In a world of steamships and Progress, no one who sails due south across the Wild Sea ever returns.
No one knows why.
Dale Mortensen intends to solve the mystery. With the help of an old sailor and a reformed playboy searching for his missing sweetheart, he locates a captain and crew ambitious—not to mention crazy—enough to undertake the journey across the Wild Sea.
The Infinity and her crew sail south, but the truth of what really lies on the other side of the horizon is more amazing—and terrifying—than anything they can imagine.
It’s the adventure of a lifetime—and it may just get Dale and his friends killed.
Find out how this Young Adult steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Click here to start from the beginning. Or if you want to read it at your own pace, buy the ebook for $6.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or get it as a trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HORIZON
E. R. PASKEY
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
HAWK DEPARTED HEADQUARTERS NOT TOO LONG AFTER and returned to…wherever he stayed when he was not on the Platform. Dale realized again he had absolutely no idea what Hawk did with himself on his rare ventures away from the Platform. All he knew was that Hawk was returning to life-as-usual in Rift City—but he would be coming back.
And he will probably find a way to at least get a message to Naya to let her know I’m not dead.
That was the sole thought keeping Dale’s spirits aloft over the course of the next four days. Occasionally someone came in to pump him for any further information he could supply, but for the most part, the Revolutionaries seemed unsure as to what they were supposed to do with him. He spent a great deal of time studying his language book—or at least attempting to study. His head was far too full of Raphael’s Disappearance, Elena, Naya, and the whirlwind of new information he had been unceremoniously dumped into to be able to focus on mundane things like nouns, verbs, and sentence structure.
Being restricted to Headquarters, unable to communicate with the outside world, did what no amount of cramped spaces aboard sail-ships and steamers had ever done—it made him feel claustrophobic. The walls were closing in on him, and Dale was helpless to escape them. He needed to get out of here—he needed to do something. Anything.
Well, not quite anything.
Even he had to admit that in hindsight, his stunt at the pub had not been among his greatest ideas. It was most definitely something Raphael would have done, but Dale suspected it probably would not have worked out any better for his friend. They would have drugged him too.
The forced inactivity almost made Dale wish he had a stiff drink or two to take the edge off.
By the time Hawk reappeared in Headquarters, Dale almost crushed his hand in an eager handshake. “You have no idea,” he said in a low, earnest voice, “how happy I am to see you.”
Hawk snorted. “I have a fair idea.” He looked around at the main room in which they were standing. “Have they let you out at all?”
“No.” Dale managed to keep most of the bitterness he felt from permeating the word—in their defense, the Revolution was attempting to keep him alive. He looked down at Hawk anxiously. “Were you able to get a message to Naya?”
“Aye. After a fashion.” Hawk’s eyes slid left and right before he reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a letter folded into a tiny packet. “Couldn’t deliver it myself—by all accounts you and I aren’t that close and it’d have drawn suspicion—but I paid a boy to take it to her.”
“I’ll pay you back,” said Dale immediately, palming the letter, but Hawk only shook his head.
“We have bigger things to worry about.” He nodded sharply to Dale’s hand. “Don’t open that just yet—I don’t know if you’re supposed to be getting messages from Up Top.”
Dale wondered why, but he curled his fingers protectively around the folded edges of the letter and jerked his head toward a corner. “I usually sit over there.”
“I’ll come find you in a minute. Have a report to make.”
They parted ways; Dale strode to his corner, while Hawk sailed off to see Machell. Lowering himself into an armchair someone had brought in for him that was large enough to comfortably hold his frame, Dale unfolded the letter with hands that shook slightly from anticipation.
It was indeed from Naya; her now-familiar handwriting curled over the page. Dale read through her words once, and then again for good measure, and the tight knot that had taken up residence in his chest loosened its grasp. She was fine, and so was her grandmother, and they were both grateful that someone had let them know that he was all right.
Very late Thursday evening, someone—Dale suspected it was Hawk—had delivered a message to Naya’s house. It was a short, concise note stating that Dale needed to lie low for a few days, and that if Naya and Mrs. Azlynn heard rumors of his Disappearance, they were not to let themselves be troubled. Dale was fine.
His brow creased in a frown at the contents of the last half of her missive, however. Naya wrote that she and her grandmother had received a visit from Corwin Hamper. The Family Scion was looking for Dale and had learned that Naya was on good terms with him.
What, Dale wondered, can he possibly want with me?
Naya further wrote that Corwin Hamper had expressly told her that if she heard from Dale or was able to get a message to him, he, Hamper, needed to speak to him most urgently. It was all very strange, and Naya said as much. She ended with a plea for Dale to take care of himself, and a hope that he would find Raphael—as much for his sake as for Elena’s.
