Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (26 page)

Wait, this is a dream. Can I even interfere? Or am I here for another reason? Her head spun, trying to think out the implications.

Behind her, she heard the opening of the door and quiet footsteps heading her way.
Tharon.
Without looking over her shoulder, she sensed him.

He joined her, resting his arms on the top of the railing and staring at the view. “I never tire of looking at this peaceful city. Ocean’s Glory is just as stunning in its own way. More vibrant. But very different from Seagem.”

“I didn’t realize you were from Ocean’s Glory.” Sadie thought back to the fighting practice the previous day.
I guess I should have.

“I fostered here. Once I was past my young years, I spent almost as much time in Seagem as I did in my home.
Well
do I love this city.”

Sadie swallowed down the lump in her throat.

He glanced down at her, understanding in his golden eyes. “An othersense dream can be difficult, even for those of us who are accustomed to them.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Goddess has sent us here, Sadie Issacson, to this time, this place.” He gazed back over the sea.

His melancholy expression reminded her of the man she knew in Zacatlan, troubled, white-haired, with deep pain etched in his handsome features. The man who was here with her now but so changed.

If he knows this is not real, should I talk to him about the future?
Sadie sensed the answer was no.

Tharon stood, seeming to shake off his sadness. “Guinheld has sent you here to be schooled by Micfal, Sadie, for you have much to learn and time is short.”

“So said Devore,” Sadie said, not yet willing to go inside.

He dropped his arm around her shoulders. The gesture felt comforting and natural.

For an instant, Sadie allowed herself to lean against him, to rest her head on his shoulder, before she straightened. “Let’s get going. As you said, time is short.” She walked away from him into the castle.

Once inside the salle, trying to act as if nothing was wrong, Sadie strode to her travel case. The three from Seagem stood around it, waiting.

To her surprise, Micfal had left the case closed. Sadie stooped to flip the latches and opened the top. She chose her favorite sabre, touched her facemask, and decided to leave the protection in the case.
This is a dream, no matter how real it feels.

Standing, she held out the sabre to Micfal, hilt first.

The weaponsmaster’s eyes brightened with interest. “This is the…sabre?”

She nodded.

He glanced at her for permission, then gripped the hilt. He handed his sword to Indaran and took several steps away from her. He tested the weapon by swinging it back and forth and doing some lunges. While it was obvious the older man would have liked to play with the sabre more, instead he gave her the weapon and took back his sword. “Let’s see what you can do with it, eh?”

Sparring with Micfal versus Lind was like the difference between a man with the strength of a gorilla and the speed of a gazelle versus a lumbering elephant. Within minutes, Sadie knew she was outclassed, not only by the superior weapon, but by the swordsman.

She fought with everything she had, making sure to protect her legs and move off the line. She tried tricks learned from coaches and athletes from many countries. Most Micfal countered, although sometimes her blade got through, bringing an approving smile to the man’s grim countenance.

Sadie’s breath grew ragged, her limbs as heavy as stone. Through the battle, for battle it became, the older man broke a sweat, but seemed otherwise barely affected.

Finally, when Sadie thought she couldn’t raise her sabre for one more pass, Micfal stepped back several paces and whistled, which she took to mean their bout had ended.

Trying not to show how winded she was, Sadie took discrete gulps of air and saluted the master with her blade to her forehead. Then she turned to look at the men, both of whom stared at her with admiring looks on their faces.

Daria gazed at Sadie with awe-struck emerald eyes. “I want to learn that sword,” she piped up. “Can I, Sadie? Will you teach me?”

Sadie smiled at the child’s enthusiasm, which brought to mind her own longing to learn to fight after she’d seen one of her cousin’s tournaments. She started to say, “Of course,” then she remembered that this was just a dream, even though it felt very real. “If there’s time,” she temporized.

Indaran sauntered over to her and held out his hand. “If I may?”

Sadie surrendered her sabre.

The laughter had vanished from his eyes, leaving his expression grave. “I very much wish to learn more from you, Sadie Issacson.”

Sadie stared at his handsome face, liking him immensely, yet wondered why she didn’t feel chemistry with him like she did with Tharon.
Is it because I know he’ll die in a few years?
Or that he’s not real? Although Indaran...all of them...certainly feel real.
Instead, all she could feel was pity for him and a wish that somehow she could make a difference so he...all of Seagem…could live.

Weaponsmaster Micfal gestured for Sadie to follow him. “Time for you to learn to fight with a real weapon.”

Sadie was too tired to even bristle at him. Plus he was right. The sabre wasn’t a real fighting weapon.

The man opened a door, hidden by mirrors, and motioned for her to go inside.

She stepped into the room. A soft glow from shell-like sconces lit the small space, reflecting off the myriad weapon blades lining the walls—belt knives, long knives, and the short swords favored by the fighters of this world.

“Choose your blade, Sadie Issacson,” Micfal ordered.

Sadie took a breath and moved to the swords, studying the array in front of her. “These don’t belong to anyone?”

“The soldiers’ armory is elsewhere. All others who possess weapons keep them close.”

At first, Sadie almost reached out a hand to lift down the nearest sword. Something made her pause, recognizing the importance of her choice.
My life will depend on this blade and my skill with it. I may kill people with this sword. I must pick well.

She hesitated, holding up a hand to indicate to Micfal that she was taking a moment.

He nodded, his grim face softening with approval.

Sadie closed her eyes. Taking deep breaths, she tried to center. She had a feeling she should tune into the Goddess for this meditation.
But which one, Withea or Guinheld? Or in this timeline should she try to reach Yadarius?
Maybe the Who didn’t matter.

