Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (50 page)

With a flash of blond hair, Seagem’s king came into view, fighting in the middle of the battle, almost straight in front of him.
Foolish for the leader to put himself in danger.
The last time he’d seen the man, Indaran had been immobile on a pektat in the temple.
And you will be so again.

Another blonde head, a woman fighting to the right, caught his attention. Nabric touched the pearl at his forehead to bring her into sight.
Ah
. From his sister’s description, he beheld Princess Daria. He dropped his arm and settled back in the saddle. Seagem’s princess wielded her sword with unexpected skill. He imagined her immobile on a pektat.
You will be my God’s,
he sent the message to her.

As if she’d heard him, Daria jerked her head up to glare at him.

The strength of his sending amazed Nabric, until he remembered his brother. With Kokam’s death, he’d absorbed half of his brother’s ability. For a moment, he toyed with how he’d feel if he could control Pasinae’s as well but dismissed the idea. He wasn’t ready for his sister to die.
Yet.

Go ahead and try!

Daria’s defiant rejoinder displeased him. Perhaps the princess would also serve as a vessel for Nabric’s progeny. With such a strong mother, his offspring would well serve the God.
But first she must be punished. Taught to obey me.
Nabric touched the pearl...

Something thumped against the side of his head, unsettling him and disturbing his thoughts. His tether to Ontarem shuddered. Through the pearl, Ontarem’s protections around Nabric’s cord thickened. Forgetting Daria for the moment, he turned to see from whence the attack had originated.

Behind the battlefield, he saw two women holding hands, their immense combined power directed against him. He dismissed the older, lesser one as fit for a pektat, but the younger…As strong as the princess, although her othersense had a different flavor, rich with healing ability. He wanted her.

Time to take action.
Nabric signaled to his aides, who ran to notify the men carrying unlit torches. When he had the attention of each one, he slashed his arm forward.

Ten torches flamed in a half circle around the front of his army.

Nabric touched the pearl and sent energy to each one, increasing their heat and deadliness.

The men tossed the burning brands high and far, and the torches flew into the air, landing on the ground with showers of sparks. With loud poofs, the dry grass ignited into an inferno.

Defenders shouted and ran to stomp out the flames.

With a wave, Nabric made a bonfire surge at each spot, torching the nearest people. Their screams of agony cut through the air. Smoke billowed, obscuring the battlefield. Reveling in his power and his control, he fanned the flames, darkened the smoke.

Once he was hidden from sight, Nabric made his move. He signaled for a bodyguard to come to him and with a few words sketched out his plan. Followed by the guard, he galloped around the fires toward the vulnerable energy signatures he could sense as strongly as if he could see them.

~ ~ ~

Jasmine coughed from the smoke, which clogged her nose and mouth. As soon as Drayleth ignited into a conflagration, burn victims started pouring into the field hospital—some ambulatory and others helped by their comrades. The healers worked tirelessly to soothe the pain and heal the wounded.

Edd, a burly Seagem soldier who was fond of Shareef and often carried her monga around, was hauled over by two of the nomads, holding his arms and legs. They deposited his charred body in front of her and ran back to the battle.

Jasmine reached for Edd’s arm, but before she could send her energy into his blackened body, he died. She felt a brush across her cheek as if he’d touched her on his way to the Hall of Yadarius. With a gasp of protest, she made an othersense grab for his soul but ended up snatching her hand away. She knew, even if she could call back the dying, pulling Edd into his ravaged body would be wrong, no matter how her healer’s instincts prompted her to intervene.

Jasmine couldn’t stop to mourn a good man who loved animals. For she had more who needed her help, but she left her hand on Edd’s arm for a few other seconds and blessed his soul on his journey. She started to rise but while still bent over, heard the sound of hoofbeats. An arm scooped her up, squeezing the breath out of her.
The Trine Priest
, she knew as soon as he touched her.