By the time Hawk reappeared, Dale had tucked the letter into his shirt over his heart and sat staring thoughtfully at the wall. Hawk dropped into a neighboring chair. “Anything interesting?”
Dale had already debated letting Hawk actually read the letter and decided against it. Naya’s words were precious to him. “Corwin Hamper paid her a visit.”
That certainly got Hawk’s attention. His eyes widened; he straightened his spine in surprise. “What? Corwin Hamper? The Family Scion?”
One or two heads turned in their direction, but by then Hawk had mastered his startled expression.
Dale nodded somberly. “Naya said he was looking for me.”
Hawk looked flummoxed. “Why?”
“You’re asking me?” Dale smiled wryly. “She didn’t say, because apparently he didn’t say.”
“That can’t be good.” Hawk lowered his voice. “He didn’t say…anything else?”
“Just that he wants to talk to me.”
Stunned, Hawk sat back in his seat.
“Near as I can figure,” said Dale quietly, “it has something to do with Raphael.” It had to—the only other reason he could think of involved the dirigible. Nothing he had heard thus far made him think Corwin was involved with that. Family Scion he might be, but as far as the Revolution could tell, he had no dealings with the Council.
“But why?” demanded Hawk.
Dale shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“Aye, that we are.” Hawk glanced around the room again. “As soon as we figure out how to smuggle you out of here.”
“I can’t just walk out?”
Hawk gave him a look from underneath his dark eyebrows. “Aye, you could, but do you even know where to go?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Dale cracked a smile—his first since learning of Raphael’s Disappearance.
Hawk barked a laugh. “Follow me, then.”
~oOo~
THEY made it as far as the Second Gate—what Hawk called the second-to-last perimeter checkpoint before one emerged from Headquarters to rejoin Rift City—without incident before a heavy hand clamped down on Hawk’s shoulder. He was the obvious target—Dale was simply too tall. “Now just what do you lads think you’re doing?”
The voice was familiar—too familiar. Dale’s heart sank all the way to his toes and kept going. Mouth dry, he pivoted to see Seldon standing beside Hawk. The other man was smiling cheerfully, but his eyes were hard.
“I’m taking Mortensen here Up Top,” said Hawk coolly.
“I can see that.” Seldon let his hand drop back to his side, but the hard look in his eyes remained unchanged. “Who authorized this? Under the distinct impression, I was, that Mr. Mortensen here is to remain safely tucked away from prying eyes.”
Hawk opened his mouth and promptly closed it. He gave Dale an apologetic shrug. What could they say? To their misfortune, they had run into one of the few people they could not bluff their way past.
Frustration surged through Dale’s veins. He clenched his hands into fist and then forced himself to relax. Turning to Seldon, who was still waiting for an answer, he said, “I’ve had a letter from my—from a friend.”
“That so?” Seldon shot a grim look in Hawk’s direction, rightly pinpointing him as the bearer of said letter.
Dale wasted no time; he cut straight to the heart of the matter. “Corwin Hamper wants to talk to me.”
Seldon’s jaw actually dropped and he gaped at Dale. “You’re having me on. Corwin Hamper? Wants to talk to you?”
“It’s no joke.”
Seldon closed his mouth with an audible click, looking a little dazed. He shook his head and snapped out of it. “You’d best come with me, then. You too,” he said to Hawk. “Though old man Theroux will have a few words for you, I shouldn’t wonder.”
Dale exchanged a puzzled look with Hawk, but they both fell in behind Seldon as he took off down the corridor. Dale could have sworn he felt Naya’s letter burning against his heart.
Part of him cursed their luck—of all the people to run into on their way out of Headquarters, it had to be one of the few who knew exactly who Dale was and that he was under no circumstances permitted to leave without authorization. But even in the wake of that irritation, his practical side rose to the forefront. This could work out for the best. Seldon and the others might well let them go if they could be made to understand how vital it was that Dale get out of here and hear what Corwin Hamper had to say for himself.
Seldon led them back to the main conference room and cleared everyone out except for a very select few. Machell and Lethe were two of these. Seldon then sent men to get word to Theroux, and, Dale presumed, Withers, before turning back to fix beady eyes on Dale and Hawk.
“Have a seat, lads.” He waved a nonchalant hand to the chairs around the table, but his voice was as hard as iron.
Dale obstinately remained standing, looking down at Seldon with his arms folded over his chest. Beside him, Hawk shifted uneasily on his feet.
“Have a seat,” repeated Seldon, his voice hardening further. “I’ve sent men to take word to old man Theroux and a few others. We’ll have to give ‘em a few minutes to get here. In the meantime, no need to stand there hulking over everyone like a giant.” This last sounded a little testy; any other day, Dale might have smiled.
He could almost hear Raphael’s smart rejoinder inside his head, Either my friend Dale is a giant, Mr. Seldon, or you are very short.
