Reaper of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  “Soon, we will have another sacrifice for our God,” Kokam’s words floated to him, suggesting smugness.

  “A woman, you say?” Vol grunted in apparent satisfaction.

  My lady! Have they captured her?

  Footsteps sounded, heading his way. A strong-featured aristocratic face leaned over him; cool dark eyes studied his face as if he was some kind of specimen. A large gray pearl dangled from a silvery chain around the man’s neck, almost hitting Indaran in the nose. The pungent reek of the geserat incense increased, as if Kokam had been standing near the braziers.

  Indaran recognized the man who had stood on the steps of the temple the day the ships had docked in this land. At the time, he hadn’t paid much attention to the two men of the Trine. His focus had been on the beautiful woman holding the chalice and radiating sensuality.

  “Kokam,” the other priest, Vol, had called him. The ones who’d betrayed me.

  Anger spiked through him, and he made sure his hatred and defiance glared from his eyes. If I ever get free, I will kill you.

  The chill gaze didn’t seem to register Indaran’s challenge. But a corner of Kokam’s narrow-lipped mouth twitched, the slightest betrayal that he actually might be human.

  The face vanished from his sight. “Too bad we have not had more like him,” Kokam said. “He is strong. He gives more to our God than any other.”

  I don’t give anything to your God.

  “However, that is about to change,” Kokam said. “Soon we will possess one even more powerful.”

  The footsteps receded, the voices faded. But Indaran’s anger remained.

  Another one? What poor soul is soon to be a prisoner here? Please, not my lady.

  As soon as he thought the question, the answer resonated through his othersense and slapped him across the face.

  My sister!

  ~ ~ ~

  Roe-al headed his mount, Racer, toward the Redstar, knowing Sanglakic lay directly underneath. A tiny metal travel lantern, set on a short pole in a special holster attached to the saddlepad, cast just enough light to shadow the tall grass around him. If he glanced to the right or left, he could see the lanterns of his band, dotting the night.

  After hours of riding, the fierce anger that had flamed within him when he’d learned the prisoner had escaped the graptah and stolen one of his horses had burned to embers, which he’d carefully banked, ready to blow on when he needed to engage the spy.

  But for now he rode with a clear head, his thinking unmarred by the furious thoughts that had earlier consumed him. He knew the woman, Jasmine, headed toward Sanglakic, even though he couldn’t see her.

  His certainty had been strong enough for his mother, the Stridzae, to overrule, his father, the Stridzat, about sending all their warriors toward the Evil One’s city. They’d appointed him leader of this band, heading toward the forbidden forest. The responsibility sent ruenar bubbles floating inside his stomach and a heavy weight had settled, like a cloak, around his shoulders.

  They needed to catch Jasmine before she reached the boundaries of Sanglakic. The Stridza had been clear on that.

  Do not follow the Evil One’s spy into the forest.

  But he would catch her. Racer was faster than Darklady, although the mare had the stamina to match the stallion. And, when he did, he’d kill the spy.

  My first blood.

  One less servant of the Evil One to disturb the peace of the Che-da-wah. When he returned, triumphant, Nightsinger would make a song to extol his bravery and tell of his exploits for all generations to come.

  For a while, Roe-al lost himself in his imaginings.

  The morning shadows drifted across the distant edge of the plain. Soon, he’d be able see his quarry.

  ~ ~ ~

  The faintest of gray light lifted on the horizon. Jasmine glanced behind. The lights seemed to draw closer. She urged the mare to a trot, but the horse’s gait wasn’t as smooth, and she knew the animal tired.

  The sky brightened to lavender-tinted gray. As the darkness passed, the forest came into view, too far away for Jasmine’s liking.

  From behind, she heard some faint whoops and shouts.

  I’ve been spotted.

  ~ ~ ~

  Roe-al cantered on, impatient, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the plain. Dark faded to the ghostly time, when the eza, spirits of their enemies, drifted across the land. A time to be safe inside one’s graptah, dreaming, not out in the open.

