Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (6 page)

Daria shot him a
don’t interrupt me
look.

He gave her a rueful glance. “Sorry, little bird. I forget you’re grown up.”

Daria grinned, and then blinked back sudden tears. Placing a hand on her breast, she shook her head. “You calling me that took me right back to our childhood. I remember our last conversation.” She straightened and her eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare start calling me big bird!”

Everyone laughed as Daria obviously intended. Then she sobered. “I’ve brought seventy-five soldiers from Ocean’s Glory. Twenty archers and fifty-five swordsmen.”

Indaran followed her back to the subject at hand. “We’ll need a plan before we even consider returning.”

Daria gave Jasmine a thoughtful look. “You say the Che-da-wah are fighting?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Daria nodded. “Then my soldiers will add to their ranks. We must kill as many of Ontarem’s people as possible. Each death will weaken Him.”

“They’re like a grains of sand,” Indaran said with a shake of his head.

“Many grains of sand still make a beach,” Khan said cryptically.

Daria nodded, her expression hardening. “We’ll whittle away His beach.”

“No!” Jasmine slashed the air with her hand. “Well, yes. Whittle away, but not through death. Ontarem has his tentacles in each of his citizens, many whom are
good
people, whom I’ve promised to help. They are controlled. But we,” she placed her hand on Indaran’s arm, “Can sever them. Set them free. We need to
capture
, not kill.”

“I don’t think that will be enough.” Khan spoke up. “Judging by your story, even without their spiritual chains, these people have been brought up from birth to give all their focus and loyalty to Ontarem. I don’t think the news that He is draining them will be enough to turn most of His people against Him. They’ll be like abused women who won’t leave their husbands. They’ll need counselors and time, neither of which we have.”

Jasmine gave him a resolute look. “Then Arvintor will make them follow Him.”

“If Arvintor takes them over, doesn’t that make Him as bad as Ontarem?” Khan asked, spreading his hands, palms up.

“I have felt Arvintor, Khan. You haven’t.” Jasmine’s voice sharpened. “He won’t take them over. He’ll just heal them. Love them. That will be enough to make them loyal to Him.”

Indaran stepped in to side with Jasmine. “Archpriestess Anza, Jasmine, and I worked together with Arvintor to sever Ontarem’s connections to one of the captive’s babies. That was when we were in the heart of Ontarem’s territory. I think one of us alone in Arvintor’s land would be enough to break the Evil One’s shackles on a person.”

Jasmine looked thoughtful. “Three of Seagem’s priests and priestesses still alive, including Archpriestess Anza. Perhaps they also have enough strength…Anza certainly does.”

“One will have to return with the ships,” Daria said in a firm voice. “Our people will need the comfort and guidance of a priest or priestess whom they know.”

Indaran cleared his throat and looked at Jasmine. “I want you to leave with them.”

Daria nodded with a decisive set to her chin. “Khan, too. Neither of you have skill with swords.”

Jasmine stiffened in protest. “No!” She and Khan spoke as one.

Indaran took Jasmine’s hand. “Give us the peace of mind of knowing you are safe.”

Jasmine squeezed his hand. “I’m not leaving you. And, you’ll need me to heal,” she said in a firm tone.

Khan touched Daria’s chin. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,
habibti
.” He made his voice light. “I’m sticking by your side, and that’s final.”

“You’re being stubborn,” Daria argued with a jerk of her head.

“Yes. And so are you. You’d have to toss us overboard, and since we desert people can’t swim, I don’t see you doing that.” Khan grinned. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Well.” Daria looked at the others. “No sense in arguing.” She grasped both hands around a rectangular gold case dangling from a thick necklace she wore. A shell hung from a thinner chain around her neck.

“I agree,” Indaran said. “We must plan for our return to Louat, or we’ll end up captured. We escaped because Arvintor and Withea temporarily disabled Ontarem. But I’m sure He’s back to normal now, or at least has enough power to sense us. Once we sail into His waters, He’ll have us back in His control.” He looked down at Jasmine and ran a hand along her arm. “Can you connect with Arvintor at this distance?”

