Somewhere on this world, her dear friend Khan battled for his life.
~ ~ ~
Satiated from the long communication with her God, Pasinae floated blissfully down the hallway leading to the chapel, barely aware of the beauty of the walls lined with scenes carved out of shell. Ontarem’s power, bolstered from Seagem’s captives, had risen to the strongest peak ever, and she was the blessed recipient of that bounty.
Blending with Him, even without the rest of the Trine, was the most seductive experience. She touched the large gray pearl set in the silveral circlet on her brow. The pearl still throbbed in pleasurable waves from the exchange with Ontarem, radiating down her forehead and throughout her body. But soon, the Triad would reunite, and her powers would increase threefold.
Princess Daria is the final key.
In her imagination, Pasinae could hear the click of the lock springing open, releasing Ontarem from His confines in Louat. The whole world would then be open to Him. In just a short time He would pluck Ocean’s Glory and Besolet like a succulent bluefruit, ripe and ready to eat.
Then only the Goddess Guinheld and Her pitiful retreat in the mountains remained to be conquered. Guinheld and Her handful of followers would be squished like kettlebugs.
Pasinae savored the vision.
After Daria’s capture, Pasinae would return to her God’s side where she belonged, joining her two brothers in the Triad. Once again they would rule as the three-pronged setting of the Pearl, human representatives of Ontarem’s power. Fourteen years of exile, except for short visits, had been too long.
Pasinae sauntered on to Besolet’s chapel. She wanted to use Besolet’s power to bolster the energy she sent to Thaddis through the medallion. No sense in draining Ontarem. However her God stood ready, a tickle in the back of her mind, to back them up.
She smiled to herself, her eyes wicked, enjoying how her connection to Him resonated in her soul, making her alive with lust.
Too bad Thaddis wasn’t here. He wouldn’t reap the benefits of her encounter with Ontarem. She did rather miss her relationship with the king. On Ontarem’s orders, she would have bedded him even if he had the face and body of a frog. Instead, she’d drawn the lucky chance in the handsomeness and virility of her assignment.
Pasinae flicked an assessing glance at an attractive well-muscled guardsman passing by. After all, Thaddis wasn’t here, and she did have the means of insuring the guard’s silence. She shrugged away her thoughts. She didn’t have time for a quick diversion, no matter how…interesting.
Entering through the gold door of the chapel, she bowed to the statue. The late afternoon sun still brightened the chamber, sparkling through all the jewels. But the light had taken on richer tones, bathing the room in amber.
She nodded a dismissal to the priestess clad in scarlet robes who sat behind the statue on the gold-cushioned bench, feeding Besolet energy through her homage.
The woman rose in silence, her cowled head turned away. There was no love lost between Pasinae and those who served the Goddess, but the priests and priestesses had never protested her presence, nor interfered with what little they knew of Pasinae’s plans. Besolet wanted her here in Ocean’s Glory as Her link to Ontarem, and that was enough for them. They didn’t need to know why. One didn’t question the wisdom and wants of one’s Goddess. Although one should if one’s Goddess was a silly cow.
Besolet nodded in greeting. Is it time, Ontarem’s Trine?
“Yes. We will need to aid King Thaddis if he is to use the medallion to capture the princess. Will You send me Your energy?”
Besolet wrinkled her nose. He has soldiers. Why does he need my energy?
“Ontarem wants her unharmed,” Pasinae said through gritted teeth, trying to project patience. “The princess is a warrior. She won’t surrender. She’ll fight to the death.”
Besolet yawned. How unfeminine.
“If she were a conventional, feminine woman, we would have captured her long since.”
Oh, very well. Here.
Luminous green tendrils snaked between them. Pasinae absorbed them into the medallion, focused on the pendent in her hands, then sent the energy to Thaddis.
Linked with the king, Pasinae could feel his satisfaction in cornering Daria. Like a mountain lion stalking his prey, he savored the moment just before the strike, then used the medallion’s energy to paralyze the princess.
