Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Read online

  “It is,” said Nevan, walking up beside him. His face was troubled. “I don’t know what that is.”

  Aden joined them, sitting on the side of the deck and looking out towards the shores. There was a palpable tension on the ship, and the vaka surged forward in silence. The sun rose in the sky and the only movement on the deck was Nevan’s occasional adjustment of the sails. As the distance closed, Morgan could tell with certainty that the ships were all different, but they were all anchored close to one another, and the line did indeed stretch almost entirely around the city.

  “Th-th-th-th…” started Aden, and he motioned for Morgan to follow his gaze. Nevan ran over, but Aden pushed him and repeated his gesture for Morgan.

  “Writing,” said Nevan, understanding. Morgan could see something splashed across the broadside of one of the larger ships, a three-masted beauty that was easily ten times the size of the vaca. It looked like white paint. He couldn’t quite make out the words from where they were.

  Nevan ran back and angled the vaka towards the ship. Morgan strained his eyes to make sense of the lines, and the word suddenly came into view.

  “PLAGUE!” he shouted. “It says plague! Turn away!”

  Nevan moved the sail to aim them away from the ships, skirting a wide distance around the city. “Plague,” he echoed. “That’s sickness, yes?” Aden ran into the hut and emerged with rectangular strips of silk, passing one out to each of them. He tied it around his nose and mouth and Morgan followed suit, looking questionably at the silk before he did so. He shrugged. It might help, he figured.

  “Very bad sickness,” emphasized Morgan, wishing they could move a bit further from the ships. “And since I haven’t seen a lot in the way of antibiotics, probably death.”

  Toma tied his scarf mechanically, not taking his eyes off of the city. It looked very picturesque, Morgan thought, if not for the warning blockade. The clear blue waters lightened even further as they disappeared into a thin strip of blindingly white sand. The structures that rose up the hills behind the shoreline were also white, and there were deep green plants everywhere, reminding Morgan of an ancient Grecian city. He looked at the ships, chained and roped to one another, thick anchor chains disappearing beneath the waves. This close, he could see no one on board.

  “Weren’t you all just here a week ago?” whispered Morgan.

  Nevan shook his head. “Our last journey was north, to the middle islands, and west to trade with Var. It was five weeks out and a month back.” He watched sadly as they passed dozens of silent ships. Most of the ships in the chain were about the size of the vaka they rode, with varying designs. “We have not sailed to Aphorat or easterly in some time. We come this way twice a year.” He frowned and the lines in his leathery forehead were deep and worrying. “There are a lot of good people in Aphorat. Friends of our village.”

  “Are they dead?” asked Toma. “If there is plague, that means they’re dead?” He looked at Morgan imploringly.

  “I… don’t know,” answered Morgan. “A lot of them probably are, or they wouldn’t have blockaded the city.”

  “I wish we could know,” responded Toma after a moment, his voice heavy. Morgan’s mind flashed to his cell phone and he sighed, thinking of how much easier his usual tools would make things.

  “Me too,” said Morgan, and he sat next to Toma at the nets. Toma made no move to touch the nets, continuing to stare out at the city, and so Morgan did the same.

  “What do we do now?” asked Toma, and he directed the question at Nevan. “We can’t land here.”

  Nevan clasped the sails into place and Morgan was glad to see that their arc around the city was widening. The man sat in his hammock, looking out over the heads of those seated on the deck at the city. He reached around and tightened his mask. “There are several villages just beyond Aphorat, but we don’t know how far the illness has reached, or what it is,” he started, thinking aloud. “The village expects us back in four suns, and will send someone out in six if we do not return. It would take them the same six suns it took us to arrive here.” Morgan furrowed his brow, unsure of the point of Nevan’s math. “That’s twelve suns for us to intercept anyone who comes looking for us before they sail past the blockade.”

  Morgan blinked. “Why would they sail past a blockade?”

  “If we are missing, they will want to know where we are. My first thought was that the city was under siege. It will likely be theirs as well. Even if they do not sail past, they may board the ships.” He shrugged. “We have you and Aden. They will have no one who can read the scribing.”

