~ ~ ~
Through the haze in her vision caused by the burning agony in her arm and shoulder, Daria tried to focus on her rescuer, who’d appeared like a champion to slay the hellhounds. Khan? The man slid from his horse and ran over, kneeling at Micfal’s side.
Daria sagged in the saddle, struggling for the strength to go to Micfal. Looking down, she saw the bloody stain covering her tunic and splattering on Teifa’s saddle. She needed to bind her wound. But first, Micfal needed her.
The man touched his fingers to the base of Micfal’s neck.
Micfal’s blue eyes stared blankly at the sky.
Khan shook his head, saying something in an unfamiliar tongue.
Why don’t I understand him? But Daria didn’t need the words to understand the message.
Micfal is dead.
Pain pierced her heart and radiated through her body more intensely than her physical wounds. A vortex of loss and darkness descended upon her.
Khan gently laid Micfal down, closing his eyelids over the sightless eyes, then moved toward Daria.
She shook her head, refusing his aid. But as the blood poured from her wound, her lifeforce seeped from her. “No,” she whispered. “No.” Then her world went black.
~ ~ ~
The woman swayed in the saddle.
Khan grabbed her just as she collapsed, easing her into his arms. Her head lolled against his chest. If she’d been conscious she would have heard the rapid race of his heartbeat.
Although a tall woman, she seemed so slight in his arms. But he’d seen the strength in her sword arm, watched her courageous charge against the reptile dog.
The woman was dressed in faded, dirty clothing shot-through with gold thread. Her delicate bone structure in a sunburned face, dark arching brows, and long lashes, hinted of great beauty. She looked young…familiar. Pain lines bracketed her mouth, and, even unconscious, she looked depleted. Her vulnerability pulled at his heart.
His arms trembled. Unlike the man, she hadn’t been slashed with the reptile dog’s poison talon, but her wounds were beyond the abilities of his first aid kit and his slight medical knowledge. She needed a doctor and a hospital. Even if he could make it through the shrine back to his world, they’d be days from medical attention. For a few seconds, fantasies of cell phones and helicopter airlifts flashed through his mind, then he dismissed them.
Bitter despair squeezed his chest. To finally have the promise of human company, only to have it slip away….
No! His determination clicked into place. He’d take her to the shrine and pound on the door until the goddess let them in. And if she didn’t, he’d take apart the shrine, one brick at a time. Anything it took, he’d do.
He carried the woman over to Nika, and then hesitated. There was no way to prop her up on the horse without making her wound worse. He glanced around. A crumbled set of stairs leading nowhere provided a solution. He walked over to them, whistling for Nika. The horse followed.
Khan climbed the six steps and eased his leg over the horse. “Steady, boy.” He slid into the saddle and took the reins with one hand. The other arm cradled the woman before him. He hated to leave the man’s body lying in the open, but the woman’s life depended on his moving quickly. He kicked Nika into a canter.
Although it seemed to take forever to traverse the ruined city back to the shrine, they made good time. Shad and Shir flew in watchful patterns, sometimes omitting distressed chirps, tails curling in seemingly sympathetic displays of support.
As the blood oozed from the unconscious woman’s shoulder, Khan watched her face become paler under her tan. “Please hold on,” he murmured.
In between navigating Nika around the fallen obstacles in the road and trying to stay alert for any other dangers, he talked, telling her about his veiled lady. He knew she probably couldn’t hear him, nor understand his words. But talking served to still the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.
Finally, they reached the shrine. The round building, tan-colored brick worn by sand and wind, seemed the same as the one he’d discovered months ago on Earth. Only this time he knew the power that lay hidden in the portal between the two worlds, and the knowledge gave him hope.
Khan dropped the reins. There was no easy way to get off the horse. He lifted her higher, then slid one leg up and underneath her until he had both legs on the same side. Then he jumped down, absorbing the brunt of the impact with his legs.