Sadie sent up a plea for guidance to whatever Deity might be listening, then opened her eyes and studied the weapons. She stepped closer to the swords. They all were similar in size—the blades about thirty inches in length, although a few looked heavier or a little longer. Some had plain hilts and pommels; others were fancy, decorated with gold and silver and jewels, mostly emeralds and diamonds and a gold stone she assumed was topaz. A few had runes or designs running down the blades.

Uncomfortable with the ornate swords, she reached for a plain one and took it down. The sword felt fine, maybe a little heavy, although she’d used weightier ones. Sadie hesitated. She suspected that like King Arthur and Excalibur, she should have a magical connection to her weapon, and with this one she didn’t.
Or am I just being fanciful?

She looked over at Micfal, who leaned against the doorway, watching her with his sharp blue eyes. “Should I feel something when I hold the right one?”

He straightened, his bushy brows pulling forward. “If your othersense is strong.”

She nodded her understanding and replaced the sword, taking down another one.
No special feeling.
She didn’t bother to take the next one, just touched the metal blade. When nothing happened, she went down the row.

About two thirds of the way through the inventory, Sadie came to one that had a richly detailed hilt, a leather-wrapped handgrip, and a large, almost translucent opal on the end of the pommel. The ornate cross guard had tiny matching opals, almost unseen against the gray of the metal. But when she touched the blade, her fingers tingled, and the stones made a high-pitched singing sound. Startled, she gave Micfal a quick glance.

He tugged on his beard, then motioned for her to take it.

Eagerly, Sadie reached for the sword. As her hand closed around the grip, blue fire blazed in the opals, and the high-pitched singing sound intensified. Energy spiraled up her fingers, spilling into her hand and racing up her arm to spread through her body, pulsing in time to the music. She gasped, almost dropping the sword, and had to tighten her fingers and lock her elbow to compensate.

The fire and the sounds died away, leaving the opals colored as turquoise as the ocean outside of Seagem. Awed, Sadie ran her finger down the flat of the blade, wondering if the engravings were words or decorations. She hefted the weapon, liking the feel of it.
Not too light, not too heavy. Just right.

Micfal’s eyes gleamed in approval. “The sword of Ganawen, Warrior Queen. She led an attack on the reavers that so decimated their ranks that the seas remained safe for generations. None have ever taken up her legacy.” He made her a short bow, elegant for such a grizzled soldier. “’Til now.” He took two steps into the room and reached for a knife hanging on a rack. Holding the blade, he presented it to her, hilt first. “The matching knife.”

Bracing herself, Sadie accepted it. This time she was prepared, although no less awed, for the sound of singing, the sensation of connecting to the blade, of the gems blazing to turquoise fire.

Micfal motioned her to the door. “Come. Let’s see how you wield the weapons of the Warrior Queen.”

Bemused, staring at her sword and knife, Sadie followed the weaponsmaster into the salle. Tharon, Indaran, and Daria crowded round to see the weapon she’d chosen.

Sadie turned the sword from side to side, showing it off.

The little princess touched one of the turquoise opals. “Pretty. Can I hold the knife?”

Sadie glanced at Micfal, who nodded his permission.

When Sadie gave Daria the knife, the child ran to an empty part of the salle and started shadow dancing, as if the knife were a sword, and for the girl it almost was.

Indaran pulled his dark brows together, obviously thinking. “I don’t remember seeing this sword in there before.”

Micfal gave him a grim smile. “That’s because those blue baubles had no color. So it looked almost ordinary.” He went on to explain the history of the sword.

Tharon moved to her side. “You have chosen well, Sadie.”

Sadie gave a slow shake of her head. “The weapon chose me.”

“Then the sword has chosen well.” His expression turned serious. “May I?”

She handed over her sword.

He carefully examined it, took a few swings, and handed it back to her. “The grip needs to be replaced, but yes, indeed, the Warrior Queen’s sword has found a fitting mistress.”

Tharon’s proud smile made Sadie feel warm inside—although the feeling was quickly squelched when Micfal gestured to the center of the salle. “Now, Sadie Issacson, you need to learn to fight like a warrior queen.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Indaran awoke with a start, his arms around Jasmine. He blinked, trying to see through the darkness. A single star twinkled through the smoke hole of the
teepee
. Dim morning light filtered in.

He tried to bring his awareness from the practice room of the palace at Seagem into the present. When he thought of the othersense dream he’d just experienced—the familiar camaraderie with Thaddis his brother, not Thaddis the destroyer; Daria as a child; Sadie, the girl he did not know who’d chosen a queen’s sword; Micfal—he wanted to cling to the dream and weep for all he’d lost.

Jasmine stirred in his arms, twisting to face him. “What is it?” she asked, her voice sleepy.

“Nothing,” he demurred. “Go back to sleep.”

Her eyelids drifted shut, and she remained silent, so Indaran thought she’d followed his order.

But she opened her eyes. “Don’t tell me nothing is wrong, Indaran,” she said in a stronger voice, placing her palm on his chest. “I feel it.”

He took a deep breath. “I had an othersense dream.”

“Tell me.” She snuggled closer.

Grateful for her warm presence, he took a breath before explaining. “I was in Seagem. But I was young…before I sailed to Louat and was captured. I was sparring with Micfal, who was our weaponsmaster. Daria was little. She had a wooden blade about a foot and a half long. She used to be so proud of that thing. Took it everywhere with her. Micfal had her working the pells.” He shook his head to bring himself back to the present.

“What are those?”