  Morgan nodded. Nevan’s reasoning was sound.

  “Rinar is far enough away to be safer, and across water,” continued Nevan, his eyes staring unfocused at the blockade as he mused through their options aloud. “It’s also closer to Kadatheron. The winds shift past Aphorat, they will speed us along but slow us on our return to the city. It would only take us four suns to reach Rinar at full sail, across the narrow sea, but it would take us a week to return.” He counted on his fingers. “Eleven suns. It would be close. I don’t like it.”

  The men remained silent and waited for Nevan to continue, which he did. “Or we could turn around and return to the village, and avoid that entirely.”

  Morgan closed his eyes but couldn’t find the will to protest. He didn’t want to sacrifice innocent lives in order to get one step further along his journey. Still, he felt his hopes of catching up to Gina’s last known location evaporating. He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Toma’s sympathetic frown. The giant stood and turned to Nevan. “It’s a dreamquest,” he said, and Morgan placed a hand on the man’s leg to stop him.

  “It’s not,” interjected Morgan. “It’s not worth lives.”

  Toma closed his mouth, but his eyes were locked on Nevan, and they seemed to be having a silent conversation for a moment. “You heard him,” replied Nevan. “It’s not worth lives.”

  “We could sail just a day or two farther, and see if any of the villages are unaffected,” recommended Toma, standing his ground. “We would see other vakas in plenty of time to stop them and we would return to Sick Gull with them.”

  Nevan considered this with a sigh. “Fine,” he said, adjusting the sails. “One day. But it is your duty to explain to my wife and daughter why we are late.”

  Toma said nothing, but smiled gratefully under his sheer scarf at Nevan and resumed his place next to Morgan on the deck. “Hopefully the village will buy some of our goods,” he said excitedly. “And can get you the rest of the way to Kadatheron.”

  Morgan smiled, but his smile faded when he glanced back at the ghost ships dotting the waves. He didn’t feel much of the serenity that had marked his last weeks on the island and the vaka; the abandoned ships and the dead-silent city made his skin crawl. Anxiety bounced around in his stomach and he breathed shallowly through the thin silk. He glanced up at Nevan who looked lost in thought as he grimly surveyed the shrinking scene. Morgan tried not to calculate the odds of any villages within a day being unaffected by something severe enough to cut off an entire city.

  47

  “...not allowed to even think about…”

  “...shame. Waste of a…”

  Words floated in and out of the void and Gina struggled to hold onto the slippery rope of consciousness. She became aware of something pressed in against her, holding her arms in tightly against her body. It was a thick, scratchy fabric, and Gina realized she was wrapped in something large, a rug or one of the cloth coverings over the stalls in the market. There was movement, and sound in addition to the gruff male voices. She craned her neck upwards to see a small flattened hole of light at the edge of the rolled rug, and could see a sunny forest road beyond a few thin, grey strips of wood. I’m on a cart of some kind, she thought, and concentrated on pushing away the seductive heaviness of sleep that threatened to overtake her. She felt at her hip and realized she was wearing the linen dress she’d set aside at the creek and bit her lip, listening
. The blankets muffled the voices, and she couldn’t tell which direction they were coming from. Where’s Kyrri? She took a deep but quiet breath and steadied her thoughts. Now was not the time to panic.

  “Want some of this?” she heard one ask.

  “Sure,” the other replied, and they were the same two voices she had heard before. Gina hoped that meant there were only two of them. She began inching forward, trying to limit the movement of the heavy fabric around her. She kept her eyes forward, locked on the small window of light.

  “Should check on ‘em soon,” muttered one with an audibly-full mouth of food. Gina stopped and closed her eyes, listening intently.

  Them? she thought, feeling hope and horror fighting in her chest. She had hoped that Kyrri had managed to crawl away from whatever attacked them at the creek. But that means he’s probably still alive, she considered, and continued inching forward. The hole of light almost filled her vision now, and she could see the trail clearly. They weren’t flying along, but their pace was much faster than a walking one.

