Pain squeezed his head like a crown contracting around his temples, the ache a constant companion that he’d learned to ignore.
The dull pull he’d been experiencing the last few weeks urged him ever onward. If he could kick his horse into a gallop, he would. But his prudence was stronger than the magic of the medallion, and he resisted, no matter how the pain increased. He’d wait until his scouts reported a safe route down.
Daria was close. He could sense her presence on the very edge of his awareness. His quarry had gone to ground. Perhaps the princess thought she was safe. She couldn’t run forever. Soon he’d catch up to her, and when he did….
Thaddis started to imagine what he’d do to his royal prisoner when she was helpless in his power. He’d start with cutting off her clothes….
His fingers caressed the hilt of the knife sheathed in his belt. The same one he’d driven into the table at the banquet at Seagem. After he’d been shamed by that bitch princess. Before he’d been unceremoniously ushered out of the city.
But he’d had his revenge. Thaddis chuckled, remembering his last memory of Seagem, or rather, the remains of the city.
He’d slain that pitiful excuse for a king. With Iceros’s bad leg, it wasn’t even much of a fight. Rather disappointing actually. He glanced sideways at the severed head of the dead king, held aloft on the pike of one of his men, withering in the strong sunlight.
Soon, I’ll have your daughter. His hands tightened on the reins. Princess Daria will be mine!
~ ~ ~
As they rode back to the shrine, Daria nudged Teifa close to Nika, keeping one eye on Khan, slumping in his saddle, and the other on their surroundings. The morning sun shimmered over the empty ruins. While neither her othersense nor her eyes saw any signs of life, she didn’t want to let down her guard because Khan had withdrawn within himself to the point of carelessness.
Without using her othersense, she could see he was profoundly disturbed. But with her othersense, she could see him wrapped in a gray cloak of depression, the weight of his feelings heavy on his shoulders.
She glanced sideways, tracing the proud lines of his profile. His features had hardened, jaw firmed. Gone were the traces of playfulness he often displayed, the warmth in his eyes when he gazed upon her.
Daria wanted to reach out to him, but he’d closed himself off—become a stranger. And she knew better than to try to talk to a man who’d gone within. They were best left alone to think their way through their own heaviness.
She looked ahead. The Goddess’s shrine came into sight.
Surely, the Goddess would be able to help Khan.
And once She did, they needed to pack up and ride for Zacatlan. Thaddis would be here in a few days, and they’d need to be long gone before then.
~ ~ ~
Khan stopped long enough to pull off his boots before wading, fully clothed, into the pool in the shrine. Sinking to his knees, he immersed himself face first in the water, wishing he could escape reality as easily as the Goddess would heal his nose.
The Goddess couldn’t take away the tormenting years that had led to the animosity between the brothers, or the fact that Amir lay at the bottom of a gagh pit, dead. Not exactly by his hands, but close enough. She couldn’t erase the fact that Thaddis had slaughtered Daria’s family and was now after her.
He took a breath, then flopped back into the water. Even with the risks they’d faced in the last day, he’d had a plan—one, which had actually evolved in a perfect way. They’d emerged victorious. Yeah, victorious failures. Without the ammo, his plan to save Daria was worthless. He couldn’t take her to Earth. Amir’s men still guarded the exit.
Khan came up for another breath; it was easier this time. He fingered his nose. Better. He stuck his face back in the water, wanting to bury himself. The Goddess’s energy reached out to him, as if tapping on his shoulder. She wanted into his mind, his heart.
He shrugged her away, clinging harder to his remorse, not willing to relinquish his shame and confusion to her healing.
The Goddess’s pressure increased. She was not pleased her Tanmargis had shut her out.
Daria tugged on his shoulder, and then grabbed his chin to lift up his head.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at her.
“Khan, we must hasten. Ride on to Zacatlan. Thaddis and his men will be here soon. We must get away to safety.”
Like a slap, her words knocked him out of his funk. She was right. He didn’t have time to waste burrowing into his recriminations. He kissed her palm, then turned and looked up at her. “I need one more dunking.”
She lifted a dark eyebrow, then nodded.
He took a deep breath, splashed back down, and extended his arms and legs, floating. This time, he opened up to all the Goddess’s healing, knowing he needed Her help to face the future.
Satisfaction ringed Her energy.
He rolled over to his back.
The Goddess busied Herself in cleaning up the smudges on his soul until he could set aside his feelings. They were still there, but he’d find a way to deal with them. Later.
Freed of the burden of shame, Khan began to think again. He curled his legs into a sitting position.
Daria grabbed his hand, splashing to her feet. “Come on.”
“Wait.” He unfolded his legs and stood, but not with the urgency she obviously wanted. He looked at the statue. “Can you show us a picture of Thaddis—where he is now?”
Milky-white clouds poured across the opening to the Kimtair entrance. A rider emerged from the fog. Thaddis rode his golden horse, still looking resplendent, his black-velvet uniform as pristine as if he had taken his valet with him on a jaunt around the countryside. The medallion winked in baleful splendor on his chest.
Thaddis reined in his mount, studying something in front of him. His men gathered around him, silent on their own horses.
