Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (24 page)

Roe-al clenched his fists and started toward his pespayzae, wanting to pound on Porval-nic’s face. Knowing his Jora, she’d take care of the obnoxious man herself. But if she needed backup, he’d be right there.

Whatever Porval-nic said didn’t go over well, for Jora scowled and snapped at him. He said something again, and she twisted out of his hold and jabbed her elbow into his stomach.

Unprepared, Porval-nic crumpled over, and by the time he’d straightened, Jora was out of reach and heading for her parents’ gruptah.

That’s my Jora.
Roe-al laughed at the expression on Porval-nic’s ugly face. But still, he’d be glad when the clans separated again, so neither had to deal with the nastiness of the West Clan man.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

As the purple shadows darkened, Indaran held Jasmine’s hand, watching as several Che-da-wah built up a bonfire in front of the God’s statue in preparation for the marriage ceremony. Orange sparks drifted into the velvet night sky, mingling with the stars. The monkey-bats flew in excited patterns over the crowd, although they stayed away from the fire.

To his right, Khan and Daria stood with their arms around each other. They too would be jumping over the fire tonight. To his left, Roe-al and Jora wore their wedding finery, their chamois tunic and trews so covered with a pattern of pale beads that he wondered how they could move. He, Jasmine, Daria and Khan wore the same clothes as before, although Arvintor had cleaned the material with a wave of His hand. They’d all bathed in the stream, and all three women wore their hair flowing down their backs. Feathers and flowers tucked into tiny braids made an incongruous, although beautiful, contrast with Jasmine’s chador and Daria’s uniform.

Jasmine leaned into him. “Daria’s necklaces look unusual.”

A sudden wave of sadness washed over him. “The one with the gold box belonged to our father.”

Jasmine touched his face. “A part of him is here with us tonight.”

Comforted by her wisdom, he captured her fingers and placed a kiss on her palm.

Two boys dashed past, disrupting their intimate exchange.

Anticipation buzzed through the clearing; everyone—nomads, soldiers from Ocean’s Glory, the former captives from Seagem, and the newly-freed soldiers of Ontarem—prepared to set aside their grief and cares, their fears and differences, and enjoy the wedding ceremony and feast. As men tossed wood on the blaze, Roe-al’s earlier words came back to him—something about jumping over the fire.

He glanced around, assessing the area. Conical tents Khan called
teepees
and Roe-al named
gruptahs
ringed the clearing behind them. Each couple would have their own for a few days, a luxury among the nomadic people. Usually whole families occupied the strange-looking tents.

To the right of the clearing, but set away from the forest, danced the flames of the cooking fires. The nomads had set portable grills over the fires, and the scent of roasting meat and smoke drifted his way, reminding him many hours had passed since the meal Jora gave them.

Roe-al’s parents, the Stridza, which apparently meant leaders, stepped to the bonfire. The middle-aged couple, both wearing beaded finery, carried themselves with straight-backed dignity. The Stridzat had thin black and white braids that reached to his hips. The Stridzae, a matronly woman with a proud hooked nose and intense dark eyes, wore her hair in a heavy braid of hair coiled on top of her head.

When he’d met them earlier, the two had studied him with shrewd dark eyes before nodding in approval. Once Arvintor had healed everyone, and the resistant West Clan and the captured soldiers bonded with the God, the Stridza spent some time figuring out how to modify their traditional wedding ceremony to include Arvintor’s blessing. Roe-al had told him they had no God or Goddess before, in fact, had rejected the very idea of belonging to a Deity, and their ritual contained no spiritual elements.

Jasmine glanced up at him. “This is so different from the wedding I dreamed of.”

He cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry your family could not be here.”

Jasmine smiled up at him, love in her eyes. “As am I. Yet, Khan is here, the brother of my heart.” She smiled at him with love in her eyes. “Even without my family, I would not choose anywhere else to be but right here with you.”

