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

  “I want to be a good man,” boomed Toma. “And so I will clear a path for Morgan. You and Aden can sail home and save our people. Sail back to Zar and buy many provisions. Isolate Sick Gull so the village doesn’t get sick. These are important things, good things. But so is helping a Dreamer. One of us must.”

  Aden returned to the deck, his hands clasped around a small leather pouch. He walked up to Toma and placed the pouch in the giant’s hand. Toma looked at him questioningly and opened the pouch, which was full of small pewter coins. “Thank you,” said the giant, and pulled the unsuspecting Aden into a large bear hug. The young man stumbled back with a wide grin and punched Toma on the shoulder.

  “Toma, you have sailed with me since we were barely men,” whispered Nevan, his face painted with grief. “You belong with us.”

  The giant shook his head and clapped Nevan on the shoulder with a massive hand. “Yes, and I shall return after his quest is over.”

  “What if you don’t?” spat Nevan, and Aden looked at him with wide eyes.

  “Then I don’t,” replied Toma, shrugging his wide shoulders. “I will meet my end in the waves, as we all do.”

  Morgan had watched the conversation from the sidelines, unwilling to interrupt the tense words being exchanged. It had given him a moment to collect his thoughts on the matter, so he was relatively prepared when Nevan turned to him angrily. “You can’t think this is a good idea,” he said accusingly.

  “Nothing has seemed like a good idea since I got here,” shrugged Morgan. “But I’m still alive, thanks to you. I need to find my partner, and I need to get home. I don’t want to endanger anyone, and I wouldn’t ask for that. But if Toma’s offering, I’d be a fool to say no.” He considered the giant for a moment before returning his attention to Nevan. “Look at him. Anyone could use his help. I don’t like the idea of boarding the ship, there’s no telling if anyone’s inside. Even if there’s not, we can’t know how long the infection may remain contagious on surfaces.” He looked somberly at the ship. “But it’s my best hope to catch Gina. I won’t deny it.”

  Toma puffed his chest out and looked intently at the swaying vaka, tucking Aden’s gifted coinpouch into his belt and repositioning his silk mask. “Then we are agreed.” He turned to Nevan. “Will you give me your blessing, brother?”

  Nevan’s body seemed to sag in the breeze and he turned away to look at the flat ocean horizon. “No,” he said. “But I will watch after your wife and child in your absence.”

  “Nevan,” argued Toma, but Nevan silenced him with an open palm.

  “I can’t, Toma. You are my oldest and dearest friend.” He sat on the deck, facing away from them. “I can’t give you my blessing, but I won’t try to stop you. Just come back to us in one piece when you tire of your adventure.” Nevan’s voice hitched with exhaustion. Aden walked up to Morgan and shook his hand, and then embraced Toma warmly.

  "G-g-good luck," managed Aden with a smile. Toma seemed buoyed slightly by this, but sadness covered his face again when he glanced toward Nevan.

  “Give my love to those at home,” requested Toma slowly. He turned to face Morgan. “Wait here for me. I will bring the ship.” Without waiting for a response, Toma leapt off of the deck and into the waves, slicing smoothly through them.

  “Toma, there might be…” he started, but realized quickly that Toma couldn’t hear him, and so dove into the ocean to swim with him to the ship. It was his responsibility, his task, and he wasn’t about to let the kindhearted giant take all of the risks. He heard Nevan and Aden yelling at him, but ignored them. This way was better. If the ship was infected, Morgan didn’t want it close enough to Aden and Nevan that they might take the illness back to the island.

  Morgan moved fluidly through the water and tried to fight the panic rising in his chest. The memory of his naked struggle towards the island shore was fresh, made even fresher by the salty air and the cold water. He struggled to keep his breathing even. I'm not dying. It’s not even that far, he reasoned with himself, attempting to quiet the high pitched voice of anxiety. He felt rough hands grab him and pull him out of the water and looked up to see Toma glaring furiously down at him. He blinked, surprised that he had already reached the docks.

  “How am I supposed to clear your path when you run down the path with me?” he yelled.

