“Thaddis will not find me easy game.”
“I’d prefer that he not find you at all. From this hour on, you are to wear your knife and sword at all times. Have them at hand when you sleep and bathe.”
“I guess that absolves me of wearing court dresses.”
Iceros narrowed his eyes. “I expect you to take this situation seriously, daughter.”
She struggled to put her feelings into words. “Father, if I allow Thaddis to curtail my life, then the victory belongs to him. He never even has to kidnap me; he’s already made my life miserable. I don’t want to give him that much power.”
“It can’t be helped, Daria. We’ve taken for granted the safety provided by Yadarius.”
Rebellion clogged her throat, but she didn’t utter the hot words that wanted to spill out.
Iceros limped around the desk. The gold telescope case thumped against his chest with each step. He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You are not to leave the palace without my express permission. And when you do, several guards will accompany you. Is this understood?”
“Yes, Father.” She forced the words out from her clenched jaw.
His face softened, although the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “I’m glad you chose warrior training. My mind is eased knowing you can take care of yourself.” He lifted his hand to forestall her obvious retort. “Your brothers have bodyguards, too. With the increased watch at Pilot’s Point and strengthened patrols near the mountain pass to Ocean’s Glory, we should be fine.”
But as he turned to look out the window, Daria caught his thought, almost as if he’d spoken it aloud:
Peaceful Seagem isn’t prepared for war.
~ ~ ~
The next day, Khan wrestled with the strange metal gates of the shrine. Once he pried them partly open, he reached for his tin cup of tea, made from brewing the herbal leaves he’d picked the day before, and gazed around the wide dirt area of the park. The rays of the early morning sun coated the dead weeds with amber light and sparkled off the minerals in the dirt. He allowed himself a few minutes to marvel at the cloudless beauty of the arching lavender sky. Would he ever become used to the color?
He tried to remember the dream he’d had the night before. A beautiful woman … a feeling of something important. But the more he tried, the fuzzier the images became, leaving only a haunting sense of missing someone.
Wishing he could think with a mug of strong coffee in his hand, he took an experimental sip of the hot brew. Not bad. Tangy, but with a hint of sweetness almost like honey. For variety, he could vary the beverage with some of the herbal teas he’d brought with him.
As he drank, Khan surveyed his surroundings, brushing aside his musings of the night. Most of the buildings lining the park had collapsed, but a few looked like they might have some intact rooms. Maybe he’d even find something useful inside. He’d have to explore later.
The high walls between the buildings looked as if a giant earthmonster had taken huge bites out of them. Now that he took stock of the park, he could see the rubble piled against the walls gave them the illusion of looking more deteriorated than they actually were. The gaps in the walls could be repaired—backbreaking work, but possible.
He’d have to start on the park’s walls, for he couldn’t cultivate the ground if he had to constantly be on watch for reptile-dogs or other dangers. As it was, he’d have to find a way to guard himself and work at the same time.
Behind Khan, Nika nickered, and he could hear the approach of the stallion’s slow hoof beats. The horse touched Khan’s shoulder with his nose.
Khan half-turned, rubbing Nika behind the ears. “Ready to stand guard duty, boy?”
As if understanding, Nika tossed his head.
Khan raised his eyebrows. “Glad you approve. Although, we have dirty labor ahead of us, and you might have to spell your watch with some draft horse duties.”
Nika snorted, blowing warm air over Khan’s arm.
“Anxious to get started, huh?”
He strode over to the packs piled near the base of the statue, rummaged inside one, and pulled out a bag of grain. He fed the horses and, between sips of tea, ate some fruit and jerky.
Khan set aside the weapons he’d need and slipped Daisy’s hackamore over Nika’s head. Swinging the quiver over his shoulder, he tucked two knives into his boots and slid the knife into his pocket. He picked up the bow, and grabbed the collapsible camp shovel, a pitiful excuse for a tool, but it would have to do until he could craft something more substantial.
