Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Page 14

  Morgan looked at her, alarmed. "I was offered water before. It didn't go well."

  "I assure you it's safe. We have long ago cleansed the madness from our islands." The woman pointed with the spear again. "Please. Drink."

  He reached out tentatively, his arm shaking, and managed to pick up the cup in trembling fingers. "Cheers," he whispered, pouring the clear liquid down his throat. It tasted good and fresh, with a hint of the saltiness that hung in the air. He cradled the empty cup in his lap, bracing himself for cramps.

  "Hello," chirped the young girl in the doorway.

  "Ila, shush. Give him a moment." The blonde woman raised the tip of her spear until it was vertical, and leaned against it like a walking stick. "How do you feel?" she called.

  "Fine," he said, and he was relieved to say it. He looked over at the pitcher longingly. "Can I have some more?"

  The woman handed the spear to Nopah, who held it mechanically. She crossed over and lifted the pitcher, filling the cup he held in his hands. "My name is Eliah Stargazer, and this is Ila," she nodded at the girl, who waved at him, "and Nopah, my children." With her so close, Morgan could see the light wrinkles that were beginning to line her face, and realized she was older than he had first thought. He had thought she was young, but now guessed she was in her mid-thirties or older.

  "Pleasure," he replied, drinking his cup dry a second time.

  "Go slow," she reminded him again, refilling his cup. "Sip."

  "Hello," chirped Ila again, more insistently.

  "Ila found you on the shore," informed Eliah.

  "Thank you for saving my life," he told her sincerely. "All of you."

  "You weren't breathing," advised Ila, locking her arms behind her and swaying back and forth. "I saw a dot on the sand and when I got closer, it was you."

  "How long was I out, exactly?" Morgan rubbed his face, and was surprised to feel how much hair had sprouted on his face.

  "Eight suns," replied Eliah. "The first four days, I was sure you were going to die in my hut, and I was angry with Ila for finding you." She delivered this information flatly.

  "Sorry, Nana," said Ila, scuffing her leather slipper against the sand.

  "It's alright. I was wrong. He lived." Eliah shrugged her shoulders offhandedly, as though she'd had no emotional investment in that outcome. "So, you're alive. It'll probably be a few more days until you're ready to travel."

  Morgan was still processing the information. "Eight days? I've been asleep for eight days?" he asked, unbelieving.

  "Yes. The water drained you of your mind, and your foot was in very bad shape. You lost a lot of blood from that wound, and sickness had already taken root inside. I thought that I should cut it off if you were to have a chance to survive, but I didn't want to deal with all the blood." She shrugged again, and he gaped at her callousness. "I figured maybe the salve would help a little, but I didn't think we'd be able to save it. Wrong about that too," she added, a touch of irritation coloring her voice.

  "Well, thanks," repeated Morgan. "Where exactly..." he looked around. "Am I?"

  "We call this place Sick Gull Island," replied Eliah. "Say goodbye, now Ila, he's tired. You can talk to him later. Nopah, take Ila outside."

  The young girl looked like she was going to argue, but Nopah took her gently by the hand, spear and rope still clutched in his other one, and led her outside without a word.

  "Sick Gull Island," repeated Morgan.

  "Yes. It's as far as the gulls who make the mistake of drinking from the tributaries get before they fall out of the skies."

  Great, thought Morgan. "Where is this island? I mean, what state are we in? Is this still Pennsylvania? Do you have a phone? I really need to get back to my people."

  Eliah blinked at him, confused. "We are in what used to be the Sunrise Shores, before the madness in the mountains seeped back to claim the rivers. Now the mainland is off-limits. We don't have the manpower to push back anymore." Eliah looked nervously at the tent flap where her children disappeared. "I don't know how long Sick Gull will stay safe for them. Once the water turns..." she shook her head. "We will have to move again."

  "Is this Pennsylvania?" repeated Morgan. "Are we still in the United States? America?"

  Eliah shook her head at him. "I don't know these words you use."

  "Do you have a phone I could use?" he tried.

  "What is a phone?" she asked, looking at him strangely.

  “You speak English fluently. You have to know what these things are.”

  “What is English?”