Khan counted. Ten.
One rode forward to Thaddis’s side. He still carried the pole with Iceros’s head impaled.
Daria turned her face away.
Khan slipped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to his side.
The scene shifted until they could see where Thaddis was looking. He and his men had reached the edge of a plateau. Below them, the vast desert stretched out, a searing plain. Sand and rocks. Amber-hot sunlight. No water.
Daria’s attention returned to the screen. “He’s at the edge of the high desert.”
The leader restrained his horse, touching the pendant on his chest with one finger. Then he spurred his mount and waved his arm, summoning the soldiers to follow him into the wasteland.
Daria bit her lip. “At the time he’s making, he should be here in three days.”
Three days. Three days. The words echoed around in Khan’s brain.
Daria tugged on his hand. “We have to leave.”
Khan shook his head, holding up one hand in a sign, asking for thinking space. Leaving didn’t feel right. But if they didn’t leave, then what?
How could they fight? He didn’t think the toxic water and gagh pits would work against a larger group of men.
This city had been decimated in some kind of war. What weapons had been used? Did any still exist?
He turned toward the statue. “Lady, the weapons that destroyed your city…are any still around?”
A long pause followed his question, until he wondered if She’d refuse to answer.
Then the figure of Thaddis vanished from the misty screen. In his place, a map of the ruined city appeared. One spot pulsated with a red light.
Khan marked the position in his mind, noting landmarks to help him identify the place. The object was quite near to his park, in an area he recognized. He traced the path to the spot. “There’s our answer.” He turned toward Daria.
She studied the map with a look of intensity. “Will you know how to find it?”
“Yes.”
Daria set her shoulders back in resolution. “Then let’s be going.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Later that day, the sharp rays of the sun bore into Khan’s back. The twisted metal beams of a nearby tower cast a scanty shade across the rubble-strewn patch of sand containing the weapons cache. Unfortunately, none of the lines of shadow widened enough to shelter him from the heat.
Even worse, the Goddess’s gift was nowhere in sight. That meant the weapon was buried. And he had to uncover it. Now. He had no choice about waiting until the cooler time of dusk. In order to confront Thaddis in just a few days, they needed to be prepared as soon as possible. If that meant digging to the underside of this planet in the boiling sun, then that’s what he’d do.
He sucked in a breath, feeling dry down to his toes. What was taking Daria so long to return from the park with water?
Opening his intuitive senses, he checked on her. As far as he could tell, no immediate danger threatened. Nor did Shir and Shad flying patrol give any signs of agitation.
He drove the camp shovel deeper into the hole, cursing the fact that he hadn’t brought along better tools when he left his home. Using the small collapsible shovel, he had managed to dig up the whole park for planting, but the job had been far more onerous than if he’d had proper equipment. This task was even worse—pure frustration.
The blade scraped against stone; sand poured back into the hole almost as soon as he’d lifted out a shovel full. At this rate, it might take three days just to uncover the weapon. He bent to the task, digging and hauling out stones.
“I’m back.” Daria staggered up, head covering askew, her shoulders draped with the straps from all their water bottles. Sweaty tendrils of hair had escaped her braid to curl around her heat-flushed cheeks.
Khan straightened. “I know this is thirsty work, but don’t you think that’s a little too much?”
She laughed and handed over one of the gourd-like water containers she and Micfal had brought. “I’m going to show you a sandcastle trick.”
He took a long swig of water, relishing the wash of cool liquid in his mouth. He swallowed, then took another. “Sandcastles?”
“Children build them on the beach.”
“I’m familiar with sandcastles, although I’ve never built one.”
“Perhaps you didn’t spend enough of your childhood at the ocean.”
“I didn’t spend any of my childhood at the ocean.”
“You didn’t?”
“I grew up by a desert. Similar to this, actually. Without the ruins. My family traveled more when I was older. Spent time at seaside resorts. But by then, I was too old to make sandcastles.”
“You’re never too old to make sandcastles,” she said firmly, kneeling down by the side of the hole. “I’ll show you.” Dribbling the water around the edge, she patted down the wet sand. She continued around the rim, until the water from all the containers was used up, then she motioned for Khan to hand over his bottle. “There.” She stood up. “Now try.”
Khan shrugged, but obediently thrust the shovel into the sand and scooped it out. This time, the sides of the pit stayed firm. He grinned. “Clever. Thank you, that will help.”
She returned the smile, a dimple playing at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be your water carrier.” She gathered up the straps, stood up, then spun on her heel, trotting back to the park.
Khan watched her go. Her slim figure moved with a dancer’s—no, a warrior’s—grace. The tail of her braid bounced beneath her headcovering. Even the backbreaking labor involved in uncovering the weapons seemed easier with her around. He sighed, bending to his task.
Hitting another obstruction, he set aside the shovel and pulled over the sharp iron spear he’d fashioned to help with cultivating his garden. He maneuvered the dirt from the large stone, then, when it was almost free, stepped into the hollow to wiggle it out. With a heave, he swung the rock to the side.
The space had grown wide enough for him to continue digging while standing inside. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead and saw Daria returning. A welcome sight.