He drew her close, gratitude sweeping through him.

The two leaders motioned the three couples to gather close. The Stridzae waved to a row of men and women sitting cross-legged on either side of Arvintor’s statue, squat round drums in front of them. The drummers slowly pounded with the flat of their hands, a slow thrum that matched the beat of Indaran’s heart.

The Stridzat beckoned the three couples to gather closer to the fire. He chanted something in a dialect so ancient Indaran could barely make out the words—something about unity. The man reached into a beaded pouch hanging from his belt and tossed what looked like a handful of sand into the fire. To his surprise, the flames blazed with a blue hue, and a cloud of sweet incense drifted his way.

The Stridzae waved her hand. Using the same dialect, she intoned several sentences in commanding tone, sounding as if she ordered them to love each other.

Indaran glanced down at Jasmine. He needed no such injunction.

At the same time, she looked up at him, devotion shining in her blue eyes.

She already has my whole heart and will for the rest of my life.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the Stridzae throw sand from her pouch into the fire and the flames turned green. In unison, the two Stridza raised their arms and recited a blessing, joining each pair as one in Arvintor’s name. From a second pouch, they took a handful of the sand and tossed the granules into the fire. The grains sparkled like rainbows before bursting into tiny fireworks and shooting into the sky.

The drumbeat deepened, and the multicolored flames rapidly died to knee high. The watching nomads clapped in time to the drums, and the rest of the people joined in. Some Che-da-wah shouted “jump” and waved their arms toward the fire.

Roe-al flashed Indaran and Khan a challenging grin. “Watch and follow, my friends.” He pressed a hard kiss to Jora’s mouth, left her side, and leaped over the fire.

The crowd yelled.

He turned and held out his hands to Jora, who jumped after him and into his arms. They laughed and exchanged looks of love. Jora nodded, and together they reversed directions, took two running steps, and sailed over the fire.

The nomads roared and called their names.

The two hugged, before breaking apart and facing Indaran and Jasmine.

Jora gave Jasmine a quick hug.

Roe-al slapped Indaran’s shoulder. “Your turn.”

Indaran glanced at Jasmine, eager to make her his all over again. “You ready, dearheart?”

She smiled, her blue eyes alight with excitement. “Just jump high. I don’t want to have to heal burns on the night of my second wedding.”

Hands gripping her shoulders, he kissed her with a fervent promise of what was to come.

The drums picked up the pace, and the sound blended with the blood racing through his veins. He broke into a run, leaping into the air as high as he could. For a moment, soaring over the flames, inhaling the pungent fumes, Indaran felt like he was flying, only to have his feet hit the earth all too soon. He pivoted and extended his arms to his mate.

Jasmine gathered up her robe with both hands and jumped.

Indaran caught her and twirled her around, only dimly hearing the laughter and catcalls from the audience. He set her down facing the other direction. This time, Jasmine held his hand, bunching up her robe under her other arm. With a nod she indicated her readiness. Together, they raced to the fire and jumped, landing on the other side. Not as smooth as Roe-al and Jora, but he suspected those two had practiced before.

He pulled Jasmine into his arms, holding her tight. After a kiss, he released her. They joined the clapping for Daria and Khan.

Indaran opened himself to the moment, trying to absorb every sensory detail—the shine of the fire on his sister’s hair, the sparkle in her green eyes, and the look of love she threw at her husband. He inhaled the scent of smoke and incense, saw the happy faces of those around him, felt the smack of his hands clapping to the beat, Jasmine leaning against his side, and the energy swirling around the clearing.

In only a few seconds, Daria and Khan were married for the second time. And in watching his little sister, grown so beautiful, Indaran’s vision blurred. He felt grateful to the very depths of his heart to be able to witness her marriage.
Would I have felt so intensely about Daria’s marriage if we hadn’t been parted for so long?
Would I have taken her for granted, no matter how much I loved her?