  “I don’t want Nevan and Aden to come into contact with the plague,” gasped Morgan, his heart still racing from the unwanted memories. “They could take it back to the village before they show signs of it.”

  Toma’s eyes grew wide and he looked back toward the vaka. “Ah,” he said, dripping on the dock. They were only a few feet from the abandoned ship, which was tethered on the farthest edge of the dock from the settlement. “HELLO!” yelled Toma, and Morgan waited, listening for any response. He tightened the silk covering his face and saw Toma do the same.

  Morgan heard a shout from behind him and turned to see Nevan on the deck of the vaka getting ready to throw what looked like a javelin. He let loose, and the long object sailed clear towards the dock, where it was snatched out of the air by Toma. He handed it to Morgan, who saw it was the carved walking stick he’d relied upon so heavily for the first few days of the voyage. He smiled at the gift. Better than nothing, he thought.

  Morgan raised a hand in thanks to the ship, and the two men aboard the vaka raised theirs as well. He turned to Toma, who was boarding the docked vaka carefully, examining the ropes, guidewires, hull, deck and sails as he went. Morgan walked past him to peer inside the hut, and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing no signs of people, and no bodies. He walked to the hold and lifted it.

  “No fish,” observed Toma from behind him. “Look for food or water.” He began rummaging through the crates and boxes in the hut, and Morgan joined him in the search. They tore the hut’s belongings apart, but found only a handful of stale manioc chips. They exchanged grim glances.

  “We could check out the village, see if they have any,” offered Toma, but he didn’t look excited at the prospect.

  “No. It usually rains in the afternoons, right?” said Morgan. “We’ll just gather the rainwater.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “It gives me the crawlies just being on this ship. I don’t think we should risk getting even closer to the village.”

  “Crawlies?”

  Morgan smiled. “Let’s just get underway as quick as possible.”

  That, Toma understood. He grinned widely and jogged out to the deck, hoisting the mainsail with gusto. The sail leapt up the mast in giant, jagged jumps, unaccustomed to being handled with such force as the giant was currently exerting. Toma clasped the boltrope to the deck, and Morgan rushed to throw off the tethers keeping them to the dock. “Oops,” said Toma, chagrined.

  Morgan got to the last tether just as it grew taut, and hissed in pain as the rope flew through his hands, burning his palms.

  “Sorry,” called Toma, and he winced in embarrassment. “I can sail, I just usually don’t do all those parts of it.”

  “No worries,” replied Morgan, inspecting his hands. They weren’t rubbed through, just raw, and he shook them at his side. “Not bleeding.”

  “They’re gone,” whispered Toma, and Morgan followed his gaze to see Nevan’s vaka disappearing on the horizon.

  “Are you sure about this, Toma? It’s not too late to go back.” Morgan put a hand on the giant’s shoulders as he gazed sadly at the diminishing ship.

  “I’m sure,” he said, and he wiped at his eyes as he walked back to the sails, adjusting their course ever so slightly. “This is the adventure I have dreamt of my entire life. Sick Gull Island will be there when I return.”

  I hope so, thought Morgan, thinking of the abandoned spires and sprawling blockade at Aphorat, but he didn’t voice his thoughts.

  49

  The cart bobbed and bumped over the road, and Gina was close enough to hear the crackle and pop of the gravel underneath the large wooden wheels. She was tense;
she didn’t like being this close, but after running the scenario a dozen different times in her head, she had to accept that there was simply no way she could get to the cart in time to take even one of them off-guard. No, her only option was to find and rescue Kyrri before the cart stopped. Her heart was racing as she grabbed onto the edge of the wagon, keeping pace with it in a half-crouch to remain mostly hidden behind the blankets. It was a difficult position that hurt her knees, and she peered through the collapsed rug rolls and under the blankets as quickly as she could. She felt no fur, but did feel a strip of leather, and pulled on it as hard as she dared.

  Her belt fell off the back of the wagon, with her coin purse and knife still attached. She grabbed it and leapt back into the bushes, listening for signs that the wagon had slowed. Gina buckled the belt around her waist and placed her hand on the dagger hilt, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She was armed.

