Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  Khan reached over and took her hand, running his thumb over the outside, and bringing her back to the present.

  The harsh desert breeze swept over her skin, parched and dusty, drying up the hint of tears in her eyes. Daria forced her voice to strengthen. “But the jewelry survived, several delicate amethyst and gold pieces, enough for each of us to choose one. Cihkel wanted the necklace. Joshel strapped the bracelet around his wrist. How we teased him about that. Setteff chose the ring. I picked the teardrop-shaped earrings.”

  And had cherished them in memory of the lost lady.

  For the first time, she wondered if the earrings were in the little bundle Issa had packed in the bottom of one of her saddlebags. She’d looked once, but the glint of familiar jewels had been painful enough to cause her to shove them underneath her scant possessions and into the darkest recesses of her memory.

  Khan squeezed her hand. “They sound very special. I’m sure the lady’s spirit was pleased to have you wear her earrings, rather than have them languish at the bottom of the sea.”

  He understood. Daria returned the squeeze, grateful to have had this memory. Quiet and special like a gift from the God…Goddess? Not wanting to think about Deities, she slipped her hand away, pointing at the chest. “I doubt there’s jewelry in that.”

  “No, nothing so pleasant.” He inhaled a deep breath, squatted, placed both hands on either side of the chest, and lifted. Staggering a step, he deposited the trunk next to her.

  Fingers itching with impatience, Daria reached to open it.

  Khan’s hand snaked up, grabbing her wrist. “Wait.” He scrambled out. “Let’s clean up the thing first. Study it carefully. I also want to check with the Goddess before we pry open the top.”

  His logic made sense. Forcing down her excitement, Daria pulled off her headcovering, pouring water over it. Using the cloth as a scrub rag, she cleaned the top, then the sides. As she ran the rag over the pattern on the border, she realized the etchings were letters. “Khan, look at this. I think something’s written here.”

  Khan peered where she pointed. “I think you’re right. But since it’s not a language I know, I can’t read the words.”

  She traced a line with her finger. The curlicue script looked similar to the ancient journal writings of the ancestor who’d founded Seagem. If she had time, maybe she could puzzle out the message.

  “Can you read it?”

  “No. But the letters seem familiar enough that perhaps I could eventually decipher what the script says.”

  He passed his hand over his eyes. “I’m not getting any direction from the Goddess. I think that means we can figure this out ourselves.”

  Resentment roiled in her stomach. Game-playing Deities.

  She fingered the pattern, trying to set aside her annoyance. Giving in to an impulse, she closed her eyes, seeking her othersense. She took several deep breaths, centering herself. Under her fingertips, the letters burned, tracing their meaning into her brain. But the outlines stayed smudged, as if covered in ash. The clarification danced just beyond her grasp. She stretched her senses toward it, but found herself blocked by a smoke-like barrier.

  A hand settled over hers, warm and callused.

  Khan’s.

  In her mind’s eye, she could see his long brown fingers twine with her paler ones. A pure blue energy poured into her palm, strengthening her power. Like water cooling flame, the energy sprayed out over the smoky obstacle, melting it away.

  As though using her father’s telescope, her vision focused, the significance of the phases springing into her mind.

  Beware. A twist and a throw and all are destroyed. Beware.

  ~ ~ ~

  Khan emerged from the trance Daria had drawn him into, blinking to clear the smoke from his inner vision. Overhead, the sky’s lavender tint had deepened to gray and mauve, and the setting sun shadowed the metal of the trunk in shades of purple.

  The breeze died down, but the smell of fresh dirt lingered in the air.

  Still feeling the connection with Daria, he gazed at her, fighting the impulse to touch her. Even in the fading light, he could see the pallor under her tan, as if all her energy had drained away.

  Her eyes met his in a long silent moment, words unnecessary. Then she rose to her feet, her movements stiff, as if her muscles hurt.

  Concern urged him to hurry and finish their task. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could rest—the sooner they could both rest.