  He shivered, hoping not to encounter one of the spirits. Nightsinger had told a tale last winter of a North Clan girl who’d stolen away at night to meet her Middle Clan lover. She’d run into an eza, and had arrived at her lover’s with her hair stark white. He fingered one of his own braids. No, he did not want to meet an eza.

  A flicker of movement far ahead and to the right, sent bumps flickering across his skin. An eza? It took him a few seconds to realize the woman was on horseback. Ezas didn’t ride. At least not in any tale he’d ever heard.

  The spy, Jasmine.

  He called out to the others, pulling one of his spears out of the cuma, and brandishing it in her direction. With a whoop, he kneed Racer ahead. Yips and yells rang through the air. As quickly as they galloped, the woman managed to stay ahead, even though they narrowed her lead.

  Sanglakic loomed ever closer.

  She was within spear shot, but he had to be careful. He needed a clear shot. He didn’t want to hit Darklady. She was worth ten other horses. But planting a spear next to the horse might make the mare shy. If the woman fell off, she would be an easy capture.

  Shouting a warning to the others, Roe-al signaled with his spear. He didn’t want them hitting the horse, either. He aimed, tossed, placing the spear right where he’d intended.

  Darklady shied, but the woman clung. An excellent rider.

  Roe-al’s anger ignited, fanning up again.

  She reached the edge of the forest, then vanished inside.

  With a yell of frustration, he reined in at the edge.

  We’ve lost her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jasmine kneed the mare into a canter, still holding back from the gallop. They weren’t close enough to dash all the rest of the way. It would do her no good to have the horse founder before they reached the safety of the forest.

  She rode several hundred more meters, then snuck a glance behind her. Her stomach squeezed with fear. She could see eight riders heading toward her, all brandishing spears.

  Now. She kicked the mare’s sides. Leaning low over the mare’s neck, she called encouragement.

  The pup whimpered.

  “Hold on, baby.”

  The forest grew closer. She could see the ghostly gray of the trees and the blankness of the sky.

  A spear thunked into the ground a few meters to the right of them. She wanted to scream, but the sound clogged against the fear damming in her throat.

  The stubby gray trees loomed ahead fifty meters.

  Another spear whistled by on the left, thudding into the grass.

  The mare grunted now with every reaching stride, urgh, urgh, urgh. White lather seeped along her withers. Still she pounded on, running her heart out for her rider.

  Thirty meters. Twenty. Ten.

  Almost there. “Go. Go.” She kicked the horse’s sides.

  They reached the shadow of the branches. Jasmine ducked under the limbs of the first stubby tree.

  I made it!

  The horse stopped abruptly, throwing her forward.

  She urged the horse on.

  The mare tossed her head, balking, obviously reluctant to go further into the strange woods.

  “Come on, lady mare. Please,” Jasmine coaxed, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “We need to stay ahead of them, and I can’t leave you behind. I know they’ll want you back, and they’ll follow us. Together, we will lead them to Arvintor. Without you, they’ll probably just let me escape.”

  But the mare refused to budge.

  ~ ~ ~r />
  Cursing in Arabic, Jasmine dismounted, leaving the pup on the saddlepad. Yanking off her chador, she draped the material over the horse’s eyes.

  The pup rose to his feet, claws gripping the saddle pad, and howled.

  “Stay there,” she ordered. “I can’t carry you.”

  She secured the chador under the horse’s chin. The suddenly docile mare moved forward.

  They wound through trees. The pup mewed, watching Jasmine with anxious eyes.

  “Everything will be all right,” she reassured him in the old language, hoping her words would come true.

  Wild cries heralded the arrival of her pursuers.

  Jasmine shuddered, the yells of the men flashing her back to her brutality at Amir and Moussad’s hands. She broke into a trot, encouraging the mare to follow.

  ~ ~ ~

  Roe-al let out a howl of frustration. Shame burned into his stomach.

  The others gathered around, muttering.

  Dihel turned his mount, preparing to ride away.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Roe-al yelled.

