Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  But she had too much respect for her weaponsmaster to voice her contempt. If the rituals gave him some wisps of comfort, she wouldn’t openly denigrate Yadarius to him.

  But for Daria, there was no comfort to be found.

  ~ ~ ~

  Daria found herself on Seagem’s beach, Khan standing in front of her. His arms swept around her, and he pulled her tight against him. For a few precious moments, she forgot about Seagem, forgot her pain and misery. Joy burst in her, and she hugged him, feeling as if she finally had found her way home.

  But her memory quickly returned. She thrust aside the traitorous feeling of happiness and pushed her hands against his chest.

  He released her, a puzzled look on his face.

  “No.” Grabbing his arm, Daria towed him toward the water. At the edge, she yanked him around, pointing up to the top of the cliffs. There, the remains of Seagem shone dark in the moonlight. “See. See my city?” She raised her voice. “It’s no longer there. It’s an empty shell. Destroyed!”

  Her throat clogged, but she still spat out the rest of the words. “My family’s dead! My people dead or taken as slaves!” She lowered her arm. “I’m on the run for my life.” Daria turned her face away, fighting not to burst into tears.

  His hands grasped her shoulders.

  She reached up and knocked them away. “It’s my fault! Because of you, I refused Thaddis. Because of my love for a dream man. One who, for all I know, doesn’t exist.”

  “You told me you still might have refused him, even if you didn’t know me.”

  Infuriated, she slapped a shove to his chest.

  He staggered back, stopped, and stepped toward her.

  Daria pushed him again. “Maybe not. But maybe I’d have waited. Gotten to know him. Said yes. But I couldn’t because my thoughts were filled with you.” She beat against his chest. One, twice. Sobs punctuated each blow.

  Khan grabbed her wrists and loosely held her. He braced himself, allowing her to flail against him.

  Daria didn’t use any fighting technique to break away. Instead, she continued to pound on him, the sobs expanding inside her ribcage, gaining in volume until she wailed them out.

  Another part of her stood back, horrified by the dramatic display of emotion. Warriors don’t wail. But a wounded little child had taken over her body, and Daria couldn’t stop.

  With a quick release and catch, he embraced her, enfolding her into him. “Shhh. Shhh,” he whispered into her hair. “Shhh, habibti. I’m here. Go ahead and cry.”

  Her knees weakened, and she sank to the sand.

  He went down with her, until they knelt together.

  She tucked her face into the soft place between his neck and shoulder, and sobbed. All the weeks of pain poured out in a geyser she couldn’t stop. Her body shook with the force of her emotion. She cried and cried.

  The shoulder of Khan’s outer garment became soaked. But he held her steady, tightly, raining small kisses over her head and murmuring in his silken voice things she couldn’t understand, but nevertheless comforted her.

  The wave of her grief finally ebbed. Not gone. But like the eye of a storm, a stillness left her empty inside. Daria sniffed, too worn out to be embarrassed. She tried to pull away, wipe her arm across her face.

  He wouldn’t let her. Still keeping her close, he fished in his pocket and pulled out a big handkerchief, gently dabbing her cheeks.

  Daria tore the cloth away from him, scrubbing at her face and blowing her stuffed-up nose. It took a few times before she could breathe. She leaned against him, inhaling his familiar scent. She burrowed into his arms, exhausted, grateful for the comfort he gave her.

  “Better?”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, stretching to kiss his chin. Just the taste of his skin on her lips changed her feelings from girl to woman. She pressed her mouth to his neck. Then desperate to fill the barrenness in her soul, she spread kisses up Khan’s face, seizing his mouth, pressing her body against his.

  At first he responded with equal fervor, kissing her in return, and running his hands over her back in a way that sent heat leaping through her. Then he pulled away and took a deep breath. “No, habibti. Not like this. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Yes. Yes. I need you, Khan. Make me feel. Make me feel something else beside the agony… Please.”

  He studied her face, his eyes liquid brown with sympathy. He touched a finger to her mouth and trailed a nuckle up her check. “You can forget for a while… But you know the pain will return.”

