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

  “1700 dinieri and change, Dreamer,” murmured Kyrri, who readjusted in the sunbeam and stretched his front paws out towards her. “You slept late. I counted it this morning.”

  “Oh, thanks,” she replied, picking up a handful of coins and pouring them into the smaller bag. “That’s a lot more than I thought.”

  “Weird that whoever killed those men would leave that huge pouch of coins behind,” said Kyrri, his pupils mere slits in the sea of yellow-green. “That’s a fortune. That’s more than double what all of the Cats were able to gather in Ulthar.”

  She finished putting the last of 500 dinieri in the small pouch and set it aside, scooping the rest of the money into the larger bag. “Nothing about that scene made sense,” she grumbled. “Not a damn thing.”

  “Maybe luck is just on our side, Gina-Dreamer!” purred Kyrri, flipping over to sun his back. “First our timely escape and now a mercenary to protect us. And hot food down there for breakfast.” He winked at her.

  “I’m pretty sure I pissed off Lady Luck in a previous life,” chuckled Gina. “But maybe,” she added doubtfully, not wanting to sound hopeless. She dug through her bag and found a comb, and began tearing the tangles out of her hair. It was perfectly coiffed when they woke at the camp, and within 24 hours it was an interwoven nest. She finished one small section and moved to the next, vowing to braid it as tightly as she could once she was finished. That would probably buy her another day or two before she had to unravel it again. She winced as the comb tugged at her scalp.

  “I’m glad I have fur,” remarked Kyrri, watching her battle with her hair. “That looks painful.”

  “I’m about to cut it all off,” she said, and the thought started as a joke, but her eyes darted over to the dagger on her table. She set the comb down and grabbed the hilt of the knife.

  “Really?” said Kyrri, sitting up. “But then you can’t braid it out of your face,” he pointed out.

  She narrowed her eyes at the comb and slid the dagger back home. “Good point,” she sighed, returning to her work. It was nearly an hour later that they were walking down the stairs, ready for departure, and she saw Agni, son of Skula, lounging next to the fire in the same padded wooden chair he’d occupied yesterday. He smiled at them, and Gina couldn’t read the smile. It looked mildly predatory to her, and she set her jaw.

  “500 dinieri,” she said curtly, handing him the pouch.

  The man’s eyebrows shot up and his grin faded. “You’re paying me up front?” he asked. “In full?”

  Gina bit her lip, but didn’t respond. On reflection, she figured she probably should have split it into two, but what was done was done.

  “Haven’t done much of this before, huh?” he asked, sliding the pouch inside his armor. “That’s alright. I’ll get you where you’re going safely.”

  “Gak,” reminded Kyrri, and Gina echoed him.

  “Sure,” he said, raising one eyebrow and winking at her. “Gak.”

  “If you could wait outside, Agni, we’ll be out in a moment,” replied Gina, feeling unsteady. He nodded and strode outside, hoisting a sturdy leather backpack as he did so. She waited until the inn door closed, before turning to Kyrri, who was looking at her questioningly. “Would you be able to tell if he was the same thing as Crowell?” she whispered urgently.

  Kyrri blinked. “Of course,” he replied, cocking his head to the side. “I would be able to see his eyes.”

  “And he’s not?” she asked, still looking at the closed door.

  “No, he’s just an Easterner. They have light eyes, but not yellow ones.” Kyrri placed a paw on her boot. “Are you feeling okay, Gina-Dreamer?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding at him. “I’m alright. It’s just… I don’t feel like I can trust anyone, Kyrri.”

  He looked up at her with his clear yellow-green eyes and his whiskers twitched. “You can trust me, Gina-Dreamer. I won’t fail you.”

  “I meant anyone but you,” she smiled, patting him on the armor. “I know I can trust you.”

  Kyrri rubbed his head against her leg and walked toward the door, Gina stepping in pace behind him. It had occurred to her that Gavin Crowell - or whatever he was - could easily have accomplished that feat in the forest clearing. He’d frozen time once before. Between that and their sudden good mercenary fortune, it felt too good to be true. Gina followed Kyrri into the bright sunlight and shielded her eyes to see the lean blonde man watching them emerge. In her experience, what felt too good to be true usually way, and she vowed to keep a very close eyes on Agni, son of Skula.

