Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (38 page)

All his senses alert, he climbed over the threshold and came face to face with Archpriestess Tranca, dressed in her formal red robe, her grey hair covered by a hood embroidered in gold.

Seeing Thaddis, she gasped, and her eyes widened in shock.

Archpriest Binkcal, plump and balding, wearing an identical robe, placed a supportive hand on the small of her back. With round faces, gingery hair, and green eyes, the couple looked more like siblings than mates.

Tranca’s hand flew to cover her mouth, before the Archpriestess gathered her dignity, lowered her arm, and straightened. “We welcome you home,” she said in a monotone, reciting the rote greeting she must have given to the men before him, although they probably received far more warmth with the words.

When Thaddis was a child, he’d considered the two to be almost second parents to him. They tried, as best they could, to fill the hole left by his mother’s death and his father’s emotional abandonment. With grief, he remembered the loss of their nephew, Jun, killed in the attack of Seagem. Although he hadn’t been close with Jun, who’d been a few years older, while growing up the youth had always been good to him.
And I repaid him with death. No wonder they greet me without their previous warmth.

He dropped to one knee. “I am truly sorry for the loss of Jun, and even more so for the attack on Seagem, which has brought suffering and loss to so many.”

“Withea has told us of Ontarem’s hold on you,” Tranca said, her tone as stiff as her back.

“Rise,” the Archpriest commanded.

The heavy pack and the roll of maps unbalancing him, Thaddis clambered to his feet. “Knowing the reasons for my actions does not take away the grief from the death of loved ones. Nor alter your feelings about me.”

With narrowed gaze, Tranca raised her chin. “No, it does not.”

The Archpriest took his wife’s hand. “As is our duty, we strive to forgive. But in this situation, our journey there is…will be…difficult.”

“I understand, and I thank you for your duty.” Thaddis motioned for them to move to the side so others could come through the window behind him. After Sadie and Cheta climbed through, he went over to her, took her hand, and led her three steps to the couple. “I’d like you to meet Ocean’s Glory Archpriest Binkcal and Archpriestess Tranca.” To them, he said, “Sadie Issacson is the outworlder who has come to help us in our war against Ontarem.”

“Such othersense power you have,” Tranca marveled. “The energy radiates from you. We are blessed to have you come among us, Sadie Issacson.”

“Call me Sadie.”

Philan sauntered over to them and greeted Tranca and Binkcal.

Tranca gave him a slight nod. “Withea has told us of the loss of your grandsire and the rest of your family, Philan of Seagem. Micfal has long been a welcome visitor when he came with your king. Seagem’s princes and—” she tilted her head in Thaddis’s direction “—our own, always spoke highly of him.”

Emotion sheened in Philan’s eyes, and he swallowed.

Binkcal barked a laugh. “Not always highly,” he corrected. “Sometimes they arrived with their bruises still purple from a whack from the flat of Micfal’s sword. But they entertained us with many stories of their encounters with your grandsire.” His face saddened. He obviously had remembered the boys he spoke about were also dead. The Archpriest placed a comforting hand on Philan’s shoulder. “They all will live on in our memory. Welcome to Ocean’s Glory, Philan, grandson of Micfal. May there forever be peace between our peoples.”

Philan flashed them his charming smile, although the hint of grief didn’t leave his eyes. “Peace sounds good to me.”

As more people flowed into the room, Thaddis’s group moved to the side. The crowd even spilled into the arched doorway of Besolet’s inner shrine. When Thaddis glanced that direction, even though he expected it, the sight of Besolet’s empty pedestal gave him a shock. The room appeared ordinary without the figure of the Goddess, the scent of tashalily, and the colorful patterns inlaid with jewels that had decorated the walls.

Binkcal’s gaze followed his. “You’ll be pleased to hear the statues of Besolet reside in the basement of the palace.”

Thaddis met Sadie’s eyes, and they shared a look of amusement.