Carrying the limp woman, he strode to the concealed door. As before, only curved brick faced him. To find the entrance, he’d have to lay her down, and he was reluctant to let her out of his arms.
He closed his eyes, bowing his head in supplication, picturing the statue of the lady. In his mind, Khan went to his knees in front of her pedestal, extending the wounded woman toward her. “Please,” he pleaded. “Let us in. Heal her.”
The eyes above the statue’s veil studied him, shifting through the layers of his feelings. He kept his mind and heart open to the goddess’s scrutiny, but put before her his own longing and his determination to have her help.
Like a sword strike, the lady sent him visions of the woman in his arms. He saw a green beach, first in daylight, and then lit by the moons … the two of them together. The memories of the dreams flooded him. Daria!
The goddess spoke in his mind. I will heal her, but you must make a sacrifice.
“Anything.”
New pictures came into his mind, of himself, growing older, tending his garden alone. Will you pledge yourself only to my service? Be my Tanmargis?
Tanmargis. The goddess seemed to ask that Khan commit to a vocation similar to that of a celibate Christian priest.
Khan opened his eyes and looked down at Daria. If he let her go, he’d live with loneliness the rest of his days. Within himself, he could already feel the spread of bleak emptiness, matching the barren desert around him. But she’d be safe. Alive.
He leaned his head forward, touching his lips to her forehead, and then looked up at the door. “Yes.”
The portal slid open.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Daria stirred. Darkness. Strong arms around her. Her head resting against a broad chest. A thudding heartbeat. Warm. Safe. Her father carrying her to bed?
Memory slowly returned, followed by anguish—the loss of her family, the sacking of the city, the long journey, Micfal’s death, her wounds.
Fire burned in her shoulders. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. Tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids.
Daria tried to lift her head. Where am I? Who’s carrying me? Thaddis? She tried to struggle, but the agony of movement made her limp.
A male voice soothed her. She recognized it. Khan. Comforted, she closed her eyes and laid her ear to his shoulder. He kept talking, his voice low and hypnotic. She wished she knew his language.
The clop of hoofbeats on brick was the only other sound.
“Teifa?”
“Shhh, shhh,” he murmured into her hair.
Those words at least were familiar, and she allowed herself to sink under the waves of faintness.
In the distance like a tinny melody, she heard the tinkle of water splashing into a pool. Water. What a beautiful sound. The awareness of her parched throat, the grimy condition of her clothing and body, added to her pain.
The fresh scent of water tickled her nose. A breeze of welcome coolness caressed her cheek.
Khan said something again.
Daria opened her eyes and saw a faint glow up ahead.
As they drew closer, the light brightened. They emerged into a large cavern made of white marble, glittering with specks of gold. It reminded her of sunlight sparkling off the sea on a bright summer day. In the middle of a pool that filled the room, a statue of a veiled and robed woman, hands outstretched, cast an illumination. Water trickled from one palm in a melodious fountain.
Khan didn’t stop at the edge. Instead, he splashed into the pool, wading directly toward the figure. When he reached the ba
se of the statue, he knelt, placing Daria in the water, until the cool liquid covered her up to her neck. The sensation felt so refreshing, she didn’t protest her sudden immersion.
He propped her head on his knee, scooping water over her cheeks and forehead, dribbling some into her mouth. She swallowed, the taste sweet and pure, so different from the stale water she’d been sipping for days. A relaxing numbness spread through her, the fire of her pain becoming bearable.
Gently, he started to peel away her clothing.
She stiffened.
Khan glanced up at the statue, as if for direction, and then murmured more words.
Daria sensed his assurance that she was safe…that he was trying to help her, and she submitted.
He pulled her chain with the monocular case over her head, setting the necklace on the statue’s base.
She allowed him to slip off her tunic and shirt. Soon he had bared her chest and shoulder, but instead of feeling shame, amusement bubbled within her. He’d been so careful to seem impersonal, but she knew he struggled. She watched his eyes as he leaned forward to examine her wound.