As the power drained from Thaddis’s medallion, Pasinae fed it more energy.
She could feel Thaddis toying with his captive, and a cat smile played about her mouth. The beautiful princess enmeshed in our coils. Exactly where she belongs.
A spurt of sexual desire from Thaddis directed toward Daria made Pasinae drop the pendent in disgust. “How dare he!”
She frowned, jealousy flexing her fingers like claws. King or no king, if she were with him, she’d rake them across his face. Better yet, she’d slash them across Daria’s, destroying her beauty. Ontarem didn’t need Seagem’s princess to be beautiful, just functional.
Recalled to her duty, Pasinae grimaced, palming the pendent, and slipping back into channeling. The drain increased.
Daria fought, both with her will and her othersense. The princess wasn’t strong enough to best the combined power of Pasinae and Besolet, but her strength was enough to force Pasinae to feed Thaddis far more energy than she’d planned.
“Give me more,” she commanded Besolet, forgetting for the moment the need to be diplomatic with the Goddess.
Besolet retaliated by cutting her off.
Pasinae looked up, startled, and almost growled at the familiar petulant look on Besolet’s face. She forced a placating expression on her face and a coaxing tone into her voice. “I’m sorry, My Lady, for how I just spoke. I became anxious for King Thaddis and didn’t moderate my tongue.”
The Goddess nodded, tilting her chin to a haughty angle. But she resumed the transfer of her power.
Ontarem will punish You for that.
Pasinae grabbed for the energy and shot the stream to Thaddis. As the minutes flowed on, Pasinae started to transfer her annoyance with the Goddess to her lover. Why was he taking so long? He could amuse himself with Daria after he’d captured her.
Another pull yanked more energy away from her. Something’s wrong!
The strain on her continued. Besolet’s support remained steady, yet Pasinae sensed the Goddess growing weaker. Stupid cow. She could call upon all her people for replenishment, but she only chooses to meld with the royal family and her priests and priestesses. Now Ontarem is going to have to pay the price. He won’t be pleased.
Pasinae touched the pearl at her forehead, trying to connect with Ontarem, while at the same time maintaining her bond with Besolet and Thaddis. She grew weaker; her grasp on her control slipped.
Becoming afraid, she called upon Ontarem, begging for His energy. He sent power swirling through her pearl and into her body. Thankful to be a conduit for her God, she channeled the power through her own medallion and on to Thaddis.
Energy poured from her like blood from an open vein. Frantic, she called upon Ontarem for more.
With a burst that surged through the pearl on her forehead, she was answered. But His help wasn’t enough.
Tricolored energy speared through Thaddis. She’d never seen anything like it.
Before Pasinae could drop the pendent and sever the connection, the backlash burned through her. She cried out in pain, sensing Besolet and Ontarem also being affected.
Agony radiated through her body, and she slid into unconsciousness.
~ ~ ~
Later that morning, Jasmine rode next to Roe-al, too preoccupied with the aftereffects of her dream to delight in the play of ruenar bubbling around her.
Khan, Khan, I hope you’re all right. Somehow she thought she’d know through her othersense if he’d died. But still…. What if he’d been captured?
Another edge of anxiety urged her to hurry, hurry. Why, she didn’t know. She just knew s
he had to obey her othersense prompt.
Beyond the verdant edge of the Drayleth, a granite bump appeared on the horizon, squaring the closer they rode.
Ontarem’s temple.
Jasmine couldn’t help the shiver that slithered down her spine. In spite of her urgent feelings, she clung to the idea of her dream man. He needed her. Without her desire to rescue him, her fear might make her wheel Darklady around and head back to the safety of Exonlah. Although from what Roe-al had just said, Exonlah might not be safe for very long.
Just a few days ago, she’d been raped and beaten by Amir and Moussad and had thought she’d suffered a fate worse than death. She had wanted to give up, letting the shame drive her into the desert to die. Now, at a time when she wanted to live, she might really be heading toward a fate worse than death—life as Ontarem’s captive, her brain raped by him to strengthen his evil regime.