Without noticing the exchange, Binkcal continued. “A priest or priestess continually guards Besolet, careful to keep from thinking about Her. We don’t want to give Her energy in any form. We don’t want Her to have the strength to leave the vicinity of Her statue.”

In relief, Thaddis exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

The Archpriestess placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “We have commissioned a figure of Withea, but the statue is not yet finished. As you can see, the walls are bare. Some of the jewels were distributed to those impacted by the war, and the remainder is set aside for reparations to Seagem.”

“Reparations are needed. There are survivors in Zacatlan and more have survived in Seagem’s city.”

The Archpriest inclined his head. “So Guinheld has told us. A blessing indeed.”

“Send masons and carpenters to Seagem,” Thaddis ordered. “Along with whatever else is needed to begin rebuilding, along with half of our remaining army to guard them in case the seadogs return. The soldiers can help with the repairs as well.” He finished, then realized he’d spoken as the ruler he no longer was. He debated about apologizing but decided not to. His commands had been valid.

“I shall see to it,” said a familiar voice said from behind him.

Thaddis turned to see Ogan, his first councilor, looking thinner and older than he remembered. He wished he could greet the man, who’d been both his councilor and his conscience, with a hug. But, instead, he kept his arms to his side. “Ogan, I have wronged you, my good friend and mentor. Always you gave wise advice. If only I could have heeded your words.”

The councilor’s eyes filled.

Ogan had always been a sensitive man. Something Thaddis the pawn had disparaged him for. But now, the councilor’s genuine emotion moved Thaddis. “I’m so sorry for everything. How I treated you, what I did to our country. To Seagem—”

Ogan cut him off, with a small slashing motion. “I’m glad to see you well, Thaddis, in body
and
in mind. With Withea’s help, we are…healing.”

“Speaking of Withea, the Goddess awaits your departure.” Tranca pointed to the doorway. We have prepared the War Room at the palace for you to brief everyone on the mission.”

~ ~ ~

Thaddis paused in the doorway of room that up until the invasion of Seagem was called the Strategy Room. Although the space wasn’t large, it had a horseshoe shape and tiered seating running around three sides like an amphitheater. The room smelled dusty as if it hadn’t been opened in a long time.

Large windows on the left side facing the ocean let in plenty of light, and he strode over to one and threw up the sash. A balmy breeze blew in, ruffling the maps of Seagem and Ocean’s Glory and a chart of the ocean depths pinned to the front wall.

In the middle of the horseshoe stood the map table showing the world of Kimtair, with the two continents made of clay and a blue sand ocean in-between. The clay was colored—green for Seagem, orange for Ocean’s Glory, and white for Zacatlan. Carved replicas of important buildings perched on each country.

Thaddis grimaced at the empty continent of Louat, with just a few structures on Ontarem’s City of Penutar, wishing he knew more about the country.

Why didn’t I ask Pasinae more questions?
But he knew the answer. Ontarem hadn’t wanted him to have that information.

Sadie stepped into the doorway, Cheta at her heels. The dog saw him and dashed down the steps to sniff his legs just in case he’d picked up some new interesting smell since the last time she’d checked.

Eyes bright with interest, Sadie’s gaze fell on the table. “Oh, you have a 3-D map.” She jogged down the steps and over to the table, studying it.

“A what map?” Thaddis asked.

Sadie gave him a rueful glance. “Three dimensional. Not flat like that one.” She pointed at a map hanging on the wall. “I saw something like this in one of my othersense visions. Seagem.” She touched the peninsula. “Ocean’s Glory.” She slid her finger across his country. “Zacatlan.” She tapped an “egg,” then hovered her hand over the blue sand ocean. “You’re missing the Triangle Islands.”

Thaddis frowned. “That’s because we didn’t know about them. We’ve fought the Seadogs for generations, but only when they attacked first. We’ve never gone after their nests.”

As they discussed the map, more people had filed into the room, taking seats on one of the tiers. His people knew what to expect, but Meleda, Boerk, and Philan attended anyway. They followed Counselor Ogan into the meeting. The counselor motioned them to go down to the front, but he took a seat in the last row, his expression drawn.