Khan scrupulously avoided looking at her breasts, but a flush rose under the tan of his skin. He fanned water over her shoulder.
Daria winced. The wound hurt, but more like a dull ache instead of the burning agony she’d felt earlier. Was she in shock? She stared up at the statue. Somehow the veiled lady seemed familiar, but Daria knew she’d never seen her likeness before.
The statue’s illumination increased until it seemed energy radiated from the lady. The water warmed, washing away the fatigue and pain of the last months. In vibrating sensations, the liquid swirled over the wounds of her shoulder and arm. The ache faded. She closed her eyes and drifted in a healing trance, cocooned in Khan’s arms.
Minutes or hours later, Daria wasn’t sure how long she’d floated, she heard him speak.
“You’re so beautiful.”
The soft words pulled her into a drowsy awareness of him. She reached up to touch his mouth. “I understood you.” She traced his lips with one finger. “Just like in our dreams.”
“Yes.”
Khan covered her hand with his, closing his eyes and kissing her fingertips. Then he opened his eyes and laid her hand on her stomach. He helped her sit, and then fished her shirt out of the water. As he buttoned her into it, she marveled how the blood and rips had vanished from the fabric. The pale-green material, although wet, looked as new as the day Issa had presented the shirt to her.
She glanced up at the statue.
Khan followed her gaze. He tilted his head as if listening. Regret flashed for a moment in his dark eyes. “The Goddess has healed you.” His voice sounded distant. “Your destiny is in her hands.”
“No!” With one hand, Daria slashed the air between herself and the statue. “I’ve had enough of Deities.” She softened her tone, nodding at the lady. “I thank you for your healing. However, my destiny will remain in my own hands.”
~ ~ ~
Khan kept his face impassive, struggling not to reveal his regret at Daria’s rejection of the goddess. No, his Goddess. He’d vowed himself to Her.
Yet the bond linking his heart to Daria threatened his new vocation. He looked down at Daria, her jaw set in a stubborn line. So much had happened to her. Far more than he knew. Would her story be too painful to talk about?
He glanced up at the Goddess for guidance, but the lady had turned back into a statue. Her marble eyes above the veil still and quiet. Was She displeased with Daria’s rejection? Hurt? Could a Goddess be hurt?
Daria glided two steps through the water to the base of the statue, retrieving her necklace. “This was my father’s.” She slid open the case and pulled. “See?” A cylinder unfolded into a telescope. “He always wore it.”
Khan reached out and touched Daria’s fingers, intending to comfort her. A shock of sensual energy caused him to snap his hand away as though he’d just touched hot coals.
Her startled green gaze met his. A flush crept into her tanned cheeks. She had a response too.
He swallowed, striving to keep his tone level. “The necklace must mean a great deal to you.”
“It’s all I have left of my father. That and my memories.” She slipped the chain over her head.
“What happened since we last talked?” he asked gently.
Her eyes shied away, and she chewed on her lower lip.
He sensed her withdrawal.
“It’s not a tale I want to revisit.”
“I understand,” he said, reining in his disappointment.
“I must continue on to Zacatlan.”
“Zacatlan?”
“A city on the other side of the wasteland.”
She’s going to leave. The hollow feeling in his chest threatened to overwhelm him.
Daria reached out a hesitant hand. “Will…will you come with me?”
He caught her hand in his, feeling the calluses on her palm, and then he brought it to his lips. “I wish I could. But I’ve vowed to the Goddess to heal Her land. I must remain here.”
A flash of anger crossed her face, blazing her eyes to sparkling emerald. She turned her back on the statue. “Gods! Goddesses! Why don’t they just leave us alone?”
“She healed you,” Khan said quietly.
“I’m grateful.” Daria removed her hand from his. “But I tell you this, Khan. Don’t trust Her. She’ll heal you one moment, and when you think all is well, She’ll turn her back on you.” Her voice lowered, almost trailing away. “She’ll break your heart.”
