Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3) Page 25

  Morgan bit his lip. “Then, I guess I should head to the last place I know she’ll be - the King.”

  Toma nodded. “We will have to ask locals, then. I don’t know exactly where the castle is or which would be faster.” He smiled. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Morgan, and he found that he was more comfortable than he expected with the lack of a plan. “We’ll figure it out.”

  The sun beat down from above them, and Morgan hauled his nets in the heat. It was the warmest day he could remember here, and his eyes hurt from the glare whenever he scanned the ocean. Even so, he couldn’t help himself from glancing up every few minutes, hoping to see a rounded hump of land in the distance.

  51

  “Gina-Dreamer! Gina-Dreamer, wake up!”

  Gina felt Kyrri’s paws digging into her shoulder, and the vertigo returned with a vengeance as he shook her back and forth. She shrugged him off of her and crawled to the light to vomit. While unpleasant, she immediately felt better and her vision began to clear. She realized she was sitting at a tent-flap, of sorts, made from a heavy fringed blanket. She let the flap fall and turned to look at the interior. Kyrri was sitting in front of her, his fur clean and soft, his yellow-green eyes fully dilated in the shaded pavilion.

  “Kyrri?” she asked, shaking her head to clear it. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, mincing beside her as she crawled back inside. The contents of the wagon were set up in a surprisingly professional-looking tent, with the rugs and blankets secured to long poles. There were soft blankets nestled in the center, like a bed, and several fluffy pillows.

  “Where are the men?” she asked, lowering her voice.

  “I don’t know that either,” whispered Kyrri, matching her volume. “I woke up here, and you were beside me. I woke you first.” He looked around and his eyes landed on his armor, which was placed in a neat pile in the corner of the room. Gina’s belongings were next to it, including her knife and coin purse, apparently untouched.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” she said, and her skin began to crawl with unease. The buzzing noise in her head grew louder, and she forced it away. “This doesn’t make sense,” she repeated, quieter.

  “I have been brushed,” remarked the Cat with distaste, smoothing his fur down with his paws. “Someone has brushed me.”

  “You do look remarkably fluffy,” murmured Gina absentmindedly. Her brain was working hard to connect the disparate dots into something that resembled a cogent theme. She did a quick body check, rising gingerly to her feet. Everything seemed in order, except the lingering heaviness of the tranquilizer. Too orderly, in fact, as she raised her hands to her head and found it smooth and lavishly braided.

  Kyrri made a disgusted sound and trotted over to his armor. “My armor is clean,” he observed, holding it up for Gina to inspect. “Why would they clean us up and then leave us unattended?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, doing a quick inventory of their things. Everything was in place, nothing was missing. “But I don’t like it. Let’s get ready and be careful.”

  The Cat glanced at their bags, still filled to brimming with the food they’d bought from the merchants, and began to don his armor. He said nothing, except for the occasional growl and hiss as his teased-out fur got in his way. Gina crept to the tent flap, though she figured that if anyone was out there, they’d have certainly heard her get sick earlier. She peeled the blanket covering the opening back and peered out into the light.

  They were in a grassy clearing, surrounded by trees. The now-empty wagon was along the edge of the clearing, and the horned camel-looking creature was tied up to a tree, chewing grass and looking placidly at her. She glanced back at Kyrri. “I don’t see anyone. I’m going to get to the wagon and see if I see them.” He nodded at her and his eyes flickered down to the knife at her waist.

  “It’s a good plan,” he said. “I’ll do it. I’m faster.”

  Gina nodded reluctantly. He was faster, and could stay closer to the ground. She held her breath as he crept out of the tent and toward the wagon, his tail bushy and massive. He turned to look behind him and Gina saw his eyes go wide. He sat on the ground and stared past the tent.

  “I think it’s safe to come out,” he called.