Standing, he took Nika’s lead, then faced the front of the statue. “I ask for your blessing on our endeavors this day. If you’d be willing to give me a warning of danger, I’d appreciate the help.”
The statue’s eyes seemed to smile above her veil. Khan took that for an answer. “Thank you, my lady.”
But as he led Nika to the gate, he realized the Goddess could give him warning, but then he’d have to handle the problem. I hope I’m up to it.
CHAPTER TEN
Several days later, the entire royal family assembled for breakfast in the dining hall. Unusually quiet, Iceros sat at the head of the table. The toll of the last weeks showed in the deepening of the lines around his eyes and the threads of gray starting in his blond hair and beard. Seeming preoccupied, he picked at the eggs and fried fish on his plate. Daria’s brothers plowed into their food with their usual good appetite, but she followed her father in eating lightly, her attention on the view outside.
Filmy seafoam-green curtains stirred at the open glass doors, leading to the balconies. The sun had dissipated the early morning fog, although mistiness still lingered over the ocean, obscuring the view of Pilot’s Point. The beautiful day called to her, and she suppressed a sigh at having to remain indoors. As if reading her mind, Larciat, standing with his back to the nearest door, glanced sharply at her. Although his thick-nosed, broad face remained impassive, his gray eyes disapproved.
Daria took a bite of toast, pretending he wasn’t there.
The rest of their bodyguards had taken up positions around the room, sparsely occupied with castle workers and various nobles who lived at the palace. Their table held a big vase of white tashalilys. The fragrant scent reminded her of the banquet night, and she turned her head away to avoid the memory. But the flower’s perfume curled around the smell of porridge, eggs, and fried fish, and a nauseous pang cramped her stomach. She pushed away her half-eaten plate and reached for a glass flagon of tart quall juice.
At the head of the table, Iceros sipped his own juice. His gaze met Daria’s. “Are your searches in the library turning up anything about Yadarius?”
Daria grimaced. “I’m learning more about the history of our people than even my tutor knew, but nothing tells of any other time of absence.”
Iceros frowned. Even his beard could not disguise the weary set of his mouth. “Just as I suspected. Well, keep looking.”
“Yes, Father.” Daria slanted a look at Setteff, seated next to her. As he stared out past the open doors to the balcony, she saw the same longing on his face for the outdoors. Of all of them, Setteff most loved hunting and fishing, and their confinement to the palace dragged heaviest on him.
With even roaming the city prohibited by Iceros, Daria and her brothers found time hanging heavy on their hands. They could only practice swordplay and marksmanship a certain number of hours per day, and they’d taken full advantage of them. But her brothers had grown quarrelsome from being cooped up. Their attitude reflected throughout the city as the strain caused by Yadarius’s absence frayed tempers and unraveled the usual serenity of Seagem.
Is Yadarius’s silence somehow my fault?
No, it couldn’t be. Many had experienced the SeaGod’s presence for several weeks after Thaddis’s visit. Surely, Yadarius would have expressed His displeasure at her decision to reject Thaddis. He’d always commented on her choices before. Instead, the few occasions the Deity had walked through her dreams, He’d
seemed preoccupied, and didn’t stop to converse or tease. Reports from the priests and priestesses all agreed that Yadarius had been remote with everyone in the days after Thaddis left.
Daria glanced up at the picture of Iselda hanging over the fireplace, and wondered what her mother would say. Would she blame Daria for Thaddis’s enmity? Somehow she thought her mother would understand her daughter’s decision. And Iselda’s gentle peacemaking ability would have gone far to smooth the fractiousness of her sons.
Her throat tightened in old sadness. Daria took another sip of juice, allowing the tart sweetness of the beverage to soften the memory lodged in her throat.
The distant ringing of the alarm bell at Pilot’s Point shrilled through the peaceful morning.
Startled, Daria choked on her juice, hastily setting down the glass.
Her father, his face grim, rose from his seat.
Daria and her brothers jumped to their feet.
Loud peals of the alarms near the docks and the immediate clanging of the bell on the palace roof followed the warnings from the tower.