  Dihel halted his mount and glanced over his shoulder. The scar on his cheek pulled his mouth into a sneer Roe-al knew he didn’t really mean.

  “We must bring the Stridza word that the spy of the evil one has escaped.”

  “I am the leader here. I say when we turn back.”

  Jora, his pespayzae, rode closer. She placed a calming hand on his leg. “We must not remain this close to Sanglakic. Who knows what evil will befall us here.”

  Even the soothing words of his future mate failed to quench the fire of anger blazing within him. “I’m going after her.”

  Jora’s fingers tightened. “You must not. The Stridza forbade it.”

  “Then leave. I will go alone.”

  She lifted her chin; her dark eyes flashed. “No, pespayzat. You will not go alone. If you go, I go.”

  Even through his anger, pride in her touched him. She is a fitting mate.

  “Then come, pespayzae. Follow me.” He kneed Racer forward, letting his frustration be the wind that blew him past his fear of the forest and into Sanglakic.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Several spears thwacked into the trees near her, but the mare was between the hunters and Jasmine, and she doubted they’d risk hitting the animal. But she could still hear them arguing about whether they should chase her into the forest.

  Having the horse slowed her as she searched for paths between the trees, but she didn’t dare release the mare.

  The whole time Jasmine listened for sounds of pursuit. Although the springy moss didn’t seem to be marked by her footsteps nor the horse’s hoof prints, she didn’t doubt the Che-da-wah were expert trackers and could follow her trail.

  A shout went up.

  Her stomach clutched.

  My pursuers have entered the forest

  ~ ~ ~

  Behind him, Roe-al could hear the sounds of the others. Seems his entire band had found enough courage to follow their leader. Good.

  Their quarry wasn’t too far ahead. They should soon catch her. He bared his teeth in a feral grin.

  Racer balked.

  Roe-al scowled. No amount of encouragement or signals would make the horse move. Growling with annoyance, he dismounted.

  Dihel slid off his mount, rushing toward him. “See. Even the horses know better than to enter Sanglakic.”

  Roe-al snarled, then whipped off his vest and fastened the soft hide over the horse’s eyes. “We go on.” He tugged on the reins.

  Racer followed.

  “See.” Roe-al threw the word at Dihel. He led Racer past a gray tree, moving deeper into the forest.

  His boots sank into the moss of the floor. His gaze darted everywhere, and he listened past the tinkling sounds of the round leaves, all his senses alert. But he heard nothing, not even the call of birds.

  Glancing up, he shivered. The sky looked the color of a pale storm cloud, but the temperature remained the same, and the air carried no scent of a late spring downpour.

  He saw a tuft of dark horsehair caught in a tree branch and nodded with satisfaction. They traveled on the right path.

  No Evil God struck them down, nor did any of the Evil One’s minions appear. Growing more confident, but no less wary, Roe-al picked up the pace of their chase.

  Through the tangle of gray branches, Roe-al caught a flash of red, like a me-are bird, but too brilliant. Nor had he heard the distinctive call of me-are, me-are.

  He edged around the trunk and saw the woman illuminated between Darklady and a tree. A far shot, but he’d hit targets even more distant. He aimed to the left of her body, not wanting to risk hitting the horse, drew back his arm, and released his cast.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jasmine passed the ancient shrine leading back to Earth, and wished she could duck inside and hide. Not much longer. She led the horse around a gray tree trunk and wove through a thick cluster of branches.

  Up ahead, she saw the edge of the clearing. Relief kicked through her.

  A spear thudded into the tree at her right.

  She jerked, and the horse shied, then steadied under her hand.

  A warning. The horse’s body still protected her from the trackers behind them, but if they flanked her, they could have a clear shot.

  The tangle of trees in front of her grew too thick for the mare to penetrate. Jasmine wasted precious seconds edging around the cluster of woods. Just as she reached the shadow of the branches rimming the clearing, something slammed into her side. She cried out, falling.

  The mare squealed and jumped away.