  Morgan took a deep breath to prevent himself from panicking. The sky was wrong, he remembered. Even before I drank the water, the sky was wrong. And Pan said I was alone. He fought against the rising tide of other-ness that threatened to wash over him. Nothing made sense. He counted to ten and then continued his questions clinically. "How many people are here?" asked Morgan. His eyelids were heavy, but he pushed his exhaustion aside. The answers might not be what he wished, but he was happy to be having a conversation that didn't feature him naked and in excruciating pain.

  "Now? Only a handful of families are left," she complained, lowering herself into a hammock chair. “Fifteen clans, when we used to number hundreds. We are a seafaring people, and the men bring goods and trade home to us, but the women are the hunters. We care for the tribe while the men sing chanties on the seas." She glanced up at the three decorated blades in the spear case and smiled wistfully. "We protect the village and find game. The children collect fruits and grains. It is a good life with a full tribe, but we are only half a tribe, or less, and it is hard. You being here makes it more so."

  There was a commotion outside, and the tent flap flew open. Eliah leapt from her chair and ran to the spear case, as Ila ran to her mother, breathing heavily. "It's a gug," she panted. "Just over the hill. Fallingleaf and Riverrunner are there."

  "Ila, take Nopah and go to the cold spot. Hide under the rocks. There should be others," her orders came fast and sure, and she ran her hand over the spear handle, bouncing it up and down to check its weight.

  "Is it dangerous? I can help," offered Morgan, trying to slide his legs over the edge of the bed.

  "No. You are weak from sickness and a man. You will only cause problems," she snapped. "Stay here." Eliah pushed Ila out ahead of her and the tent flapped shut behind her. Morgan could hear hoots and yells, but they were fainter now, and he wondered how far "just over the hill" could be.

  "Man, I thought she would never leave!" Pan appeared in a flash, perching primly on the foot of his bed. Morgan jumped a solid six inches off the bed before landing in it again. "A huntress, huh? Don’t buy her line about the Men being weak. You know what her husband would do to you if he saw you two talking?"

  "Fuck off," he spat, holding his hand to his chest to try to quiet his rapidly beating heart. Pan had scared the living daylights out of him.

  "Is that like hello in your world? It must be," chuckled Pan. "The answer is nothing good, but the women are the ones you really want to watch out for. If the women knew what their men got up to in port..." he drew his thumb exaggeratedly across his neck.

  "What do you want?" Morgan growled, drawing his blanket up. "I thought I got rid of you."

  "Oh, sure, sure, that was impressive," agreed Pan, and he was sipping what looked like a cup of coffee suddenly, gesturing with it between sips. "Giant leap off a cliff. Very dramatic." Sip. "Took me a while to find you. I actually thought you were dead." Sip. "But I've been busy. Ask me what I've been doing." He took a long, loud sip. "You'll love it."

  "I have to go help," grumbled Morgan, trying again to force his legs to obey his commands. They moved sluggishly and painfully, the muscles creaking.

  "She was right about that, you know. You are weak. Your body got pretty beat up. Really, you should have died." Pan sipped at his coffee, and it was definitely coffee. The aroma hung heavy in the air. "But don't worry too much. He's only a small guy, I didn't want to carry one of the big gugs
all the way over here."

  Morgan tried to stand and his legs gave out, sending him tumbling back into bed. "You... you sent that thing?" he panted, massaging his thighs between his hands to try to kickstart circulation.

  "Of course I did," scoffed Pan. "I had to talk to you! And it's only a little one. Nobody'll get seriously hurt. Probably," he muttered. "Except my poor gug. They're going to stick him full of spears." He sipped his coffee again and frowned. "He'll be so confused."

  Morgan leaned back against the pillow, exhausted. He had to admit that he wasn't ready for prime time.

  "Now, really, let me tell you what I've been up to while you've been sleeping in a strange woman's hut," Pan winked at him conspiratorially. "Since you won't ask me," he added in a mock-hurt voice.

  "I don't care," Morgan growled, wishing he had the strength to clock Pan right in his smirking mouth. Or cut his head off with one of the remaining spears. Morgan glanced over at them, and then back at his useless legs, repulsed. "You have nothing that interests me."

