Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

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Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Page 20

by Debra Holland

Amir wept a three-year-old’s tears. He’d never realized he’d lost his father and mother at that time, for both parents had remained in his life, only their attention had been fixed on Khan and his mother. His father with love. Kadija with hate.

  The heart of coal his parents had bequeathed him softened, beating with the innocence of a child’s.

  A voice chimed in his head, the tones sweet and coaxing. Amir didn’t have to choose his mother’s path, the voice told him. He could find healing, if he chose.

  The statue’s marble hand reached down to him. All he had to do was place his hand in hers.

  Come. Join your brother. Together you can heal my land.

  Amir half raised his lids.

  An opening appeared on the other side of the pool. A thick layer of white fog billowed across the doorway.

  In the fog, he saw Khan and himself walking side by side under a lavender sky. They carried shovels swung over their shoulders, and they talked and laughed.

  Brothers, not enemies.

  Amir squeezed his eyes closed, unable to bear the sight. And even though he no longer looked into the fog, Amir knew he stared down two roads. Traveling down one, he would retain the familiar bitterness. On the other path, he’d find the healing power of forgiveness and love.

  He surged to his feet and scrambled to the edge of the pool.

  Moussad lifted a thick, black eyebrow in inquiry.

  Amir used his shirt to towel off. “Come on,” he ordered. “Let’s find a way out of here.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Khan woke with tears on his cheeks and searing grief in his heart. He rubbed his chest, struggling to complete the separation from his brother. Amir had been a hand’s breath away from redemption. For the first time ever, Khan had almost gained a brother. The loss reverberated through his body.

  He crossed his arms over his torso. The dawn’s lavender light crept into the room, spotlighting the niche containing the statuette of the Goddess. She must have been responsible for his dream connection with Amir.

  Amir’s pain pulled at him with a new compassion. He now saw his brother in a whole different way. He’d never known that a hurting child underlaid the bully who’d made Khan’s own childhood a misery. Would it have made a difference?

  Khan lay still for a while, thinking. As the sun lifted higher in the sky, the light took on an amber tinge.

  No. Amir’s motivation wouldn’t have helped Khan in any way. Only a change in his behavior would have mattered.

  Could still matter.

  ~ ~ ~

  Daria bent over the map Khan had drawn in the pale sand just outside the gates of his park. He’d traced the outskirts of the city and sketched in the various roads and open areas. Stone markers, twigs, and dirt hills indicated various landmarks in the ruins. A green leaf plucked from a vine depicted Khan’s park in the heart of the city. The dawn sunlight sparkled the minerals in the sand and cast tiny gray shadows around the rocks and twigs.

  She glanced over at the walls surrounding his real home. Through the open gates, she could see rows of plants, some flowering, others already showing some kind of fruit or vegetable. The breeze flowing over the greenery carried the hint of perfume, probably from the pink and blue flowers she could see blooming.

  Shad and Shir darted through the air, shrieking in apparent glee as they chased the morning beetles for their breakfast.

  With a long stick, Khan slashed across a thick line. “We have to block off this road. It leads directly from the Goddess’s shrine to us. It’s the obvious way for them to go. We can’t risk having them find this place. They’d have food, water, and the horses.”

  Daria studied the rest of the map before stooping and pointing to another path. “This looks like another way here.”

  “It is.” Khan tapped another line with the stick. “Here, too. But they’re more hidden, and I doubt they’ll find them. Plus, we’ll still need ways to ride in and out.”

  “Do you plan to ambush them at the entrance to the city?”

  “No. They’ll emerge from the shrine, guns ready. We’ll have to wait. Let the desert wear them out.”

  “We can’t wait too long. Thaddis will be here soon.”

  “I know. But Amir’s weapons will have a greater range and be faster than our arrows. Moussad, especially, will only have to point his AK-47 in our general direction to kill us. We’ll have to be very careful.”

  She touched a scooped-out depression in the sand. “This gagh, as you call it, how big is the nest?”

  “Big enough for Nika to fall into.” His stick indicated a small hole. “This is the one Shir was trapped in when I found her.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  Khan squinted in thought. “Six weeks or so.”

