Reaper of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  He pulled on his chin. “But if this God Arvintor is powerless, how are we in danger?”

  “Because He no longer is powerless. The nomads are worshipping Him and giving Him energy. Arvintor challenged Ontarem yesterday. That’s what happened when you all were knocked unconscious. Ontarem ripped the energy from all of you to feed himself.”

  “Is that why I felt so weak all the rest of the day yesterday, why I still don’t feel myself?”

  “Yes, Ontarem is taking our energy without waiting for us to give it to Him. I expect many deaths as the weaker people—the slaves, children, elders, the ill, succumb. And with this plague….”

  “My wife complained about the listlessness of our daughter,” he whispered, a stricken expression on his face. “She’s worried Tashta might be coming down with the illness from the camp.”

  Jasmine shook her head. “Even if she’s not ill, in her weakened state she will be vulnerable. If she has any fever or nausea tomorrow, I will take a look at her. But if she’s lost some of her life force, there won’t be anything I can do to help.”

  Landers grimaced. “So this is why we must kill all the nomads,” he growled. “If we don’t, then many of our people will die.”

  “No, no. That is not the real solution. Arvintor is not an evil God. He does not steal His people’s power, only receives that which is offered to Him. Those in His care thrive in His love.”

  “Love? From a God? I cannot imagine any such thing. It is our duty to love Ontarem. Not His to love us.”

  “I’ve overheard the priests and priestesses talking about how Ontarem gives them His love—what a blissful experience it is for them. Why should it be different for the rest of us?”

  He shifted, obviously uncomfortable with what he was hearing.

  “Ontarem’s control is slipping,” she pressed. “That’s why He’s taking even more from His people, making them ill. But if Arvintor were to become more powerful…”

  Landers averted his gaze, but not before she caught a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. “To think such is blasphemy.”

  “If, in His greed, Ontarem begins to kill His own people, He breaks the covenant with us. He breaks it. Not us.”

  He clenched his hand around his spear. “I must think on this.”

  Jasmine suppressed a smile of triumph, giving Landers a regal incline of her head. “Then I will leave you to your thoughts.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  That night, Jasmine set off at a brisk pace through the darkened streets of Penutar, trying to look as if she had important reasons for being out late. If she were stopped, interrogated, she would tell the guards she was going to minister to Landers’s child. If I’m allowed to talk to them. She hoped they wouldn’t kill her on sight.

  Overhead, the silver moon washed the silent houses and shops in gray shadows. An occasional lantern burned a firerock, adding faint light to the evening. She skirted a stone well in the center of a small crossroads.

  A dog barked when she passed a tightly shuttered home, the only sound of life on the block. She tensed, but the animal fell abruptly silent, as if hushed by its owners.

  How did I get myself into this? All I wanted was a quiet, solitary life in the gray forest. Instead I’ve turned into a master spy in a real movie epic, but without the inclination, the training, or the lack of fear those characters portray.

  She pulled her chador tighter around her against the chill of the evening. Jasmine wished she were wrapped in a blanket on the kelp-cushioned floor of Anza’s tent, safe between Indaran and the Archpriestess.

  Although, considering her attraction to Indaran…was that really a safe place? She frowned, and reached up to rub her temples. She’d had a nightmare last night. Her dream memory was hazy—fear of Amir and Moussad overlaid by a feeling of protection and safety. She shook her head, not wanting to remember. The movement drew her attention to the pain in her head.

  Her resistance to the insidious beat of Ontarem’s power drain had given her a dull headache. She figured this would be something she’d just have to learn to live with as long as Ontarem was in control of the city. Perhaps everyone had these headaches, but didn’t complain about them because the constant pressure was all they knew.

  Jasmine picked up her pace. She had to reach Roe-al and return to the city before dawn. She didn’t dare risk encountering Ontarem’s soldiers on their way across the plain. They’d assume she was Che-da-wah and capture or kill her.

  She hastened around a corner and almost smacked into a guard. Gasping, she jumped back. Her heart pounded, and adrenalin buzzed through her veins.