  She gave a rebellious shake of her head. “I don’t care.”

  “But you will care…and you will hate me.”

  Daria let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. “Not more than I’d hate myself. Than I hate myself now.”

  He stroked a hand over her, and then cupped her cheek, his palm resting under her jaw, an unspoken invitation to share more.

  “My brother Cihkel had found his heart’s mate. Her name was Elanath.” Daria had an ache under her breastbone, remembering that day on the ship when her brother confessed his feelings for Elanath. She pushed back from Khan, paced a few steps, before returning to stand in front of him. “His courtship of her was new, their love so shiny and pure. They had a wonderful future together. What right do I have to love, when they can’t?”

  Khan reached for her. “Don’t you think your brother would want you to be happy?

  “It doesn’t matter what he’d want because he’s not here. My brother and the woman he loved are dead!”

  “I think where he is now, he’d want you to find comfort … to have love.”

  Bleakness spread through her. “It doesn’t matter.” She turned away. “I shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have done this.”

  Khan tried to hug her. “Daria, Daria, stop. Wait. Don’t leave yet.”

  “I must. I have no life anymore. Can’t have a life, Khan.” Daria heard her voice break. “And you must leave, too.”

  She strode two steps away, then whirled to face him. “Never come back!”

  He closed his eyes briefly, anguish on his face. “No. Don’t do this. Please, habibti, let’s talk.”

  Within her chest, her heart crumbled into tiny pieces. But that couldn’t be. Her heart had already shattered on the day Thaddis had invaded Seagem. “I’m never coming back….”

  “But, Daria, I love you.”

  She could hear the pain in his voice, but she couldn’t allow him to melt her resolve. “I can’t, Khan. I just can’t.”

  She turned, and, keeping her back very rigid, walked away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Khan strolled across the park, carrying his shovel. As he walked, he admired the parkland, already feathered by growing green shoots. The beans and peas climbed the walls of the goddess’s shrine, and in a few days, he’d need to make wire cones for the tomatoes. He’d never seen plants grow so fast.

  From her perch on his shoulder, Shir chittered, one tail wrapped around Khan’s neck for balance, the other waving behind them. He stroked the downy fur on top of her head. She moved under his hand like a cat, making soft chirping noises of pleasure. Shir even smelled like a cat, instead of the more pungent odor of monkey.

  But even Shir’s antics couldn’t lighten his mood. He’d awoken this morning in such pain, he almost cried. Khan didn’t know why. He just knew his heart hurt.

  Shir fingered his ear.

  He rubbed her head again. “You’re wanting some attention, aren’t you?”

  In the three weeks since they’d come into his life, the monkey-bats had proved to be entertaining companions. They made good little sentries, sending out a squawk when something they didn’t like caught their attention. Because of their vigilance, Khan noticed he’d relaxed more, wasn’t so apt to startle at the least sound.

  And the animals had also helped him catch lizard-crabs. While Shir flew high on watch, Shad would pounce on one, holding the wiggling creature in place until Khan could dive in and chop
off the head. The supply of lizard-crabs seemed plentiful, and the sweet lobster-like meat went a long way to bolster his diminishing stores of food.

  Khan stopped in front of the two-story building, the most intact of the ones edging the compound. Now that he’d managed to seed the entire lot, he needed to turn his attention to establishing more permanent shelter. He had no idea what the seasons would bring in this desert, or how long they’d last. He needed to prepare for some type of winter.

  He reached out and brushed away the dun-colored desert dust from the side of the building to reveal the golden stone underneath. The amber rays of the morning sun turned the cleared area to molten gold.

  Khan remembered the city in the goddess’s picture, and longing stabbed through him. How he wished he could have been part of that beautiful time. To have friends, family, and especially a wife, for love and companionship, to join with others in building the city, going about their business, celebrating their successes together….

  How could one individual, laboring without anything but primitive tools, even make a dent in the restoration process?

