Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  But Besolet seemed to care less than Yadarius about the daily actions of Her people. Would She condone Thaddis physically lashing out at someone?

  Daria wished she’d caught up with the servant woman. Not only to offer help, but also to question her. Perhaps she just had a painful toothache.

  But even as Daria made the excuse, her othersense buzzed. She shook her head. Trying to discern the character of Thaddis was too difficult. Now all she wanted to do was get away from him.

  The sooner she and her family left Ocean’s Glory, the better.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Khan’s ears rang in the sudden silence. He could feel his heart knock against his ribcage, and he gasped for air. Several minutes passed before his vast need for breath subsided, and he took a few minutes to assess the situation.

  The floor under his hands felt like the same brick as the road outside, but smooth, without the deterioration caused by nature, and sloped downward.

  Nika nickered, the sound the stallion used when he scented water.

  Sudden hope sent Khan staggering upright, legs still shaky. He groped against his mount and searched for the flashlight. Luckily it was close at hand. He grasped the plastic handle and clicked it on. The wide beam of light revealed a narrow brick corridor, no writings or designs on the wall.

  Grabbing Nika’s reins and Daisy’s lead, he moved along the descent. The horses pulled away, eager to reach the water. Their hooves clicked eerily, at first the only sound beside his labored breath. This tunnel must go underground. We’ve already walked farther than the diameter of the building.

  In the distance, the tinkle of trickling water urged him to quicken his steps. As he drew closer to the sounds, Khan smelled the damp scent, and coolness misted his dusty cheeks.

  The floor under his feet changed from brick to white marble. Golden flecks embedded in the stone glittered in the beam of the flashlight.

  The passageway ended at the edge of a shallow pool cupped inside a circular room. The thirsty animals surged forward, dropping their muzzles to drink.

  Khan waved his flashlight around. The far side of the pool lapped against curved marble walls, the gold flecks sparkling in the light like tiny stars. In the middle of the pool, water trickled from an outstretched hand of a statue on an oval pedestal, the veiled and draped figure of a female larger than life-size. Her other hand faced palm up, fingers curled, protecting something. Seeds? He couldn’t quite tell.

  Khan skimmed his fingertips over the surface of the chill wetness, then dipped his hands in and scooped it up. First, he sniffed the water, and then, at the fresh smell, gingerly drank. At the taste of the cool sweetness, he leaned forward and plunged his face into the pool.

  Although tempted to roll into the water for a cleansing bath, Khan pulled back to an awareness of his responsibilities, allowing Nika and Daisy, who were still sweating from the gallop, only a short drink. He unloaded supplies from the horses, dropping the packs on the floor. Taking the lead ropes, he walked both of them back and forth from the entrance to the pool, cooling their bodies after their long day’s trek.

  He allowed them another brief drink, and then fished out a currycomb from Daisy’s pack. As Khan brushed the dust and sand from Nika’s black coat, he reflected on the miracle of his survival. “Allah has blessed us, hasn’t he, boy?” he murmured.

  The horse leaned into him. Khan stroked his nose, using a damp cloth to clean out Nika’s nostrils and around his eyes. He repeated the procedure with Daisy, then fed the animals.

  The familiar routine, and the feeling of safety provided by this miraculous shelter, stilled him into contentment; the stress and fear of the last few days dropped away. He didn’t stop to wonder why the anger and grief from his family’s betrayal had vanished.

  After he finished with the horses, he filled the water canteens and stripped off his dusty clothing. Stepping into the shallow pool, he waded out to his knees and sat. He ducked backward into the water and floated on his back. The water seemed to buoy him up, as if laced with sea salt, yet it tasted fresh. The pain of his abrasions and bruises drifted away. He could almost believe the fountain and pool contained healing magic.

  The floating sensation lulled him into dreaminess. Eyelids half-closed, he studied the statue. She seemed lifelike, as if underneath her coverings she breathed. And while the veil hid her face, her hair spilled in a free fall to her feet. For the first time, he noticed a pattern in the hem of her robe—ivy leaves intertwined with sheaves of grain. A goddess of the harvest? He liked the idea. The Muslim religion forbade art forms representing human images. He wondered what long-ago culture the unknown sculptor had belonged to.

