Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) (12 page)

Seagem, the city of Yadarius, SeaGod, during the reign of King Iceros before the invasion.

Sadie admired the picture although she didn’t like the idea of another “god.” “It’s a beautiful place.”

The statue seemed to sigh.
It was a beautiful place. Perhaps someday it will be so again…if you help.

“Me? Help?”

The figure waved her hand, and the image changed. At first glance, the picture looked the same—green castle, green buildings, the odd but lovely lavender sky. But when Sadie looked closer, she saw black stains on many of the walls, and no banners flew on the top of the castle. No people walked along the thoroughfare; weeds grew in cracks in the streets. Some of the buildings were charred and lacked roofs.

“What happened?”

The God Ontarem corrupted Thaddis, King of Ocean’s Glory. The King betrayed his long-time ally by conquering the city, killing or enslaving the citizens.

Sadie couldn’t help but compare both visions. “An evil man.”

Perhaps
, the statue replied in a cryptic tone.

“What can I do?”

The Deities of Kimtair war with Ontarem. If we lose, He will have dominion over all of Kimtair. Every soul will become enslaved to Him. He will grow to enormous, unstoppable power.
The Goddess hesitated.
And
perhaps through me, He will find His way to your world as well.

Sadie didn’t believe in evil gods, but she did believe in evil men and evil forces. Ontarem and Thaddis sounded worse than Hitler and his Nazis. She thought of her grandmother’s stories…of the studying she’d done about WWll and the resistance fighters. A dangerous time, but many brave men and women had single-handedly made a difference. Could she do so here?
Do I even want to?
But this Ontarem also posed a threat to Earth.

She faced the statue and squared her shoulders. “Okay. I’ll go.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sadie stepped through the portal in Withea’s Shrine into the Temple of Yadarius in Seagem. She found herself in a large open courtyard paved with mosaics of pale green and gold that sparkled in the sun. Pillars of green stone similar to those of the Parthenon in Athens ringed the area. Through the spaces between them, she could see the city spread out below.

A pool gleamed in the center, square instead of round like in Withea’s shrine, with an empty pedestal in the middle where she assumed the statue of the SeaGod would have stood. Closer inspection revealed a figure submerged in the water, about ten feet deep.

Sadie knelt by the side of the pool. Following her instincts, she placed her hand over the surface, palm an inch above the water. She moved her hand in a circular motion, and the water cleared. A shudder went through her body.

Do I have magical powers here, or is Withea working through me?

She peered into the water. Heavy chains covered the figure, as if they’d been used to topple the statue and then left there to imprison him beneath the surface. When she saw the face, she realized this was the giant man she’d seen in her dream.
Yadarius? Yes, it must be
. Only this time He stood, trident in his hand, rather than sat on a throne.

He wants me to help him. But how?

There was nothing she could do now for Yadarius, so she rose and looked around. Aside from the desecration of the statue, the rest of the temple, which was open to the pale purple sky, looked untouched.
Maybe the invaders didn’t want to press their luck.

The flowers that had grown in rectangular planters had long since withered. Across the courtyard to the right, she could see a wall with an arched window that echoed the shape of the door she’d stepped through to leave the shrine.
That must be the window to Zacatlan.

Sadie looked her fill at the city. Withea had told her to stand at the window and mentally call for the Goddess Guinheld, but she wasn’t ready to leave Seagem without a little exploration. Something about this city—the beauty, the pain still radiating from the silent walls—called to her.

Parking her suitcase near a pillar, she opened the sabrecase and took out a practice sword. Not that the dull blade would do much damage, but the weapon looked impressive.

Holding the hilt of the sabre, she walked across the courtyard, stopping at the edge. The city spread below her. Only the palace a dozen streets away on another hill was at a higher elevation. Broad stone steps led from the plaza to the street, and Sadie trotted down them.

If she squinted, Sadie could almost believe she faced an intact city. But the emptiness echoed with eeriness and deep sadness, as if Seagem mourned for its lost citizens.

