Reaper of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy)

by Debra Holland

  “Cut it,” Indaran suggested.

  “Good idea.” Jasmine forged their power into a knife blade and attempted to slice through. Instead of cutting cleanly, the tentacle resisted as if it were made of impenetrable rubber.

  “Try dissolving the connections,” Anza said.

  Dissolve? Dissolve? She visualized the crimson energy as acidic, careful not to let any drip onto the baby’s brain. But no matter how much she coated the evil connection, nothing changed.

  Jasmine tried burning it away with a bright crimson flame.

  Merrel began to cry, but the tentacle didn’t budge.

  Arvintor! Jasmine appealed for help.

  Warmth whirled through her heart and down her hands, strengthening their combined power. She visualized a hacksaw and ended up sawing through the tentacle. As the connection protested, a shrill noise whined in her ear.

  The strand parted. The end sizzled and burned, then dissolved into ash, which floated away.

  Taking another breath, Jasmine went on to the next one, and the next, sawing through each.

  A hand, marble-white, reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her attention from the baby. She had a glimpse of Ontarem’s face, His blue gaze boring into hers. The Evil God’s eyes narrowed. Then his head tilted and a slow, pleased smirk spread across his handsome face.

  He’s marked me! She jerked her wrist away, then back-handed the vision. The sight of Ontarem disappeared, but she knew deep in her heart, the Evil One wasn’t done with her. I must hurry! She bent to her task, touching her hacksaw to the next tentacle.

  A foul odor clogged her nose, making it difficult to breathe, but she persevered, sawing each one until Merrel’s mind lay free.

  With a mental sigh, she stepped back and allowed Anza to guide the shielding process, diligently studying the Archpriestess’s work in order to replicate it in the future. Once Merrel’s brain was incased in protective red energy, Anza attached the shield to his life force. Then, together, the three of them started to withdraw.

  But before they completely separated from Merrel, a tremendous force whirled like a dark sandstorm, trying to overtake them. In a reflexive response, Indaran took over, sheltering them with his othersense and yanking them out of Merrel’s body.

  Dizzy, Jasmine opened her eyes, focused her gaze, and examined the baby, anxious to make sure the attack of the Evil One hadn’t harmed him.

  No longer crying, Merrel grabbed for one of his feet and gurgled.

  Chercheca let out a happy sob and reached for her son.

  Jasmine dropped a kiss on Merrel’s forehead, inhaling his baby scent, his innocence. She’d done the right thing by freeing Merrel from Ontarem’s bondage. But in doing so, she’d brought destruction down upon all of them.

  She handed Chercheca her son. “He’s fine. Take him home and nurse him. I’m sure he’ll be hungry after his ordeal.”

  “Thank you, Lady Jasmine.” Chercheca, a radiant smile on her care-worn face, bobbed a curtsey to Indaran and Anza. “Thank you so very much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Indaran said.

  Anza smiled, but her eyes remained troubled. “I’m glad we could be of help.”

  As soon as Chercheca had left, the three surveyed each other, the smiles they’d put on for the sake of the mother vanishing.

  Jasmine swayed from fatigue. Her ears still rang from the shrieking protest of the severed connections. “Ontarem knows.”

  Anza made the Y sign against her chest. “He’ll send soldiers to ransack the camp. We’ll be captured and taken to the temple.” She looked down at her hand, as if really seeing the futile gesture to Yadarius and dropped her arm to her side.

  Indaran clenched his fist, as if he grasped the hilt of a sword. “We must fight. We cannot wait. Those guards will be here within the hour, perhaps much sooner.”

  Fear banished Jasmine’s dizziness. “I’ll talk to Landers. He’ll have to choose sides now. Perhaps he’ll choose ours.”

  “I’ll gather the children and the pregnant women. They need to be out of the way.” Anza whirled around, preparing to leave.

  “Wait.” Indaran grabbed Anza’s arm. “Bring them here and keep them inside as we’ve rehearsed. But also find some of the men who won’t be first fighters and have them bring bales from other parts of the camp to enlarge and strengthen these walls. Not the ones at the front fence though. Leave those. Straw bales won’t be much protection here, but they’ll be some. I’ll set a few of my crew to guarding you. Make sure all the fires are doused so the enemy can’t easily burn you out.”