  He touched her elbow. “Are you sure you won’t leave?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  She shook her head.

  He squatted in front of the chest, running his fingers along the top edge of the front. His fingertips brushed over a slight indentation, and he intuitively knew he’d found the lock. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, centering himself, trying to touch the Goddess. She remained illusive, yet he sensed Her hovering nearby.

  Khan pressed his thumb into the indentation and heard a click. He slanted a glance up at Daria, catching an anxious look on her face. “Why don’t we lift the lid together?”

  She tried to smile, but it wasn’t one of her better efforts, and stooped to join him.

  They each placed their hands on the top front and side of the trunk.

  “One, two, three,” Khan counted.

  They lifted together. The lid moved a quarter of an inch and stuck. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to open the thing.

  Khan increased his pressure, and the top moved another small amount, then wouldn’t budge. How many years had the trunk been sealed shut? He ran his mind over his scant supply of tools. None would do the job.

  Daria slipped her hand across the side of the metal surface until her fingers covered his. “Remember how we combined our energy? Let’s do it again, and at the same time, try to raise the lid.”

  “Good thinking.” He closed his eyes, calling up the blue energy he’d seen himself use earlier. The color tingled through his fingers, flowing around the edge of the lid until the power reached Daria’s, twining into a silver-and-blue rope that reached around the top of the trunk, and then melted into the metal.

  Now.

  Khan braced his feet, sucked in his abdominal muscles, and lifted. The lid flew open so quickly he tumbled backward, landing on his backside.

  Daria sprawled on the other side. She wrinkled her nose in obvious chagrin and rolled to her knees, peering into the trunk.

  He scrambled to kneel next to her.

  Inside, Khan saw a metal sphere about the size of an old-time cannon ball, except made with the ancients’ alloy. His hand hovered over the bomb, tempted to pick up the weapon. But then he pulled back. He didn’t want to touch the thing until he had to.

  And that would be all too soon.

  ~ ~ ~

  After they’d deposited the trunk in Khan’s home, they headed to the pool. Both knelt and splashed water over their dusty faces.

  The monkey-bats squealed and dived into the pool, causing a big splash to flood them.

  “Hey, you two.” Khan cupped water between his hands and squirted Shad in the face.

  The animal’s startled expression made him laugh.

  Daria’s laughter joined his, the first time he’d heard her happy since their dreams together. Wanting to entertain her further, he pulled off his boots and socks, yanked off his robe, and rolled up his jeans. Then he waded into the water, kicking a small stream near the monkey-bats.

  Shad shrilled in glee, while Shir used her wings to bounce up and down.

  Khan extended a hand to Daria. “Come on in.”

  “Might as well clean the clothes.” She tugged off her boots and socks, slipped out of her pants, tossing them on the side. Her tunic covered her to the tops of her thighs, exposing her long legs, with the pink seam of a scar on the right one.

  Khan felt an immediate tug of desire. When they’d been together in their dream, her body had been alabaster in the moon glow, but now seeing her golden skin, the sleek line
of her calf… He had to restrain himself from lunging for her.

  Daria demurely took his hand, stepping into the pool. Then, still holding on, she dropped and scooped water with her other hand, flipping it up at him, her mouth curved in a mischievous smile.

  The splash hit his face, and he yelped. He kicked water back at her. “Water fight! Come on, Shad, Shir. Join in.”

  They drenched each other in a water battle, complicated by the monkey-bats, taking to the air and diving down in cannonball splashes. Their laughter and yells blended with the screeches of the animals.

  Daria tackled his legs, knocking him backward.

  Khan sputtered his face out of the water. He heaved himself up on his elbows and gulped for air.

  Daria lay on his chest, hands bracing herself on the bottom of the pool, her face alight with joy. Her lashes clumped together, making her eyes brilliant green. “I won.”

  He sat up and grabbed her in a quick hug. “That you did.”

