Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (53 page)

Behind them, Indaran could sense the remainder of their army had also paused, waiting for their leaders to make the first move into the Evil One’s city. All the able-bodied were mounted. Although Ontarem’s soldiers had killed many of the horses, the Che-da-wah herd had enough remounts for the nomads who’d lost theirs, as well as equip the soldiers. They hadn’t brought pack animals. Each rider carried provisions and leather water bottles in their saddlebags.

He twisted to check on everyone, seeing the apprehension he felt mirrored on many of their faces. The former slaves knew what they faced in returning to the city, and he’d warned the nomads and soldiers what to expect.

Most still wore their bloodstained clothing. After the battle, they’d carried all the wounded to the healers, stabilized what horses they could, including, to Jasmine’s expressed relief, Darklady. They’d only taken time to wash their faces and hands and eat a hasty meal. Then they’d set out for Penutar, making good speed. They hadn’t even dealt with the dead, leaving those who stayed behind—the Che-da-wah oldsters, women with young children, and walking wounded to build the funeral pyres and say the words of departure.

Taking advantage of the wait, some took food from their saddlebags—strips of dried meat that they washed down with water from the leather bags.

Jasmine reached over and touched his hand, sending a physical and othersense message of comfort.

He acknowledged the gesture with a thin smile. “The only place Ontarem’s soldiers can be is here,” he said, repeating what he’d told everyone before they set out. “Once we cross over, Jasmine, please drop back to the middle of the group.”

Shad and Shir returned, but they didn’t land. They stayed in the air, their tails waving.

Khan seemed to recognize their pattern. He signaled for the monkey-bats to stay aloft and keep watch. “I’m receiving the impression of many men fighting. Ontarem’s soldiers defend an army that moves in from the sea. One…” he faltered. “One looks like Thaddis. He leads troops in black uniforms, but they also spotted some green ones among them.”

Indaran sat back in the saddle, thinking.
Dare I trust my othersense dreams? Take the risk that Thaddis has indeed turned against Ontarem?
He made his decision. “Tell Shad and Shir to guide us toward the fighting, but to stop several streets before so we can spy on the situation before we commit ourselves.”

Khan nodded, and stared intently up at the monkey-bats.

Shir chirped and speed off. Shir flew behind her.

Indaran urged his horse forward. When they crossed the boundary, his body gave a small jerk when Ontarem’s pulse grabbed his mind.

The gelding he was riding tossed his head.

The horse probably felt the same as Indaran did about having his energy tapped. Following the monkey-bats, he urged the horse to a canter.

Daria soon caught up. She flashed him a grim smile. “Seagem invades Penutar.”

He clenched his fist around the reins. “And this time, Seagem will win!”

~ ~ ~

The sight of Ontarem’s warriors pouring down the street kicked Sadie’s heart into her throat. They moved silently and looked fierce, alien, wearing only gray kilts and sandals, swords in hand, ferocious expressions on their faces.

The soldiers around her responded with war cries of “Withea!” and “Yadarius!”

But she couldn’t even croak out a sound.

“Guinheld,” screamed Meleda. She glanced back at Sadie, a wild look in her gray eyes, not at all like a composed warrior-priestess.

A solid wall of Ocean’s Glory soldiers absorbed the first wave of attackers. The harsh sounds of sickening thunks on flesh and the clash of metal rang through the air.

Thaddis’s plan was to drive a wedge through the opposing forces, to get a small band straight to the temple, leaving the rest of the army to hold off Ontarem’s troops. They hurriedly lined up like an arrow, Philan at point, then Meleda and Boerk, and finally Sadie and Thaddis.

Stay out from under our feet.
Sadie sent the command to Cheta, hoping the dog would hear and obey.

Around them, the bigger group—composed of all who’d practiced together in Zacatlan—formed an outer triangle.

As the line pressed forward, it bent in places, broke in others. The enemy poured through. A thick-set soldier, his face wet with sweat, lunged at Sadie.