  Jasmine hit the mossy floor of the forest, landing on her stomach. The moss cushioned her fall, but a spike of agony lanced through her side, into her chest. She gasped for breath, forced herself to struggle to a sitting position. She reached around, groping. Her trembling fingers touched the gouge at her waist and came away bloody.

  Arvintor, I need your help!

  Warmth seeped into the pool of pain in her body, dulling the edge enough for her to straighten.

  The God had helped her!

  She used the nearest tree trunk to lever herself to her feet. She grabbed the horse’s mane and clicked with her tongue, urging the mare onward.

  Every step hurt to move, so she shuffled. Agony squeezed each breath. The pain kept her to a snail’s pace.

  She hobbled across the clearing. Jasmine anchored her gaze on Arvintor’s wavering form. When she reached the statue, she staggered away from the mare and threw her arms around the statue’s legs. “Arvintor.”

  Without releasing her embrace, she sidled around the statue, until the TwinGod stood between her and the hunters. Her strength faded, and she slid down to her knees.

  Gray curtained the edges of her vision, and she closed her eyes, slipping in and out of consciousness. Danger. She fought to remain alert, but heaviness weighed her down, and she could not stir.

  Darkness took her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Indaran’s side burned, but he didn’t sense Ontarem’s presence tormenting him. Am I on fire? He rolled his eyes downward, trying to see his body. As far as he could see, nothing seemed wrong. Nor did he smell the stench of burning flesh or the coppery scent of blood. Only the reek of geserat incense flooded his nostrils.

  Was this a new kind of torment visited upon him by the Evil One? Was he about to become a different type of toy, now that Ontarem could no longer feed off his memories?

  Or is this something else?

  Indaran closed his eyes, reaching for his othersense. He slipped into his power and roved around the room, trying to find if any of the other prisoners had sustained a wound. If they had such an injury, none came to his awareness.

  Is it someone else? The woman in my dream?

  As soon as he thought of her, he had his answer.

  She’s hurt.

  His eyelids flew open. Helplessness overwhelmed him; he wanted to spring up and race to her. But instead, he remained loc
ked in his eternal prison.

  What if she dies?

  The familiar despair overwhelmed him, but only for a few minutes.

  He forced himself to take calming breaths, centering himself. Once he’d obtained a state of suspended emotions and strength in his power, he sought for her. He walked across the grassland. Stopping, he shaded his eyes with one hand, searching the wide plain. But all he saw was gray grass waving in the wind.

  Is she in the woods? He turned toward the forest and caught a pull. Like a ship sailing a current, he followed, barely noticing the woodland full of stubby trees with chiming round leaves, only noting the area was not at all like the tall, lush forests of Seagem.

  He stepped into a clearing and saw a statue of a God wrapped in chains. Not Yadarius the SeaGod, nor Ontarem. But as soon as he saw the woman stretched out on the ground behind the statue, he dismissed the puzzle, running to her, his heart pounding with every stride.

  He skirted the base of the statue, dropping to his knees beside her. Even without being able to see color, a quick glance showed him the dark blood clotted over the gouge in her side, the skin of her face as pale as death, her lips bloodless.

  “No, no, my beloved. You must live.” He gathered her to him, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  He wasn’t gifted in using his othersense to heal, but as a child, he’d seen his grandmother work with the injured. Surely, the power of his love and the strength of his othersense would help her.

  He worked one of his hands free from underneath her and held his palm over her side. Seizing his power, he imagined the flickering blue energy racing from his heart, down his arm, and through his hand into her body. Dark sparkles flickered between them. If he could see color, would they be blue?

  He hoped so. He didn’t want to make her condition worse.

  Time suspended. Indaran gave her every bit of his power, draining himself dry. He struggled to stay with her, using the last vestiges of his energy to remain at her side.

  A faint flush crossed her cheeks; her lips shaded a darker hue.

  She sighed. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at him. Awareness seeped into her gaze, and a hint of a smile tilted the corner of her mouth.

  A commotion across the clearing sharpened his attention to instant awareness. Danger? Help? But the awe on the faces of the people as they looked up at the statue, and the puzzled glances toward the wounded woman reassured him.