khan pulled off his boots and socks and waded out to join Nika. He scooped up the water, splashing the liquid on the horse to wash away the slime. To his relief, Nika’s legs appeared unmarked. The horse must not have been in the gagh long enough. But still he took time to soothe the horse, running his hands over Nika’s head and neck, crooning words of praise.

  Finally, Khan walked over to his pack, taking out a cloth and his first aid supplies. He held out some antiseptic and antibiotic ointment in front of the statue. “Unless you tell me no, I’m going to put these on Shir.”

  There wasn’t a response from the lady, so he assumed the human treatments would work.

  Returning to the pool, he settled down cross-legged by the side, waiting for the animals to reach their fill of the water.

  Shad tired first, climbing out to sniff at the medical supplies. Shaking off his wings, he sprinkled drops over Khan.

  Khan wiped them off, tempted to join Shir in the water. Then he glanced over at his unfinished work, too much to do before the evening bath.

  He reached over and scooped Shir out of the pool.

  She mewed in protest.

  Speaking calming words, he dried her off. “This is going to sting,” he warned before dribbling some antiseptic on a corner of the cloth and dabbing her body. She trembled, whimpered, but didn’t try to get away. Luckily her fur was short and thin, so the medicine penetrated. After he slathered on the ointment, he took her over to his bedroll and laid her on top.

  Shad jumped over and curled around her.

  “Let her rest,” Khan told Shad. “Sleep’s the best thing for her.”

  Standing up, he looked at the two animals for a few minutes, and then gazed at Daisy and Nika. He’d found more companions. Not bad for a man on the run, living in a deserted world. He frowned to himself as the mystery woman’s image popped back in his mind.

  Will the goddess and the animals provide the companionship I need?

  Watching the pair of monkey-bats nuzzle one another and mew softly, something ached inside him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Daria lay on her stomach on top of a large boulder, her elbows propped on the stone to allow her to look through the telescope.

  Micfal stayed with the horses in a cluster of greenstone boulders, while he waited for her surveillance report.

  The late spring sunshine radiated off the rock, and the stone’s pebbly surface dug into her hips, knees, and elbows. She ignored the discomfort, concentrating on the vista before her. In the distant valley, Daria could see black-clad riders the size of ants, scouring the countryside. Speckled over the lush green farmland, black and gray fire smudges hazed the violet sky—farmhouses and barns put to the torch.

  Daria and Micfal had ridden straight across the valley, pausing only to refresh the horses and rest themselves. They’d avoided stopping at any homes, knowing their presence would put the people at greater risk. Perhaps in the frantic search for Daria, Thaddis’s men would spare the farmers. But if the enemy knew they had taken refuge or brought warning to any of the inhabitants, they’d be tortured for information and killed.

  Now Daria realized they’d been naive in their belief that Thaddis might spare farmers in the valley. She doubted any of her people remained alive. Or at best, all they could hope for was a life of slavery, taken by the pirates to do their bidding.

  Her eyes burned, and her throat ached with unshed tears. Her very blood seemed to scream with agony as it raced through her veins. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to slide aside from her feelings and focus on her othersense. She needed to see what possible information her gift could give them.

  Daria concentrated on viewing the valley through her othersense. Like an amorphous gray map, the land spread before her, fuzzy black swirls dotting the area. Angry red streaks lightning-forked through certain areas—the lingering angry or fearful death-energy of the murdered people.

  She wanted to whisper a prayer that they’d find solace in Yadarius’s Hall, but who knew if the SeaGod dwelt there anymore? And could the murdered souls rest peacefully in the Hall of the God who’d betrayed them? The thought plagued her.

  Daria forced herself to focus on the swirly black blurs peppering the othersense map.

  She pinpointed the exact direction of one fuzzy shape, opened her eyes, and peered through the telescope. Ah, just as she’d suspected. The blackness corresponded with the location of a soldier. She closed her eyes, repeating the process in another place. Again, the same results. But why? She couldn’t pick up most people this way. Why the enemy?

  Practicing for a while, she realized she had read every one of the soldiers’ locations. To be sure, she reached closer before realizing the amorphous shapes were thinking about her.

  Could they feel her othersense scrutiny?

  Sweat breaking out on her forehead, Daria severed the connection and laid her head on her arms, taking deep breaths.

  Several minutes passed before she’d slowed her racing heartbeat and could think rationally. The soldiers would have to possess their own othersense abilities in order to locate her when she was sensing them. Since a strong gift was so rare, she doubted any had the ability. But they must be thinking about her with negative feelings. That’s why she could read them on the othersense map. However, Thaddis might have recruited someone skilled in the art. She’d better limit her own use, just in case.

  But she still needed to finish this task. First with the telescope, th
en with her othersense, she scanned the nearer vicinity.

  Nothing.

  They could take their rest. The enemy remained at least a day’s ride behind them. For once her othersense would be of help.

  A good thing, for we’ll need every bit of advantage to survive.

  ~ ~ ~

  Burrowed deep in a hidden cave, Micfal allowed them a fire for the first time in two weeks. The crackling flames flickered in the darkness, spreading warmth through the damp room. On a spit, Daria turned a plump bird, plucked and rubbed with herbs. The savory smell of the meat drifted together with the scent of smoke. For the first time since the invasion, her stomach tightened with the expectation of eating. Then she realized her anticipation, and guilt pangs diminished her hunger.

  Across from her, Micfal settled on his spread-out bedroll, moving as if his joints were stiff and painful. “We had a close call today. Those scouts couldn’t have been more than an hour away.

  “There was time to plan a quick ambush; we would have been able to take them.”

  “No, Daria. If even one got through, we’d have the whole army on our tail.”

  “We would have made sure to slay every one.”

  Micfal slashed his hand in impatience, a familiar gesture, meaning he wasn’t going to repeat the obvious.

  She knew without him saying that they couldn’t predict killing all the men.

  He tugged on his braided beard. “If a whole party goes missing, that will give them similar information. Even now, those soldiers don’t know where we are. But with a general area pointed out, they’ll soon track us down. They could even get between the desert and us. Cut off like that, we’d be easy bait.”

  Micfal’s closed expression told her he refused any further discussion of the situation, and he arranged his body in the position used to meditate with Yadarius.

  Daria looked away, anger making her clench her jaw. Every morning and evening, Micfal continued with the yah-dar-sae and the yah-dar-net, the traditional prayers and poses. Why bother? Yadarius wouldn’t answer. To her, the silence of the SeaGod brought more pain than the emptiness of avoiding the attempt to reach Him.