The jewels in Ganawen’s hilt flared blue. She feinted toward his side. At the last moment, she turned and rushed forward, skewering him. She couldn’t look at the death agony on his face, only pushed his body off her blade and brought her sword up to engage the next one, dispatched him, and moved on. In seconds, the melee closed about her.

Cheta dashed in front of a soldier angling from the left.

The man tripped over the dog and fell forward, making it easy for Sadie to swing the flat of her sword against of the back of his neck. He collapsed and stayed down, his sword clattering out of his hand.

She hadn’t expected the sensory overload—being surrounded by the press of bodies or the noise that roared in her ears from the shouts of the warriors, the cries of the wounded, the clang of swords. This close, she couldn’t escape the coppery scent of blood or the stench of perforated bowels.

Horror threatened to overcome her, and Sadie fought her own desperation, gritted her teeth, and kept fighting. The jewels on Ganawen flashed and sang, increasing in strength and aiding Sadie in necessary detachment.

Thaddis cut down an enemy that jabbed at her side.

The dead weight brushed against Sadie body. Shaken, she realized she hadn’t seen that attack coming.

Thaddis shouted an order, and the arrow formation straightened out and began to move down the road.

As the men in the front cut their way through the enemy, everyone picked up speed, until only those in the outer line fought. The fighting triangle winnowed their way through the enemy lines and out into the open street, leaving the battle behind.

Once beyond the fighting, half the cadre of soldiers dropped back to cover the group’s rear. The other half jogged down the street in front of them, alert, weapons ready.

The silence of this part of the city contrasted to the din of the battle. The noise of the fighting grew fainter, until Sadie could only hear the pounding of boot heels and her own harsh breathing.

They came to an open area—a deserted marketplace by the look of the abandoned stalls, still holding the wares the shopkeepers had left behind.

In the lead, Philan stopped and raised his hand for everyone to a halt. Although they took advantage of the brief rest, they kept vigilant with weapons at-the-ready.

Sadie was grateful to catch her breath, and even more grateful that all her training had enabled her to keep pace with the pack. Her neck and shoulders felt knotted and sore. She rubbed her neck and the back of her head under her matted braid. Her hair was damp at the roots from sweat and stiff with sea salt.

Cheta sat, her tongue out.

Sadie switched her sword to her left hand so she could stretch out the kinks in her hand and wrist. Then she straightened and bent her elbow and rolled her shoulder.

Over the sound of her companions’ heavy breathing, Sadie heard rapid hoofbeats entering the market area from a side street. Her heartbeat kicked up. She switched her sword back to her right hand.

A building blocked their view of the approaching horsemen. They just had time to orient themselves to face this new challenge when riders, blades high, swept around the corner of the temple.

Her stomach clenched.
They outnumber us.

As the riders cantered closer, Sadie froze. She had a sudden realization that she had no training against mounted warriors, and furthermore, she couldn’t possibly bring herself to hurt a horse. Her mind skipped like popcorn, making frantic leaps as she shifted through potential moves that would take down a rider without injuring his mount. Or
her
mount, she added, noticing one of the two blond leaders was female.

Those two didn’t look anything like the rest of Penutar’s defenders, and she briefly wondered if the woman could be Pasinae. But Sadie’s gaze settled on the familiar uniforms of Seagem’s green, stained from battle. A wave of relief washed over her.

No one lowered swords, though, and she kept hers up, too.

Philan flung his arm up, waving his sword in the air. “Daria,” he shouted, waving his weapon.

The blonde woman gave him a sharp look, and her face lit up. Letting out a happy shriek, she thrust her sword into the scabbard and slid off her mount. She tossed the reins of her horse to the dark-haired man next to her, who had the same coloring as Ontarem’s soldiers. Only he too wore Seagem’s green uniform.

Philan and Daria met in a mighty hug. He lifted her off her feet and swung her around, then set her down and kissed her on both cheeks.