Nabric tossed her into the saddle in front of him, and she landed sideways facing the scene of carnage—the sight and stench of blood and guts, the cries of the wounded and dying, which she could do nothing to assuage. Her stomach clenched.

Her mind flashed back to Kokam kidnapping her, to the pearl he’d worn on a necklace, which had paralyzed her with its touch.
Not this time.
Jasmine thrashed, elbowing him in the side, and drumming on his mount’s neck with her heels.

The horse bird-hopped, unbalancing Nabric. He had to grip hard with his legs to right himself, pulling Jasmine back to center.

She screamed for Indaran, knowing he couldn’t see her through the thick smoke. Then she shouted for him with her othersense.

Another horse appeared through the smoke, and Jasmine had a brief spurt of hope, until she saw one of the enemy officers carrying a struggling Anza.

The women made eye contact, exchanging a silent message.

Jasmine kicked Nabric’s horse again to distract him and grabbed for the line of power Anza tossed her. In her mind, she reached for both Gods’ power, formed the othersense saw, and drew the blade along the Trine Priest’s tentacle. But as strongly as she pulled and pushed the tool, she couldn’t even penetrate the surface of the thick rubbery protuberance.

~ ~ ~

Roe-al and Jora had just thrown their spears, killing two of the enemy, and made the wide turn to head to the back of the ranks when the firebursts flared around them. Darklady whinnied in fear. Both his horse and Jora’s gelding Hadded shied to the left. The dried grass blazed higher than Roe-al thought possible, and smoke billowed across their path.

Jora coughed. “Roe-al,” she yelled over the noise of the battle. “This smoke isn’t good for the baby.” Her eyes, usually so confident, were filled with fear.

What baby?
He glanced around as if to see a child crawling underfoot or hoof, but when he turned back to Jora, he saw she held her hand protectively over her stomach.

An overwhelming flash of joy was followed by the feeling of a herd of horses galloping over his chest. Terror made him lean over and grab Hadded’s reins. “You will leave now! Protect yourself and our babe. Go to Arvintor.”

Eyes wide, she nodded. “I love you.”

He slapped a hand to his chest. “You’re my heart.” He released the reins and smacked Hadded on the rump.

Jora kneed the horse, galloping wide away from the smoke and flames.

Roe-al wiped his stinging eyes and watched until he was sure she’d ridden far enough to be safe, then he turned back to the battle, searching for a Che-da-wah spear-carrier. But in the smoke-obscured chaos of the battle, he couldn’t find one. He grabbed his long knife from the sheath strapped to his leg just above his knee.

The smoke parted. On the other side of the fighting, Roe-al spied a man—a priest from his robe—galloping toward the back of the enemy lines, with Jasmine struggling in his arms. He let out a Che-da-wah war cry, wheeled his horse, and raced across the battlefield after his friend, slashing with his knife at the face of an enemy who got too close.

With relief, he saw Porval-nic coming from the opposite side in close pursuit of Jasmine’s captor, his spear poised to throw. The South Clan man would reach Jasmine before Roe-al could.

With a wave of his hand, the priest gestured in his pursuer’s direction.

Fire spurted in front of Porval-nic, blazing higher than his head, and cutting him off. Instead of riding through the barrier, the cowardly South Clan man turned his horse to avoid the flames. By the time he went around the bonfire and cast his spear, it was too late, and the weapon flew harmlessly to the ground.

To Roe-al’s left, he saw Indaran in the thick of the melee, barreling his mount straight toward Jasmine. With the king’s attention focused on his wife, he didn’t see the pike thrust coming from the side that drove straight into the stallion’s heart.

~ ~ ~

In a cold, deadly rage, Indaran fought his way to Jasmine. His stallion’s hooves thudded on the dry ground in time with his pounding heart, and his sword stabbed any who dared come between him and his wife.

A soldier ducked under his blade, and Indaran urged the stallion forward to trample him. The man fell under the horse’s hooves, and he rode over him. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a shadow moving from the side. But he was too slow to turn and react.