  “Nah, it’s good for a day,” replied the other one. “They won’t budge ‘til tonight. We’ll jab ‘em again before we hit the city.”

  Gina’s shoulder twitched up to her neck and she felt a dull throbbing at the mention of the darts. She ignored it and continued creeping forward. Her head was now out of the rug, and her hair dangled beneath the edge of the wagon. The strips of wood were placed far enough apart that she could just squeeze through them, and she worked on wriggling forward faster to free her shoulders. She dangled over the edge, staring at the ground as it passed underneath her, as she shoved herself forward and flew off the back of the cart, landing on the rocky earth on her shoulder and rolling clumsily over. Gina glanced up at the wagon as she clambered into the bushes, absorbing all of the details about it she could before she lost her view. It was an old wheeled wagon, the wood grey from age. There were heaps of blankets and rugs in the back of it, all rolled up and piled atop one another, and at the front of the wagon, she caught a glimpse of the two men.

  The wagon continued down the trail, and Gina listened for signs that they’d noticed her escape while pondering her options. She had no cloak, only the thin dress; her coin purse, dagger, and all of their recently purchased belongings were either left behind, or on the wagon. With Kyrri. There was no question in her mind that she was going to follow them. The only question she had was how she would handle the men when she caught up.

  She ducked back onto the road and broke into a slow jog, keeping her eyes focused as far up the trail as she could see. She didn’t want them to get too far ahead of her, but didn’t want to get close until she had something that resembled a plan.

  What can I use as a weapon? She looked around as she ran down the road. I could build some sort of trap, she pondered briefly, but dismissed it as ridiculous. She didn’t know how to build snares and she doubted she’d have the time even if she possessed the knowledge. An image of her running at the two men with pointed sticks in each hand flashed in her mind, and she smiled grimly. The one said they’d jab us before the city, she reminded herself. That meant they would have to stop, unload, and unroll the rugs, so she might have the element of surprise if she could time it right.

  She caught sight of the cart, far ahead of her, and slowed her pace slightly to a fast walk. She wanted to be able to see if they stopped, but also wanted to remain far enough back that she blended in with the bushes along the trailside. Then, as soon as they stop, I run into the bushes, and haul ass through the woods before they find out I’m missing and become suspicious. The plan sounded anything but solid in her mind. That seemed like an awfully large distance to cover while bushwhacking, trying to remain stealthy, and looking for something to use as a weapon. It didn’t sound like a plan, it sounded like a fantasy.

  If my telepathy came back, I could just drop them from a distance, she thought, but it was all elementary anyway. She had only her normal, human self to rely on, and it was her turn to do some saving.

  It had better be enough, she thought, and quickened her pace to a jog as the wagon disappeared over a hill.

  48

  After Aphorat, the land seemed a lot more populated than the southern islands had. Villages dotted the shore at fairly regular intervals - they had passed four in the eight hours since losing sight of the city.

  They had landed at none.

  Toma’s spirits had remained high after the first two villages, so much so that he whistled a chanty while hauling the nets. Morgan helped with them, happily, glad for something to pass the time. They hadn’t altered their course to investigate either settlement, at Nevan’s request - they were too close to the city, he said, and there would be others today. Morgan agreed with the decision.

  The third village they passed was only slightly larger than the collection of huts on Sick Gull. Silence dominated the deck as the men strained their eyes, looking for any sign of life on shore. The beach was deserted, and no shapes moved between the huts. Nevan swung the sails around soundlessly, taking them back toward the open ocean.

  Toma turned his attention back to the nets, but didn’t resume his tune. They hauled in silence. Aden emerged from the hut with lunch, and the unusual quiet continued as they ate their meals. The sun was past its apex in the sky when they approached the fourth village, a fairly well-built-up town with more permanent buildings than the mud and leather island huts. They all stood on deck and scanned the docks as Nevan navigated them towards the docks.