  She stood and walked out of the tent. “Why…” she began, but the question died in her throat as she saw what was behind the tent. Two massive needled trees rose from either side of the pavilion, twisted and wrong-looking, their needles red and brown and drooping. The bark crawled across the tree, alive and twitching, each slowly digesting the cloaked kidnapper that was almost entirely enveloped in the tree. The face of the one she’d wrestled to the ground was still visible in the tree closest to Gina, and it was frozen in a rictus of absolute horror. She watched, unable to turn away, as a finger of bark reached into the man’s mouth and the bottom of his face disappeared behind the crackling black skin of the tree.

  “Gina-Dreamer,” managed Kyrri. She tore her gaze from the awful scene and turned to see him swaying on his feet. “We need to get out of here.”

  “What happened here, Kyrri?” she asked, her voice cracking. “What did this?”

  “No idea,” whispered Kyrri, creeping toward the tent with his ears flattened. Gina walked into the pavilion right behind Kyrri, making him jump. She donned her new cloak and picked up the larger of the two bags, all the while observing everything she could to try to make sense of it. She’d seen the man ready to re-tranq Kyrri, so it was impossible for her to determine how long they’d actually been out, as they could have strung together the tranq doses. It was possible that the men had built this, but why? She couldn’t understand why they would stop here and built a semi-permanent shelter when from their conversations she’d gathered that they were in a rush to offload their bounties in Beersheba. She had hoped that the last thing she’d seen, the man falling to one knee, had indicated that there had been some juice left in the dart. Gina looked up at the poles before exiting the pavilion; they were professionally placed and the rugs and blankets making up the walls and high tented ceiling were painstakingly secured to the poles with winding, even stitches. This was not a rush job. This took time. Hours, maybe days, she guessed. The wrongness of it all twisted inside her, and the buzz re-staked its claim on her thoughts.

  “Which way do we go?” she whispered, as they stepped outside and edged away from the pavilion.

  Kyrri jumped up on the wagon and sniffed the air. “I’m not sure, Dreamer,” he said. “Away from here.” He checked his armor and the bag on his back and leapt back to the ground. As he did, the wind of his jump dislodged a single feather that floated languidly in the air, seemingly uninterested in making its eventual way back down to solid ground. Gina watched the feather dance with an invisible partner and the sense of unease threatened to drown her.

  “Away,” she echoed, backpedaling toward the clearing’s edge, but not taking her eyes off of the feather. “Yes.”

  “Gina-Dreamer!” called Kyrri, and Gina turned slowly away from the scene, ducking into the brush. “The trail is here, and our scent is fresh!”

  Gina emerged from the thick foliage onto the trail. There had only been a few feet of it between the trail and the clearing. She saw the deep markings of the wagon wheels, but they didn’t turn off of the trail - they just stopped. Evidence of her scuffle with the second man was still here, and fresh as well. She shook her head. “How fresh?” she asked, with growing concern.

  Kyrri shrugged. “I would think only a few hours. No more than a day, certainly.”

  Gina furrowed her brow. “No way that thing was put up in a few hours by those two. No way.” She knelt to examine the wagon tread; from all the visual evidence, the wagon should still be sitting where the final tracks lay. “How did they even get the wagon back there? This doesn’t make sense.”

  “Sense or not, we’re free. We should go.” Kyrri hopped from foot to foot, impatient. “Let’s get down the road
a few hours and eat something. I’m starving.”

  “I don’t like not knowing what happened here,” she continued, starting down the trail toward Beersheba. “Not one bit.”

  “But hey, not captives anymore,” replied Kyrri, but she could hear the anxiety underneath his light tone. He didn’t like it either. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  They walked on in the warm afternoon, Gina clutching her cloak to protect her from a cold her body didn’t feel. Though she felt better with every step they took away from the forest clearing, her thoughts remained at the clearing, committing every detail of the scene to memory.

  52

  White gulls circled overhead, occasionally swooping in to closer inspect the vaka and the two men laughing on its deck. From their lofty perspective, the ship was a strange piece of land in the middle of the glassy sea, floating mindlessly over the deep shadows that swam beneath the water’s surface. It was an inviting place to land, except for the constant motion of the scarecrow men on board.