  Anza placed her hand over Indaran’s. “May Yadarius and Arvintor protect you, my king.”

  “And you, Archpriestess Anza.” He dropped his hand.

  Anza hurried out of the clinic.

  Indaran placed his hands on Jasmine’s shoulders, stepping closer. “If Landers raises his weapon to you, run. Hide in the city’s streets. You’ll be able to pass for one of them. Don’t suffer our fate.”

  She looked up at his beloved face, saw the rigid set of his jaw and the pain in his green eyes. “I’m not leaving you, Indaran.” She infused her voice with all the conviction in her heart. “Nor your people. I’ve pledged myself to them, and I will not break my healer’s vow.”

  “Stubborn woman.” He bent down and brushed his lips across hers. They lingered together for a few reluctant seconds. Then he pulled away. “Remain safe.”

  She slipped her hand up to cover his cheek, feeling the stubble of several days’ growth of beard. “You stay safe, too,” she whispered. Forcing herself to turn away, she ran from the clinic.

  Will I ever see him alive again?

  Please, please keep him safe.

  ~ ~ ~

  Indaran called to the two children lingering near the entrance of the clinic, Jasmine’s page and his. He motioned them over. “Attle, run and find Mastin, Tempor, and the rest of my crew carrying the weapons. Summon them to my side. Tell them our doom is upon us. We go to war!”

  The boy’s eyes opened wide with fear, and he swallowed. “Yes, my king.” He darted off.

  “Timba,” he grasped the girl’s thin shoulders and gently squeezed. “Run and give the word. Everyone to their places. Hurry now.”

  She nodded, blond braids bobbing, then scampered away.

  He straightened, glancing around, thinking furiously. The news was spreading quickly. A group of women carrying babies rushed toward the clinic. One supported another far gone in pregnancy, who cradled her extended stomach with both arms. As she passed, he gave her a reassuring smile. She, along with the mothers with babies in arms, would be the most vulnerable to the soldier’s blades.

  I have to find another way to protect them. His gaze rested on the sharpened stakes of the perimeter fence, his eyes unfocused as he shifted through his plans. Then an idea hit him.

  With an exclamation, he hurried over to the fence. Withdrawing his sword from its makeshift scabbard, he slashed through the rawhide ropes binding the stakes. When he’d freed about ten, he sheathed his sword, then grabbed the top of one stake around the point. The bottoms of the wood had been set in a narrow trench, and in a few minutes, he had a pile of crude spears at his feet. Long and unwieldy, but weapons, nevertheless.

  Tempor ran over to him, Elanath following on his heels.

  Indaran pointed at the fence. “Tempor, keep cutting the ropes. Elanath, start handing out spears. Everyone who doesn’t already have a weapon must take one.”

  As people grabbed their makeshift spears, Indaran ran toward the gate. A line of armed people followed.

  When he rounded the last tent before the gate, he could see that the men and women of his crew, holding the pikes they’d taken from the guards, were already gathered behind the wall, ready on his command to jump onto the straw bales and stab down at the enemy.

  Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a dozen bowmen. Behind the cover of the fence, we could mill the soldiers down. He thought of what Anza had told him about his father and siste
r’s stand on the balcony of the palace in Seagem…how they’d rained arrows down on the enemy, how his brothers had fought the reavers through the streets of the city.

  Would that they were here today, fighting by my side.

  ~ ~ ~

  As soon as Jasmine left the clinic, she could see the people scurrying to assume the positions they’d rehearsed yesterday. Some looked panicked, others determined. A few, mostly men, carried weapons and ran toward the gate of the camp.

  Jasmine hurried after them. They stopped when they reached the wooden walls, taking up positions on the inside next to the gate. But she kept going. She barreled through the opening.

  Landers was the only guard on duty. He nodded a greeting when he saw her.