  Trying to shake off his melancholy, he paced the length of the building, searching for an opening under the pile of rubble. Nothing. But several empty round windows gapped in the second story. If only he could climb through them….

  He paused to think. Glancing up at Shad bouncing about the air currents, Khan called to the monkey-bat, holding out his hand as if signaling a trained bird of prey, and braced himself. Shad always seemed much heavier when he landed.

  Shad hovered above him, wings flapping. One of the animal’s tails pointed to Khan’s arm.

  “Yes,” Khan confirmed.

  Zooming down to Khan’s arm, Shad landed with a thump. While still balancing Shir on his shoulder, Khan brought his other hand around to hold Shad steady and lifted the animal so they could see eye to eye. He visualized the monkey-bat flying through one of the windows, finding a way downstairs, and locating the outer doorway. Then he sent Shad a picture of the monkey-bat making a fist and thumping on the door.

  Shad lifted one tail and pointed it to the window.

  “Yes,” Khan said. “Fly through the window.”

  Then the second tail fluttered downward.

  “Yes. Find a way downstairs.”

  The end of Shad’s first tail curved until it almost knotted, then waved back and forth.

  “Good, boy. Knock on the door.”

  Shir unlooped her own tail from Khan’s neck, and the two monkey-bats had a rapid four-tailed conversation. Khan figured they must be communicating about Shad’s mission, because he caught some of the same tail signs.

  When they finished, Shad’s two tails clapped together, his way of telling Khan to release him.

  Khan tossed the animal into the air.

  With a squeak, Shad disappeared into the house.

  Shir rose on her haunches, digging her feet into his shoulder.

  By turning his head, Khan could see her tails whirling, as if communicating with Shad. Not for the first time, he wondered if the animals possessed some form of telepathy. Were they talking with each other, or was Shir just describing her own concerns?

  One of her tails curled into a knot.

  A second later, Khan heard a faint tapping.

  Perhaps that’s my answer.

  He bounded over to the sound. Lifting Shir off his neck, he set her on top of a mound of rubble, away from where he had to dig. She scratched at the remaining scabs of the gagh-wounds. Healed pink skin showed through the patchiness of her fur.

  “No, Shir. Don’t scratch.” He’d said the words often enough that she knew what he meant.

  She stopped, eying him with an apparent look of guilt.

  “Let them heal on their own.” He turned back to his task and pulled aside the loose bricks. A rusted piece of sheetmetal barred the way. Several minutes passed before he could pry off the metal. But once he flung it aside, he could see a door built of the purplish alloy. Only a pile of dirt stood between him and his goal. He picked up the shovel and began to dig.

  Fueled by his curiosity, he worked quickly. Shir on her rubble mound, and Shad inside the building, cheered him on with chitters and screeches. Soon he scraped the edge of the shovel across flat stone, an entrance step, he guessed.

  Setting down his shovel, Khan pushed on the door. To his frustration, it didn’t budge, and he couldn’t see any knob or latch for easy access. What if I can’t get in? He pounded on the door. A hollow sound echoed around him. With the feel of the side of his fist against the metal, he remembered the entrance to the goddess’s hidden shrine. Perhaps this opened in a similar way. He pulled sideways. With a grating rasp, as if protesting being disturbed from its age-old resting place, the door scraped back an inch.

  Inside, Shad howled with apparent glee, fitting both hands around the edge and poking his nose through.

  Khan tapped on the little fingers. “Back off, Shad. You might get hurt.” He slipped his fingers around the door and gave several hard yanks. The door slid aside enough for him to squeeze through.

  Shir followed.

  Khan blinked his eyes to adjust to the dim interior and took three steps inside a cavern-like room.

  The two monkey-bats flew up a curving staircase located in the back corner.

  Shards of glass and splinters of wood crunched under his feet. Dust powdered the air. The moldy smell made him sneeze, and he raised an arm to cover his nose and mouth. The room appeared empty except for a large brick fireplace. Piles of linty dust must have once been cushioned furniture of some type.

  Not for the first time, he wondered what had happened to this city. A war of the gods, the lady had said. Did the deities toss bombs around like baseballs?