Yet, neither can I leave my dream man to continue to suffer that fate.
A muddy smell drifted over to her, and she wrinkled her nose.
Roe-al noticed her expression. “The marshlands. We are riding up-wind. Soon you must go on alone.”
Alone. She shivered.
Roe-al pointed at a spindly bush that reminded Jasmine of a scraggly Christmas tree. “See that?”
She nodded.
“That marks the hidden path through the marsh. We follow it to find the berst. The path branches out several times. If you always travel to the left, eventually you will reach a small cove. The cliff is hollowed out, as if Ontarem took a giant spoon and scooped out a chunk. The water is deep. No rocks.” His expression turned wistful. “I’ve always wanted to dive off. But of course, I’d first have to learn to swim.”
“If Ontarem is overthrown, your people will be able to come and go freely. And you can learn to swim.”
“I look forward to that day.”
She frowned at the temple. Time to move on. “What do I do about Darklady?”
“The Stridza told me to camp here and wait for you for three days. After that…” his voice trailed away.
“If I’m not back by then, I will probably be a captive.”
The pup chittered.
Roe-al shot the animal a glance of approval. “Your monga is a brave little one.”
“A monga? Is that what they’re called?”
“Yes. Every one of the Che-da-wah is bonded with one. They are pets, but more than pets. With their intelligence and sense of loyalty, they could best be described as companions.”
“I should give him a name. What’s yours called?”
“Jatay is her name.”
“I love the color of her fur.”
“Your monga’s fur will darken as he gets older.”
“Are all the females blue and the males green?”
“Yes. Although the East Clan have bred theirs to get a deeper shade. Perhaps one day you will see them for yourself.”
“I hope so.”
Jasmine thought of the tenacity of her furry new companion. “I think I’ll name the monga Shareef. That means honesty in my language, but it also means loyalty.” She grinned at Roe-al. “A little bit of my homeland in a strange new world.”
Their talk of the animals had distracted Jasmine from her destination, but Ontarem’s temple loomed ever nearer. Soon, the jagged outlines of other buildings punctuated the horizon.
Roe-al reined in. “I must leave you here, Jasmine.”
She halted Darklady and dismounted. She patted the mare’s neck, hiding her face from Roe-al. She didn’t want him to see her reluctance, nor how her hands shook as she pulled the reins over the horse’s neck.
Her monga tilted his head and chirped, the sound so full of anxious enquiry that she had to smile. “I’m all right, little Shareef. Just nervous.” She held up her hands to him.
He retracted his claws from the pad, amber eyes watchful of her every move. “Come on, you.” She scooped him off the horse, cuddling him close. “Shareef. What do you think of your new name?”
He chattered in what seemed like approval.
She dropped a kiss on his head and set him on the ground. Then she untied the bag of provisions Jora had handed her before they’d left Exonlah.
Roe-al dismounted.
She gave Darklady’s reins to him.
An awkward silence fell between them, heavy with emotion, with wishes unsaid. Roe-al was the first to speak. “I will wait here for you. I pray you succeed, Jasmine. May Arvintor’s power protect you.”
“And you, Roe-al. Walk in Arvintor’s light.”
Jasmine scooped up Shareef, stuffing him into her supply bag. He squeaked in disapproval, then settled down.
Squaring her shoulders, Jasmine walked toward the Evil One’s temple.
~ ~ ~
Instead of Drayleth gradually receding to the far-flung outskirts of Penutar, the land of the Che-da-wah ended in an abrupt line. Jasmine stepped out from the tall teal grasses onto a swath of hard-packed dirt. About two hundred meters ahead, several gray block buildings sat in a line, obstructing her view of the rest of the city, all except for the temple, rising like a malignant entity to overshadow its surroundings.
The minute both of Jasmine’s feet touched the dirt, a pulse seized her mind—a tiny negative energy drain that gave her an immediate headache. She glanced back to the grassland with longing, but didn’t dare retreat. If Ontarem had just become aware of her presence, she’d be followed, endangering the Che-da-wah, who’d need at least another day or two before all the people of the clans had a chance to bond with Arvintor.
