Dragon Horse War Page 4

  Jael closed her eyes, too, and began to search for the embedded thought. She moved quickly, skimming as shallow as possible because she didn’t intend to invade Alyssa’s privacy. She lingered, however, over Alyssa’s memory of her walking to the prep to make the tea. She smiled. Alyssa was definitely female-oriented. She’d spent a significant time checking out Jael’s gluteus maximus. She reluctantly resisted reviewing Alyssa’s entire memory since she had arrived on the mountain and moved deeper. She immediately recognized Advocate Han’s imprint and plunged in.

  The Calling has already begun. The Collective Council awaits you.

  She ran through the message several times and then carefully backed out. She’d need a bit of subterfuge to facilitate her departure.

  “Your injury’s a bit worse than I expected, so I need to prepare another dose for the swelling.” She wasn’t capable of detecting physical problems as she plundered through thoughts and memories, so she carefully shielded the lie from Alyssa. She sorted through various small bottles in the storage. She wouldn’t bother with the pretense of tea this time, just a potent dose that would go down in a gulp and work quickly.

  “Is everything okay?” Alyssa asked when she returned with the small glass of dark, syrupy liquid.

  “Drink this. It will make you groggy, but you need to sleep to allow your brain to heal.”

  Alyssa eyed her. “How do I know you aren’t just killing the messenger?”

  “I promised that I wouldn’t poison you, and I always keep my promises. It’s simply a stronger anti-inflammatory mixed in amaretto to make it more palatable. But don’t sip it. Toss it.” She gestured as if she were gulping down the medicine in one swallow to demonstrate how it should be done.

  Alyssa hesitated and then followed her instructions. She smacked her lips. “Very tasty.”

  Jael found the lip-smacking and the way the liquor flushed Alyssa’s cheeks darker very distracting. She stood and took the glass to rinse it. She needed a bit of distance between them. She was well past the age when her ovaries did her thinking and had no idea why this neophyte was affecting her so. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline triggered by the message. It must be sharpening her other senses. Or maybe she’d been alone on this mountain too long.

  When she returned again to the common room, Jael paced in front of the mantle, glancing occasionally at Alyssa, who appeared comfortably—attractively—sprawled on the lounger. Her eyes were drooping, but she could not summon Specter until Alyssa was soundly asleep. She wrenched her thoughts back to the task at hand. She hadn’t communed with The Collective Council since she came of age and bonded in this lifetime. Her blood quickened at the thought, or was it because she could feel Alyssa watching her?

  “So, did you find your message? Is everything okay?”

  Was it? How could she explain that she’d spent many, many lifetimes in anticipation of this day? It was her soul’s purpose.

  She had suspected this would be her last incarnation before she was absorbed into The Collective, but now she was sure. She had been born a warrior many centuries ago when armies fought with sword and arrow, then reincarnated each time to more wars, the last fought with high-tech weapons fired from sterile distances. Bloody and brutal as all battles were, she had missed the dark-and-light certainty of life and death, good and evil. This century of peace had been disorienting for her. Her only battles in her last life had been against fires, hot and deadly but an unthinking enemy. The strategy for victory was predictably the same and soon grew monotonous. Still, it wasn’t as bad as this incarnation where her battles were simply memories put to record for others to read. She had been treading water, training every day for war in a time of complete harmony.

  All that had instantly changed with one neophyte of an Advocate and one embedded message.

  “I need to go somewhere for a few hours. You’ll have to stay at least until morning or until you’ve recovered sufficiently.”

  “You’re leaving me here alone?” Alyssa’s words were slurred by the sedative.

  The Calling has already begun.

  “You won’t be alone long. I have friends who will be arriving.” Her last words were lost, because Alyssa was fast asleep.