  Khan forced himself to emerge from the water, dry off, and pull out his sleeping bag. Not bothering to dress or eat, he crawled inside, asleep within seconds. He slept deeply, making up for days of fitful rest.

  Khan stood in the shelter of a high green bluff, awed by the seascape around him. A vivid lavender sky arched overhead. Sunlight sparkled over a turquoise bay cupped in the ring of cliffs. Knots of rocks jutted from the water. In the distance, a grim tower pierced the horizon. Moist wind laden with the briny smell of the sea pressed the cloth of his robe against his body. A crescent beach made of minty sand stretched along the shore, beckoning him to stroll along the waters.

  I’m not on Earth anymore. He waited for fear to hit, but instead a sense of anticipation sped his heart rate.

  He noticed a woman, frisking with a chocolate-brown dog. As she played with the animal, she moved like a dancer, all strength and grace. She tossed a piece of driftwood into the water. The dog yipped and shuffled after it, diving into the water, and, with a slap of a thick tail, disappearing under a wave. The woman laughed, her face alight with happiness. The animal reappeared, carrying the stick in its mouth.

  Mesmerized by her golden beauty, desire pulled him closer. He ignored how his boots sank into the sand.

  Absorbed with the dog, she didn’t appear to see him. But the animal did, dropping the stick and barking at him, then dashing forward with a curious humping motion, like a seal. Up close, he could see the animal wasn’t a dog, yet didn’t look like a seal either. More a combination of the two, with a flap of skin linking the front and back paws. The creature could probably float like a hawk could soar through the air.

  The woman took a step toward him. Curiosity twinkled in her eyes. Her dark lashes and brows were a contrast to the brightness of her blond hair, caught back in a braid that reached her waist. A few tendrils escaped the confines of the plait, to curl around her smiling, oval face.

  The joy faded from her expression, followed by a brief flash of apprehension. She whirled, staring at the beach behind her. “Yadarius.” She scanned the horizon. “Yadarius!” After a pause, she turned to him, her features stern.

  Khan held up his hands. “I mean you no harm.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “You need to leave, stranger. You’re not welcome here.”

  Startled and disappointed by her response, he moved closer. “What are you talking about? Where is here, anyway?”

  “Seagem of Kimtair.”

  He shook his head, hoping the gesture might shake some sense into what she tried to tell him. I’m in a different world. How is it that I understand and speak her language? He shrugged. Does it really matter?

  “You must listen to me, you are in grave danger.”

  He tried for a light tone, “Unless my brother’s followed me here, I’m actually quite safe.”

  “This is not a joking matter, stranger. You must leave my othersense dream.”

  “Othersense dream?”

  She audibly exhaled in exasperation. “We are dreaming. But this is still real. What happens here affects us when we awake.”

  He looked around at the picturesque seascape, taking his time to study his surroundings before returning his gaze to her. “This doesn’t feel like any dream I’ve ever had.”

  A hint of her previous curiosity showed in her eyes
. “You’ve never had othersense dreams? Yet your othersense is so powerful. Never have I felt its like.”

  “Othersense?”

  Her brow crinkled. “Where do you come from that you don’t know of othersense?”

  Khan glanced upward, then back at her. “Where I live, the sky is blue.”

  Her brows scrunched as if remembering something. “Blue? You must live a vast distance, then.”

  You don’t know how vast. “Yes.”

  “You must return there.”

  “Since I don’t know how I came here, I don’t know how to go back there. Besides, I don’t want to. Here…” He gave her a flirtatious smile. “Here, looks infinitely more interesting.”

  The animal became bored with their inattention, gamboling away, and sliding beneath a wavelet.

  Concern etched deep on her beautiful features.

  Khan tried to lure her away from her seriousness. “You’ve lost someone.” He nodded toward the water.