Jasmine ran to Khan to hug him, and Indaran embraced Daria. “Congratulations, sister. May you have many happy years together.”

“And you as well, brother.”

The crowd surrounded them, calling out best wishes and congratulations. Attendants placed plates of roasted meat and cups of fermented beverages in their hands, and the wedding party ate and drank and talked. The drums continued to pound, the rhythm joined by pipes. People began a stomping dance. Some pulled all the newlyweds into the center and the six of them danced until they were breathless.

At one point in the evening, as things quieted and the children started falling asleep, Daria approached Indaran where he stood at the edge of the crowd near the trees, taking a solitary moment and watching his wife. Jasmine was in the midst of what looked like an earnest conversation with Sha-na, the Che-da-wah healer. He was so proud of her compassion, her dedication to the sick and wounded…

Daria leaned her head on his shoulder. “Definitely not the wedding I’d dreamed of—the one that took months of planning, involved a fancy gown, jewels, flowers, and an overflowing temple of Yadarius, a feast, orchestral dance music….” Her voice hitched. “My family all around me.”

Indaran placed his arm around her shoulders. “I remember thinking a time or two that I’d have to fight off your suitors when you grew up. Never thought of you married, though, or me either, for that matter. A young man doesn’t think of weddings. And as a captive of Ontarem, I never thought I’d live to have one.” He glanced up at the stars. “So many didn’t.”

“I never thought I’d pledge to my husband, and he to me, without the blessings of Yadarius.”

He hugged her. “We’ll free Yadarius and speak our vows again before Him.”

With a shake of her head, she laughed. “That will be three weddings for Khan and me. Although tonight wasn’t about pledges. We didn’t say a word.”

“When you think of it, jumping over a fire together is very symbolic. We’ve all already been through fire. And will be again.”

“I’d go through or over anything to get to Khan,” Daria said in a fierce tone. “As he would to me. As he already did for me.” She slipped her hand into the crook of Indaran’s arm. “That’s a story for another time. Tonight is for weddings.”

“I like to think our family is here with us.”

She let out a slow breath. “I know they are.” Her pensive look changed. “One other thing I never dreamed about my wedding…that you’d be present. Aside from us finding our mates, your being alive is the greatest blessing of all.” She glanced over her shoulder to check on her husband, who was talking to the two Stridza, straightened her shoulders and firmed her chin.

Indaran recognized that look, although years had passed since he’d seen it. His sister had set her mind to something, and nothing would change it.

Daria lifted the heavy necklace over her head. The firelight glinted on the gold telescope case. “You proved yourself today, my brother. You are worthy to wear this.” She dropped the chain over his head, and the case thunked against his chest. “From our father to you.” She kissed his cheek. “My king.”

Indaran took a deep breath, allowing the weight of the telescope to settle in. For the first time, he knew his sister was right. He could be king. He
would
be king. From the depths of his soul, he vowed to be a good one.

Daria set her hand around the loveshell that dangled from a chain around her neck. “Now I must return to my husband before one of those pretty Che-da-wah girls starts flirting with him.” Daria winked before slipping away through the crowd.

For a few seconds, he watched his sister. Then, his gaze turned, like a magnet to metal, to his wife still talking to Sha-na. Indaran reveled in the rare chance he had just to watch her—the firelight gleaming on her dark hair, the light in her blue eyes, the way her hands moved when she wanted to make an important point. Need tugged at him. He’d give her another couple of minutes. Then he’d claim his wife and sweep her off to their private
teepee
.

But first, Indaran spent a few minutes in gratitude, sending his energy toward Arvintor and across the sea to Withea. He spread his arms, relishing the movement, something that in fourteen years of frozen imprisonment he’d despaired of ever achieving. Never again would he take freedom for granted
. I have love. I have companionship.
I have family. I am my own man.

Perhaps tomorrow everything would change. But he had tonight. Indaran started through the crowd to Jasmine, intending to make the most of it.