Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (22 page)

Jasmine thought the horse was dead, until she saw the head move slightly. She stopped and touched the nomad’s shoulder in comfort.

The woman lifted her tear-ravaged face to Jasmine’s. “I raised him from a colt. He’s been my constant companion. Today, he took the spear meant for me.” Her words choked with grief. “He’s dying, in pain. I must send him off, and I’m gathering my strength to do so.”

“Wait.” Jasmine sank to a crouch, placed her palm on the animal’s side, and touched him with her othersense. A belly wound, not unlike that of the man whose liver she’d just healed. “Ease the spear out,” she ordered Indaran.

Her husband gently pulled out the shaft. Blood gushed from the wound.

As her othersense sank into the animal, Jasmine engaged her healer senses, sending the red energy into the horse. Although she hadn’t asked, Jasmine felt Arvintor’s power flow into her as she repaired the nick in the liver and knit together the damaged muscles. With a surge of energy, she closed the wound, opened her eyes, and rocked back on her heels.

The woman gazed at Jasmine, her dark eyes round with awe. Her mouth quivered. “You healed him,” she said the words on a breath. “A horse.”

“Arvintor and I healed him.” She patted the horse’s neck. “Let him rest a few minutes longer, then get him up.”

“But you spent othersense power on my
horse
.”

Her throat tightened. Jasmine thought of the spirited mare she’d left behind at home on Earth, of her bond with Shareef and how he’d helped to defeat Trine Kokam when Ontarem’s priest had captured her. “For the Che-da-wah, horses are more than mere animals. And our animals…our
companions
are valiant allies in our fight with Ontarem.”

And if those soldiers start targeting the Che-da-wah’s mounts, we will be in trouble.

Shaking off the feeling, Jasmine patted the woman’s shoulder and started toward the prisoners, Indaran half a step behind her. As she walked, she rolled her shoulders and twisted her head to ease her stiff muscles. Somehow, she had to find a way to relax while healing, instead of tensing up. Hopefully calm and confidence would come with experience.

Ontarem’s soldiers stared sullenly at her approach, or gazed at the ground, hopelessness on their faces.

Roe-al dashed over to her. “They think we’re going to kill them.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what they do when they capture one of us.”

Horrified, Jasmine glanced at Roe-al, having a hard time believing what she’d just heard. But she saw the truth of his words in the set of his jaw.
Why would Ontarem kill the nomads instead of taking them over?
Before she came up with an answer, Khan and Daria joined them. Khan’s uniform was far cleaner than Indaran’s.

“We tried to keep our shots to arms and legs. Didn’t always manage.” Daria’s face looked drawn. “And with the sword…” She shook her head. “Killed all except one whom I was able to knock out with the flat of my blade. He’s still unconscious.”

“You did your best against men who were trying to kill you,” Jasmine said in a firm tone. “That’s all that can be expected. Their blood is on Ontarem’s hands, not yours.”

She gestured to some of the Che-da-wah who’d approached her for orders. “Wrap the wounds of those less injured.”

Their expressions impassive, the two women and one man nodded. Their stiff body language spoke volumes about their reluctance to aid the enemy. But they did as she had bid, which was all that mattered.

Jasmine pointed to the nearest soldier with a minor wound. “Link with me,” she told Khan and Daria.

They joined hands and connected with her othersense.

“See this?” Jasmine showed them what looked like slimy gray roots attached to the man’s brain. “Cut or saw it off.” She drew on Arvintor’s energy to aid her. With the God’s help, Jasmine was able to sever Ontarem’s tentacles with a swipe of her mental blade. Grateful for the ease of the task compared to the challenge she’d had with baby Merrel, she started to withdraw her othersense.

The man convulsed. His eyes stared blankly upward.

Alarmed, Jasmine plunged back into his body. On a quick scan, she couldn’t see anything wrong, although his heart beat faster, his pulse raced, and his breathing was rapid.