  The monkey-bats paddled over to them, separating to climb on his shoulders. He released Daria to cuddle them, then scooted away to avoid the temptation of pulling her back into his arms.

  Daria settled against the side of the pool. The wet fabric of her shirt pressed against her skin, outlining her breasts.

  Heat pooled in his groin. Tanmargis, Tanmargis, Tanmargis. Remember you’re Her Tanmargis.

  The reminder only partially worked. Needing to find a safe way to touch Daria, he picked up her leg and slid his hand down her silky skin to her foot. “Let me give you a massage.” He kneaded her arch.

  At first Daria giggled, the sound a happy song to his ears. Then she tried to pull away. “That tickles.”

  Khan refused to release her, pressing his fingers into her sole.

  She sighed in obvious bliss, allowing her body to go limp. “Ummm.”

  Khan rubbed the ball of Daria’s foot and then firmly pressed on her arches, feeling the tendons shift under the pressure. He put all his pent-up desire into the massage. If this were the only way he could give her any kind of physical pleasure, then he’d show her the depth of his love through his fingers.

  Daria closed her eyes. “If I was a cat, I’d be purring.”

  He finished one foot and set it down.

  Daria opened her eyes and lifted her other leg, pointing her toes toward him.

  He wanted to lean over and nibble on her toes, but snuck a glance at the statue, and figured he’d better keep his thoughts and mouth as pure as possible. Maybe the Goddess wouldn’t notice his erection.

  Khan cradled Daria’s foot on his knees, then repeated the massage, enjoying the blissful expression on her face. He relished being able to give her these few minutes away from the pain of her past and the danger of the future. After drawing out the massage as long as possible, he gave one final slide of his palm over her sole, and then set down her leg.

  They met each other’s eyes in a long, languid gaze, sexual tension humming between them.

  Maybe not enough.

  But I have no other choice.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Khan flipped the still struggling lizard-crab into the camping pot of boiling water and clamped the lid over the top before the creature could crawl back out. He’d learned from experience that cooking the lizard-crabs like lobsters was the best way to make them edible. But he still cringed every time. He placed a large flat stone on the lid, and then pushed the pot further onto the grill set over the fire, ignoring the squeal of outrage emerging from the rocking vessel.

  Luckily, the cooking wouldn’t take long. Exhausted from laboring all day in the sun, and then having to suppress his sexual energy, all he wanted to do was go upstairs and collapse on his bedroll. But he had a lady to feed—the best the Ritz-Khan could offer.

  Khan glanced around at his makeshift surroundings. Most of his possessions lay stacked on a rickety shelf made of a plank propped on two stacks of bricks. His sleeping bag was upstairs. The firelight gleamed off the purplish alloy pot tucked into a niche. His bow, hung sideways on two pegs near the door, was the only other decoration on the walls. The newly polished weapons chest was pushed against the far wall. In the shadows of the room, the purplish metallic surface dulled to brown.

  The squeal increased in volume. Shad and Shir, waiting in the window, chittered in response.

  Standing, he grinned down at Daria, sitting cross-legged on her bedroll in front of the fireplace he’d reconstructed. “Hate that noise those critters make when they’re tossed into the pot, but he’ll stop in a few seconds. Once he turns blue, and I can easily pluck off his antena, he’s done.”

  “Critters? I like that word.” Clean from her bath in the park fountain, Daria combed out her wet hair, plaiting the strands into a braid. The firelight glistened on the shiny dark-blond tresses, and Khan had to resist taking the mother-of-pearl comb and running it through her hair. Although she was cleansed of the grime from the day’s endeavors, fine lines had etched themselves around her eyes and mouth. As she gazed into the fire, a shadow darkened her eyes.

  He needed to chase away the haunted look on her face, if only for a few minutes. Khan rummaged for the bundled cloth he’d brought from outside. With great care, he unwrapped the material, uncovering a rosebud that was tinted blushing-pink with a hint of red at the tips of the petals. Next to it nestled a handful of baby carrots, fresh from the garden.