“I don’t know.”

Daria slipped her hand into Khan’s. “We’ll all aid you.”

“We’ll need Arvintor to give us enough protection to keep from being taken over,” Jasmine said. “What else?”

Indaran pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ontarem will still sense us and send His soldiers to the place where we disembark. The Che-da-wah will need to beat them to us. But Ontarem won’t give us up easily. There’s going to be a battle.”

~ ~ ~

As the Stingfish ship carrying Pasinae to exile—as she thought of it—entered the harbor at Triangle One, she emerged from her cabin, clad in one of her favorite crimson dresses. Fingering the heavy pearl of power, today hanging on a long silveral necklace, she kept her eyes averted from the crew scurrying about the deck, lowering the sails and doing whatever else sailors did to anchor the ship. Instead, she looked over the rail at the island belonging to the Stingfish, the strongest of the four seadog clans.

The fog that usually swirled around the islands had lifted, probably because Ontarem couldn’t spare the extra energy to hide the presence of Yadarius. Two other ships rode at anchor in the bay. Closer to land, Pasinae saw several rowboats and barges anchored in the shallower water.

The humid air pressed down on her, filled with the scent of saltwater and growing things. She raised her gaze to the peak of the volcano, stark against the gray sky, the sides covered with verdant foliage. Black buildings built of lava rock stair-stepped down the flanks of the mountain, all the way to the water. Pasinae eyed the high wall separating the living quarters of the slaves captured over many generations, their population recently swelled with the citizens of Seagem, and wondered if she should cull them, sending some to Penutar to fuel Ontarem.

Then because Pasinae still felt miffed with the God, she decided not to. The slaves brought here lacked the strong power Ontarem needed anyway.

Daria.
Her mind ground on the name. She still seethed that the princess had escaped her net because of Withea.
If only I’d known…
The refrain, thought so often it must have worn grooves in her brain, circled through her mind. Pasinae shrugged, casting off recriminations.

Focus on future plans
, she told herself,
starting with capturing Indaran and Daria.
The problem was she didn’t have any idea how to do that. But hopefully she and Nabric could devise something. He’d always been the best of the three of them when it came to strategizing and solving problems.

From this angle, Pasinae couldn’t see the other two islands, nor the lights from the crystals set near the peaks of each volcano, which beamed into the ocean between the three, forming a cage for Yadarius, SeaGod. But she could feel their power pulsing in the air, a ragged beat not unlike Ontarem’s. Of course the rhythm would be similar given that the God still controlled the energy connecting the crystals. The pearl resting between her breasts hummed to the crystals’ vibrations.

Captain Smartic approached. He was a tall, bulky man with a hooked nose and teeth sharpened to points. He’d removed the fur vest and armor worn by the crew in colder waters, and the sunlight shone on his bare chest, glistening on the dark skin, and glittering over the pile of gold necklaces around his neck and the hoops in his ears.

He sketched her a bow. “Trine Priest Nabric’s barge approaches, Trine Priestess.” He waved to the other side of the ship. “If you will prepare to disembark, I’ll have a man see to your luggage.”

Pasinae gave him a regal nod, not making eye contact or speaking. She never spoke to one of the seadogs unless she had to. The honor of conversing with one of the Trine did not, in her opinion, belong to the seascum.

She left the captain’s presence to cross the deck, concentrating on moving with the gliding stride all Ontarem’s priests and priestesses used. She leaned against the rail, disguising her eagerness to catch a glimpse of the brother she hadn’t seen for fourteen years—not since she’d left Penutar to journey to Ocean’s Glory with Prince Thaddis securely under Ontarem’s control.

The barge was made of gilded wood with carved side panels. Nabric sat on a throne in the center, while almost naked Stingfish men labored along the sides, leaning on the oars.

A sailor a few feet away from her tossed a rope ladder overboard. A man on the barge caught the bottom and anchored the end to some hooks.

