Novel Thursday: The Other Side of the Horizon 1

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! Or if you want to read it at your own pace, buy the ebook for $7.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or in trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HORIZON

E. R. PASKEY

CHAPTER ONE

THE HOSPITAL WAS CROWDED AND NOISY. SOBS and moans from the injured combined with the wails of families mourning lost loved ones to create a din loud enough to make a deaf man’s head hurt. The survivors of Port Ruby were packed into the hospital like tinned fish.

Eight year-old Dale Mortensen huddled on a blanket on the far side of the room, nursing a broken arm in a cast. He sported a large scrape on one cheek— where his face had slammed into the trunk of the tree he’d been clinging to for dear life—and his brown hair flopped limply into his hazel eyes. He had not spoken a word to anyone in five days. Not even ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, which would surely have disappointed his mother.

Had she been alive to be disappointed, that is.

Overworked nurses tiptoed around the subject whenever they tried to talk to him, or rather, talked over him, but Dale was not stupid. He knew his mother and father and little sister were all dead. Of course they were.

After all, the tsunami had eaten them.

Dale clenched his good hand into a fist, barely feeling his short nails bite into his palm. He had never seen a tsunami before, had never dreamed that his beloved sea could turn into a deadly mass of angry brown water rushing onto shore. He remembered that day—the worst in his short life—in flashes. Little bits of memories, disjointed moments in time. He remembered the terror on his mother’s pretty face, the fear behind his father’s hazel eyes. His baby sister’s mouth had opened in a scream, but the roar of dirty water swallowed every sound. His palms still itched at the remembrance of rough bark on his skin.

He survived because his father had the sense to flee their home along the docks when the ocean retreated, laying bare an expanse of dark sand littered with shells, debris, and dying fish. Their family made it to higher ground before the ocean attempted to swallow up the coast, but it was not nearly high enough. His father had hoisted him up into a tree, but there had not been enough time for the rest of them to climb to safety.

In Dale’s nightmares, he reached for his little sister and the mud-colored water carried them both away. The backs of his eyes burned; he swallowed thickly and willed himself not to cry.

To distract himself, he looked over at the two old fishermen occupying two blankets squeezed in between him and the wall. One had bandages wrapped around his head and his torso; the other sported a broken leg. They were always arguing about something; today was no exception.

“I’m telling ya, it came due north,” insisted the man with the broken leg, in hushed, angry tones.

“O’ course it did, Cyrus,” his friend with the bandages replied dully. “North is the only way it could have come.”

“It’s the Wild Sea, come to claim more souls.”

A chill ran down Dale’s spine.

“For Pete’s sake, Cyrus!” exploded the other man. “Listen to yourself! You’ll be lucky if somebody doesn’t shut you up in the asylum before this is over!”

“Don’t think it’s still standing.”

Bandages ground his teeth together and rolled over to face away the wall.

Thus deprived of his arguing companion, Cyrus turned over-bright eyes on the closest person to him…which happened to be Dale. “You’ve heard of the Legend, ain’t ya, boy?”

Dale nodded slowly. A lump formed in the back of his throat. His father had spun wondrous stories about the Legend of the Wild Sea—stories as amazing as they were terrifying.

“Well?” demanded Cyrus, apparently expecting more.

“Leave the boy alone,” growled Bandages, without moving.

“No one who sails due south on the Wild Sea ever comes back.” Dale’s voice, scratchy from disuse, sounded foreign to his own ears.

“Exactly.” Cyrus thumped his cot with the flat of one hand, which he regretted when it jolted his leg. He grimaced fiercely behind his bushy gray beard.

Dale was still too numb to feel the flicker of mingled fear and excitement he usually experienced when someone spoke of the Legend of the Wild Sea. He was saved from the old fisherman’s further ramblings by the approach of a harried nurse with dark, slanted eyes and fall of straight black hair tied back with a cord. Despite the general chaos surrounding them, Calli had been kind to him over the last few days.

“Dale?” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and peered down into his face. “Your uncle is here for you.”

Dale remained glued to his cot, but he stared at her with wide hazel eyes. My uncle? His heart began to hammer in his chest.

Calli sighed at his obvious distress. Kneeling down in the tiny walkway between the end of his cot and the cot across from him, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Dale, your uncle is here to take you home with him. You’re going to live with his family now.”

Dale shook his head, his mouth set in a stubborn line. He knew he had family outside of his parents, but he had never met them.

“Dale…” Calli gave him a mildly reproving look. “You can’t stay here.” She motioned to the crowded room with one hand. “Your arm is healing and now it’s time for you to go. There are other children who need this cot.”

“I want my mother,” said Dale, in a very small voice.

Calli’s eyes widened—she had never heard him speak before—and her arm tightened around him. “Everything will be just fine, Dale. Your uncle will take good care of you, I’m sure.”

Taking Dale’s good hand, she helped him off the cot. He came grudgingly; the thought of meeting this never-before-seen uncle made him slightly sick to his stomach. I don’t even know where he lives. His parents had not talked much of their families.