  Morgan and Toma were more animated than usual, having spied the elusive eastern shores on the horizon. Each wore a grin as they sat on the deck and told tales to pass the remaining hours until they reached the city, the nets packed away. Toma’s good humor was inescapably contagious, and Morgan found himself gasping for air between rounds of laughter as the city drew ever closer. Ships dotted the horizon, but Morgan was relieved to see that they weren’t assembled into any sort of shape like at Aphorat. He hoped this meant that Rinar and the lands beyond were untouched by whatever illness had decimated the places they’d passed on the way.

  Their borrowed vaka swept easily into an open dock-space, and Toma threw the tethering ropes to the dockhands watching their approach. The men were as deeply tanned as Morgan had become, with light beards and piercingly blue eyes, so he gathered no strange looks as he hopped off of the vaka. Toma handed over several of the pewter coins to the dockhands and one of them handed him a slip of paper before walking away.

  “Let’s unload,” suggested Toma, sliding open the hold and setting two baskets on the deck. Unloading the hold was difficult, at best, but it was made easier by the ingenious pulley system that pulled the hold net tight against the vaka, raising the fish to them. They carried the heavy baskets across the sprawling docks, weaving through a sea of Nordic-looking people going about their daily tasks. Toma moved with ease through the throngs, and Morgan nearly had to jog to keep up with the giant’s wide strides. He was just about to ask for Toma to slow his pace a bit when he stopped and hefted his basket onto the bar of an especially odorous fishmonger’s stall. Morgan set his beside Toma’s, and stepped out of the way, letting Toma handle the exchange unfettered. Instead, he observed the city, such as it was.

  Rinar wasn’t nearly as lovely as Aphorat had looked - even from a distance, Rinar didn’t shine so much as it smoked. He didn’t know that he would go so far as to call it a “dump,” like Toma had, but it was certainly a more industrial city than anything else. Smokestacks lined the edge of the city, belching thick black clouds of acrid coalsmoke, and everything away from the docks looked like it had been smudged with ash. The people were dressed in simple, midtone linens and wools, simple clothing with few extravagances. Their faces were hard and lined beyond their years from the pollution in the city and exposure to the sun, but they lit up into smiles when talking to one another. Rinar looked like a hard city, but even at a glance it wasn’t entirely without charm.

  “Morgan,” called Toma, and Morgan stepped over to the giant. “Morgan, this is Damien. He says there’s a caravan leaving tomorrow for Kadatheron and eventually Gak, which is pretty close to where we’ll need to end up. He says they’re looking for extra muscle on the road.”

  The stringy man behind the counter, who Morgan surmised was Damien, nodded. His eyes were on the counter, where he was counting an assortment of coins. “Sounds great,” replied Morgan.

  “We’ll pick up provisions after this and meet up with the caravan tonight,” said Toma, nodding his thanks to Damien as he accepted a good-sized pile of coins. “Sea huss, I could kiss you.”

  “I can’t believe you ate any of it,” scoffed Damien. “I’d’a bought all you brought me.”

  “It was delicious,” commented Morgan, and Damien looked at him as though he’d grown a second head before shooing them off.

  “It better be, for the price,” grunted Damien.

  Toma smiled down at his loot as they walked away from the stall. “They’re crazy, paying that kind of money for something you can just go out and get yourself. They’re not THAT hard to catch, just takes a bit of luck.”

  “I don’t suppose we have enough in there to buy me a shirt?” asked Morgan, hopefully. He was thankful for the hospitality on Sick Gull Island, but his shoes were very flimsy and his single pair of pants was looking worse for the wear.

  Toma laughed. “We can buy you a whole wardrobe, if you want!” he shouted, clapping his arm around Morgan’s shoulders and leading them down the rough cobblestone streets toward the market.

  53

  The remainder of the journey to Beersheba was thankfully uninterrupted and an easy walk. Gina and Kyrri entered the city gates before sunfall, having stopped very little and walked very fast. They had no interest in spending another night on that trail.