Mentally grumbling about the undignified way she had to exit the ship, Pasinae gathered the skirt of her silk dress and accepted Smartic’s hand to climb over the side. She steadied her feet on the rope rung of the ladder, then carefully worked her way down until she reached the barge

The man at the bottom caught her around the waist and helped her jump down.

The affront.
Pasinae sent him a withering glare.

He snatched his hands away as if she’d burned them.

Nabric rose and stepped from the throne. He was dressed in a modified version of their gray robes—the kind she hadn’t worn for years—sleeveless and short like a tunic. A belt of worked silveral circled his waist, his pearl of power set into the middle. He extended his hands to her.

She caught them and squeezed, a rush of emotion pressing against her chest. Nabric looked almost identical to Kokam, and joy for the reunion and sadness for the loss of their brother warred within her. To distract herself from showing any emotion to the watching men, she studied Nabric, searching for the differences between him and Kokam.

Nabric still sported the tiny scar on the corner of his forehead from a fall when they were small before they were taken to live at Ontarem’s temple, and his face was narrower. Although it was difficult to tell without Kokam side-by-side to compare, Nabric’s shoulders looked wider, and he stood perhaps an inch or two taller. But he had the wide-set eyes, high cheekbones, and thick hair all three of the triplets possessed.

“Brother, I greet you in Ontarem’s name.”

Nabric gave a slight incline of his head. “Sister, you are welcomed in the name of Ontarem, our God.” His tone sounded solemn, but facing her, his back to the men, he allowed a familiar teasing expression to cross his face. “A me-re bird has flown to the Triangle Islands.”

She caught her breath on a sob, remembering the day Kokam had said something similar about her red dress. Her sadness must have shown on her face. But now was not the time to tell him about Kokam’s death. Or rather,
confirm
the death. As soon as their brother’s heart stopped beating, Nabric must have felt Kokam’s absence in the Trine link.

Nabric squeezed her hands. “We’ll talk later,” he said, his voice low. He glanced at the throne and gave her a little bow. “Since you’ll be the Trine of the Triangle Islands, it is only fitting that you take the seat.”

She narrowed her eyes. Was there a touch of sarcasm in his voice?

Her brother handed her up to the throne.

Using a rope net, the sailors hoisted her trunk overboard. Once her luggage was stowed, Nabric made a
cast-off
motion to the crew.

The barge pulled away from the ship and turned toward land. Pasinae watched the island grow closer, saw people clothed in bright hues including red, moving through the streets. She wondered why Nabric allowed them to wear colors and made a mental note to ban anyone else from wearing her favorite hue.

The closer they drew to land, the heavier the humidity weighed on her. She decided a short tunic like Nabric’s, scarlet of course, might be a good idea.

The barge drifted onto a small sand beach.

Nabric handed her down and helped her off the barge.

On the beach, she took several tottery steps, trying to adjust to firm land. She slanted a glance at Nabric to see if he was laughing, but his face remained impassive.
He’s grown up. Before, he never would have passed up an opportunity to tease me. Nor had he been able to school his expression.
Uneasy, she wondered what he was thinking.

She trod lightly on the sand to avoid getting the grains in her shoes. But to her annoyance, some granules still filtered inside, irritating her feet and increasing her dissatisfaction with the place.

The beach ended at a road paved with shiny black blocks. Nabric handed her into a canopied sedan chair, then climbed into another situated in front of hers. Discretely, she slipped off her shoes and emptied the sand onto the floor of the vehicle.

The porters hefted the poles of the chair to their shoulders. So smoothly did they lift her that Pasinae barely felt the dip of the chair. The bearers walked in unison up a narrow, crooked street.

Grateful for the shade of the canopy, she leaned back in the seat, watching as they traveled by buildings made of porous lava rock. As they passed, people turned to gawk.

Unlike the citizens of Penutar, these people appeared more mixed race, their skin and hair lighter, with many having green, gray, or blue eyes. The grandchildren of slaves were allowed to move to the free side of the town and formally be admitted into the clans. Those descendants of the captives from Seagem and Ocean’s Glory had diluted the dark skin, hair, and eyes of Ontarem’s people.