  She ran up to him. “Landers, I just used a healing technique on a child who has the same problem as Tashta. He was dying from the God’s draining him. I broke Ontarem’s hold on the baby. Immediately, the child was better. He even smiled at me.”

  Landers seized her hand and pumped it up and down. “This is good news, indeed, Lady Jasmine. As soon as one of the other guards reports in from his patrol of the perimeter of the slave camp, I’ll have him take my place, and we can go to my home.”

  Jasmine forced his hand down and firmed her voice. “Ontarem knows what I have done and the strength of my power. Before, I’ve been able to hide it from Him. Otherwise, in the last few days, He would have taken it all, leaving me nothing to heal with. Within the hour, he’ll be sending his guards for me. I’ll end up on a slab in his temple, my mind and my healing powers sacrificed to Him.”

  “No!” The word exploded from Landers. He released her hand. “Run, my lady. Go to my house and hide there.”

  “Landers, you cannot go against your God. If He finds out, your life will be forfeit.”

  “So be it. At least, you and my wife and daughter will be safe.”

  She shook her head. “He will know if I break His hold on Tashta. He’ll send His guards to your house. Perhaps, your family will also end up on the slabs in the temple.”

  “I won’t let Him kill my family. I won’t let them take you. You are needed as a healer.”

  “Landers, some of the men in the camp are warriors. They escaped from the temple and have weapons. They will fight the soldiers who come to take me. Will you join our rebellion?” She extended her hand, palm up. “Will you join our fight for freedom from Ontarem?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After his fight with Indaran, Mastin paced the perimeter of the compound, trying to walk off the shame and anger he felt at attacking his friend and king.

  “Mastin,” a piercing voice called.

  Attle, Indaran’s page, raced toward him, skidding to a stop that almost knocked both of them over. “Ontarem is sending his guards,” he panted out. “The king says we are to fight. You are called to your position at his side.”

  The boy raced off without waiting for a response.

  As the meaning of the words sank in, Mastin stared after the child. War. Now. Before we’re ready?

  A vision of Elanath recaptured, raped, then taken to the temple, raced through his mind. He saw himself laying on a slab next to her, their life energy used to fuel the Evil God. “No. No. No!”

  The fearful images from his nightmares marched through his mind—the ones caused by the helmet and spear of Ontarem’s priest. He remembered the power he’d possessed in the dreams when he’d worn Vol’s helm and spear. He needed that power now.

  They’ll take you over, a fearful voice whispered in his mind.

  “I can control it,” he said out loud, trying to still the doubts.

  It will control you.

  “I’ve vowed to never be recaptured.”

  He stalked to his sleeping space. With the helmet and the spear, I’ll have the strength of five men. I will be the hero. I will save Elanath. I will deliver our people from Ontarem’s minions. When we are free, they will hail me, not Indaran, as their savior.

  The triumphant vision carried him past his doubts. He crawled inside his small sleeping area, grabbed the wrapped weapons, and backed out.

  With trembling hands, he uncovered the bundle. The helmet dropped out first. The dull pewtery metal seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. The band of runes along the brim blurred in a dizzy pattern that he couldn’t make out.

  For the first time, he dared to touch the helmet with his bare hands.

  The cool metal heated as if it had been dropped into a pot of boiling water. It burned his hands, and he bit off an exclamation of pain. Suddenly loath to don the helmet, he waited, until a burst of shouting in another part of the camp forced urgency through his reluctance.

  As if sensing his decision, the dull silver metal of the helmet cooled a bit.

  Mastin took a deep breath, raised the helmet in the air, and set it on his head, lowering the brim until it fit his brow. The metal squeezed together, as if adjusting to the size of his head. Then before he was prepared, the color red exploded across his vision. A surge of anger stabbed him, the pain so strong that he wavered, then blacked out.

  ~ ~ ~

  Just as Indaran reached the gate, Jasmine stepped through, followed by the guard who must be Landers. The crowd around the gate surged forward, menace darkening their faces. She held up her hand in a commanding gesture, letting all around her know to stay back from the man.

  The scar-faced man narrowed his eyes and glanced around, apparently seeing the slaves with new eyes.