  56

  Life in the caravan wasn’t terrible, though Morgan didn’t enjoy it quite as much as he had his time on the vaka. Sleep was a cherished commodity, and the few nights they were lucky enough to pull first or last watch were glorious. His whole body hurt from riding, but he didn’t complain; he knew Toma had it much worse. Still, Toma rose from every sleep with a smile, and never stopped chattering about his excitement to be on the quest, even when the clouds opened and cold rain soaked their every possession. Times like that, it was difficult for Morgan to stay positive, but Toma’s laughter was contagious and his spirits remained high throughout the voyage to Kadatheron.

  The food was nothing to write home about, but it was substantial, and he rarely felt hungry. Mealtimes were how the caravan marked the day - breakfast just before they broke camp, a small lunch in the middle of the day, and dinner an hour after they arrived at their daily destination. The hired men ate last, but there was never a concern that there wouldn’t be enough. The rest of the days were spent in Mati’s saddle, talking and laughing with Toma and occasionally Nikolai. Morgan tensed up whenever another traveler would appear on the horizon, but the trip was uneventful, and there was no trouble when each of them passed.

  It was on the eleventh day that they sighted the towers of Kadatheron, climbing into the sky like giant stalagmites. Nikolai called out “Kadatheron!” and rode down the line, announcing their imminent arrival. Toma and Morgan exchanged glances, and a timer began counting down in Morgan’s mind. The caravan would only be staying in Kadatheron for one day, so they would need to canvass the city to try and find any information on Gina before then. Morgan fully expected that Gina was on her way to her final destination - King - by now, but he would feel better if she had lagged behind and he could meet up with her in the city. Her face floated in his memory, and he felt a pang of anxiety. The night was still vivid in his mind; that awful shape made of living shadows and claws and fangs, and Gina on her knees awaiting its final blow. He’d acted instinctively, his muscles moving before his mind registered their actions, emptying his clip into the massless mound. Then its eyes burned into his brain and he awoke on a cliff, naked and afraid. He didn’t know what had the power to do something like that, but he knew it couldn’t be good - and he had left Gina, Charlie, and Chaz alone with it.

  Stalagmites continued to be the best equivalency Morgan could think of as they drew nearer to the city. The towers looked organic, with uneven windows and balconies, and obviously manmade stairs winding between the levels. They were fascinating, and unlike anything Morgan had ever seen before. He wanted to know everything, how they were built, what the insides looked like, what their function was, and he twisted around impatiently looking down the line to try to sight Nikolai. “Problem?” asked Toma.

  “No, just had some questions about those towers…” replied Morgan. “Do you know anything about them? They look like they were excavated rather than built.”

  Toma shook his head. “Rinar is as far as we sail east,” he explained. “I know some of the maps and Aden read some of the old histories to me, but he never mentioned those things.”

  “Those things? You mean the ruins?” Nikolai rode up and maneuvered his white-and-black spotted mare between their horses. “Those have been there for centuries, ruins of the old city. The new city is beyond them, but isn’t anywhere near as grand as the old one must have been in its day.” He looked up at the towers
wistfully.

  “Ruins of what?” asked Morgan. “They don’t look like they started as normal towers.”

  “I agree with you,” replied Nikolai. “But if you ask the locals, they used to be beautiful stone towers. Whatever destroyed the city did that.” He shrugged. “Lots of local legends, if you keep your ears open.” He tapped at his ear for emphasis.

  “You should write a book,” chuckled Morgan.

  “Yeah?” Nikolai stroked his beard. “Think there’s money in it?”

  Morgan laughed and they passed between the entry towers, if they could be called that. They gave Morgan an uneasy feeling, and he exchanged glances with Toma, who was also unusually subdued. It felt like walking through a graveyard. If Nikolai felt it, he gave no indication.

  “Do you need us once we get in the gates?” asked Morgan.

  Nikolai turned to look at him. “Well, no, but I’ll need to unload before I can get you your payment.”