Sadie reached the street and walked along the avenue. Tall homes set together like townhouses opened onto the street. Many had shattered windows and broken doors. She came to a little park set between a crossroads. Trees shaded waist-high weeds, and dead leaves skittered on the breeze.

The place between her shoulder blades itched, and Sadie wondered if anyone had escaped the holocaust and watched her now. The feeling became so strong that Sadie whirled, extending her sabre. She scanned the row of houses. No one stood in the open windows, or the shadows of the doorways. Just as she was about to chide herself for being silly and relax her arm, she saw movement near one door, and her heart kicked into her throat. Before she could react, a dog poked its head out, watching her.

Pointing her sword at the animal, Sadie stared back, willing her heart to stop thudding. A few seconds passed.

If the animal was going to attack me, it would have charged by now.

More of the dog’s body appeared, silver furred, short-haired and whip thin, like a greyhound.

Sadie suspected the gauntness wasn’t due to the breed but to lack of food. Poor thing was probably starving. She crouched, laid down her sabre, and held out her hand, palm down, fingers drooping.

Instead of the wariness she might have expected, the dog’s eyes brightened, and the long thin tail wagged.

“Come on, baby.”

The dog approached her, step-by-slow-step, hindquarters wiggling all the way. It pointed a long nuzzle at her outstretched hand, sniffed a few times, and licked her skin.

“Good…boy?”

The dog gave her a reproachful look.

“Girl?”

The dog nodded.

Nodded! Are the animals magical too?
“Aren’t you a smart one.” She petted the dog’s head, feeling the knobby skull under her hand.

The dog shook in ecstasy, dropped and rolled over, exposing her belly, ribs sticking out.
Girl, all right.

Feeling pity almost to the point of tears, Sadie rubbed the animal’s tummy for a few minutes before standing. “You hungry?” She opened her pack, took out the paper-wrapped parcel of dried goat meat she’d gotten at the last village, and broke off a small piece. She was about to hand it to the dog, realized that action might not be safe for her fingers, and laid it on the ground.

The dog watched her with hungry eyes but made no move to go toward the meat.

“You remember your manners, don’t you, girl? It’s okay.” Sadie pointed to the meat. “Eat.”

Taking that as a command, the dog pounced on the bite, and the food disappeared in two gulps.

Sadie broke off another piece, this time trusting the dog not to take off her fingers in her eagerness to get to the food.

The dog accepted the meat with a dainty lick, then gobbled it down.

Sadie laughed and kept feeding the dog until she judged the animal had had enough for a starving stomach. “Wouldn’t want to give you too much now. We can’t have you getting sick.” She looked around, seeing only emptiness. “What am I going to do with you?”

The dog dropped and rolled, again exposing her belly.

With another laugh, Sadie gave her some rubs and scratches. “How about, what am I going to do with you after your
belly rub?
Guess the next thing is to give you a name.”

Cheta
.

“Cheta, eh?” Sadie gave the animal a sideways look. “Are you talking in my head, or is that Withea’s doing/”

The dog only wiggled, obviously wanting more attention.

Sadie gave Cheta one last pat, grabbed her sabre, and stood. She looked up at the temple. If she squinted so the scene blurred, she could imagine the building in all its glory.
The place must have been magnificent.

She did a slow turn, surveying her surroundings.
The whole city must have been magnificent.

The dog nudged her leg.

“But it’s what happened to the people that really matters,” she said to the dog. “What happened to them, to their animals…” She patted Cheta’s head. “That king really must have been another Hitler.” She couldn’t bear to think of Seagem’s people as slaves or living in concentration camps.

Cheta gave her a puzzled look.

“He was an evil man in my world who destroyed millions of people before the Allies destroyed his regime.” Sadie shook her head.
I can’t believe I’m explaining things to a dog.
But heck, Cheta seemed to understand.