  “Weeks?”

  “Where I come from, a week is seven days.”

  She did the math in her head. “The pike nests in Seagem grow rapidly. That’s why we burn them out when we find them. Perhaps these gagh don’t expand at the same rate, but I’ll bet that these nests are even bigger than when you last saw them.”

  “We can check it out. The Lady’s map showed more. But we’ll have to be careful. Reptile-dogs roam that area.”

  “All the more reason to lead your enemies there.”

  Khan grinned, his teeth white in his tan face. “I like the way you think.” He stood and stretched, the stick pointing at the sky.

  “Once we’ve checked out the gagh pits and blocked the main road to the park, we’ll travel back to the shrine. From there, we can make an obvious trail to lead Amir and Moussad to the gagh area. How does that sound for a preliminary plan?”

  Daria couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. Yet, she sensed he was putting on a show of playfulness, hiding the suffering in his heart. She rose. “Let the gagh and hellhounds take care of them? Sounds like a fitting revenge.”

  Khan’s face sobered, and he didn’t answer.

  She sidestepped closer. “Khan, have you ever killed anyone?”

  He looked down at the map. “No.”

  “I thought as much.”

  He avoided her gaze.

  Daria tried to reach him with her words. “All my life, I’ve trained as a warrior. But until Thaddis attacked Seagem, I’d never killed anyone, either.”

  “I’ve always hated my brother.” His words stumbled out. “At times, I wanted to kill him. But he was still my father’s son. Then when I found out he planned to murder me, I left rather than face him. I didn’t want to endanger anyone else.” He turned to look in her eyes. “But now, I’ve put you at risk.”

  Daria wanted to cup his cheek, run a thumb over the worry lines around his mouth. After everything she’d been through in the past six months, the coming confrontation was only more dancing on a sword’s edge. She’d almost become used to the blade’s balance.

  He raised his hand as if to reach out to her, then stopped. With the stick in his other hand, he drew a squiggly line in the sand. “I had a dream about my brother. I was in his body. Feeling his feelings. I had no idea of his pain. How my father’s emotional abandonment of him as a child wounded him so deeply that he turned on me with all his hate and anger. I wish….”

  Daria placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “No one should have to kill his own brother.” A lump rose in her throat. She wished her brothers were here at her side. She swallowed. “But your brother is evil. He seeks to kill you. This I promise, Khan, your brother will die by my hand, not yours.”

  This time, he did touch her. Taking her hand, he turned it over, and placed a kiss on her palm.

  Warm tingles rushed up her arm, resonating in her heart. She wanted to lean toward him, but stayed the impulse.

  Closing her fingers, he said, “No, habibti. We can’t know how things will end. Yes, we must kill them or be killed. By whose hand…yours or mine…doesn’t really matter. The end result will be the same. The dead will be dead. And hopefully, we will be the ones still alive.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY
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  It seemed to Amir that he and Moussad had inspected every inch of the walls of the room, seeking an exit. The glow of the statue provided just enough light to see, without the brightness that would give clarity to their search. Even the foggy portal, in which he’d seen himself walking with Khan, had disappeared as if it had never existed. Perhaps his imagination had taken a delirious turn. Being trapped in this underground tomb was enough to shake anyone.

  Moussad claimed not to have seen anything. And since a flare of derision sparked in his bodyguard’s usually stone-hard eyes, Amir shut up about his experience. Not that Moussad had a speck of imagination. Nor intelligence. But at least he was as loyal as a rock.

  Knee deep in the water, Moussad straightened from his study of the statue’s base. “Can’t find a switch or anything.” His hands moved upward, along the flowing garment of the figure.

  Orange sparks flared.

  With a yelp, the man yanked away his hands, jumping off the base and falling backward into the pool.

  Amir sauntered over to Moussad, sitting in the water, his hands submerged. “What happened?”

  Moussad let off a string of curses.

  Amir cocked an ear, waiting for the heated stream of Arabic to abate.

  Moussad held up his huge paws; angry red marks marred the man’s callused palms.