  Jael gathered her up again, enjoying the loll of Alyssa’s head against her shoulder, and carried her to the bedroom. She slid her under the light covers. She stood to go and then pulled the covers back. The Advocate would be more comfortable sleeping in her tunic and underwear. She unfastened Alyssa’s linen pants and slid them down the well-muscled legs. Jael sucked in the scent of her and then steeled herself against it. It was a good thing that Tan would be arriving soon. She apparently needed a jump to clear her head for the task ahead. She pulled the covers up but allowed herself one indulgence. She sat on the side of the bed and brushed her fingers through the dark flames of Alyssa’s silky spikes. She bent close enough to feel her warm breath, sorely tempted to taste her amaretto-sweetened lips. A gift stolen, sure enough, and a theft she’d never commit.

  There’d be time later for the spoils of war. The Calling had barely begun.

  Chapter Four

  The flare she tossed skyward glinted against the rock face behind the wide ledge, and she shot out a telepathic imperative to accompany the fiery signal. She tugged at the neck of her battle skin and brushed a speck of dirt from the red emblem emblazoned across the chest of the silvery tunic. Good thing the material could stretch to triple its original size. She hadn’t worn it since her bonding, and she was but a juvenile yearling then. She was a foot taller now and carried a lot more muscle.

  She stepped back against the rock when the air began to pulse in great gusts that whipped her hair about her face. She mentally berated herself. Braiding back her hair was a small detail, but she’d spent many lifetimes schooling her mind to be methodical despite the circumstances. A minuscule detail forgotten could get an entire army killed.

  His landing was a muted swoosh, minus the usual dramatic show. He had heard as well as seen her summons and now stood before her, his eyes bright and body quivering with anticipation.

  “Our destination is the portal. We have been summoned to The Collective,” she said unnecessarily. His kind communicated in pictures, and he would read the scene that formed in her mind rather than understand her words. But she needed to hear her own voice, to reassure herself this was real and not some dream.

  Her destiny was beginning to unfold.

  *

  The portal was a tall peak several mountains away from hers that appeared as if its tip had been lopped off by some great sword to create a circular platform some thirty meters in circumference. Leading up to it on all sides was at least a klick of steep, loose shale so that the only access to this portal was by air.

  Jael dismounted and took a minute to absorb its magnificence. The moon was only a sickle, but the velvet black sky above her pulsed with a billion stars. Olympus, she had jokingly labeled this portal years ago. She had been there many times to meditate and occasionally received a telepathic communication concerning a task for The Guard to complete, but she’d never been summoned. The only time they’d ever appeared to her was at her bonding, and she wondered if they would appear tonight.

  She knelt on one knee, raised her arms, and spoke to the stars. “I am Jael, First Warrior of The Guard. You have summoned me.”

  One by one they began to manifest in a semicircle around her, and Specter protectively extended his great wings behind her. They materialized as human images, nearly flesh but flickering slightly in the starlight with each movement of their limbs. When the seventh and last of The Collective appeared, she lowered her arms and her head. “I am here to serve.”

  “Rise.” They spoke in an odd chorus, one voice but many.

  Jael stood and studied them. All robed in flowing gauze, they were genderless, ageless composites of their multiple past lives. One robed in a faint tint of green was square-jawed and bearded but had dark curls that draped over full breasts. Another, robed i
n silver, had a youthful, heart-shaped face and severely short, gray hair.

  She recognized Saran-Sung-Josh—at least those were the names of the entity’s most recent lives—soul mate to her cousin Danielle, the Second Warrior. The Elder’s gaze lingered over her like a caress. Even in this spiritual realm, the essence of Saran-Sung-Josh was drawn to Jael’s physical resemblance to Second. She was honored that perhaps her presence brought a few minutes of comfort while the mates were currently parted. At the same time, the reminder that she’d never found a soul mate in all her incarnations pierced her. It was rare for a soul to have no match, but she told herself that it was best because of the secret and dangerous lives she had led.

  The Collective hummed in a nearly undetectable expression of empathy for the separated mates, but Saran-Sung-Josh spoke for them. “Glorious will be the day when all is as it should be, and we are reunited.”

