Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  The tunnel seemed to go on forever. Amir and Moussad’s voices grew faint until she could no longer hear them.

  She’d escaped.

  But they’d soon follow.

  ~ ~ ~

  With the men and Jasmine safely inside, the screen blanked. Khan’s thoughts cut through half a dozen plans, slicing away the ideas as quickly as they came to him. He could see Moussad’s A-K 47 held only the 20 round clip. And he knew from Amir’s gloating that the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants held 24 rounds. Forty-four total. Only two bullets were needed to kill he and Daria, plus one for Jasmine.

  His mind tangled over the ideas. He had to hurry. Although Amir and Moussad would be trapped in the corridor between Earth and this room, they might take out their rage and frustration on Jasmine. If the two men didn’t possess the guns, he’d have taken the chance of hand-to-hand fighting against them. He’d bet his farm Daria could take down Amir before his half-brother had a chance to look beyond her beautiful face.

  He turned toward the screen for Kimtair. “Can you show me where the reptile-dogs have their dens?” he asked the Goddess.

  The map of the ruined city appeared in the mist. Three black triangles must delineate the dens. Two other dots, representing a pair of dogs, slowly roved around.

  Khan marked the spots in his mind.

  Daria leaned forward, studying the map. “We can lure the evil ones toward those hellhounds. Let Micfal’s death be visited upon them.”

  “Since their bullets are far faster and more lethal than arrows, they will be able to penetrate the hide of the reptile-dogs. Although the creatures will be killed, the attacks will at least cost Amir some ammo.”

  “Ammo?”

  “Ammunition. Another name for bullets.”

  “You have a strange language,” she murmured.

  Khan snapped his fingers. “The gagh.”

  “Gagh? Another Earth term?”

  “No, a Klingon term.” He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head at the irony of what he’d just said. “Never mind.”

  The Goddess flashed on the screen a picture of the pit where he’d found Shir and Shad, before he could even ask for her help. The tan jelly-like centipedes writhed in a tumbled mass.

  He pointed to the screen. “See? Slimy, wormy things, with suction stingers. There must be a way we can use them.”

  “Ah,” Daria said. “We have similar nests of such creatures on the beaches of Seagem. Only they’re blue with sharp stinger tails. We call them pikes and set fire to the nests as soon as they’re discovered.”

  “One little pit of gagh won’t help us.” He glanced at the Goddess. “Are there more in a larger area?”

  The map obligingly changed. Pink shading marked several places, one at the far edge of the city.

  Khan narrowed his eyes. “All right. This is promising. Do you have any other dangerous beasties, potential traps, toxic plants—anything we can use against them?”

  A spiky, green plant, long sword-shaped leaves blotched with saffron stains, showed on the screen, growing next to a rocky basin filled with water. The first Khan had seen anywhere besides his park. A bulbous boulder slanted over the tiny pool, protecting it from the sun.

  As the Goddess’s knowledge rushed into him, Khan’s breath released in understanding. “A pucker plant.” He couldn’t keep the glee from his voice.

  Daria slanted him a disbelieving look. “What?”

  “If we drop the leaves into the water, those yellow spots release a chemical which adds bitterness to the water. If they drink it, the tissues in their mouth and tongue will dry, making them even more thirsty.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “The Lady told me.”

  “Are you her priest?”

  The humor fled from his face. “I guess you can say that. She calls me her Tanmargis.”

  Her head tilted in puzzlement. “This doesn’t please you?”

  His gaze slid to the statue. “Her kind of priesthood demands celibacy and a total pledge to her service.” He tried not to think of their last night together.

  Daria’s eyes widened. “Some of our priests and priestesses chose to serve Yadarius in this manner. But He never demands…” She caught herself. Sorrow flickered across her face. “Demanded, such a vow.”

  “Well, it’s done. The vow is given.” To hide his ambivalence about his relationship with the Goddess, Khan grabbed Nika’s reins. “We must go. We have much to do if we’re going to rescue Jasmine.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Beneath Jasmine’s fingers, the brick changed to the cool smoothness of marble. The distant trickle of water, and a fresh scent, beckoned her onward.