  “That’s okay, we’ll swing back by for it later,” he replied. “We need to find someone.”

  A mischievous grin swept across the older man’s face. “Oh? A lady?”

  “Yes,” answered Morgan simply.

  “Well, it’s roughly mid-day now,” said Nikolai. “And we’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow. Are you joining us to Gak?”

  “We aren’t sure yet,” answered Toma, and Morgan nodded in agreement.

  Nikolai pursed his lips. “Well, get back to me before tomorrow morning if you want your payment.” He shrugged. “You’re welcome to join if you decide before we leave, but we won’t wait.”

  “Understood,” said Morgan. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me?” laughed Nikolai. “I haven’t done anything for you. Good luck with your lady.”

  As soon as they entered the gate, the caravan was directed to the right for search, and Nikolai swept away to discuss matters with the guards. Morgan and Toma dismounted smoothly, having had plenty of practice over the journey, and led their horses to a row of tiedowns. Morgan patted Mati on the nose and fed him an apple. “Thanks, Mati,” he said. “If I don’t see you again, you were a good horse.”

  “Thanks for only dropping me once, Aleka,” laughed Toma, patting her on the neck. “I hope I don’t see you again for a while though. My ass will thank me.”

  “Okay, Toma, we need to canvass and find any information we can on Gina. Do you remember everything I told you?”

  “Gina Harwood, about this tall,” Toma placed his hand at his chest and continued smoothly. “Red hair. Freckles. Green eyes. Mouthy, probably made an impression. Slim. Traveled on a ship. Might have talked about Calephais or Hlanith or the King.”

  Morgan nodded. “That’s about it, yeah.”

  “Let’s meet back here in a few hours,” suggested Toma, and Morgan agreed. They had too little time and too much city to cover to try tackling it together.

  Morgan walked back to the main street and asked a passing woman where the docks were. She pulled back her hood and fluttered her eyelashes at him, pointing down the path and to the left. He thanked her and jogged down the road.

  The streets were dusty, but not dirty, and the air was much cleaner here than it was in Rinar. Morgan understood why people would be interested in relocating. Kadatheron wasn’t much to look at, but it wasn’t an eyesore, and the ocean glittered just beyond its white sand edges. He glanced back at the towers, looming imposingly above the city, and shivered. He wouldn’t want to live here, but he could see why a Rinarian might.

  He slowed his pace as he neared the docks, and looked out over the bustling dockside market. There were a lot of people here - surely someone must have noticed a redhead who didn’t belong. Morgan walked up to an old man sitting on a barrel and puffing acrid smoke out of a long handled pipe. “Excuse me,” he said. “Do you know if any ships have arrived here from Calephais recently?”

  The old man puffed at his pipe and rolled one rheumy eye to rest on Morgan, who stepped a few paces back. “Aye, a few,” he said, puffing rhythmically as he spoke. “What ship ye be looking for?”

  Morgan blinked in surprise at the man’s cloying accent. “Uh, I’m not sure. I’m looking for a woman, red hair, green eyes, name is Gina Harwood? She should have been traveling here by ship.”

  “Hmmm,” the old man tugged at his comically long eyebrow. “No redheads that I remember, and I’d remember,” he said with a nudge and a wink. “Was she traveling with a Cat?”

  “A cat? Maybe.” Morgan thought back to Pan's bizarre introduction of his partner, and heard his slimy voice in his head: Friend of the Cats of…something or other, he couldn't quite remember the end.

  “No, not a cat. A Cat.” The old man puffed at his pipe and rolled his clouded eyes. “Never mind. Anyway, the Blackbird’s captain was going on about some redheaded woman traveling with a Cat when his brother got knifed.” He shook his head and tapped out the bowl of his pipe. “Bad business, that.”

  “The Blackbird? Is that a ship? Is it still here?” asked Morgan, looking around at the ships docked.

  “Slow down there, kid. I don’t move that fast.” The old man unscrewed a jar and began picking apart a small clump of tobacco. “Yes, the Blackbird is a ship. Yes, it’s docked in three.” He packed the bowl down with his thumb and lit it with a match. “Captain’s name is Gage.”