No, I have to go on.
I don’t want to. The fearful voice in her head pleaded. Please, let’s turn back.
She forced herself to ignore fearful chatter, walking forward, every footstep heavy, as if she trudged through mud. Chills goosebumped her flesh.
Arvintor, I’m here. Where are your promised fireworks?
Jasmine waited, but received no response from the God.
Now that I’m in Ontarem’s territory, am I completely cut off from Arvintor?
Fear slowed her footsteps.
A stench of human waste drifted over, worsening as she reached the buildings. Cesspools? Sewage treatment facilities?
A man wearing a shabby gray garment similar to her chador walked up to a lip in the wall and tossed the sludgy contents of a metal bucket inside.
She pinched her nose and averted her eyes, quickening her pace. Another dirt area gave way to a cluster of ragged tents and board-and-stone shanties. Thin children wearing only gray clouts played listlessly in the dirt in front of the houses, so different from the energetic youngsters of the Che-da-wah. A woman paused in the act of sweeping the hardpacked dirt in front of her hovel, eying Jasmine.
Jasmine smiled at her.
The woman shyly ducked her head in acknowledgement. Then, with a flutter of her tattered gray garment, she flitted back inside.
The poverty here was similar to some areas in her homeland. The difference was in the stillness. No chattering children played games or women gathered to exchange gossip. No men walked together talking business. The few adults she’d seen all traveled alone and avoided eye contact.
What a horrible way to live. And these people don’t know any different.
The closer Jasmine came to the temple, the more the buildings improved, evolving into the boxy stone structures she’d seen in her dream. The narrow windows lacked glass; instead heavy metal shutters opened against the gray walls.
Signs over the doorways indicated the kind of shops, but since Arvintor hadn’t given her the written language, she couldn’t read them. But, like a medieval European town, there was also a picture next to the writing. She assumed a stylized fish must advertise the fishmonger.
She walked past, inhaling a fishy smell. Yes, definitely the fishmonger.
Jasmine strolled on, trying to match the pace of the people. With each step, she could feel her strength draining from her.
The further into the
city she traveled, the more the malevolent energy increased, until it throbbed in her mind, static vibration like a turbine generator, except silent. The force cast a pall over the whole city.
No wonder everyone seemed so lethargic, having to live with this constant mental battering. Even though they must be used to the strain, even if their othersense wasn’t as strong as hers, the sensation felt like an old time doctor had cupped her vein, draining her blood one drop at a time.
The stomp of booted feet marching in unison broke the city’s silence, sending thumps of fears to press against her heart. She’d heard that cadence in movies, and the sound had never boded well for the heroes.
People vanished. Doors slammed shut. Hands reached through the windows and pulled shutters closed.
Jasmine looked around, frantic to find a hiding place. Then she darted into the narrow space between two buildings. Perhaps she could hide in the back.
The walls narrowed, closing in. Would the dimness be enough to hide her? She held out her hands, using the rough walls as a guide.
The marching grew louder.
Jasmine’s outstretched hand bumped into a wall, scraping her knuckles. Wincing in pain, she realized another building butted onto the back of the ones she was between. She could go no further.
With a tremor that shook her whole frame, Jasmine realized she was trapped.
CHAPTER NINE
Ontarem swooped into Indaran’s body, fisted a giant hand around his heart, and squeezed.
Indaran gasped in pain, feeling the Evil God yank at his very life essence, not just his memories and emotions.
He’s killing me!
An immediate stubborn burst of resistance flung Indaran into rebellion. No. I’ll fight.
Indaran grabbed for an imaginary sword, slashing through the grip Ontarem had on him.
The pressure slackened, but didn’t release.
I can fight Him. Heartened, he thrust and parried.
Through his othersense, Indaran felt Ontarem wrest the life energy from the others around him. One-by-one, their lives snuffed out.
Fight, he yelled through his othersense, throwing out a picture of a sword, stabbing the God.
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