Although flushed with heat and reeling a bit under the weight of the containers, Daria greeted him with a sweet smile.
The smile burrowed deep into his heart. To distract himself, Khan climbed out of the pit while she watered the edges and sides. When she’d finished, he jumped back in and resumed work.
Daria lingered, watching.
His shovel scraped against something, screeching like metal, not stone. Crouching, he brushed aside the sand. Metal all right, with the same purplish sheen of the gates of the outdoor shrine in the park. He reached for his spear, poking at the obstruction, gingerly feeling for the edges.
Daria squatted by the side of the pit. “What kind of weapons do you think are in there? Special exploding arrows?”
“This might be the weapon itself.” What if it’s a bomb? What if I accidentally detonate it?
In spite of the temperature, underneath his headcovering, cold sweat broke out across his brow. His mouth dried, making the words difficult to force out. “Daria, I want you to return to the park until I get this out and opened.”
“Why would you want me to leave?” Her green eyes gleamed with mischief. “Do you want to keep all the fun for yourself?”
His heart leapt with surprise. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of the woman he’d so briefly known before tragedy struck her life. “I don’t know what kind of weapon this is. It could be unstable.”
She looked puzzled. “Unstable?”
“Easily set off.”
“I doubt your Goddess would have given you something like that. At least not without a warning. She wants you alive and bound to Her, remember?”
“You’re the one complaining about capricious gods. Remember Her hesitation? She’s never done that before. I could accidentally trigger the thing.” Clambering out of the hole, he stepped in front of her, taking her shoulders. “I want you out of harm’s way.”
“No.”
So much for feminine obedience. Although he’d spent too much time in England and America to place much value on female compliance, like most men, he wished there were times when a woman would just do as he asked without arguing—like when it was for her own good.
“If something happens to you, I…I want to be here too. We’ll die together.”
“But that’s my point.” Khan couldn’t keep the exasperated edge from his voice. “I don’t want you to die too. If something happens to me, ride to Zacatlan and see if you can find help.”
“I’m not going.”
“See the ruins around us? These weapons did the damage. It could happen again.”
“No, Khan.” She tapped the edge of the hole. “I’m not moving from here.”
Frustrating, stubborn woman. But a part of him also rejoiced in her courage, her willingness to stand by his side. He shrugged. “All right then.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“Of course, I’ll be careful.”
She looked abashed. “Sorry. I’m just worried. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I know how you feel,” he muttered. Giving up the argument, he lightly tapped across the metal, exploring for the edge. He set aside the spear and grabbed his shovel, uncovering more dirt and widening the pit.
Finally, he reached the end. A box shape. He scratched out more dirt. Rectangular, actually.
Almost an hour of painstaking work passed before the trunk-sized chest stood free. Running his fingers over the side, Khan could feel patterns embossed along the rim, but he needed to get the chest out of the hole before he could thoroughly examine it.
He straightened, motioning for one of the water containers.
Daria handed it to him.
While he drank, Khan once again considered asking her to leave, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it crossed his mind.
She wouldn’t go.
He checked with the Goddess. Surely if there was danger, She’d warn him. But only silence met his mental probe. It was up to him.
If, as the English said, he was going to blow them both to Kingdom Come, he’d better get started.
~ ~ ~
The amber sun dangled just above the horizon, casting lavender tints across their stark surroundings, and bringing some relief from the scorching heat. In the bottom of the pit, the strange alloy of the chest reflected a purplish gleam, but Daria could also see the shine of green, gold, and silver reflecting back through the dust.
Crouching by the edge of the hole, she could hardly contain her curiosity. But she could see Khan didn’t feel the same way. Under his dirty overgarment, his body moved stiffly. The shadow of his headcovering and the smudges on his face failed to hide the way his dark skin pulled across his high cheekbones and fanned worry lines around his eyes.
Khan paused for some water. He tilted his head up to swallow.
Daria watched his throat move, fascinated by the strong line of his jaw. Uncomfortable, she glanced back into the pit.
The trunk-shape reminded her of the time after a fierce storm when a sunken chest had washed up on the beach. Daria and her brothers had discovered it, and, believing treasure lay within, eagerly pried open the lock.
“This is like a treasure hunt. After a storm, my brothers and I used to love scavenging the beach.”
He smiled, deepening the tired lines around his eyes. “Ever find anything?”
“Small things. Interesting shells, several times some silver coins, colored glass balls from fishing nets, some fascinating seacreatures—dead of course, although once we rescued a sailfish. But the most exciting discovery was finding a trunk washed to shore.”
“What was inside?”
“The sodden remains of a women’s wardrobe, silk and wool clothing, beautifully made. All ruined by the sea. So sad. Even my brothers…” Her voice caught on the last word.
The memory washed over her, sharp and laden with the smell of brine…waves crashed in the background…and her boots sunk into the wet sand. The image hit her so strongly, it was almost as if her brothers stood near her, their gangling adolescent bodies close enough to touch. Cihkel, Joshel, and Setteff dressed warmly in heavy wool clothes, forest-green cloaks flapping in the chill wind. She saw again the eagerness on their faces, heard the edge of excitement in their tone.
Sower of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) Page 23