  “Oh, the seapup.” She shaded her eyes. “He’s gone off to find his pack. He’ll probably rejoin the ones sunning themselves on that rock.” She pointed.

  Khan’s gaze followed her hand. Sure enough, the sleek animal propelled itself out of the water to tumble amid a cluster of dozing seapups. The mass of somnolent bodies shuffled, making room for him, then returned to the serious business of soaking up the sunrays.

  When Daria turned back, her expression had softened, although wariness lingered in her eyes.

  “I’d like to stay, learn more about your city,” he coaxed. “About you.”

  “I’ll not be party to someone else dying in an othersense dream with me.”

  “Dying? We’re in a dream.”

  “You have no idea of what you speak.”

  “At least tell me more about this othersense.”

  She hesitated. “Very well, stranger.”

  “And my name is Khan.”

  “Welcome to Seagem, Khan. I’m Daria,” she said with an edge to her tone.

  “Daria.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, making sure she felt the press of his kiss on her skin.

  Pink crept into her cheeks, and Daria broke contact, waving her hand toward the stretch of beach. “Come walk with me, and I’ll tell you about othersense.”

  Without a word, they fell into step, strolling along the edge of the ocean.

  Daria tossed her braid over her shoulder. “Othersense,” she murmured. “How to explain it?” She stopped and faced him. “Do you know the SeaGod, Yadarius?”

  Khan shook his head, fighting the urge to lean forward and kiss her. “That’s who you were calling?”

  “Yes. I’ve never walked in othersense dreams without Him. Not since…” She shook her head, obviously not wanting to continue. “If you don’t know Yadarius, what God, then, do you worship?”

  “My people worship the one God, Allah.”

  “Allah.” She shook her head. “You must truly come from afar. I only know of Yadarius, our SeaGod, Besolet, the Goddess of Ocean’s Glory, and Guinheld, the Goddess of Zacatlan.

  So many questions tumbled through his head; he didn’t know which one to ask first.

  She took his arm to get them moving again. Her light touch sent a jolt of pleasure through him.

  Perhaps she felt something similar because a startled expression crossed her face, and she drew back her hand. As if shy, she glanced sideways at him under lowered lashes and took a few steps away. She waved to the cliffs. “Othersense connects us to our Deity.”

  Gazing up, he could see buildings hovering above them, made of the same green stone as the cliff.

  “The people of Seagem to Yadarius. All of us have the gift of othersense. That’s what allows Yadarius to communicate with us, mostly in our dreams. Some have the othersense more strongly, and most of those become priests and priestesses.” Daria looked as if she meant to say more, then she stopped.

  They walked for a few minutes in companionable silence.

  She seemed deep in thought, strolling over to a flat rock and sat, patting the stone surface next to her.

  He joined her, feeling the warmth of her leg next to his.

  Daria didn’t shift away. Instead, she looked out at the sea. “I often come here to think. Sometimes I come here to mourn.” She hurried on, as if not wanting him to ask. “I stare at the waves, until they mesmerize me. Sometimes Yadarius speaks to me.”

  “What does he say?”

  A wry smile played around her lips. “Many things. Sometimes, He’s stern, sometimes teasing. Other times He utters those cryptic God statements, that I have to spend days figuring out.”

  “Sounds different from the kind of relationship my people have with Allah.”

  She tilted her chin. “Tell me.”

  He gave a rueful shake of his shoulders. “That might take forever, and you’d probably not understand. Besides, I don’t know how much time we have together, and I’d rather not spend it talking about our respective Gods.”

  She jumped to her feet. “You made me forget. You must leave now.”

  I shouldn’t have reminded her. “And if I don’t?”

  Daria lifted her chin to a haughty angle. “Then I will.” She waited a beat for his response. “Goodbye, Khan.” She turned and walked down the beach.

  He watched her go, wondering if he should follow … see if he could kiss her into changing her mind about him. But then Daria faded away, leaving him with a strange sense of loss.

  Khan drifted from sleep into awareness of the present. Relaxation weighed down his limbs, and calmness centered in his stomach. For the first time in days, peacefulness replaced the constant anxiety that had nipped at his heels ever since he’d heard Amir’s death threat.