  A glow of light pierced the blackness.

  She staggered out of the corridor into a circular room. An illuminated statue of a veiled woman brightened at her approach. Gold flecks embedded in the white marble walls twinkled.

  Jasmine trudged into the room, pausing by the marble bank at the edge of the pool.

  Behind her, a door slid shut, closing off the corridor.

  Fear leapt into her throat. She spun around, seeing only a seamless wall. Am I a captive or protected?

  Instead of concern, a soothing sensation calmed her, luring her into the water. She didn’t bother to shed her dusty clothes, just waded in. The water sloshed into her leather boots, and penetrated the legs of her jeans.

  With a groan, she kneeled, then cupped her hands and splashed the cool water over her hot cheeks. She drank deeply, the water tasting sweet after the warm bottled liquid she’d been drinking for the past few days.

  Obeying an inner command, she slid face down into the water, not caring when the liquid saturated the remains of the once-beautiful scarlet silk blouse she’d been wearing when Amir kidnapped her from England. She floated, arms and legs spread, until she emerged for air. She flipped over, drifting on her back.

  Tension eased from her body, lulling her into a doze. She dreamed.

  She walked through a forest of trees in a land she’d never seen. The gray trees grew short, only a foot so taller than she, with thick, stubby trunks the color of new-poured concrete. The interwoven branches crossed in a tangle over her head. The pallid leaves were perfect circles, veined with dark green, which fluttered in a gentle breeze. Through the branches, she caught glimpses of misty-pale sky, although here and there silver seemed to light the air. The browny-gray ground cover sank under her feet like moss several inches deep.

  She walked forward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. Emerging into a clearing, she found herself near a stream, babbling over rocks speckled like granite.

  Jasmine paused to take stock. The aches and pains in her body had fled as if they’d never been. Even the sharp edges of her emotional trauma smoothed away. The memories remained, and the feelings, but they were bearable.

  I must be numb.

  One part of her realized that she dreamed, but another part of her longed to remain here. The lack of color, lack of people, seemed peaceful, safe. To lie here instead of the hot desert sand was all she could wish for. Maybe she’d die, or maybe she’d live. The driving urge to escape life, escape shame and pain, had blunted.

  She began to imagine how nature would guide her from now on….

  Slowly, Jasmine floated into awareness. The water around her lapped at her face as if to awaken her. She opened her eyes, gazing up at the luminous statue.

  Something seemed to show in the figure’s carved face…wisdom, kindness. The veiled woman nodded. Understanding shone from her eyes.

  Jasmine sat up, staring at the statue.

  The woman nodded, again.

  Have I been drugged?

  The disbelief in her mind shifted into an acceptance of the statue’s sentience.

  The delicate marble hand trickling water into the pool waved to the statue’s right. The diamond drops of water glittered against the wall in a large circular pattern. The marble inside the circle disappeared. In its place, a thick bank o
f fog appeared, looking similar to the clouds she’d seen out of the window of the airplane on her trip to England—only these clouds gleamed with an iridescent sheen.

  The substance solidified. Pictures emerged, a type of movie, except…real, seemingly real. The scene showed the gray forest of her dream.

  A question formed in Jasmine’s mind. Do you want to travel there? Or, would you prefer to return home?

  Jasmine didn’t have to consider. Home meant shame and ostracism, maybe even death. Her family wouldn’t cast her out for Amir’s actions, but others, more fundamentalist, would harshly judge her. Her family would suffer for the dishonor. Since she was no longer a virgin, no man of her culture would marry her now.

  Not that she wanted to marry, not even an Englishman or an American. The thought of ever being touched by a man made her stomach turn. After Amir and Moussad, she’d shrunk her soul into a tight ball inside her body, never to be violated again.

  She’d be safe in the gray forest; the color of the world would match the color of her spirit. Amir and Moussad wouldn’t find her. Somehow, the statue reassured her of that.