Larciat ran out to the balcony, then back inside. “My lord king, come quickly!”
Iceros pushed back his chair and hobbled toward the man.
Daria hurried after her brothers, and they all piled against the stone railing. The clamor of the bells vibrated through Daria’s ears, sending fearful quivers right down to her toes. For a moment, shock hushed them to silence while they absorbed the scene before them.
Dozens of ships appeared through the receding fog. From the tilt of the high prows carved in the shape of rangesharks, she recognized the reavers who ravaged the coast and preyed upon single vulnerable vessels. The pirates rarely attempted a raid against Seagem. Yadarius’s protection and the rocky girdle around the peninsula guaranteed a swift sinking for any foolish enough to try.
Setteff broke the shocked silence. “There must be twenty ships out there.”
Iceros slipped open the telescope case and held the instrument to his eye. “The Stingfish clan, the Shellcrackers, the Windsuckers, the Fangedfish. They’ve combined forces. Somehow, they must know Yadarius has withdrawn his protection,” he said bitterly.
A drift of mist parted to reveal a larger ship, black and menacing, flying a scarlet, black, and gold banner. Several other vessels flying the same flag lurked beyond.
Daria’s breath hissed through her teeth. Thaddis.
Iceros leaned forward, focusing on the ship. “Ocean’s Glory hides behind the dogs of the sea.”
As they watched, several small boats, wedged full of men, lowered from each vessel, converging from all directions on the tower.
Cihkel pounded his fist on the railing. “They’ll overpower the guard at Pilot’s Point.”
Joshel shaded his eyes with his hand. “There are the shoals.” His tone tried for optimism, but a quaver still shivered through the words. “They’ll still have to survive the rocks.”
Daria’s othersense thudded in time to her heartbeat. “They know the way,” she said. In spite of her rising panic, her voice remained steady. “Thaddis, through torture, drugs, or magic, forced Ral to draw a map.”
Joshel looked at her, his expressive eyes haunted. “Some will still sink.”
Certainty forced her to speak, though her lips stiffened with reluctance. “Many will get through.”
Setteff’s expression hardened. “If they do, we will be overrun.”
Throughout their dialogue, Iceros had remained silent, surveying the distant scene.
Larciat stepped toward the king, the other bodyguards crowding behind him. “What are your orders, my king?”
Iceros turned, allowing the open telescope to drop against his chest. His latent othersense flared in a golden corona around his shoulders. The power of a warrior king.
Daria took a step back in awe, and she could tell by the look on her brothers’ faces, that even with their more limited othersense abilities, they could see their father’s power.
Iceros pointed at one guard. “Send the elders, children, and any women unable to fight, to the palace.” He looked over their shoulders through the doors to the dining room. “They can take refuge here. Tell them to bring only food, and long knives. If those raiders break through all our defenses and start slaughtering the children, their mothers will fight, and they’d better have something to fight with.”
The king glanced at Philan. “Open the armory. Distribute the pikes, bows, and arrows to all who will take them. Every able-bodied man and woman must fight. If they balk, tell them the reavers bring death or slavery. Nothing else. They are to show them no mercy, for none will surely be shown them. Then bring a large supply of arrows here.”
The man fisted his hand to his chest. “Yes, my lord King.”
Iceros pointed at a third soldier. “Send outriders to warn the farmers. Better use older children. We need the men and women here to fight. Tell the nearest farming families to take refuge here in the palace. The farthest must be prepared to fight or hide. They’ll have time. Maybe several days. They can set up defenses, lay traps.”
The man nodded and strode off.
Cihkel squared his shoulders and raised his chin. “Give us your commands, Father. What would you have us do?”
“The best place to stop them will be at the wharves. They’ll be vulnerable as they climb out onto the docks. Cihkel, you and I will form a defense there. Setteff, you’ll be in charge of the house-to-house, street-to-street fighting through the city. Joshel, you take the fallback position at the wall around the palace.”
What about me?