His mount screamed and shuddered as a pike pierced his heart.

Indaran felt the horse start to go down. He tried to save himself, but the poor beast rocked to the side so quickly that he couldn’t untangle his feet from the stirrups in time. The stallion rolled over, throwing him from the saddle to the ground. He tried to pull his legs up, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the horse’s heavy body pining his foot to the ground.

He landed on his right arm, the sword underneath him. Helpless, Indaran glanced upward, to see another enemy, his blade raised to stab downward.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Roe-al saw Indaran’s horse fall, and he kneed Darklady to reach his side. Below his eye level, unseen until too late, an enemy on his knees hooked his mount’s legs with a crook.

As Darklady stumbled, buckling under him, Roe-al stood in the stirrups, climbed onto the saddle—a trick from his youth—and launched himself off the horse, heading straight for Indaran’s attacker. He flew through the air, howling a war cry.

The enemy soldier glanced up, a mouth open in shock. He halted his sword’s downward swing and jerked the blade up.

Roe-al only had a second to throw his knife, and see the tip penetrate the man’s eye. But there wasn’t time to twist away from the blade. He crashed into the man, and the point slid into Roe-al’s stomach.

~ ~ ~

Through the cloud of gray smoke, Khan tried desperately to catch a glimpse of Daria. He could feel her heartline, but didn’t see her. He galloped around the perimeter of the battle to the other side where the sense of her presence was greater.

He heard Daria scream, and his heart thudded against his ribs.

The smoke drifted to the side. With relief, he caught a glimpse of his wife, clinging to her mount with her legs and using two-handed strokes to dispatch the enemy.

Another high-pitched scream jerked his attention to the front, to see Jasmine struggling in the arms of the Trine Priest. Through his othersense, Khan felt the malignant pearl at the man’s brow pulse with power, its evil control radiating over the field. “Shad,” he yelled with both voice and othersense. “Get the crown.”

The monkey-bat screeched in reply.

Khan pointed and projected the image of what he needed, and Shad flew to obey.

~ ~ ~

Jasmine’s heart pounded in her ears, yet she felt strangely calm. She continued to kick the horse’s neck, which unsettled the horse enough to cause Nabric to have to pay attention to his riding as well as keep his hold on her. She knew as long as the Trine Priest had his hands full, he couldn’t do more damage.

The smoke parted for a few seconds. She caught a glimpse of her husband battling his way to her, and she renewed her efforts to free herself. Wild with fear, she watched the stabbing of his horse, saw him go down, trapped beneath it, and screamed. With horror, she watched Roe-al leap to take the deathblow meant for Indaran, and she shrieked his name.

A sob clogged her throat. In despair, she ceased her struggles.

Fires flared as the Trine renewed his assault against the defenders.

A shadow swooped toward her. Jasmine sensed a disturbance in the air as something dropped from above. She glanced up, just in time to see Shad descending toward them, arms and legs extended.

The sight of the animal bolstered her failing courage, and she gave the horse’s neck another kick.

The horse jerked its head and hopped-stepped to the side.

Jerking on the reins, the Trine Priest cursed.

Shad swooped in.

Jasmine twisted her body around and craned her neck to see the monkey-bat, throwing a desperate picture of what she wanted the animal to do.

Shad landed feet first on the back of the Trine Priest’s neck, grabbed the circlet around the man’s head with his front paws, and yanked. The coronet popped off and Shad launched himself off the man’s shoulders and into the air.

The Trine Priest yelled and tried to wheel the horse around and charge after the monkey-bat.

Before he could urge his mount forward, she reached for Anza’s energy, for Yadarius, and for Arvintor’s power. With every ounce of othersense she possessed, Jasmine formed an axe and swung the blade down on the tentacle. Without the protection of the pearl, the edge sliced through Nabric’s cord.

The Trine Priest cried out. He dropped the reins and clapped his hands to his head. “Empty! I’m empty.” His terrified eyes searched hers.