  Jasmine stood, waded to the edge of the pool, and stepped out. The water in her soggy jeans and sodden boots immediately evaporated. She looked down. Her clothes had dried as crisp and whole as if new. Only her once-ragged chador had changed. Instead of black, the garment draped around her body in a dull silver hue. Now she’d blend into her new surroundings. A small jolt of gratitude went through her.

  The foggy screen blanked off. A tunnel entrance beckoned. She walked toward the doorway, her body straight and free of pain. But gone, perhaps forever, was her formerly gliding stride. Instead, she walked with careful steps. At the entrance to the corridor, she turned. “Thank you,” Jasmine whispered to the statue.

  Again, the lady seemed to nod.

  Jasmine faced forward. She took a deep breath and went ahead.

  Toward freedom.

  ~ ~ ~

  Emerging from the door of the shrine, Daria blinked in the bright desert light. While they had seemed to be inside for hours, the position of the amber sun in the lavender sky overhead showed only a short time, perhaps an hour or two, had passed.

  Khan followed her outside, leading Nika. He gestured to the horse. “You, first.” He laced his fingers together to give her a leg up.

  She mounted Nika, whose body trembled as if he were eager to be underway. The animal was magnificent—a beast worthy to sire Teifa’s foals. If only…she mused on the uncertainty of the future.

  Khan led the horse to a nearby rock and climbed up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and arranged the reins in his hands.

  She hadn’t ridden this way since she was a tiny child, tucked in front of her father or Indaran. She remembered her little-girl feeling of excitement from being able to ride with the men, yet the sense of safety that came from being locked within the strong arms of a man who loved her.

  Except for her time with Khan in the shrine, she hadn’t felt safe for months. Logically, Daria knew she still wasn’t safe, but being in his arms seemed to hold at bay the uncertainty of her future.

  Daria leaned back against Khan’s chest, comfortable, yet conscious of an inner tenseness, a kind of delicate shivering in her stomach, which spread warmth through her limbs. Definitely not a little-girl response.

  She relaxed her tense muscles, allowing herself the luxury of peaceful reverie…to pretend they were in a dream like before…for just a few minutes…. All too soon they would reach the ruins and return to danger.

  At the outskirts of the ancient city, Daria began to scan for any indication of the hellhounds. She opened her othersense wide, just as she did to keep track of Thaddis’s men. The same perception she used with them might work with the beasts. After all, they would focus on her before they’d attack.

  A scan to the edges of her awareness showed no signs of the hellhounds. She didn’t know if that meant there were none around, or if she just couldn’t pick them up with her othersense.

  A hot desert breeze kicked up, fluttering the edges of her head covering and whipping tendrils of hair across her face. On an impulse, Daria turned, peering around Khan’s shoulder to check their back trail. Like an unseen hand moving over the sand, the wind erased the tracks of the horses. The Goddess’s doing?

  The approach to the spiky, corroded pillars that marked the edge of the ruins brought back the memory of riding into the city with Micfal at her side. Was it only this morning? Now Micfal lay dead.

  Khan must have sensed her thoughts. His arms tightened around her. “What are the burial customs of your people?” he said into her ear.

  The question hit Daria like a rock thrown at her chest. Her family and all her people had been denied the death rituals in the battle that had ended their culture. Who knew how the enemy might have desecrated their bodies? Sorrow gripped, closing her throat. She couldn’t force out the words. She sensed Khan waiting, concerned.

  Daria fought her feelings until her throat cleared enough to speak. She looked back at him. “While the priests and priestesses chanted out the ritual deathsong, we burned the bodies in the Courtyard of Passing. Then the family and friends of the departed would sail the black deathship out past one of the shoals named The Rock of the Departed. The ashes would be cast out there.”

  Khan nodded. “That will be difficult to replicate. We’ll have to improvise. I’ve discovered a special kind of rock that burns like coal. We can use that for Micfal’s burial pyre.” His brow wrinkled. “We could scatter the ashes near the shrine of the Goddess.”