  Amir shook his head in annoyance. “The woman obviously doesn’t want to be touched. Better keep your hands under the water. The first aid kit’s in the Jeep.” And the food, and the rest of the ammunition, and everything else they’d need. Who could have foreseen that the jaws of this trap would close so swiftly? Khan’s doing?

  My brother is going to pay. But somehow that thought lacked its old vehemence. Amir turned his attention back to Moussad. “We must escape from this dungeon. Do you want to die here?”

  With an enraged growl, Moussad launched himself out of the water. He scooped up the AK-47 he’d left lying by the side of the pool and began shooting at the barrier to the tunnel where they’d entered.

  Bullets ricocheted off the wall, pinging around them. The golden flecks in the marble sparkled like angry diamonds.

  Amir yelled and grabbed for Moussad’s arm. Wrapping his other arm around the bigger man’s chest, he pulled him backwards to get his attention.

  The shooting stopped.

  His ears rang in the silence, and his nose filled with the stink of Moussad’s unwashed body.

  Moussad swung around to face him, his dark eyes wild.

  “Are you trying to get us killed?” Amir asked through gritted teeth.

  The feral madness faded from Moussad’s eyes, replaced by blankness. He shook his head, as if shaking some intelligence into his brain.

  At least, Amir hoped some intelligence might trickle into the thick lump inside the man’s skull. He resisted boxing Moussad’s ears to help with the process. He’d only hurt his hand. Fear tangled with his anger. Stupid the man might be, but he’d always been reliable. Now, Amir wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to depend on him.

  A grinding noise came from behind him, and he whirled, whipping his Glock out of his waistband.

  A doorway slid aside—the one where he’d earlier seen the foggy vision. Only now, the maw of a tunnel gaped. Was it real? He glanced sideways for Moussad’s confirmation.

  The bodyguard’s gaze fixed on the exit, his AK-47 aimed.

  Amir placed an admonishing hand on Moussad’s arm. “Don’t shoot unless you have a reason…a good reason. We have limited ammunition, and you’ve just wasted about 10 rounds. Besides, we need Khan alive.”

  Moussad’s dark features settled into sullen lines.

  Amir pulled on his tee shirt and robe, then grabbed up his boots and socks. Splashing through the water, he paused on the other side, long enough to put them on. Then, he headed for the doorway.

  Moussad donned his own boots and jogged ahead of Amir.

  Maybe the man was thinking like a professional again, instead of someone whose brains had scrambled.

  The further they traveled up the corridor, the more the light behind them dimmed.

  Moussad stopped. “Can’t see any more. I’ll keep one hand out and hold the gun ahead. You put one hand on my shoulder and the other against the wall. We’ll go together.”

  Definitely thinking again.

  They shuffled forward. Amir’s heart thudded with each footstep. This tunnel headed in a different direction from where they’d entered yesterday. Was it only yesterday? Seemed like they’d been trapped here forever. Where was it taking them? For the first time, he wondered what Khan’s experience had been. Being in this hellhole must have been worse for him. He’d been alone, without even the comfort of a gun. Was his brother even alive anymore? Had he found the secret to opening the doors?

  The darkness pressed down. He could hear his own jagged breathing, feel the stuttering thump of his heartbeat.

  The tunnel began to slope upward. Under his hand, the marble changed to brick. They must be approaching the end.

  Moussad touched the wall. “We’re here—” Before he could finish his sentence, the door slid aside, exposing a stark desert awash in golden light.

  Amir squinted, hardly able to see. Where’re my sunglasses?

  Moussad cursed and threw up an arm to screen his eyes.

  How could we have been so bloody stupid, panicking in the darkness, losing our glasses, not giving a thought to the future?

  Amir shoved against the man’s broad back. “Get going. We each have another pair of sunglasses in the Jeep.”

  Moussad stumbled out.

  Amir followed, so relieved to be free that his spirit felt about one hundred pounds lighter, and he didn’t even mind how his eyes teared from the harsh sunshine. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, peering through squinty eyelids. “Where are the Jeeps?”

  “Maybe they moved them.” Moussad held his arm against his brow to shade his face, scrunching his eyelids. He took two careful steps forward. “Don’t see them nowhere.”