Before Daria could speak up, Cihkel moved until he stood eye to eye with his father. “I will take the docks. You have a lame leg.”
“I’ll ride.”
“You’ll be an instant target for every bowman within eyeshot.”
“What would you have me do? Cower at home while my kingdom is at war?”
Cihkel drew himself up to his full height. The sun haloed his hair and shadowed the taut planes of his face. He looked like a warrior prince from the old tales. “Your kingdom has need of you alive.” He narrowed his eyes, a deadly mirror copy of their father. “I won’t allow you to join a fight where you’ll be slain within five minutes.”
Iceros’s voice rose. “You won’t allow me?”
“My king.” Cihkel emphasized the title. “We need you here to direct the battle. Ever you have stressed wisdom over pride. You must heed your own words, Father.”
As the truth of the situation hit home, Iceros’s shoulders slumped. But he straightened almost as quickly. “You’re right.” He clasped Cihkel on the shoulder. “Spoken like a true king. I’m proud of you.”
Daria slid closer. “I’ll help Joshel with the house-to-house fighting. I’m the better climber, so I’ll undertake the rooftop defenses while Joshel organizes the street fighters.
As one, her father and brothers turned to her. “No!” chorused so strongly she might have been borne backwards if they’d been wind instead of voice.
Stunned by the unexpected opposition, Daria couldn’t even find words.
But Setteff did. Hot ones, and sharp. “Don’t you realize that the whole point of this is to capture you?”
Joshel shouldered him aside. “The minute you’re recognized as the princess, every invader will be after you.”
Daria realized the truth of this, but refused to give in. “Do you just intend to lock me in my rooms for protection?”
Iceros lifted one brow. “And lose one of my best fighters? Absolutely not. You—” his tone turned ironic “—like I, will take a stand on these balconies, raining arrows on any foolish enough to venture in range.”
Cihkel shot her a speaking look. Without words, he gave her the charge of protecting their king, their beloved father.
She nodded an acceptance of the charge.
Their father didn’t notice the silent exchange. “Believe me, daughter, you will have plenty of opportunity to engage the enemy before
the day is through.”
And to see that you come to no harm, Father.
Iceros turned to Larciat. “Go to my quarters and that of the princess. Bring our bows and quivers here.”
He turned to the final three bodyguards. “Each of you go with one of your princes.” He looked to his sons. “I’m proud of each of you. Fight well.” One by one, he hugged his sons.
Then each brother caught Daria in a fierce embrace, and she kissed their cheeks, saying a silent prayer that Yadarius, wherever He was, would keep her brothers safe.
~ ~ ~
From the ornate stone balcony of the palace, Daria nocked another arrow, aiming for one of the fur-and-armor-clad raiders battling her father’s soldiers in the wide courtyard below. The acrid smoke from the city’s burning homes and shops stung her eyes and clogged her nostrils. She blinked to clear her vision.
Hacked and broken bodies littered the ground, crimson blood seeping into the green sand. Green-uniformed defenders slashed and stabbed, slipping on the carnage of human limbs and entrails. The wounded screamed and moaned.
Daria’s heart thudded in time to the bells pounding out the alarm cadence. She let fly the arrow.
The point found its mark, penetrating the gap between the attacker’s breastplate and his shoulder. He dropped from sight, but another replaced him.
The raiders swarmed up the streets of Seagem like rats boiling from a burning ship. The horde had first overpowered the city patrols and verged on breaching the inadequate defenses of the palace. In only a matter of time, she realized with a hollow feeling in her stomach, they would overcome her father’s guards, and then take the palace.
Over my dead body. She gritted her teeth, loosing another arrow.
Her lungs burned, and she coughed, swiping an arm across her mouth, trying to take a deep breath using the scanty filter of her velvet sleeve. Then she peered through the gray miasma, searching for more of the enemy. Farther out, a drift of mist parted, revealing Thaddis’s ship anchored in the safe water beyond the reefs protecting the harbor. Ranks of black-clad soldiers at the rail waited for the reavers to do their damage.
Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Page 10