  Still drowsing, he tried to cling to a memory of a beautiful woman, but her image blurred into forgetfulness. Not quite sure if he was sleeping or half-awake, he lay in his sleeping bag, watching the statue.

  A moonbeam seemed to light her from within; she began to glow. The draperies fluttered as if her body moved. The hand holding the seeds scattered them in his direction. They glimmered like fireflies, floating in the air to settle on his face. Where they touched his skin, they tickled, warm and gentle.

  Dream, or reality? Anticipation built within Khan, and he quivered in excitement. He glanced away, catching a glimpse of an alcove he hadn’t noticed before and saw green growing things. An indoor garden?

  One graceful hand waved toward the opposite wall; a trail of beaded silver droplets fanned through the air. Where they touched the wall, the golden glitters in the stone aligned in an arch. A doorway appeared. Pearly light filled the archway, solidifying into a cloud-like surface.

  Pictures played across the entrance, three-dimensional images more real than any movie. A small city materialized, built of golden stone that shimmered in the amber sunlight. Awe vanished the last vestiges of his dreaminess, but the languid relaxation of his body remained. He sat up, studying the scene.

  Lush vegetation threaded with flowering plants spilled from planters, yards, and parks. Waterfalls and fountains splashed, misting the air. In the distance, he could see what looked like fields of ivory wheat swaying in a breeze. He itched to walk among the rows, touching the stalks, feeling the rich soil crumble under his feet.

  Khan crawled out of the sleeping bag. Then he stood to watch the vision before him.

  Beneath a violet-tinted sky, men and women in colorful tunics and pants moved about, the gold and silver embroidery of their clothes sparkling in the sun. The color of the sky reminded him of something, but he couldn’t think of what, so he ceased trying, instead concentrating on the vision in front of him. Children played and laughed in the parks. Somehow the statue communicated to him the happiness and peace of the people. A longing to join them almost catapulted him across the pool.

  My city of Binch-Alat in the world of Kimtair, the words echoed in his mind.

  A curl of the statue’s fingers changed the picture. With an a
bruptness that made Khan gasp, the city melted to ruins, gray and desolate, surrounded by desert. His eagerness dissolved. A fleeting glimpse of several monstrous creatures, looking like a combination of reptile and Labrador Retriever, made him glad he wasn’t anywhere near their vicinity.

  From nowhere a wave of sadness engulfed him, too deep to be his own. He glanced at the figure. Crystal tears welled in the carved eyes. The weight of her mourning, long endured, pressed down on his chest. His own eyes filled in response. But before he could burst into sobs, a silent plea came from the image.

  Heal my land.

  His sadness vanished, replaced by shock.

  Did she mean go there? Was this place really a portal like Jasmine had said?

  The statue nodded; her luminous eyes appealed.

  Live alone in that barren desert? In a place he’d never seen and that wasn’t even on Earth? Face those reptile things?

  Khan backed up a step. “Oh, no.” The words slipped out. He’d hole up here for a while, and then take his chances out in the world he knew. Head for America. He’d lose himself in that vast country. His brother would never find him.

  With an abruptness that showed her displeasure, the statue waved her hand back to the original position, facing Khan. Behind him, the arch of the doorway he’d come through fogged into a thick kind of movie screen. A picture appeared—his brother driving a Jeep, another man next to him. They carried weapons. Although they wore sunglasses, the hard set of their faces spoke volumes.

  He vocalized his thoughts, trying to convince himself and her. “There’s only one Jeep. The desert’s huge. I’ll avoid them.”

  Her hand jerked, and a finger pointed to the scene. Pictures of other oases flashed by, each one guarded by a jeep containing armed men.

  Shaken by the depths of Amir’s hatred and greed, Khan rubbed a palm across his eyes to shut out the sight. He’d rather be eaten by monsters than give his brother the satisfaction of capturing him.

  He gestured toward the doorway. “Do you have another passageway leading to Earth? America, maybe?”

  The statue shook her head.