  Gina tensed up, getting ready to crouch-run back up to the wagon, when the wagon ground to a halt. Cursing under her breath, she picked her way carefully through the foliage to get as close as she could. The two men clambered off of the wagon, and she saw that they wore similar hooded cloaks to the men who attacked them in Calephais, although their hoods were down. They had the same black eyes and shaved, tattooed heads as the man she’d stabbed in the throat, and ice ran through her veins at the memory. How can I do this without killing anyone? she thought, and set her jaw. If she had to, she would.

  The men grabbed a rug from the middle of the pile and pulled it out of the wagon in one practiced, fluid motion. The thinner man unrolled the rug while the heavier, closer one pulled a small dart from inside his hood. Gina waited until she saw Kyrri’s body roll heavily to the ground and then rushed forward, leaping out of the bushes and holding her knife at the heavier man’s throat.

  “Move and you get to see what color your insides are,” she hissed down at him, her eyes darting up to the thinner man whose hands were hovering above the Cat. They both froze, their eyes narrowed and seething. Gina grabbed the dart out of the man’s hand in a flash and stabbed him in the neck with it. He let out a grunt and fell to his side with a sickeningly satisfying thump.

  Immediately, Gina realized she’d made a poor decision. She’d given up her only real bargaining chip, and the other cloaked man ducked quickly behind the wagon, but did not run away as she had hoped. Should have thrown the dart at the other guy, she thought, chagrined, but there was no time to waste on regrets. Glancing at Kyrri, she quickly surmised he would be of no help; with his eyes rolled back and his tongue lolling out against the dirt, he was out. At least, she hoped that’s all it was. She tightened her grip on her knife and crept along the side of the wagon, ducking underneath to see the man’s whereabouts. Apparently, he’d had the same idea - Gina saw him bring a wooden blowpipe to his mouth and felt the sting in her calf as his dart found its mark.

  Shit, she thought as she yanked the hateful thing out of her skin. Her thoughts raced; she had about twenty seconds and all the man had to do was wait for her to drop. Gina clambered onto the wagon and met the man’s narrowed eyes above his lecherous grin as he watched her with amusement. He knew she was done. She felt a wave of vertigo and her mind’s wheels began to slow. No time.

  With a roar, she launched herself off of the wagon and on top of the man, who let out a surprised yell as they tumbled together into the dirt. Gina plunged the dart into the man’s chest, clumsily, and he yowled in pain. What if there’s not enough sedative left in it? she thought, but the words melted together in her head. She held on as he bucked like a bronco, and prayed to any powers that might hear her that he’d be out before she would. The man threw her aside, and she didn’t have the energy left to fight to stay on top. She rolled into the bushes and willed her eyes to stay open, but they didn’t obey her either. The last thing she saw as she drifted to darkness was the man’s boots walking toward her, and then he dropped hard to one knee. Maybe it was enough, she thought before she ceased caring or thinking.

  50

  The rain did come, and right on schedule. The afternoon clouds gathered heavy, and the two of them scrambled to find anything to catch the water from the sky. There were only a few containers they could use, but Morgan opened the hold and spread some extra sailcloth they found in the hut across the opening. He hadn’t had high hopes for the cloth, but was pleasantly surprised; it wasn’t completely waterproof, but it captured the water well enough. In addition, they’d caught several good-looking orange sharks, which Toma called sea huss with an excited smile. “Very expensive,” he’d said, grinning. “Very tasty.”

  That evening, they pulled out their hammocks, which were in poor condition compared to the Sick Gull vaka, and swung with the waves watching the sunset. Toma had been subdued all day, half-heartedly striking up pleasant conversation when it occurred to him that the silence had grown too long. Now, however, he’d let the silence descend upon them, and Morgan was content to watch the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon with only the lap of the ocean against the wood providing commentary. The first day had been successful; they had stores of water, enough fish to get them through a few days, and they were still moving toward his goal. Hlanith. Calephais. Kadatheron. King. Morgan repeated his mantra until sleep took him, and he slept deeply and without dreaming.