Is that really Seagem’s princess?
Sadie’s mind scrabbled to follow the events.

The dark-skinned man who’d ridden next to Daria watched her with an indulgent smile, but Sadie’s othersense received the impression from him of coiled strength and protectiveness.

Sadie glanced at Thaddis.

A brief expression of longing crossed Thaddis’s face, quickly suppressed by impassivity.

Still holding onto Philan, Daria turned to the man who looked so much like her and beckoned with a wave. “Brother, come here.”

Sadie turned to study the leader. She could see the resemblance between the siblings.
If that’s Daria with Philan, then he must be Indaran.
She recognized him from the othersense dream.
Seagem’s bonnie prince…lost all these years. King,
she corrected herself.
Seagem’s king is no longer lost.
The king cut a sharp look at Thaddis, then deliberately turned his head away.

Sadie understood Indaran’s reaction to Thaddis—indeed, she felt much of the same conflicting feelings. But still, her heart ached for him, and she had to look away from both men.

The large band looked like a mixture of Seagem’s soldiers and some people she hadn’t seen before. Instead of uniforms, they wore loose-fitting chamois clothing and carried wooden spears, not swords. Something about the way they sat their horses—tall and proud—reminded her of the Bedouin…or the historical pictures of the Sioux Indians of the American plains.

Sadie became aware of the tension in the air, the way each group eyed the two kings—because Thaddis, no matter his current title, still carried himself like a king.

Indaran made a circling motion, and his followers urged their horses forward. “Join with Ocean’s Glory…” he told them, then spotted some of the green uniforms in Thaddis’s army and smiled an acknowledgement at his people. “And
Seagem
in guarding us. A battle rages nearby, and we must quickly settle who is to enter Ontarem’s lair.” He swung down from his horse, his movements strong and flowing.

A woman rode up to him. She was slight and dark and carried a bundle on her chest. Her silver gray robe was hiked up to expose blue jeans and tennis shoes, and she took in the scene with curiosity in her vivid blue eyes.

Sadie stared at the woman’s legs.
Is she from Earth?
She had a sudden intense need to go to her—to share their kinship.

Indaran reached up and, careful of the bundle she carried, helped the woman slide off his horse and into his arms. His hand protectively in the small of her back, he guided her forward.

Daria pulled Philan over to Indaran, her eyes dancing with laughter. “You won’t guess who this is,” she said to her brother.

“Oh, yes, I will,” Indaran retorted, clasping arms with Philan and slapping his shoulder with his free hand. “You look just like your esteemed grandsire, although without the beard. Even as a boy, you showed his promise with the blade.”

Philan’s jaw tightened in obvious emotion. “And you look just like your esteemed sire, My King…and your brother Cihkel, as well.”

“So I’m told.” Indaran’s voice sounded thick. He released Philan’s arm and touched Jasmine’s back. “Seagem,” he raised his voice. “Behold your queen. This is Jasmine, from Earth.”

Sadie started at the confirmation of her thought.

“Jasmine’s a healer.” Indaran continued. “She’s not a fighter. You must all guard her well.” His gaze swept the circle, touching on everyone, not just the people from Seagem. His gaze lingered on Sadie, dropping to her sword. He nodded in recognition before his gaze moved on to Meleda.

The dark man dismounted. He wore an archery quiver and a bow draped over his shoulder and a long knife strapped to each of his thighs. He gave the reins of the two horses over to one of his companions. With silent steps, he moved to Daria’s side.

Daria touched his arm. “My husband Khan, another from Earth.”

Sadie looked forward to talking to Khan and Jasmine.

Thaddis strode forward until he was abreast of Philan. “Enough talking.”

Sadie wondered if the others could hear the emotion in his voice, or if they thought he just sounded harsh. Perhaps only she could see the energy pulsing between the two former friends—full of love and anger and hurt. And she wondered if they would ever work through their issues with each other. If they’d
live
to work through them.