Before she could do anything, his body calmed. Alertness returned to the soldier’s eyes. He stared at the three around him, uncomprehending, then blinked several times. A fearful expression crossed his face. He placed his hand to his head, rubbed, and swallowed. “Can I sit?”

Indaran helped lift the man’s shoulders.

“My head feels funny.”

Alarmed that she’d missed something, Jasmine placed her hand on his forehead. She couldn’t find anything wrong. No wound. No backlash from the tentacles. In fact, there wasn’t anything besides two slight indentations on his brain to show they’d ever been attached.

The soldier moved her hand gently away. “I feel good. My head feels clear.” He wrinkled his broad forehead a few times. “There’s no pain except in my arm.” He raised his elbow. Blood seeped through the bandage wrapped around his arm. “I didn’t know I had pain before. It was always there.”

Jasmine released a deep breath of relief. “You are healed and free of Ontarem’s bondage.”

With a look of awe in his eyes, the soldier inclined his head. “You have my thanks, my lady. I am your humble servant.”

Jasmine placed her hand under his chin and lifted his head to meet his eyes. “You are
no one’s
servant. Rest now. I have others who need me.” She reached her hand up.

Indaran assisted her to her feet.

She gestured to the less wounded. “Each of you start detaching the soldiers from Ontarem while I focus on healing…” She waved at the most severely injured soldiers.

The three each selected a soldier and began to work.

Jasmine watched as they disengaged the tentacles. Satisfied they knew what to do, she turned to her task.

Indaran had seen to the triaging of the prisoners and had made sure they received some preliminary first aid. Jasmine hurried to the soldiers in the front of the line. One glance at their bloody clothes showed these men were seriously wounded, and she was grateful to have Arvintor bolstering her strength.

The first man had a belly wound. He held onto life by a thread.

Jasmine sank to her knees by his side and began to heal him, the procedure easier from familiarity. When she finished, she brushed her othersense over his head and summoned her mental knife to free the man from the Evil God. She severed the binding and waited for his physical response and disorientation to pass, before starting work on the next soldier.

Jasmine finished treating the worst of the injured and moved on to those who’d taken hits on their arms and legs. She’d just mended a man’s hand, when a shout ran out. The alarm in the voice made her gasp and leap to her feet.

At first Jasmine couldn’t tell what was wrong. Then she saw that the twenty or so remaining soldiers who’d been sitting and waiting for healing and freedom had collapsed on the grass. Heart pounding, she ran to the nearest one. His lifeless eyes stared at the sky. With two fingers, she touched his neck but could feel no pulse. Try chest compressions,” she commanded Khan.

Her friend nodded and dropped to his knees, beginning CPR. Indaran and Daria stared at her, not comprehending what she wanted them to do. Knowing she must hurry, she raced to the next man. He also was dead. She pivoted, rapidly surveying the rest. Every man still connected to the God was dead. With a heavy heart, she realized Ontarem had murdered His soldiers rather than allow them their freedom.

~ ~ ~

Khan and Daria rode on either side of the twenty-one prisoners marching toward Exonlah, keeping watch to make sure none broke and ran. Ontarem’s slaying of their comrades, what must seem to them like a betrayal from their God, had devastated the prisoners’ morale, and for the most part the men tramped with lowered heads and slumped shoulders.

Behind them strode the soldiers from Ocean’s Glory, another deterrent to the prisoners making an escape. Khan could tell Daria’s men were weary, but they still remained alert.

From time to time, Khan shot a concerned look at his wife, not liking the haunted look in her eyes—one he was sure must match his own. No matter what he did, the images from the battle kept replaying in his mind. He wanted to hold Daria, to try to give and receive comfort. But taking care of emotional needs would have to wait.

Before them rolled the wagons transporting the wounded. Jasmine rode close enough to watch over the men and women inside. Indaran, on his black stallion, often dropped back to check on the prisoners as well as the soldiers, then cantered forward to Jasmine.