  The morning sun warmed his face, and he woke refreshed and energized. The hammock may have been a little worse for wear, but it had been one of the most comfortable nights of Morgan’s life. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and a jolt ran through him.

  “Where’s the shore?” he asked, and though he tried to keep his voice calm, there was a definite note of anxiety in it.

  Toma rubbed sleep out of his eyes and blinked at their surroundings. “We are still sailing east-northeast,” he said, gesturing at the sun, but his brows were drawn down as he swiveled his head to see nothing but flat ocean in every direction. “Maybe we drifted a bit north during the night.”

  Toma seemed confused but not overly concerned, and Morgan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You know where we are then?” he asked.

  “Well, we were following the shore yesterday,” said Toma. “And we’re still sailing in the right direction. I remember the maps. There’s no way we won’t hit land going east or north.” He shrugged. “I’ll get worried if we don’t see land by the end of the day.”

  To say Morgan wasn’t comfortable with the giant’s lackadaisical reaction to not being able to see land - especially when Nevan had drilled into them that vakas weren’t open-sea crafts - was an understatement. But he reminded himself that he had no experience beyond the last week on any sort of seafaring craft, whereas Toma had grown up sailing. He’d accepted the man’s plan, he would trust him to execute it. “Okay,” he replied simply.

  Toma clapped him on the shoulder and set to making breakfast with a smile. Breakfast was identical to dinner the evening before, and their meals would continue to be one-note through the day. Morgan had delighted in the sashimi the night before; with no fire possible on the ship and no other provisions, they’d been forced to eat it raw. However, Toma had a light touch and shaved the fresh fish filets as thinly as though he were a professional sushi chef, and the shark was shockingly delicious. Tasty as it was, it made a strange breakfast, but Morgan ate his fill.

  Hauling was still a priority, because they needed fish to trade in whatever city they landed. Morgan worked the nets with Toma, and alone when Toma worked the sails. He felt strong now, stronger than before he awoke on the cliff, and his tanned arms hauled in the heavy nets with much less difficulty than when he’d struggled through it the first time. The actions were practiced and efficient, and Morgan took pride in them, even if he knew no one else would ever see. It felt good to do something well, when even walking had posed a problem a week prior.

  They sat for lunch, which predictably was sliced shark filet. It was still delicious, and Morgan told Toma so.

  “Yeah, huss is amazin
g,” replied Toma with a mouthful of fish. He lifted another slice and laid it across his tongue. “Mmm.”

  “So,” started Morgan, choosing his words carefully. “What, exactly, is our plan?”

  Toma chuckled. “I don’t know, past getting us to the eastern shores. I figure we’ll land at Rinar and go from there.”

  “What’s Rinar? Is it like Aphorat?”

  Sadness painted the giant’s face. “I hope not,” he mumbled. “But no. Aphorat is the grand city of the South. Rinar?” he grinned sideways. “Rinar is kind of a dump.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Even the whores are ugly.”

  Morgan sputtered a surprised laugh.

  “But,” continued Toma, “It’s a pretty big city, and it’s across the narrow sea from the southlands and hopefully the plague.” He traced an outline on the deck. “We should be about here,” he said, pointing to a random spot on the wood. “Hopefully Rinar is here.” He pointed to a spot directly east of them. “We’re sailing due east,” he explained. “Kadatheron is way up here,” he gestured past Morgan. “But at least it’s on the same shore.”

  “Would it be faster to travel on land once we hit the city?”

  “That depends, I guess. Do you want to get to Kadatheron, or try to get to the King?”

  Morgan considered the question. Nearly two weeks had passed since Pan had given him Gina’s location, and the time weighed heavily on his mind. “Do you know how long it would take to travel to each of these places? Starting from Hlanith?”

  Toma’s eyebrows rose into his hairline and he shook his head. “Um… if they got a fast ship and the winds were good, they could make it to Kadatheron from Hlanith in maybe a week.” He shrugged. “There’s too many things I don’t know. I can’t guess.”