  Amir pushed him aside. Looked around. Blinked. Blinked again, hoping the glimpses he had of their odd surroundings was only due to his imperfect vision. Lavender sky. Distant ruins, looking like the ancient remains of a bombed-out city.

  Moussad babbled something.

  Amir didn’t bother to try to understand him. His mind had frozen in terror, his body locking into paralysis.

  Behind them, the door slammed shut, snapping Amir into activity. Even knowing what he’d see, he whirled. The small, round building looked exactly like the one they’d entered however long ago. No door outline showed on the uniform surface of worn brick.

  Moussad let out a rough cry. He ran forward and began pounding on the bricks, yelling and cursing in a voice so ragged with panic that Amir could barely understand the words.

  He grabbed Moussad’s arm.

  The man shook him off. In the frenzy of Moussad’s fear and fury, Amir might as well have been a flea trying to control a rabid dog.

  In desperation, Amir tucked his Glock into his waistband, scooped up a stone from the ground, and tapped Moussad over the head. Not hard enough to knock him out, but enough to startle some sense back into his brain.

  Moussad staggered around to face Amir. Groaning, he placed his hands on his head. He’d stopped his insane behavior, but sanity didn’t return to his black eyes.

  Amir grasped the man’s shoulders, forcing himself to talk with a patience he didn’t feel. “It’s all right, Moussad.” He spoke as if to a child.

  The man’s muscles remained rock-tense under Amir’s hands.

  Amir thought fast. Not willing to give words to his weird suspicions, he lied. “We’ve come out near the ruins of Dabair. Haven’t you heard of them? A long-ago war. City blown up.”

  “But the sky’s purple.” Moussad crossed his arms over his chest, then reached up to tuck his hands into Amir’s.

  “Dabair has a purple sky. Something to do with that war changed it.”

  Moussad grunt
ed in acknowledgment.

  Amir thanked Allah for the man’s ignorance and stupidity. He led his bodyguard to a boulder near the building, pushing his unresisting body down. Turning over Moussad’s palms, he studied the bruised and bleeding flesh. “You’ve really mangled yourself. Burns. Blisters. Cuts. Bruises.” He pronounced each word, as if trying to thunk some sense into Moussad. “Think you can keep yourself in check from now on? Before you really hurt yourself?” Or me.

  The man looked down at the sand and nodded.

  “Sit there and let me think. I need to remember everything I know about Dabair.”

  Moussad didn’t look up.

  Amir had never been a fan of science fiction, had scoffed at Khan’s love of the genre. But as he shaded his eyes with his hand, gazing at the improbable lavender sky, the strange amber sun, the shapes of the ruins he’d never heard of, he had to wonder. In school, he’d done well in world history and geography. Now, he kept up with the news. He’d know if a place such as this existed on Earth.

  Amir tried to force some logic through his disbelief. His brother might have adapted to this place. Might know the key to getting back home. The first thing they had to do was find him.

  “Don’t kill Khan when we find him. We’ll need his help getting out of here.”

  His gaze dropped to the sand in front of them. Hoof prints. Fresh. For the first time, hope penetrated, but didn’t banish the surreal feeling encasing his mind.

  He glanced over at Moussad, huddled on the rock. If he didn’t pull himself out of panic mode, he’d be a liability.

  Somehow, Amir had to find a way to keep his own terror at bay and his henchman in line. He needed to ignore the voice of foreboding babbling in his head. Stick to finding Khan. Yet, the whisper continued.

  What if we can’t get back?

  ~ ~ ~

  Khan watched the door of the shrine through Daria’s telescope, nervous anticipation roiling in his stomach. As it had for hundreds of years, the round brick building slumbered in the early afternoon sun, giving no hint of the magic hidden beneath its worn facade.

  No sign of Amir and Moussad.

  He relaxed his vigil, but still kept his elbows propped on the shoulder-high, crumbling wall in front of him. To his naked eye, heat radiated off the hot sand in shimmering waves, and on the distant horizon, a mirage beckoned a false promise of water. The dust stirred from the ancient brick tickled his nose, and he suppressed a sneeze.

 

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