  In the light from the door, he caught a glimpse of an aqua color, and he shuffled through the debris on the floor. Stooping, he brushed aside the dirt on the wall to see an aqua tile-like substance lining the walls and floor. Maybe some kind of molded porcelain, but more durable.

  A glint of purple caused him to pounce on a large bowl made of the unusual alloy. He blew on the surface, sending dust motes flying. From the wavy designs on the outside, this might have been a decoration, but it would do very well for a water basin or cooking pot.

  Still carrying the bowl, Khan walked over to a round portal cut into the side of the wall facing the park—a window, blocked by fallen brick. When he cleared away the rubble, he’d have a nice view of his land.

  In the corner of the room, stairs made of the purplish metal beckoned him upward, but before he attempted them, he noticed a doorway leading to another room. He poked his head in. Thin strips of light crept through another blocked portal and door. Maybe he could make this room into a stable for Nika and Daisy.

  A small boxy structure had been attached to the floor on both sides of the wall. Setting down the bowl, Khan ran his hands over the smooth, dirty surface—the porcelain-like substance again, only this time in gray. Slits near the bottom of the box made him wonder if it was some kind of heating or air-conditioning unit.

  Not for the first time, Khan ticked off the skills he wished he’d acquired somewhere in his life—engineering, plumbing, contracting, now heater/air conditioner repair knowledge. Perhaps all that time he’d spent traveling in America would have been put to better use working at odd jobs. Sighing, he strode over to inspect the stairs. Dust puffed with each step.

  As he expected, the special alloy had withstood the test of time. Just to be sure, he shook the railing of the staircase. Solid. He trod upstairs, his footsteps sending low thuds echoing around the lower room. After the dimness of the bottom floor, this room was awash with sunshine from the open windows.

  Side-by-side, Shad and Shir perched in one portal, wings folded, tails wrapped around each other. They studied him with identical expressions of interest in their cat-blue eyes.

  Khan crossed the gritty floor to lean out, enjoying the view of the parkland and the outdoor shrine. Away from the g
loomy, moldy downstairs, his spirits lifted. He turned back to survey his new domain. Again, puffs of moldering material and sawdust were all that remained of the furniture. But a niche in the wall held a meter-high image of the goddess, drawing him toward her.

  Reaching up, he lifted her down and tenderly brushed away the dust of the years. The stone gleamed beneath his fingers finer than the purest marble of the Greek statues. “You need a bath, lady.”

  Holding the statuette, he wondered how old it was. How many generations had knelt…stood…bowed before her? The idea of the ancient inhabitants pressed down on his shoulders.

  Can I live here in a place inhabited by ghosts of the past?

  Khan glanced out the window to the open-roofed outdoor shrine. If he were to make a home before winter, he didn’t have much of a choice.

  ~ ~ ~

  Daria made a conscious effort to keep from slumping to Teifa’s rhythmic gait. They’d been dodging across the countryside and holing up in hidden caves and other shelters. The slim rations, nightly workouts with Micfal, and the never-ending pain from her losses, had exhausted her to the point that without rigid control, her bones would melt out of the saddle.

  She and Micfal rode through rolling flatlands of the high desert. To their right, a cliff dropped hundreds of feet to the floor of the wasteland. They had another hard day of riding before they reached a path to the desert floor.

  For someone used to living with lush greens and blues, the monotonous palate of tan and brown—coarse beige sand with clumps of tan grasses and scruffy brown chay trees, their spiky leaves pointed to the sky—dragged down her spirits. Only the bluish-gray of the sensein bush, its bitter-spice scent permeating the air, lent any interesting color to a boring landscape.

  Because of the lack of cover, Daria had touched her othersense on a regular basis to check if any of the enemy searched their vicinity. So far, they’d been lucky. Thaddis’s men must be concentrating their efforts near the mountains between Seagem and Ocean’s Glory.

  Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, allowing her inner gaze to slide out of focus in a way that would show the map of their surroundings.