  "Oh, but if I were a betting man, I'd bet against that. And," he winked again. "I am definitely a betting man. You, my friend, still have one question left," informed Pan seriously. "But more than that, I have to change one of the answers I gave you, as it's no longer correct. I do know where one of your team members is."

  Pan held Morgan's undivided attention now. "Who? Where?" he demanded.

  "I’ll be kind and not count those as questions three… and four. Agent Gina Harwood, Dreamer, Friend of the Cats of Ulthar," announced Pan formally, and Morgan shook his head in confusion.

  "You found Gina." he growled, echoing the part he understood.

  Pan nodded and grinned toothily, his eyes flashing yellow as he blinked. "Oh yes. And I'm about to spend some quality time with her."

  A cold shiver passed through Morgan and he lurched at the half-man, who promptly disapparated and reappeared on the other side of the hut, leaning against the spear rack.

  "You leave her alone," threatened Morgan.

  "Or what?" snarled Pan. "Know your place, human. You can't hurt me. In fact, the only reason you're still alive is because of how incredibly interesting I find you. I'm interested to see if your friend is just as fascinating."

  "I mean it," said Morgan, and his voice was still and cold. "If you harm her, I will find a way to make you bleed."

  "Silly mortal," chuckled Pan dangerously. "I'm not going to hurt your girlfriend. Probably. I just want some answers. I want only to understand," he said, prancing across the floor and delivering his words as though he were on a stage, flouncing and curtsying across the dirt. "Why do two humans show up in this world suddenly? Why are they familiar with my brother's symbol? What is my brother up to exactly?" He grinned. "It's too exciting to ignore, my good man. A mystery! It's been too long."

  "Where is she?" growled Morgan.

  Pan cocked his head to the side and considered him. "Is that your final question?"

  Morgan nodded in exasperation. "Yes, yes, it's my final question. Where is Gina Harwood?"

  A long, slow smile passed across the half-man's face and his eyes flashed yellow. "She's about to board a ship in Hlanith, in the western realm. It's bound for Calephais, on the Eastern Shores. After that, she'll sail to Kadatheron, where she and her furry friend will travel across the land. She asks about you everywhere. She's looking for you. But since you're not in that direction, I can only surmise that she has no idea where to start her search, and thus she must be going to visit the King." He clapped his hands in glee. "Fantastic. Oh, I hope so."

  Morgan blinked, trying to memorize the information that had just flown at him. "Where is this King?" asked Morgan.

  Pan put a finger along the side of his nose and winked. "I've said too much already. I hope you see that I've held up our bargain, human. I am nothing if not fair," he finished with a swooping bow. "A thank you would be nice," he said, sounding hurt.

  "Thank you," growled Morgan, but his mind was racing. He ran over the place names in his mind, committing them to memory. Hlanith. Calephais. Kadatheron. King.

  "Well, it was a pleasure doing business with you," smiled Pan. "Now, I'm off to buy a ticket to the show. I have missed sea travel." He snapped his fingers and disappeared, coffee mug and all.

  Morgan trembled with anger. The thought of that thing in close quarters to his partner was infuriating, and he wanted to run, sprint, move toward the goal now that he had some actual information. He was furious with the half-man, and livid with his own traitorous body. But underneath, a small nugget of joy bloomed behind the anger. He wasn't alone. Gina was here, somewhere. They could figure this out together. Hlanith. Calephais. Kadatheron. King.

  Morgan perched on the edge of his bed, shaking his legs, and waiting for the warrior woman's return. He had some questions that he needed answered.

  29

  Kyrri didn't make it to dinner that night, or lunch the next day. By this time, Gina was growing concerned for him. He looked sickly, more sick than simple sea-sickness, and his cough was growing worse. She sat next to him on the bed and stroked his head while he purred weakly. Gina peeled open a tin of chipped beef and held it under his face as he ate, slowly, and very little. "Kyrri, I'm worried about you."

  "I will be well once I'm off this ship, Gina-Dreamer," he whispered in return, barely audibly.

  "I don't think sea-sickness is supposed to be this bad," she replied, gesturing for him to take another bite.

  "Perhaps it's different for Cats," he managed, resting his head on his paws while he chewed slowly. "I'm very tired."