Calli led him through crowded halls filled with makeshift pallets into an equally crowded lobby, where a short man with blond hair and ruddy cheeks stood clasping a brown hat in his hands. He looked supremely uncomfortable. For a moment, Dale wanted to hide behind Calli’s skirts, though he knew he was much too old for such childish behavior.

“Mr. Salander?” Calli tugged Dale forward. “Here is your nephew, Dale Mortensen.”

A look of grief passed over the man’s face. “You look just like your father,” he said gruffly.

Dale thought he sounded less than pleased about this. He stared at his uncle, realizing with a little jolt that he was nearly tall enough to reach the man’s shoulder.

“I’m your mother’s brother,” continued his uncle, reaching out a hand to shake Dale’s. “You can call me Uncle Liev.”

Dale nodded slowly.

“Yes, sir,” prompted Uncle Liev, which earned him a stern look from Calli.

“Mr. Salander, up until five minutes ago, this boy has not said a word. Be gentle with him.”

A strange combination of expressions passed over Uncle Liev’s face before he settled on a curt nod. “Thank you, Nurse.” Looking down at Dale, his brows furrowed. “Do you, ah, have anything to bring with you?”

Dale solemnly shook his head. His clothes, toys, books, and everything else his family owned had been swept away with their little house.

“I see.” Uncle Liev scratched the back of his head. “That’s all right. Your Aunt Helena packed a few things for you, but…” he eyed Dale, “I suspect you’re too big for any of them. We’ll have to stop someplace.” He placed a hand on Dale’s good shoulder. “Come with me, lad. We’ve a bit of a journey ahead of us.”

He guided Dale out of the hospital and into the street. Port Ruby was a large city built on a swelling hill, and the northern side had not experienced quite as much damage. The back of Dale’s throat ached as he looked down toward the Wild Sea and took in the wreckage still clinging to the coast, buried in mud and slime and other assorted debris. Part of him had hoped his father’s boat had survived, but he saw now that the chances of that were nigh impossible.

“Here you go, lad.”

His uncle stood beside an old steam-powered automobile parked along the street. He settled Dale in the front passenger seat without a word and hurried around to the other side. As he slid behind the wheel, he motioned to Dale’s arm. “The nurse said you’ll be wearing that for a few weeks more.”

Dale’s eyes slid to his cast and stayed there.

Uncle Liev started the automobile and backed carefully out into the street. They drove in silence for a little while, until he finally cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about your parents and your sister, Dale. Your father and I never quite saw eye to eye on some things, but he was a good man and he loved your mother.” His voice thickened; he had to clear his throat again.

His words helped, but only a little. Dale leaned his head against the side of the door and stared out the window. Houses and shops passed by in a blur of multicolored brick and stone. Part of him wondered where they were going; the rest of him was too tired to care. After the constant noise of the hospital, the automobile’s quiet chugging was a welcome relief.

“You’re coming home to live with me and my family,” continued Uncle Liev quietly. “Your Aunt Helena and I have five children. My eldest boy is just a year younger than you.” He rattled off a list of names that washed over Dale without leaving much of an impression. “I think you’ll like it in Falconcrest, Dale. We have a large farm, plenty of room for a young lad like yourself to run about.”

Those words alone penetrated the haze surrounding Dale—and sent an icy wave of shock coursing through him. “Farm?” he croaked.

“Yes.” Uncle Liev perked up a little at this, pleased Dale had finally spoken. “Over two hundred acres,” he said proudly. “Fields, trees, a little orchard, animals…your aunt and I have a bit of everything.”

Dale’s fingers tightened on the edge of his seat and his hazel eyes widened in panic. He knew about farms. They provided most of the food sold in Port Ruby’s markets, but his father had always said they were far from the sea. That could not be a good thing.

He struggled to put his thoughts into words. “We’re not—I mean, you don’t have a boat? I won’t be helping you sail? I won’t see the Wild Sea again?” His voice rose on the last sentence, full of worry and fear.

Uncle Liev took his eyes off the road long enough to look over at him. His brown eyes were serious. “No, lad. I don’t expect you’ll be seeing the sea any time soon. I don’t have a sailboat, y’see. We make our living from the land.” His face softened a little. “It’s not as bad as you think. There’s a lake not too far from us, and we’ve got a creek full of fish.” He paused. “And maybe, when you’re older, you can come back here to visit.”

None of it helped. Feeling sick, Dale wrapped his good arm around his middle and shut his eyes. Not for the first time in the last few days, he wished fiercely that he could have his parents and his baby sister back. He wanted their house back, and his father’s boat.

The last thing he wanted was to go to a farm where he would never see the Wild Sea again.

Next Chapter

Find out how this YA steampunk adventure unfolds chapter-by-chapter every Thursday! Or if you want to keep reading right now, buy the ebook for $7.99 from Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords or Sony, or in trade paperback from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Book Depository.

 Copyright © 2013 E. R. Paskey