  He knelt on one knee, playfully assuming the air of a courtier. “Gifts, my lady.”

  Daria perked up, her green eyes lighting with curiosity. A smile illuminated her face, highlighting her beauty. “Gifts?”

  He handed her the flower.

  The tight lines around her eyes eased away. She took the stem. Closing her eyes, she lifted the blossom to her nose. “Umm. How lovely. I’ve never smelled anything so beautiful.” She opened her eyes, looking at him. “What do you call it?”

  “A rose. From my mother’s garden.”

  “You brought cuttings from your mother’s garden?”

  “Just the roses. But I brought other flower seeds.”

  “Maybe…we were too busy today, but maybe in a few days…after Thaddis…. I’d like you to show me your garden. Tell me about all your plants.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” He held out his other hand. “Here. Baby carrots. A root vegetable. I think you’ll like them.”

  She took a bite of the first one, her eyebrows winging together. Then her forehead smoothed, and she nodded. “I do like them. Carrots. Hmm. They’re sweet.” She took another bite.

  “Go ahead and eat. I’ll fix up our friend here.”

  After the lizard-crab had cooled, the two of them sat cross-legged in front of the fire, snapping the hard shell apart and fishing out the succulent white flesh.

  The monkey-bats gnawed on their own share. Each animal’s tails waved gently in the air, showing their enjoyment of the meal. They’d certainly gained weight since becoming Khan’s companions.

  Daria held a piece between her thumb and forefinger. “Tastes almost like a sea spider, except we dip the meat into a spiced oil to add flavor.”

  Although Daria’s face didn’t change, sadness uncoiled inside Khan’s belly. Her emotion. “You’re feeling sad.” He made his words a simple statement of empathy.

  She bit her lip, then nodded. “How did you know?”

  “I felt the feeling in my stomach, but I knew it wasn’t mine.”

  “I’ve noticed you’ve done that before now.”

  He paused, thinking. “You’re right. Maybe all this solitude has made me more in tune with human emotions.”

  “It’s your othersense. My mother used to know what my father was feeling. I’ve heard him say he never could get away with anything.”

  “Could your father feel her emotions, too?”

  “He was strong, but not as much. My mother had a strong gift of othersense. The strength runs in my mother’s family. My grandmother had it. And her mother before her. They were priestesses of Yadarius.
”

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. And my brothers—although not as strong.” She cracked open the last claw, popped the meat into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “My mother died when I was six, before I was old enough to learn much from her.” Wistfulness pulled down one corner of her mouth. “I remember when she’d come to my nursery to bid me goodnight. She’d bend over, kiss my cheek and tell me to have magical dreams. Then she’d leave, but right before she walked out the door, she’d look back and brush my forehead with othersense, like a feather tickling my skin. I’d fall asleep cocooned in love.” Her voice lowered. “I’ve never stopped missing her.”

  Khan reached over and took her hand. The understanding of a child bereft of a beloved mother flowed from his heart to hers.

  Startled, she looked at him. “You, too?”

  “I was a little older—twelve.” He watched the colored flames flicker in the heat rocks. “My life was never the same.”

  Daria squeezed his hand. “Khan, I knew about your mother—you didn’t have to tell me. I think my othersense connection to you is becoming stronger, or clearer…or something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve always had a strong connection with my father and my brothers, and also Issa, my nurse. Then when Thaddis’s army was pursuing me, I could tell when they were close.” She frowned. “But only if one of them was thinking about me. Now through my othersense, I feel your feelings about your mother. I feel you.”

  A rising feeling of excitement sputtered through his tiredness. Maybe they could use Daria’s othersense to some advantage.

  “How close did you have to be to the soldiers?”

  “I didn’t have to be too close. Maybe a league or two.”

  “Then we should have some warning before they actually reach us. That means we can have everything in place before they get here. Use the timing to our advantage.”