From time to time, they’d startle plump blue birds into the air. Khan tracked their flight, admiring the cobalt color. Daria didn’t seem to notice them. Maybe the birds were common in Seagem too.

A Che-da-wah encampment had sprouted rows of hide tents alongside the edge of a forest, which looked like teepees straight out of an American cowboy and Indian movie. A gust of breeze brought a whiff of smoke from the campfires. Children scampered in the open area playing a game that involved throwing a feathered stick and a lot of running around and calling out. A herd of horses grazed peacefully on the rich grass, guarded by the youth of the clans.

When the wagons reached the edge of the forest, they halted. The green-trunked trees grew so thick no path existed to ride, much less drive, through the woods. They’d need to lead their horses around the low-branched trees.

Roe-al, who’d been riding behind, caught up to him. “For generations, this was the forbidden forest. We didn’t know the place was really Exonlah, home of Arvintor.”

Khan caught his breath at the beauty of Exonlah. Spongy cobalt moss carpeted the forest floor. The dangling round leaves of the trees looked like stained glass. They chimed in the breeze and sent sparkling rainbows to dance around everyone. He’d traveled extensively on Earth but had never seen any place as lovely as Arvintor’s home.

He exchanged an awed glance with his wife, relieved to see Daria’s expression brighten, although the shadows hadn’t completely left her eyes.

They dismounted, leading their horses to the wagons. Khan took the reins of Darklady so Jasmine could be free to hover over her patients.

“Get the injured unloaded,” called Indaran, working his stallion among the fighters. “Have a care moving them to the carriers.”

The soldiers saw to the unloading of the injured, shifting them onto stretchers to carry them into Exonlah.

Jasmine supervised the transition until the last person was lifted off a wagon. She turned to Indaran, who’d been standing guard over her, and caught his hand. “Come on. I want to beat the stretchers to the clearing.” She turned to Khan. “Will you take Darklady with your horses? We’ll make better time without them.”

“Done.” Khan said.

Indaran cocked an eyebrow at his sister, silently asking her the same question.

Daria nodded and took the stallion’s reins.

The unspoken sibling communication amused Khan. He’d already observed how the two read each other as if they’d never been apart and wondered if Jasmine had noticed the same thing.

Daria motioned the Ocean’s Glory soldiers to surround the prisoners and escort them through the trees. If any were to escape, this would be the place. But as far as Khan could tell, the men gazed around them with wondering looks on their faces. Not surprising really, given what he’d seen of the gray block city of Penutar. He didn’t recall trees in that stark place, much less trees so beautiful. Khan wished he and Daria could stop and enjoy the beauty of Arvintor’s homeland, instead of herding a group of the enemy through the forest.

A while later, they stopped at the edge of a huge clearing filled with people and activity. More teepees ringed the outskirts of the clearing.

A large statue stood on the far side of the open space, looking similar to the one Khan had seen in Ontarem’s temple. But the energy he felt from this God felt good and wise, not evil. A group of Che-da-wah, the West Clan he assumed, lined up to touch His hands, their expressions fearful, and Khan wondered why this clan had resisted bonding with Arvintor before now.
They’d certainly paid the price today for that decision.

He watched a young woman connect with Arvintor, saw her expression change from fearful to awed. She leaped in joy and bounded over to another girl her age, her braids bouncing. The two squealed, clasped hands, and started chattering, obviously sharing their experiences.

Waves of energy rushed toward the statue of Arvintor in streams that rippled to the statue. Each person, whether occupied with a task or not, supplied a power stream from his or herself to the God.

Khan had never felt anything like it. He wondered if Withea would someday have strength from this many people.

On the left near the statue, the wounded sat or lay on pallets, attended by several men and women who looked like they were using healing energy similar to Jasmine’s. As a person became healed, he or she was helped up and supported as they made their way to find a bed and rest.

Some Che-de-wah youth raced over to them, stopping in front of Khan. “We’ll take care of your horses,” one gasped out.