  "A little more," she urged, and he obediently took another bite. She winced, watching him eat. It looked difficult for him, and painful. "Does your throat hurt?" she asked.

  "Everything hurts," he meowed pitifully. "But I will be alright. I'm sorry I am weak, Gina-Dreamer."

  "You're not weak, Kyrri," she said, urging him to take one more bite. He did, but then he turned his head away as he tried to swallow it. Gina looked at the tin and grimaced when she saw how little he'd been able to eat. If there was one thing Kyrri loved, it was eating. This was bad. She stroked his head until he fell asleep, ears twitching and moaning lightly.

  Gina stood gingerly, taking care not to upset the bed and wake her companion, and snuck quietly out of their quarters, closing the door behind her.

  "How's he faring?" Gina heard a gruff voice behind her and whirled to see the captain studying maps on his desk.

  "Not well," she sighed. "He's really sick. I don't think it's just sea-sick."

  "He needs air," offered Captain Gage, turning back to his maps. "Make him come down for dinner. Stretch his legs."

  Gina nodded, unsure of what else to do for Kyrri, and walked out of the room. "I will, thanks," she called over her shoulder as she shut the main door behind her. The day was sunny and bright, and she wandered to the bow of the ship, leaning slightly over the balustrade and looking down at the turquoise water below. She watched the water for a while, lost in thought. This was a strange world, with strange people and strange customs, and though she thought she was holding it together pretty well considering the circumstances, she wasn't sure how much longer she could go on pretending that she had everything under control. She had questioned every random person they'd come across, but was no closer to any useful information on Morgan's whereabouts, and their current journey to a king who was probably dead didn't feel to her like it would bear much fruit.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" remarked Gavin Crowell, who was suddenly beside her. She blinked at him in surprise.

  "I.. I didn't hear you come up," she remarked, looking behind her at the quiet deck.

  "I'm sneaky," he replied with a handsome smile, and Gina looked away, the queasiness rising again in sync with the static in her head.

  "I guess," she responded, turning to leave.

  "Can we talk, Gina Harwood? Just you and me?" he asked, staring out over the ocean. His eyes were in the shadow cast by his ridiculous felt ha
t with the massive and colorful feathers sticking out of it, but Gina didn't think he was laughable. She was certain he was dangerous.

  "What about?" she asked curtly, but remained in her spot.

  "Just curious," he said, his voice silken-smooth. "Why are you going to Kadatheron?"

  "Why are you going to Calephais?" she retorted without a pause.

  "You humans certainly like to have your questions answered first," he chuckled, rolling his disturbing eyes. "I'm not actually going to Calephais," whispered Gavin, leaning in conspiratorially and winking at her. "I just needed an excuse to get on the boat."

  Gina felt rooted to the ground as ice shot through her veins. The buzz grew louder in her head and she glanced over at the cabin. "Why did you want on the boat?" she asked quietly.

  "Well, because of you, of course!" smiled Crowell, and Gina took a few involuntary steps backward. "I just had to meet you. Morgan told me so much about you."

  The words hit Gina like lightning. "You know where Morgan is?" she whispered, and it wasn't exactly a question. The sense of wrongness emanating from Crowell was so strong that she didn't need her talents to feel them.

  "I do," Crowell winked again, not seeming to notice that she kept backing away from him. If he noticed, he didn't seem to care.

  "Where is he?" demanded Gina, her hands clenching into fists.

  "I can't exactly tell you that. Well, I can, but I won't," admitted the man, playing with a strand of his hair. "He jumped off a cliff," he added, as though that explained everything.

  "What do you mean he JUMPED off a CLIFF?" she yelled, her hands twitching to beat answers out of the awful man, forgetting to be afraid. "Where IS HE?"

  "He kept going on about this," replied Gavin, as though Gina weren't screaming at him. He gestured toward the deck, and Gina looked down to see a giant symbol painted on the wood slats, a familiar symbol. She backed away until she felt her legs hit the banister. It was a figure eight with eight spikes curving out of it, and it bored into her skull. Images from Snow Hill flashed in front of her eyes, that awful thing, the undulating black tentacled thing with the many eyes, and they saw her, those eyes, they SAW her, and they showed her things she didn't do, but could have done... Gina gasped for air.