  No. Not near the Goddess’s shrine, not near any deities.

  “Or where I come from, some people bury the ashes of their loved ones in a special place. They plant flowers near the grave, or bring fresh-cut ones to honor special occasions.”

  “I like that idea.” But if she left or something happened to her, there’d be no one to mourn Micfal.

  With that odd empathy he’d shown before, Khan said, “If I live, I’ll make sure he has flowers. I’ll even plant some from my homeland.”

  His kindness opened a part of her heart that had been locked. It made her throat burn again. She stared at the ruins in front of them, forcing her thoughts away from the old hurts, and toward more productive areas.

  She opened her mouth to ask another question about his customs. But restrained her interest. Why didn’t I question him more in our othersense dreams?

  Daria shrugged. They’d talk if they survived Thaddis. But the pull of her curiosity still gave her something to think about instead of her losses. If they did indeed survive the next few days, she looked forward to hearing about his life.

  A sudden thought had fear grabbing at her stomach in a tight grip. Taking the time to cremate Micfal could put them in jeopardy with Khan’s brother. The smoke would give them away. She twisted around to look up at him. “We can’t burn Micfal’s body, nor take the time to bury it.”

  Underneath his headcovering, Khan’s eyebrows pulled together, and his dark eyes scanned the desolate horizon. Then his brow relaxed, and his eyes cleared. “The Goddess hasn’t released them from the corridor. She won’t until we’re ready.”

  “What about Jasmine?”

  Once again, his eyes took on that distant gaze. “She’s free!” He grinned, his teeth white against his dark skin. He exhaled an audible breath. “What a relief."

  Daria gave him a quick hug.

  "This Tanmargis business does have some communication benefits. The Lady won’t say more. I’m getting a ‘back off and mind your own business’ message from her.”

  Daria couldn’t share his good feelings. “I don’t trust your Goddess. What do you think She’s done with Jasmine?”

  “I sense that She’s healed Jasmine and sent her somewhere safe. I don’t know where. Anyway, we have time to give Micfal a funeral.” He glanced up at the sun. “And rest for the night. We’re better off making plans than doing this blind. We have no room for error.”r />
  Relieved to have the chance to honor Micfal, Daria felt the tight fist around her stomach relax. Then another idea came to her. “Why doesn’t She just keep those two until they die from thirst and lack of food?”

  “She’s a Goddess. The giver of life. I don’t think she arbitrarily kills anyone.” He hesitated. “I think she feels it’s part of my life path to face my brother.”

  Face his brother? Her expression must have reflected the question.

  Khan took a deep breath. “All my life, my brother resented me and tormented me every chance he could. I learned to stay out of his way and hide.”

  Pity for him twinged through her. She and her brothers had fought and scuffled, teased and bickered. But she’d never questioned the love between them. She couldn’t even imagine one of them acting like Amir. For the first time in months, her memories didn’t ache, but instead brought a sense of gratitude. “What about your parents?”

  “Amir’s a clever monster. He made sure not to do anything in their presence, and I learned early not to complain." He shook his head as if brushing off an unpleasant memory and lapsed into a brooding silence.

  Khan directed Nika onto a roadway of sand and broken brick. The further they rode, the higher rose the piles of rubble and shattered remains of walls. At one time, this could have been a city to rival Seagem. She wondered how many generations had passed since the destruction.

  The road turned. At the corner, one wall towered over them by several stories, looking almost intact. However, as they rode past, only an empty shell lay behind, backed by loose scatters of blocks and twisted metal.

  But the broad intersection before them took all her attention. She froze.

  Micfal’s body. The carcasses of the two hellhounds. The tired horses, Teifa among them, milled around in the meager shade of the ruins, as far from the hellhounds as they could get.

  At their approach, several crab-like creatures skittered away.

  Anger spiked through Daria. She straightened her back, hand reaching for the sword that wasn’t at her side. She wouldn’t let scavengers desecrate Micfal’s body. But even as she moved, she knew how irrational her anger was.