Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (21 page)

The flashback paralyzed him. Hatred welled up. Indaran wanted to let out a yell, charge, and slay any who crossed his path. But he couldn’t move.

Indaran fought for breath, for release from a nightmare so strong it bound his arms to his side.
I’m free,
he told himself fiercely.
These men aren’t the Evil One’s guards. Many are innocent of anything but serving their God.

That thought broke his paralysis. Indaran raised his arm and dropped his hand.

His sister saw the motion. “Fire,” Daria yelled.

Arrows flew. The archers in the front ranks aimed straight for the enemies’ front lines. The archers in the back aimed high, their arrows arcing into the sky to land in the middle ranks.

Wooden shafts hit home with the sickening sound of dull thunks, striking torsos, arms, legs. Men screamed and collapsed. The forward march wavered. Some soldiers turned to flee from the relentless barrage.

Officers on their mounts yelled for their men to charge. Indaran knew whips of pain-energy from Ontarem’s shadowy presence forced His men forward.

Again, Indaran raised his arm, slashing his hand forward.

With a spine-tingling howl, Roe-al sent his nomads galloping down the line of the soldiers, the horses spaced far enough apart so if one went down, the next rider could avoid running into it. They flung their spears into the mass of men.

In response, Ontarem’s soldiers threw their spears at the riders, but distracted by the rain of arrows and the fall of the injured comrades, their aim was off and only some connected. Once the enemy had thrown their spears, they pulled out their swords.

The Ocean’s Glory archers dropped back behind the swordsmen.

Khan and Daria on horseback continued firing arrows until they emptied their quivers.

Go back
,
Khan.
Daria commanded with her othersense.

Indaran spared a quick glance to the other side of the battlefield.

Khan wheeled his horse around and galloped away. But he only went far enough to stay out of spear shot. He dismounted to grab some spent arrows. There weren’t many that had gone wide. He leaped back onto his mount and began to shoot.

Indaran tracked the battle. So far all was going to plan. The Che-da-wah had pulled back—unable in the embroiled mass of men hacking at each other to get a clear spear shot at the enemy. He yanked his sword from the scabbard, and the sun glinted off the blade.

On the other side of the battle, Daria also drew her sword.
Are you with me, brother?

Let’s go!
“Seagem!” Indaran yelled and kneed the black stallion.

The horse leaped into the fight.

Indaran slashed and stabbed, thrust and blocked, quickly learning to keep his legs tight around the horse, guiding with his knees. He adjusted his fighting to use mostly his upper body strength, slashing downward. Protecting the horse as well as himself was awkward and sometimes dangerous.

After leaning over to swing his sword at an enemy and almost unbalancing himself out of the saddle, Indaran cursed and vowed to change the training of the future.
If there is a future.

No, there will be!

He dispatched his opponent and checked on his sister across the battlefield.

With a fierce stab to the belly, she slew the soldier fighting with her.

Pride warmed in him.
She’s a warrior!
Then he saw another man rush her from behind.

His heart ground against his ribs.
I can’t get to her in time!
Indaran yelled a warning, knowing she couldn’t hear him over the clash of weapons, yells of fighters, and screams of the wounded.
Look behind you, Daria
!

Hearing him through her othersense, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the soldier. In a flash, she kicked her mount and the gelding leaped over a body. She circled out of the melee, then charged at the man, killing him with one blow.

Then Indaran had no more time for monitoring his sister, for his hands were full with his own attackers.

~ ~ ~

Daria’s stomach wedged in her throat. With a flash of regret for killing the man, she guided her gelding around a dead Che-da-wah
.

An enemy grabbed her leg and tried to yank her off her horse.

Leaning against his grasp, Daria slashed at him with her sword.

He ducked, loosening his hold.

She kicked him, landing her boot on his shoulder.

He stumbled back, tumbling over a body, and went down.

With no immediate enemy around, Daria risked a quick glance behind to check that Khan remained out of the battle.

With relief, she saw he watched the fighting from a hill on her flank. He carried a sword in his hand—not that he knew how to use the weapon. But he looked scary enough that she figured none of Ontarem’s soldiers would dare attack him.

Needing to do some reconnaissance, Daria cantered her gelding up a small hill and saw the ranks of Ontarem’s soldiers had considerably lessened. The tide of the battle had turned in their favor.

She glanced upward to where the monkey-bats flew high above. They were supposed to remain safely aloft, only warning if unexpected reinforcements of Ontarem’s soldiers arrived. Relieved the two had obeyed, she turned back to the fighting.

Sickened, she watched the scene. Daria had thought herself hardened to warfare. During the attack on Seagem, she’d shot reavers by the dozens. Later, she’d killed the soldiers from Ocean’s Glory—one in a sword fight. But this battle was an overwhelming blur of bodies and sounds. The screams of the wounded and the copper reek of blood and fetid stench of ruptured guts impacted her senses.

She searched for Indaran. Her brother on his black stallion looked like a warrior king of old. The sun glinted off his gold hair and sparked off his blood-covered blade.

Indaran directed the soldiers around him to fan out. He leaned over to steady an Ocean’s Glory man who’d stumbled over a body and almost went down. Straightening, Indaran blocked the thrust of an enemy’s sword at his other side. He managed to turn the blade with his own and knock the man in the head.

The soldier crumpled to the ground.

With interest, Daria noted the tactic; she’d use it the next chance she had.

Then she noticed Ontarem’s soldiers moving in a pincer formation directed at her brother.

Watch out, Indaran. They’re coming from both the right and the left and will surround you. Back your horse and swing toward the right.