Dale clenched his teeth. I will find you, my friend. Pulling out a chair from the table, he sat. After a second or two, Hawk joined him.
“What I wouldn’t give for a cuppa right now,” muttered Seldon under his breath, rubbing the wrinkles in his forehead.
“You and your tea, Seldon.” Machell shook his head, before regarding Dale and Hawk with narrowed eyes. “Will someone please tell me what is so urgent that the entire room must be disrupted?”
“Yes,” said Lethe. “I’d like to know that much myself.”
“You’ll get the whole of it soon enough,” said Seldon briskly, “but the long and short of it is that Hamper’s son wants to talk to Mortensen here.”
Dale suppressed a sigh at the ensuing confusion. It remained to be seen why this had caused such a ruckus. Even Hawk had been less than forthcoming on that front.
Half an hour later, Theroux and several other men came striding through the door—along with Mr. Riley. He nodded to Dale, but his face had settled itself into unusually grim lines.
Theroux barely waited for everyone to settle into seats before he tossed his cane aside and sat down. “What’s this about a Family Scion wanting to speak to Mr. Mortensen?”
“Had a letter from his sweetheart, he has.” Seldon folded his arms across his chest. “Seems Corwin Hamper has been round to see her and is asking after Mortensen here.”
Surprised murmurs came from the men who had arrived with Theroux. The man himself looked at Dale. “Show me this letter, if you please, Mr. Mortensen.”
Dale lifted his chin. “I’d rather not, sir. It’s a private letter.” His voice remained even, but his heart began to pump faster in his chest. Theroux’s eyebrows knit together threateningly and he added, “But I can and will read you those parts pertaining to Hamper.”
“Please do,” interjected Machell, shooting a look at Theroux.
Reaching into his breast pocket, Dale withdrew Naya’s letter, unfolded it, and began to read. When he came to the end, he stopped and glanced around.
Deep frowns marred every face, including Hawk’s.
“Could be a trap,” said Seldon offhandedly.
Theroux’s eyes flicked to him. “Do you think so?”
“Maybe.”
Machell drummed his fingers on the table’s slick surface. “From all accounts, Corwin Hamper and his father disagree on his policy of patrolling the shoreline for shipwrecked New Arrivals.” He turned both hands palm up. “They may disagree on more than that.”
“From what I understand,” said another individual, “Hamper has been pursuing this girl—Avarez’s fiancée—since almost the moment she arrived in Rift City. With Avarez having Disappeared, one would think this would clear the way for him. Why would he be attempting to contact Mortensen now?”
“Perhaps he knows something,” said Theroux.
Brief silence fell over the table. Hawk broke it. “If we could convince a Family Scion to join us—wouldn’t that be a good thing for the Revolution?”
“If you could trust him,” said Seldon.
“Aye,” Hawk nodded, “we’d need to be sure of that, but think of what that would mean.”
“The thought has occurred to us as well,” said Theroux.
A thought bloomed in Dale’s mind, unfolding like a flower in the morning sun. Corwin Hamper and his band of do-gooders patrolled the shoreline. Where would the Council hide the dirigible? It’d have to be some place accessible from the air.
Which meant it probably had to be along the shoreline somewhere—somewhere few people had access.
“I’d like to meet him, hear what he has to say.” Dale raised his voice enough to cut across the chatter now filling the room. “He may know something we can use.”
“And he might be trying to draw you out, see what you know about anything and everything,” shot back Seldon.
Dale clenched his fist. “If Raphael is alive, I owe it to him to find him.” He looked around the table with steely eyes. “And if he can help lead us to Peabody and the dirigible…”
“What do you mean?” asked Theroux sharply.
Dale explained his theory and the men dissolved into heated back-and-forths again.
Hawk leaned a little closer to Dale. “You’ve got them,” he said, barely moving his lips.
Dale firmed his jaw. He had figured as much. Now that he understood how badly the Revolution needed the dirigible, he thought he had an inkling as to how to use it to get what he wanted. And I do owe it to Raph. And to Belly.
It was probably too late for him to do anything to help Belly—save perhaps avenge him—but by the grace of God it was not yet too late for Raphael.
At last, Theroux raised a hand for silence. “Hawk, take Mortensen and see what young Hamper wants.”
Dale restrained the urge to pump his fist in the air in victory.
“And for the love of all that is holy,” added Seldon, “stay out of trouble.”
Hawk folded his arms across his chest. “Armory permission?”
Theroux hesitated for a moment, before inclining his head. “You have it.”
“Good.” Hawk nodded to Dale. “Come on.”
Find out how this Young Adult steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Or if you want to keep reading right now, buy the ebook for $6.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or get it as a trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.
Copyright © 2013 E. R. Paskey