  He grabbed her arm. “Who are you? Why are you out?”

  Fear beat a pulse against her throat, and Jasmine couldn’t answer. She squinted up at him, trying to make out his features in the dim light. Moonlight glistened off his oil-slicked black hair, pulled back into a long ponytail. A broken nose and a thin-lipped mouth added to his harsh features.

  “I am a healer. Healers have no curfew,” she said with a calm that masked the curdling in her stomach and the trembling in her limbs, and hoped her statement was true.

  “All have a curfew,” he said in a flat tone that brooked no argument.

  Her knees shook, but she lifted her chin. “Sometimes, healers must go out at night to tend to those who need us.”

  He remained silent.

  She needed to make a case for herself. “Do you have a family?”

  “A wife and two sons.” The information came out in a spare sentence.

  “How would you feel if one of them fell seriously ill at night, and you couldn’t get help for them?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Too many have fallen ill, weakening Ontarem’s power. Our God needs everyone to be healthy.”

  The guard appeared to consider her words.

  “Tomorrow our army marches out to the plain, they will need Ontarem’s protection and leadership. He must have all the energy possible.”

  Releasing her arm, he stepped back.

  “Thank you.” She gave him a regal nod of her head, and stepped away.

  A squeak and a squeal from the shadows between two buildings had both of them whirling to face the sound.

  Claws scratched against the stone pavement.

  The guard withdrew his sword from the scabbard.

  A small animal burst out of the opening and dashed straight toward Jasmine. Just in time she recognized Shareef. “Wait.” She grabbed the guard’s sword arm. “It’s just a little dog.” She clung to the guard’s arm, feeling the rigid muscles under her fingers.

  Shareef scrambled over to dance around her ankles. “Oh, isn’t he cute?” she cooed. “You won’t hurt it will you?”

  “That’s not a dog,” the guard growled. “It’s one of those creatures the nomads have.” The guard peered over his shoulder, then at her with suspicion. “Almost seems like it knows you.”

  “I’m sure he’s this friendly with everyone. In fact, I’ll take him with me. The sick little girl I’m treating has been very low in spirits. This pup should cheer her up.”

  He looked reluctant.

  She didn’t give him a chance to think, she just hurried on her way.

  Her shoulders stayed tense, and she squeezed the monga to her chest. The guard’s gaze bored into her back until she turned the next corner. She walked as fast as she could to put distance between them. Many minutes passed before her heartbeat slowed, and she stopped shaking.

  She dropped a kiss on Shareef’s head. “I’m so glad to see you, baby,” she whispered. “You just have incredibly bad timing.”

  The monga licked her chin, patting her cheek with one hand. She nuzzled him, then set him on her shoulder and moved on.

  Jasmine threaded through the streets. Finally, the stench of sewage from the treatment facility near the border told her she neared her destination. The moment her feet touched the grass of the Drayleth, the insidious pull of Ontarem’s power ceased. She took a deep breath and sank to her knees
in thankfulness.

  “Arvintor, can you hear me?”

  She could feel His presence, but Arvintor didn’t speak.

  “Ontarem is sending His soldiers to hunt down the Che-da-wah. They leave tomorrow.”

  She had a sense of His understanding.

  “I’m going to warn Roe-al. I’ll need a guide.”

  A loving feeling wrapped around her. She basked in the connection, so different from the foulness of Ontarem’s touch. A pressure under her chin turned her face a few degrees to the right.

  Jasmine jumped to her feet and strode off across the plain, careful to follow Arvintor’s lead. She inhaled the smell of the grass deep into her lungs. Her headache vanished, and she relished the freedom of the plain.

  An hour passed. The second moon rose, brightening her surroundings. Jasmine slowed her steps. Roe-al’s camp should be around here somewhere. “Roe-al,” she called softly. “Roe-al, it’s Jasmine.”

  She waited, hearing nothing but the sound of the wind through the grass. She kept going. “Roe-al!” she yelled.