  “Hello!” he shouted, and the sudden noise made everyone jump. “HELLO!” he yelled again, louder, and the rest of them began to echo the call. It felt good to scream, and Morgan felt his frustration ebbing as he shouted at the shore. He funneled all of the strange events, the otherness, the fragility he’d felt since arriving into his voice and sent it ricocheting across the waves.

  If anyone on shore heard their calls, they showed no sign of it. The docks lay silent and disorganized, barrels and boxes scattered across the decks. Only a few ships were tethered, no larger than their vaka, and one was listing heavily, straining against the boltropes that held it in place. The only sound coming from the village was that of the waves crashing against the shore.

  Morgan caught Nevan’s gaze, and the man’s face was red from shouting. He dropped his eyes and adjusted the sails, swinging them away from the settlement. Toma glared at Nevan, his countenance dark and stormy. Morgan placed a hand on the giant man’s arm and shook his head. “We can’t land there.”

  “I know,” replied Toma through gritted teeth.

  “It’s not his fault.”

  “I know that too.” Toma sighed heavily and dropped the net back into the water listlessly. “It’s just not fair.”

  “Fair? All of those people are probably dead,” snapped Nevan. “THAT isn’t fair.”

  “When I was a boy, I pretended I was on a dreamquest. I fought beside all of the heroes of old in my free hours.” Toma’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. “In the stories, all of the evil in the world turned their sights upon a Dreamer and his companions. It was up to good men to stand in and clear a path.”

  “We can’t clear a path through plague-infested lands,” interrupted Nevan. “You can’t fight sickness with a sword.”

  “I know.”

  “Besides, Toma, you know how to fish. You’re a great brawler. You can carry things better than an ox.” Nevan’s eyes flickered over to the giant. “But you are not a warrior. We are untrained with sword and spear. Your fists will do little against a blade.”

  “I have a blade.” Toma pulled out a small knife with a wickedly curved blade.

  “That is to gut fish, not men or monsters,” scoffed Nevan.

  “I’m more than just a fisherman,” grumbled Toma, but he let the subject drop, allowing the day’s silence to descend back upon the ship.

  The sun was low on the horizon, and Morgan knew they didn’t have much more light left in the day. They were still sailing east,
but if he was honest with himself, he didn’t see much of a point to it. Whatever was ailing the settlements along the river seemed to have a stranglehold on the land, and he doubted that they would encounter any helpful people - or even any living ones - in the scant time they had left.

  By the time they reached the fifth and final village of the day, there was very little light to see by, and no lanterns had been lit on shore to light the huts. Nevan arced them inward anyway, and the men began shouting at the settlement.

  There was no answer, no movement, and no light.

  With a heavy sigh, Nevan began to push the sails back.

  “Stop,” ordered Toma.

  Nevan looked at him warily. “We can’t land,” he said.

  “There are two vakas at those docks.” Toma pointed at the right one. “That one looks to be in good condition. Her sails look whole.”

  Aden dropped his eyes to the deck and walked back into the hut without a word.

  “So?” asked Nevan.

  “We should take one of them.”

  Both Morgan and Nevan looked at Toma in surprise. “He can’t sail a vaka,” scoffed Nevan.

  “No, but I can.”

  The words - and the intention behind them - hung in the air. Toma stood to his feet and faced Nevan, his shoulders square, waiting for a response.

  “If the village is infected, the ship may be too,” replied Morgan carefully, considering. “Even if there’s no one on it, we may still catch whatever it is.”

  Toma shrugged, but said nothing. His eyes were locked with Nevan’s.

  “What would I tell Tyah?” asked Nevan quietly. Morgan remembered the angry woman trailing after Toma on the island and winced.

  Toma didn’t drop his gaze. “She will understand,” he said simply.

  Morgan rather doubted that, and from Nevan’s face, he did too. “She will bear your child in a few months, Toma,” he reminded. “You should remain alive and safe, with us. If this sickness has taken so many, we will have to isolate the island and remain at home to help protect it until the sickness passes.”