  “Thanks,” said Morgan, who rushed up the ramp and jogged over to the third ship, which would have dwarfed their vaka. He walked halfway up the plank and shouted a hello. A dark bearded man ducked out of a door and glowered at Morgan.

  “We’re not hiring!” he yelled, his voice hoarse and unwelcoming.

  “I’m not looking for a job,” Morgan called back. “I need to talk to you!”

  The man cursed visibly under his breath, buttoning his jacket as he descended the stairs and crossed the deck. “Yeah?” gruffed the man. His clothes hung from him, looking as though they belonged to a much larger man. The man himself was gaunt, his black beard scraggly and his irises so dark a brown as to be black. He looked fearsome and irritated at the interruption.

  “Hi,” started Morgan. “Are you Captain Gage? Of the Blackbird?”

  The man stormed down the plank, and Morgan jumped back to the dock to avoid being shoved aside by him. “Who wants to know?”

  “My name is Morgan,” he said, shaken. Even gaunt, the man was a giant. He was easily as large as Toma, though Morgan wasn’t sure Toma had it in him to look quite so fierce. “I’m looking for my partner, Gina. About this tall, red hair…”

  “I know her,” interjected Gage, and he drooped, looking ten years older than he had a moment prior. “I know her. But I can’t help you, sorry.”

  “You know her?” asked Morgan excitedly, circling the man to remain face to face with him. “You saw her? How long ago? Where? Which direction was she headed?”

  Gage’s fist hit his jaw before Morgan could register a movement, slamming him backward and to his knees. He looked up to see a blurry figure advancing on him and shook his head to clear his vision; a howl of anger ripped through the air and he saw Toma launch his considerable girth into the air and at the captain, sending them both toppling backwards onto the dock. Morgan held his head and struggled to his feet. “Toma!” he yelled, seeing the giant straddled across the captain’s chest and pummelling his face. “Toma, stop! He’s seen Gina!”

  Toma stopped and looked down at the man, confused, before standing and stepping away. Captain Gage sat but made no attempt to stand, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the deck. “My brother is dead,” he said miserably, holding his head in his hands. “My brother is dead.”

  Toma looked stricken and turned away.

  “I heard that. I'm sorry. What happened?” asked Morgan, keeping his distance from the captain and leaning against a large barrel.

  “The Cat was sick. Hammer snuck them off the ship and to a maestra in the city. They found him dead along with two cultists.” He recited the facts clinically, as though reading from a file. �
�In Calephais,” he added.

  “Did they find Gina?” asked Morgan, sitting on the deck a distance from the captain. His head still spun from the punch.

  The captain shook his head. “No, nor the Cat. They must have fled the city, or gotten themselves captured.”

  “Who killed your brother?”

  “Cloaked men. Probably cultists. Brotherhood, maybe. I wasn’t able to find out any more. The maestra disappeared, and after a few days of trying to find them…” he shrugged. “Nothing I do is going to bring him back. I took his body to sea and buried it, then came here.”

  “Why here?” asked Morgan.

  “I knew she was trying to get here. I hoped she would have some answers about why Hammer died.” He lay back against the docks and stared at the sky, ignoring the whispers and pointing of the passing dockworkers. “It doesn’t matter. No one’s seen her or the animal. They’re probably dead too.” He sighed heavily. “Hammer was the best part of me, you know. My little brother. He saw the good in people. I never had that gift.”

  “I’m sorry that happened,” said Morgan.

  “Me too,” added Toma in a tiny voice. “I’m sorry for hitting you so hard.”

  “She was trying to find you,” groaned Gage. “Why are you so important? Are you worth my brother’s life?”

  “No,” admitted Morgan.

  The captain sobbed openly on the deck, his body wracked and writhing. Toma offered Morgan an arm and helped him to his feet. “I don’t think he’ll be much more help,” murmured Toma with sad eyes.

  “No,” repeated Morgan, and they walked off the docks and back up the road. “Toma, you said you’ve seen the maps. Can you get to this King from Calephais, or would she have to come this way?”