  “Jasmine.” The call came on the wind.

  She turned.

  Roe-al ran toward her, his form dark and fuzzy in the moonlight. “Jasmine, it’s so good to see you.” He grabbed her shoulders. “I’ve worried.”

  “I’m well. Much has happened.”

  “Come to the campsite. You can tell me all.”

  They walked for a few minutes in silence.

  She soon saw the outline of the tent and the horses. The smoke from a tiny fire stung her nostrils.

  Roe-al had spread his sleeping skins next to the fire. He motioned her to sit, then dropped next to her. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Do you have some water?”

  Jatay nudged her, and rose on her hind feet, her paws on Jasmine’s leg. She touched noses with Shareef.

  Jasmine set down the pup so the two could frolic together, which they did with much shaking of their bunny tails.

  She smiled at their antics, before sobering and giving Roe-al the information she’d brought. “The army marches tomorrow. But I’m staying in Penutar. I’m needed.” In a few minutes, she sketched the story of what had happened since she’d left him.

  He listened patiently, but didn’t seem as perturbed as she would have thought.

  She drew her narration to a close. “You’re taking this calmly?”

  “I have spent the time since you left in meditation and connection with Arvintor. He has filled my soul. No matter what happens, nothing can take the experience away from me.”

  The quiet joy in his eyes made her throat tighten.

  “Besides, your news is not unexpected. We thought Ontarem would attack in response to Arvintor’s revealing of His presence.”

  “You’re in danger.”

  “We now have Arvintor. He will protect us.”

  “Arvintor needs to save all His power for His confrontation with Ontarem.”

  “The added energy from the people of Seagem, as you have told, is a great gift. Perhaps their strength will be enough.”

  “I’m worried, Roe-al. The enemy has an easy weapon, which will cost them nothing. All they have to do is set fire to this beautiful plain of yours.

  “That is a worry, indeed. But late summer is when we fear the threat of fire more than anything else, even Ontarem. Right now, the grass is lush. The individual blades are swollen with the spring moisture. And we have the ruenar which you love so much.”

  “But all you need are some dry, windy days.”

  “That is true.” He stood and began to roll up his sleeping skins. “I’ll ride to warn the other clans.”

  She snapped her fingers for Shareef, who scampered over to her. She picked him up and rose. “I need to return to Penutar.”

  He walked over to clasp her hand. “Go with the blessings of Arvintor, Jasmine.”

  A lump rose in her throat. She swallowed it down so she could bid him a brave farewell. “And you also, Roe-al”

  She turned and trotted back toward the city.

  ~ ~ ~

  Daria stood in the bow of the Comali, her feet braced on the heaving deck, hands clutching the railing for support as the vessel flew through the waves. Next to her Khan leaned against the rail, his robe flapping in the wind, the sound accompanied by the snap of ropes and canvas, the creak of the wooden hull, the splash of the waves against the bow. Spray dampened their clothing, but Daria didn’t care. Instead, she inhaled the briny air and reveled in the feeling of speed, the power of the ship.

  The fecund sails billowed overhead. Sailors scurried about their duties, hard at work trimming the sails to take advantage of the strong wind and current provided by Withea working in tandem with Guinheld, the Goddess of Zacatlan.

  We’re coming to rescue you, Indaran. We’ll be there soon. A few weeks at this rate, instead of months.

  Counselor Ogan had insisted they take the flagship of Ocean Glory’s fleet and two other vessels to go after Pasinae and rescue Indaran and his crew. The ship was named after Thaddis’s mother, the beloved Queen Comali. Ocean’s Glory’s most competent sailors crewed the vessel, and she also carried fifty soldiers and twenty archers, as well. Food and medicine stocked the holds. Ogan had wanted to send more soldiers, but Daria insisted on reserving as much space as possible for the rescued people.

  May we return with the holds, cabins, and decks filled to overflowing, undoing some of Thaddis’s harm.