Khan had to lean close to catch the words. He couldn’t stop his response. Reaching out, he pulled her close, holding her tight. His cheek rested against Daria’s flower-scented wet hair, and he inhaled her essence, savoring her fragrance. Surely, the Goddess wouldn’t object to him offering Daria some comfort?
Daria’s head drooped against his shoulder. She felt so right in his arms, just like in his dreams. He’d journeyed to a foreign world and encountered a woman he’d like to choose for his mate, only to lose her almost as soon as he’d really found her.
He closed his eyes, imprinting in his memory the impression of her body against his. This might be the last physical contact he ever had with her. He wanted to stretch the moment into days.
The sound of the Goddess clearing Her throat reverberated in his mind.
Reluctantly, he released Daria, stepping back.
The Goddess warmed to life, waving one tapering hand to the opposite side of the pool. A portion of the gold-flecked marble wall vanished, exposing an archway identical to the one they’d entered earlier. Fog swirled around the opening, thickening into a whitish covering.
An auburn-haired man materialized, dressed in black and riding a palomino horse. Outlined against the misty surface, he appeared so real that Daria gasped. “Thaddis.” She shrank back against Khan.
Her rejected suitor? Khan slipped his arm around her.
A black and gold medallion hanging from a thick chain around Thaddis’s neck glittered in the sunlight. Ten men on horseback, wearing black uniforms, followed him through a green landscape.
Behind them Khan could see a plume of smoke rise into the lavender sky.
Several soldiers held the reins of laden packhorses.
“He’s evil.” Daria spat the words at the Goddess. “When I refused to marry him, he invaded my country. He…” She stumbled over the words. “He killed my brothers and my father, murdered and enslaved the people, and sacked the city.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He hasn’t stopped hunting for me.”
Although he knew some of what happened, Khan still felt stunned by her litany. He could only hold her, trying to absorb the news that Thaddis still pursued her.
Her agonizing experience explained the lines of pain etched around Daria’s mouth and eyes and the toughness she had displayed in facing the reptile-dogs.
Anger, a need to protect her, and helplessness mingled together. He wanted to attack the man w
ith his bare hands, dragging him off the horse and choking him to a slow death. Yet at the same time, the futility of trying to defend her from a group of armed fighters was almost overwhelming. What did he know about medieval fighting techniques?
He squared his shoulders. It wouldn’t help Daria for him to get discouraged. Think, Khan, think. Maybe the sword-and-sorcery fantasy novels and true accounts of military battles he’d read or watched on TV would provide an advantage. But first, Daria had to flee to safety.
Running a gentle finger down her jaw and under her chin, he tilted her face to look up at him. The emerald sparkles he remembered in her eyes had faded to moss-green flickers of pain.
He wished he could keep her safe with him—make her happy. The urge to kiss the slight dusting of freckles across her nose and feathering out over her cheeks prompted him to drop his hands from her shoulders and step back. “You must leave here right away. I’ll find some way to hide your trail. Maybe I can set traps to ambush them.”
The picture in the mist changed like a camera lens, focusing on a close-up.
The medallion.
Khan studied it, puzzled. Why was the Lady showing this to them? The image zoomed closer. On the disk, Khan could see fibers of blond hair pressed against the black background.
Daria’s hair!
Shivers trickled down his spine.
Black magic.
What he would have dismissed as superstitious nonsense in his own world, he knew in his gut was reality in this one.
He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “He’s using your hair to track you.”
Daria’s skin whitened underneath her tan. She swallowed. “I’ve heard of such. But my father would only allow healers and workers of good magic in Seagem.”
“What about other places?”
“Thaddis’s father, Stevenes, was a wise leader. I doubt he’d have permitted such doings within his kingdom. It must have taken Thaddis time to find so evil a person. More time to make the amulet. That’s why Micfal and I were able to escape. But now…” She bit her lip. “He’ll find me wherever I go.”
“No,” Khan heard himself saying. “No, by my word, he won’t.”
Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Page 16