  Jael wasn’t sure if the Elder spoke of Second or of The Collective belief that all souls were just shards of one soul. If complete harmony could ever be achieved on the physical plane, those shards would reunite as one soul on the spiritual plain. What would happen after that was unclear. The end of time, Elysium, a new shattering to restart the chaos of life and opportunity to return it to order? But she was a soldier, a warrior who followed orders and did not question, so she echoed the mantra. “Glorious be the day.” Specter, apparently appeased by her calm, folded his wings. “How might The Guard serve you?”

  The Elder with the gray crew cut stepped forward. Jael recognized this soul, too, from previous lifetimes. Morgaine-Viktor-Paola had lived more lives than most before ascending—experiencing the physical realm as a healer, a general, a politician, and a spiritual leader, among others. “There is a significant tear in The Collective fabric, and it is growing. It already has ripped far beyond what The Guard could repair.”

  “In the chaos of a natural misfortune, a badly born has escaped the watch of The Guard and is swaying weakened souls toward ancient legends of an omnipotent power who deals out punishment and reward to those who are obedient,” Saran-Sung-Josh said. “This is a doctrine very dangerous to The Collective because it is based on conformity and discourages the diversity of parts that make us one whole.”

  As leader of The Guard, Jael was well versed in The Collective doctrine. “Why not just send The Guard after this one soul?”

  The constant underlying hum of The Collective rose to sound like the murmur of a thousand voices. A third Elder with Scandinavian blue eyes, the dark complexion of a Moor, and a smooth, hairless skull raised a hand to quiet the din. “The recent cycle of the sun has greatly affected natural phenomena, presenting many trials for those currently existing in the physical world. The Collective and its earthly counterparts have been constantly engaged in arranging relief for the survivors and receiving those whose earthly existence has been ended by the mishaps.”

  Morgaine-Viktor-Paola nodded. “This badly born of whom we speak went unnoticed for too long. He has raised a plague of followers, and they are spreading with the speed of an airborne virus. He calls himself The Prophet and advocates the old, misguided practice of burial rather than cremation.”

  “So, the only solution is incineration of these badly born, so that they can reincarnate pure again and rejoin The Collective,” Saran-Sung-Josh said. “Since the first of your lineage discovered and bonded thousands of years ago, it has been the duty of The Guard to keep track of the badly born and incinerate their bodies upon death. It is an unthinkable duty in a time of peace, but this prophet’s army is so many in number, we no longer have the luxury of waiting for each to die naturally. The Guard must incinerate them on sight. Are you up to the task?”

  Jael stiffened. Did The Collective Council doubt The Guard? “I should not need to remind you that The Guard all have been warriors for many lifetimes. We have seen and done much worse.”

  Saran-Sung-Josh bowed slightly in apology. “As mate to your second, I know that better than most. I did not mean to question the ability or loyalty of The Guard, only to express concern for the emotional toll demanded by the task.”

  “It is our destiny,” Jael said. There would be no room for regret.

  “The numbers joining this cult on the Third and Fourth Continents already are greater than The Guard of seven can stop. The Calling has been issued,” Morgaine-Viktor-Paola said. “The point of reckoning will be in the southern portion of the Sierra Madre so that you are close to a nest.”

  “While The Collective has grown strong during these years of embracing diversity, it has greatly diluted the lineage from which I can draw warriors,” Jael said. She was already forming lists in her mind. “It will take months to screen and train an army. In that time, the badly born will grow in strength and number. The Guard stands ready now.”

  The seventh Elder, whose long dreadlocks matched stark-white pupil-less eyes, spoke in a language so ancient even Jael didn’t recognize it. Five of the council bowed their heads in respect, while the sixth translated.

  “A protracted mission with a small force would prolong the wound on our peace. The threads of your destiny are entwined with what is to come, First Warrior. It is a difficult path, but you will not take it alone. Just this day, you have greeted the one who will take up the mantle of duty with you.”