He must be remembering how over his objections, we planned the attack on Seagem in this room.

Philan, Boerk, and Meleda stopped to study the table for a moment or two, then they along with Sadie, sat in the front row. Philan wore his grandsire’s badge of office. The emeralds sparkled in the light.

While the officers of his fleet and army filed in, Thaddis opened the end of his tube and pulled out the maps he’d drawn with the help of Zacatlan’s cartographer—one of the Triangle Islands, and one of Penutar. When he turned to face the group, the black uniformed men had all seated themselves. Some shot him wary looks, but most kept their expressions impassive.

Thaddis cleared his throat. “I think you all know by now that for these last fourteen years, my thoughts, my choices have been under the control of Ontarem—the Evil God we didn’t know existed. Because of His command over me…and at the complicity of our Goddess Besolet, I led you—” he looked directly at his officers “—into war against our neighbors and our friends. The damage we committed will haunt me the rest of my life.” He saw his own pain reflected in their faces, and anger at Ontarem flared within him.

Swallowing down his burning ire, Thaddis strode over to the map and tapped the space between the three islands. “We believe Yadarius is imprisoned here in the midst of the islands where the dogs of the sea make their nest.” He thumped the side of his fist on Penutar. “Ontarem is here.”

Thaddis looked directly at the admiral. “You will take the fleet, and sail in this direction to the Triangle Islands.” He traced a path that put the fleet between the islands and Penutar. “The plan is to draw the seadogs out to defend their territory, hopefully also keeping Ontarem’s attention and power centered on the battle.

The admiral crossed his arms over his chest.

“At the same time, using stealth, I will take a ship and under the cover of darkness—no lights, black sails—sneak to the islands.” He outlined a journey that took them down the coast of Ocean’s Glory and across to the islands traveling from the opposite direction of the fleet to reach their destination. “Each ship will have a member of the priesthood so they can communicate, and we can coordinate our attacks.”

Once we free Yadarius, our ship will join the fleet, and together we will sail to Penutar to attack Ontarem’s city and bring down the Evil God.”

The admiral rubbed his narrow jaw, obviously thinking.

“Any questions?”

Some of the officers tossed questions his way.

Thaddis answered before going to diagram the attack on Penutar. He planned to use the army in the same way he used the fleet—to keep Ontarem’s forces occupied while his small band struck for the temple. When he finished, silence settled.

Archpriest Binkcal appeared in the doorway. “You mustn’t tarry any longer, my Lord Commander. The tide turns in an hour.”

“We’re ready.” Thaddis raked the room with a sharp glance. “If we don’t stop Ontarem, He’ll grow powerful enough to enslave the whole world—including your families…your children.”

He saw the understanding in their eyes.

The admiral stood. “A daring plan, Lord Commander. Fifty of our soldiers are already on board your ship.” He gave Thaddis a short bow. “May Withea go with you.”

“And with you.”

The man turned on his heel and strode out the door.

Fifty. Plus the ones I have. Still so few to mount an attack against the Evil One.

~ ~ ~

Pasinae stood in the temple, both arms upraised. The obsidian statue of Ontarem gazed upon her, the God’s eyes blue with pleasure. The exchange of energy flowed strongly between them. The shiny black stone around her shimmered, and the room vibrated with power. The familiar scent of geseret incense swirled through the air.

Pasinae reveled in her increased strength and a renewed sense of well-being provided by the new crystals. Yadarius was safely contained—His struggles weakened to feeble movements that barely affected her. She basked in the warmth of Ontarem’s approval, doubly special and sustaining after feeling cold and distanced from her God for so long.

In the private area beyond the main room, Pasinae could feel the two male priests gathering the energy from the people of the islands and linking to her to send to Ontarem. For the first time, she didn’t feel annoyed with having to deal with seadogs and foreign priests. Through their the search for the crystals, Vaptor and Dorent had proved their worth and more than enough energy flowed through Pasinae for her to feel tolerant—at least for now.