  Indaran noted the watchful stance, the hand hovering over the hilt of his sword, the other clenching his pike. A formidable warrior.

  Jasmine smiled, beckoning to him.

  Indaran exhaled in relief. The man’s on our side. He strode over to join them.

  Jasmine waved toward the guard. “May I present Landers to you, King Indaran.”

  Landers bowed. “I am honored to meet the highest one of Seagem. Your power must be strong to have escaped from Ontarem’s temple.”

  “Lady Jasmine’s the one who set me free.” Indaran gave her a warm look. “Her powers are formidable.”

  Jasmine lowered her eyes.

  Landers grunted in apparent agreement.

  “She’s clever and strong, too. If we survive these next few hours, I’ll gladly share with you the tale of our escape from the temple.”

  “A tale I will gladly hear.”

  Landers slanted a penetrating glance around the compound, noting the weapons everyone carried. He lifted an eyebrow. “Your preparations are extensive. Perhaps, you will be able to defeat Ontarem’s guard after all.”

  “Could you tell us what to expect?”

  “Trine Kokam will probably send the honor guard.”

  “How many?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Twelve we should be able to handle.” Indaran tried to sound more confident than he felt.

  Landers rubbed his chin, a skeptical look in his eyes. “These are the finest soldiers in all of Louat. You can overwhelm them, but the cost to your people will be high.”

  “Are you willing to help us?”

  He frowned. “I do not feel right about fighting my own men. However—” he glanced at Jasmine “—I will guard Lady Jasmine. If she is to save the lives of my daughter and my wife, I need her to stay alive and uncaptured.”

  “Thank you. Lady Jasmine is our greatest treasure. You have given my people a great gift.” Indaran held Jasmine’s gaze for a few long seconds.

  “If you succeed in freeing yourselves, in weakening Ontarem’s power, it is you who will be giving my people a great gift.”

  Jasmine rested a hand on Lander’s arm. “I’m glad you are to guard me, Landers, but I will be a target. Ontarem’s guards are coming for me.”

  “I am dead either way, my lady. Your people would have killed me to escape. If I die, I die protecting you. All I ask is that you save my wife and daughter.”

  “If I remain alive and free, I will do so gladly.”

  Indaran had to repre
ss an unworthy bite of jealously. But if he couldn’t personally guard her, he could leave his lady in no better hands.

  Landers pointed to the gate. “I’ll stay outside so all looks normal. Leave the gate canted open the slightest bit. The honor guard will believe all is well. Then when they arrive, I’ll demand they wait while I go inside. Once I’m in, slam the gate shut and have your pikemen….” He noted some of the women holding fence stakes. “Pikemen and women stab at them.”

  “You put yourself at risk, Landers. What if they refuse to let you in? Or they barge in with you?”

  “I will remind them of the sickness and the quarantine. They will have heard of this.”

  “We can’t bar the gate from the inside. They’ll be able to batter it down.”

  “Then you will fight.”

  Indaran clenched his fist. “Then we will fight.”

  “Ontarem will feel his soldiers’ deaths and send more. Five hundred of the army remains in the city. Perhaps all will be sent against you. Perhaps even Trine Kokam will lead them.”

  “I will take care of Trine Kokam.”

  “If you slay all the soldiers sent against you, then what?”

  “We will have to run for the plain.”

  “You will have to kill or disable all the soldiers then, or they will harry you the whole way, cutting down your people. And…” he paused for emphasis. “The soldiers won’t stop at the edge of the plain.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Within the straw bale clinic, Jasmine stood before the few women she’d selected as helpers, explaining the concept of triage. She’d clasped her hands behind her to hide their shaking and hoped the others couldn’t see the quivering of her knees under her chador.

  The pregnant women and mothers with babies crowded into the second room—a flimsy refuge, but all they had. The older children were all outside, assigned roles as messengers.

  A baby cried, responding to the tension in the room. Jasmine could hear the mother trying to calm her, but to no avail.

  Shareef crouched in the corner, having been firmly ordered to stay. The animal’s amber eyes watched her every move. He’d become good at listening to her, and she hoped now, of all times, he’d obey.