  “The novice Advocate? She wasn’t just a message vessel?” That was just plain insulting, not to mention distracting. “I have a war to plan. How can a first-life with no experience do anything but get in the way? Maybe you’ve been away from the physical realm too long and have forgotten a few things.”

  Morgaine-Viktor-Paola growled and a great pressure forced Jael to her knees. Specter screamed a warning and two others moved toward him. He struggled against an invisible force that had pinned his wings. “All of those lifetimes and you have yet to learn humility.”

  “Forgive me,” Jael choked out against the force holding her. She could not let Specter be harmed while defending her ego.

  The ancient Elder raised a hand and all stopped. The ancient spoke again, waiting after each sentence for its translation.

  “The Advocate is a first-life, indeed, but her gifts are unique and surprisingly powerful. It is not clear, even to The Collective, what her role might be, only that her destiny is closely entwined with yours. Let this flow as it will, First Warrior. It is not a river you need to dam and control.”

  Jael bowed her head. “As you command.”

  The night was suddenly silent, and Jael realized the constant hum of The Collective had ceased. She wondered if she was dismissed, but when she looked up, they all remained. Their eyes were on the ancient rather than her. This time, the ancient spoke in a language she understood. “Open your mind, First Warrior. You will need to look through both old and new eyes for what is coming. We are stronger together.”

  Their manifestations seemed to go thin, stars punching through their filmy essence, until only a hint of the ancient’s image remained. The dismissal was again the chorus that first greeted her. “Rise and go as commanded.”

  Chapter Five

  Alyssa rolled onto her back and blinked slowly. Sunlight that flooded in through the large window was softened by the warm pine planks of the floor, walls, and ceiling as she took a minute to orient herself. Since she’d traveled nearly half the continent to get here, she was no longer startled when she awoke in a strange place. The pillow, which smelled of rain and pine and musk, conjured an image of her host that made her hum as she stretched—a corn-silk blond mane falling across broad shoulders and buttocks she would like to put her hands on. Hmmm. Something stirred in her peripheral vision and she clamped down on the lascivious rumination. God, she didn’t broadcast that, did she?

  As if materializing from her thoughts, a tall figure unfolded from a chair in the corner of the room, boots scuffing against the wood floor as she crossed to the bed.

  “You’re awake.”

  She had the same athletic build and mane of blond hair, but the eye
s were disappointingly brown—a rich milk chocolate but not vibrant blue. Alyssa tried to speak, but only a strangled sound came from her dry throat. Her tongue felt like it was glued to the top of her mouth.

  The woman went to a table and poured a tumbler of water, then offered it to her.

  “Jael said she’d doped you. That stuff dries your mouth out like a desert.”

  Alyssa sat up carefully, even though her nausea and headache from the evening before were gone, and drank deeply. “Thank you,” she said, once her tongue could function again.

  “She said you had a head injury. How do you feel?”

  “I seem to be fine. No headache.” She eyed the woman. They were nearly twins, except for something completely different—how could she describe it? The air vibrated around Jael, like she was a coiled spring set to release at any minute, even though her emotions were carefully shielded. This woman’s emotions were an open book, calm and steady. Alyssa liked her immediately. “You talked to her?”

  “I heard from her. I’m not telepathic, but I can hear her in my head.” The woman smiled and mock-shivered. “I hate it when she does that.” She extended her hand. “I’m Danielle, but everybody calls me Second. Jael is my cousin.”

  “I’m Alyssa.” She returned Second’s handshake. “You don’t have to be telepathic for her to hear your thoughts,” she said absently as she looked about for her pants.

  “Much to her consternation, she says I’m too thick-skulled for her to read me.” She grinned. “It’s actually one of my talents—having a natural shield against any mind probe. Unlike other gifted who have to learn to put up shields, I had to learn to drop mine.” She produced Alyssa’s travel bag from the floor at the end of the bed and handed it to her. “I drove your transport up from the gate and brought your bag in. Her latrine is through that door.”

  Latrine? It took a minute, but Alyssa guessed that Second was referring to the personal facility. “Thank you. I could use a shower.”