  The town was quaint and lovely. There were small farms and orchards on the outskirts of town, and just inside the city gates was an open market similar to the ones she’d seen in Ulthar and Calephais. They found an inn and feasted on hot roast and root vegetables smothered in butter. Gina was still on edge from their travels, but the inn felt homey and comfortable, and the hearthfire danced as she sipped her ale. She let her body relax into the padded wooden chair and savored the moment of stillness. Kyrri sat on the warm stones in front of the fire, but his eyes were alert.

  “Dreamer,” he said softly. “There’s a man in the back corner who has been staring at us.”

  Gina took her time, stretching in her chair before glancing surreptitiously in the direction Kyrri had indicated. She saw him glance at her and meet her eyes as she looked and tried to pass it off as naturally as she could, gently returning her attention to her ale and the fire, and waiting for a while before she spoke. He was dressed in dark leather armor, had shoulder-length reddish hair and a scarred, rugged face, and she had certainly noticed the black leather sash crossing his body, lined with small daggers. “Well, I’m sure we’re not a common sight,” she whispered back. “I expect stares.”

  Kyrri lapped at his bowl of ale. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he said. “Cats can get away with staring at people.”

  Gina considered him for a moment over the rim of her mug. He seemed older, harder, and she felt a pang of sadness for the merry kit she’d met in the forest. Regardless of what else had happened on the trail, she was glad that the blood had been entirely washed out of his armor and his fur. She hoped they wouldn’t be adding to it any more this trip.

  “Did you get enough to eat?”

  Kyrri flopped over, warming his side on the stones and cleaned his paw. “I could use some more roast,” he meowed, his eyes landing on the man in the corner with every lick.

  “Done,” said Gina, standing to return to the bar. The coin purse from the wagon was much heavier and fatter than their own, and she ordered Kyrri another massive slab of meat from the curvaceous woman manning the bar. “This enough?” she asked, sliding the plate next to his ale.

  “Ah, heaven,” purred Kyrri as he used his nails to daintily cube the meat.

  “I really want to sleep in a bed tonight, Kyrri,” murmured Gina, glancing at the wide wooden stairs leading to the rooms upstairs. “I think we could stay here. Just one night.”

  “It’s too dangerous, Gina-Dreamer,” replied Kyrri between a mouthful of beef. “We probably should have just continued on instead of stopping in here at all. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “A bed,” she said wistfully. “A real bed. It would be so nice.�
�

  “You just had a bed on the ship,” reminded Kyrri.

  “That was a week ago.”

  “Excuse me, milady,” interjected a smooth, deep voice. Gina’s head whipped around to see the armored man standing a few feet away, his head cocked to the side. Several old, deep scars ran across his face, the largest of which split down his left brow bone and cheek. Considering the depth of the scar, Gina was surprised the man hadn’t lost the eye. “I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation.” His grin was more of a sideways smirk. It reminded her of Morgan’s smile, and his lifeless face flashed in her mind, drawing a shadow across her face.

  “What do you want?” she asked coldly. Kyrri was crouched tensely, his food and ale forgotten. She gestured for him to keep eating; the last thing Gina wanted was a scene.

  “Are you traveling with a Cat of Ulthar?” he asked, nodding at Kyrri. He growled up at the man ferociously.

  “Why do you ask?” she replied evenly.

  “I had call to visit Ulthar once, milady,” said the man, sinking easily into the padded wooden chair next to Gina. She did her best to show no reaction. “I enjoyed the city, and the Cats. The people there were very kind.”

  Gina remained silent, stealing occasional glances at the man. He wasn’t clean shaven, but didn’t have a full beard; several more jagged scars blemished his jawline, breaking up his dark red scruff with pink flesh that would never grow hair again; there was another that ran down his neck and disappeared under his armor. This was clearly a man who had seen battle. Still, he didn’t appear to be an immediate danger, so Gina took a deep breath and waited for the man to continue. She longed for the days of being able to tell a person’s intention with a glance.

  “I am between jobs at the moment. I’d be happy to offer myself as a bodyguard if you have further travels.”