  Thaddis. She gripped the railing, remembering the decrepit shell of a man they’d left behind. Besolet had refused to have anything to do with him. The council had appointed Ogan regent for Thaddis. Then they’d sent the king to the Goddess Guinheld’s sanctuary in the mountains between Ocean’s Glory and Seagem. They’d removed Besolet’s statues from the temple and the rest of the city and requested Withea step in as the Goddess of Ocean’s Glory.

  Daria had never been there, but occasionally someone from Seagem would journey to Zacatlan on a pilgrimage and return with tales of the peace and healing to be found in the isolated valley high in the mountains. Guinheld’s priests and priestesses would take good care of Thaddis. Better than he deserves.

  The ship leaped through a wild wave. Daria grinned at Khan, knowing her exhilaration showed on her face. “What do you think?” She raised her voice to be heard over the sound of the waves.

  “It’s wonderful,” he yelled back. “I’ve never been out on the ocean, at least not out of sight of land. This is like flying.”

  “We are flying.” She let go of the rail, extended her arms. The sleeves of her shirt flapped like wings. “Never has a ship sailed so fast. Withea’s wind is strong. And we don’t have to cope with the nasty effects of a storm. We can just enjoy ourselves.”

  Khan slid one arm around her, anchoring her against his body.

  She slipped her arms around him.

  “Well, my lady wife,” he said into her ear. “We have some time until we reach Ontarem’s country and have to confront whatever dangerous situation awaits us there.” He nibbled on her earlobe.

  Chillbumps popped up on Daria’s arms and legs. She shrugged one shoulder and twisted her face away to avoid the seductive tickles of his mouth.

  “We can suspend all cares for a little while. They will be upon us soon enough.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “What do you think, habibti? Shall we go below?”

  Daria pulled one hand out from around his waist, walking her fingers up his chest. “I think that can be arranged.” Although outwardly playful, inside she was not so sure. Can I banish all my worries?

  She pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his, first teasing, than deepening the kiss. Her body softened.

  He growled deep in his throat and pulled her hips against him. He broke off their kiss, only to trail his tongue down her sensitive neck.

  She shivered. In just their short time of marriage, Khan had discovered many of her body’s responsive areas, and he took full advantage of that knowledge.
/>   Perhaps I will be able to forget for a while…just a little while….

  ~ ~ ~

  Dawn was just breaking as Jasmine stepped behind Indaran to line up for the yah-dar-sae. The golden glow of the early morning sun coated the purple shadows around them a rich amber, bestowing beauty on the ragged tents.

  Jasmine inhaled the scent of the nearby sea, expanding her lungs in the chill air. She knew the exercise would soon warm her heart and her body. She turned her head from side to side, loosening her neck and trying to avoid staring at Indaran’s broad back. Once again he was wearing his plain woolen clothing. But even in the apparel of a commoner, he looked every inch a king, and she couldn’t help but be attracted to him.

  An older woman with white-streaked blond hair took a place beside Jasmine and yawned, then smiled with obvious embarrassment, showing lines around her eyes and mouth.

  Jasmine smiled back, conveying her understanding about being tired. Then she exchanged quiet greetings with the others.

  With every ceremony, the people rotated groups, so each person in the camp would eventually have the opportunity to perform the ritual with their king. Because Jasmine was the newcomer, she stayed with Indaran. Everyone had quickly learned her name, while she only knew those with whom she’d had serious discussions, or who had used her abilities for healing.

  Jasmine wished she could greet each person by name. She’d made getting to know everyone a priority. But it would still take her a while before she learned eight hundred names and faces.

  Elanath sidled into the group, angling herself into Indaran’s line of vision. She’d braided her vibrant hair into a coronet wrapped around her head, and the bruises had faded from her face.

  Indaran turned and greeted her.

  Elanath’s return smile was dazzling.

  Another person slipped into the group. Mastin. She remembered him from the carnage in the temple, and she shuddered at the memory. Something in the way he looked at Elanath—an intense focus—drew Jasmine’s attention.