She waited long enough to see her brother follow her direction. Then Daria took a deep breath and kneed her horse back into the fray.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jasmine rode Darklady between two wagons pulled by a team of horses and driven by Che-dah-wah men who were obviously too old to fight. The nomads had captured the supply wagons in a previous battle and now intended to use them to transport the wounded. She and the men waited a safe distance away until a messenger rode to alert them of the battle’s end and conveyed the welcome news that her husband and friends had survived.

Jasmine rolled her shoulders, missing Shareef tucked in his backpack. One of the adolescents had taken the monga to the Che-da-wah encampment for safety, where her pet was no doubt having a grand reunion with family and friends.

Away from the battleground, the beauty of Drayleth could deceive one into believing in the peaceful serenity of the flowing blue-green plain. The breeze brought the scent of fertile growth to her and ruffled the high grass. Yet, Jasmine wondered if she would ever ride through the Che-da-wah’s territory with a calm feeling in her mind and body.
Hopefully someday.

As she drew near the aftermath of the battle, Jasmine’s stomach tightened. She took deep breaths and tried to brace herself for what she was about to face. She also strengthened her connection to Arvintor, preparing for the multitude of healings she’d undertake.

Will the God have enough energy this time? Is that Che-da-wah clan He was protecting safe?
She visualized herself holding her hand to Arvintor’s and asking Him the questions. In response, He touched her fingers. Through the God’s vision, she caught a glimpse of a huge burial mound, the fresh brown dirt stark against the grassland, and a line of nomads of all ages heading for Exonlah.
At least they’ll be safe with Arvintor.

Jasmine scanned the area for Indaran, feeling a quick kick of her heart when she saw him in the midst of a group of nomads guarding Ontarem’s captured soldiers. About forty prisoners, she thought, most of them injured. Once her eyes assured her of what she’d known with her othersense—that her beloved remained unharmed—Jasmine surveyed the rest of the scene.

Far too many bodies sprawled on the grass, a few with dead mounts collapsed nearby. One riderless horse stood over his master, nose touching the body as if to rouse him. A woman knelt by her fallen horse, stroking the mane and weeping.

Her heart ached and tears pricked Jasmine’s eyes. She blinked them away, knowing she had to stay strong in the face of the tragedy before her.

The wounded were laid out in a line. Some sat with a bloody hand clapped over their injury; others didn’t move. Daria knelt by a man in a green uniform and wrapped a bandage around his leg, while Khan carried an unconscious woman to the wagon. Roe-al and Jora helped those with lesser injuries onto their horses. Others gathered spears and arrows to reuse.

Jasmine let out a sigh of relief that everyone she cared about had safely come through the battle. In the next instant, guilt stabbed at her selfish thought. Too many grieved losses today, and more on both sides would suffer when the news reached the families of the dead. With a heavy heart she dismounted.

A Che-da-wah man held out his hand for her reins.

Indaran caught sight of her and strode over. He was sweaty and covered in gore, but alive and all hers. Regardless of the state of his clothing, she threw herself at him. She’d be bloody soon enough, and she needed to feel his arms around her.

Indaran dropped a quick kiss on her lips and gave her a deep, heartfelt hug before releasing her. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Jasmine surveyed the scene. “I’ll start with our people and the Che-da-wah. Have the able-bodied bind the minor wounds and send those people to Exonlah. Anza, Sha-na, and the other healers there can tend them. I’ll work on the more seriously wounded. Once everyone is treated or on their way to Arvintor, I’ll need the three of you to help me break Ontarem’s soldiers free from their bondage to Him.”

“I’ll see that everything’s taken care of. Go to your patients.” With a thin smile, Indaran gave her a gentle push in the direction of the line and started shouting orders.

Everyone who was unhurt hastened to help the walking wounded into the wagons or to carry those whose injuries prevented them from moving. A few of the nomads, wearing makeshift bandages, hauled themselves onto their horses and headed for the forest.

Someone had already opened the trunks of medical supplies that Daria had transported from Ocean’s Glory, which the men had laboriously hoisted up the cliff and carried through the marsh. The princess finished wrapping the wounded man’s leg and motioned for two of her soldiers to take him to a wagon.

Steeling herself to do triage first, no matter how much her healing senses longed to leap to the aid the nearest injured man, Jasmine hurriedly went down the line, touching, assessing, and directing her helpers to bind wounds and carry away those less injured. Once she’d finished with the last person, only five severely hurt soldiers remained.

The worst was a man who’d taken a spear thrust on his right side, under the ribs. The tip punctured his liver, but luckily missed his gut. Holding her hand over the wound, she used her othersense to seal off the tear in the liver before he bled to death.

Once she’d closed the wound, Jasmine took a deep breath, rose, stepped over him, and knelt by the next person, a Che-da-wah woman with a mangled leg. Someone had tied a tourniquet high around her thigh. Jasmine took a deep breath and sank her othersense into the woman’s body. This time, she felt more sure of her ability and deftly repaired the artery. She removed the tourniquet, straightened the thighbone, fused the break, and knit the muscles back together.

Jasmine finished the healing and didn’t stop to think, moving on to the next man. As she worked, her awareness of the swift passage of time pressured her to hurry—knowing if she didn’t work fast enough some people would die. Yet the healing process wasn’t something she could rush. In her haste, too much could go wrong.

By the time she’d finished with all five, Jasmine’s legs ached. When she tried to stand, she stumbled as her cramped muscles protested. Strong arms caught her.
Indaran
, she knew without looking.

“Are you all right? Have you depleted yourself?” Her husband moved in front of her and anxiously studied her face.

“I’m fine. Stiff from kneeling is all.”

He let out a relieved breath. “You ready for Ontarem’s soldiers?”

“Of course.”

As they walked to the prisoners, he kept a supportive arm around her. They saw the Che-da-woman who wept by her downed horse, stroking his shoulder. The gelding had a spear in his side. Blood oozed over the horse’s belly and soaked into the ground.