“Think we can find a way to free your owners?”

Cheta whimpered, lay down, and tucked a paw over her muzzle.

Sadie had a vision of a man and a boy lying in a pool of blood…of Cheta trying to lick their faces and make them wake up. Her eyes filled with tears. She dropped to her knees and put her free arm around the dog. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry you lost them.”

Cheta’s muzzle came out from under her foreleg, and she gave Sadie’s nose a swipe with her tongue.

“You and me, girl?” She tried for a thick New York accent. “Whadda think? We blow this joint, eh? You up for a trip to Zacatlan?”

I hope Guinheld allows dogs!

~ ~ ~

Wearing an unadorned white robe, Tharon, formerly King Thaddis of Ocean’s Glory, paced the indoor garden in the center of the crystal dome of Guinheld’s temple, sorting through his thoughts about his latest session with the Goddess. Today, the top of the dome had opened, so he could see a few puffy clouds floating across the lavender sky. The light glittered on the water of a small, round meditation pool, reflecting silver and purple shimmers back to mirror the sky. Tiny pearl-like flowers floated across the surface, seeming sentient in how they formed and reformed snowflake patterns.

Thick blue-green moss surrounded the pond, a soft cushion for his bare feet. Twenty steps took him from one end of the garden to the other. After pacing failed to calm him, Tharon dropped to an alabaster bench resting in front of the pool. A faint breeze stirred the long cobalt leaves of two slender trees growing on either side of the bench. Yet the serenity of the garden failed to soothe his agitated thoughts. He took several deep breaths, trying to draw the tranquility of his surroundings into his body but to no avail.

In the last few weeks, Tharon had slowly started to recover from the frailties of mind and body caused by Withea’s punishment and Guinheld’s cleanse. Reliving his choices and actions, and especially the consequences, had been the hardest thing he’d ever experienced—and the most freeing. Now he could truly mourn the loss of those he’d loved and yet had ordered killed—his father, King Stevenes; his foster father, King Iceros; and his three foster brothers—and many more people he knew and interacted with in Seagem, and many he didn’t. Not to mention the loss of his own soldiers. Thanks be to Withea for protecting Princess Daria from falling into his hands.

How can I ever atone?

For the last weeks that question had gone round and round in his mind. All Guinheld had said was that he needed to figure a solution out for himself. Not at all helpful.

He’d come up with a dozen scenarios, planning how he could rescue the enslaved people of Seagem. But every idea brought him full circle—he couldn’t travel to Louat, or he’d be recaptured by Ontarem. He’d rather die a horrible death than live with being controlled by the Evil One again. Nor could he send soldiers for fear they’d suffer the same fate.

The newly awakened Goddess Withea might protect Princess Daria and her consort, but he doubted She’d have enough power to protect a fleet.

The sound of voices came from outside the double doors that opened to the courtyard encircling the opaque walls of the garden. The noise disturbed the usual hush of the temple. Tharon was tempted to go see what was happening, but whatever was taking place was none of his business. Furthermore, he knew he wouldn’t be welcomed. Not that anyone in Zacatlan had been outwardly hostile. Quite the contrary, everyone was unfailingly polite and reserved. They dutifully addressed him as Tharon, the new name Guinheld had bestowed on him. But their very manner showed him that he was distained and unwanted.

Tharon sensed that his arrival had disturbed the peace and serenity of Zacatlan. Actually, his invasion of Seagem and the influx of refugees had upset the balance of a country known for its elusiveness and tranquility. In the months since those events, he’d been told how the people of both countries worked to restore their inner harmony and heal the physical and emotional wounds he’d caused.

With his arrival, he’d upset the proverbial melon cart, and once again, the people of Zacatlan and refugees from Seagem struggled to achieve balance. Whether or not they had yet succeeded, he didn’t know. Perhaps the ability to feel centered depended on each individual’s ties to Seagem and Ocean’s Glory, as well as the extent of their losses.