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 $7.99 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 TWO
UNCLE LIEV WAS NOT ONE FOR IDLE chatter. He and Dale spent most of the next two days in relative silence. That was fine with Dale; he was still grieving. The gentle rolling hills along the coast of the Wild Sea had long since given way to rockier terrain, constantly reminding him he was traveling farther and farther from home. He had plenty of interesting things to look at along the way; things he had only heard stories about. He could not quite muster the enthusiasm to care about them the way he might have a week earlier, but they did occupy his attention.
They stopped in a small town at the end of the first day, and Uncle Liev purchased Dale a change of clothes closer to his size. He pronounced Dale’s shoes in sufficient shape survive the rest of the journey, much to Dale’s relief. He felt awkward enough in his stiff new clothes without having to worry about breaking in new shoes as well.
“Here we are,” said Uncle Liev, as they topped a ridge toward the end of the second day. “Falconcrest.”
With a flicker of interest, Dale leaned forward to get a better look. Falconcrest was nothing like his hometown. Instead of a bustling port on the clear blue water of the Wild Sea, it was a sprawling farming community nestled in a valley between two white-capped mountains. Despite his firm conviction that he would not like anything about Falconcrest, Dale found himself awed by those majestic mountains.
“They’re like giant waves of rock,” he said quietly.
Uncle Liev let out a low, surprised chuckle. “I suppose you could say that.”
They drove down the mountainside and he began pointing out various things of interest along the way. “Mr. Gershyn’s peach orchard—you’ll stay out of that if you know what’s good for you, lad.”
Dale absorbed all of this information in silence. Trepidation filled him, but he squared his shoulders in his seat. This is an adventure, he told himself firmly. Like the stories Dad used to tell. ‘Cept it’s on land instead of the Wild Sea.
He clung to that thought as his uncle’s automobile chugged its way over paved roads and dirt roads alike, carrying its two occupants ever closer to their destination. Dale thought about his Aunt Helena and the five cousins he had never met before and felt his heart start to pound again. What if they don’t like me?
He risked a sideways glance at his uncle’s profile. He was an orphan now, and storybooks abounded with tales of cruel relatives who abused their orphan charges. He gulped. Surely that was not his fate.
The color draining slightly from his small face, Dale nevertheless summoned his courage. “Uncle Liev,” he began in a scratchy voice, “I’m an orphan, aren’t I?”
“I’m afraid you are, Dale,” said his uncle somberly.
Dale took a breath. “I’m sorry you have to take me in.”
Uncle Liev gave him a sharp look. “What are you saying, lad? It’s hardly your fault. If anything,” he muttered under his breath, “it’s your father’s for living someplace any wave could sweep him away.”
“The waves were never that big before.”
Uncle Liev brushed that aside, sparing him another glance. “What’s brought this on?”
Dropping his eyes to his cast, Dale picked at it with a fingernail. “Things don’t go well for orphans.”
“Who told you that?” demanded his uncle.
“All the stories say so.”
“Stories?” Uncle Liev’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, before he visibly forced himself to relax. “Of course. Your parents were fond of stories, weren’t they? I never did understand how your mother could spend so much time reading.” He shook his head. “Put it out of your head, lad. You’ve nothing to fear.”
It was clear he did not wish to discuss it further.
The mention of his parents sent sharp pangs stabbing through Dale’s heart again. A sob rose in his throat; he manfully choked it down. Once again, it hit him that he would never spend another evening listening to his father read in his rich, lilting tones, or hear his mother’s soft, smooth voice. He did not even have the books they had loved so dearly.
“Do you have any books?” he asked when he could speak again.
Uncle Liev made a sound in the back of his throat. “A few. I reckon you’ll not have much time for them though.”
That sounded vaguely ominous, Dale thought, but he let it drop. He would just have to visit Falconcrest’s bookshop when he had a chance. His forehead creased in a frown. Surely they have a bookshop.
“Here we are,” said Uncle Liev presently. “This is the start of my property line.” He swept a hand toward a field standing tall with green corn. They puttered down a curved dirt road sweeping around one side of a fruit orchard. Dale stared at the fruit trees as they drove past. Most of them were laden with young fruit.
Sensing his interest, Uncle Liev said proudly, “We have mostly apples, but we’ve got a few pears, plums, and cherries too. Your Aunt Helena makes a mean cherry pie.”
At the mention of food, Dale’s stomach growled. He placed his good hand on it. I hope we have supper soon.
A cluster of red buildings came into view—two barns, a chicken coop, and several other little buildings. They stood downwind from a white farmhouse with a gray roof. An empty clothesline stretched out beside the house. Beyond it, Dale saw cows grazing in a fenced-up field.
As Uncle Liev passed the house and headed for the barn, a horde of barefoot children spilled out of the house. They pelted after the automobile, shouting, “Pa! Pa!”
Dale felt the stirrings of anxiety again, but he recalled a lesson his mother had taught him about meeting new people. “Be polite and shake their hands,” she had instructed him. “You want to put your best foot forward when you meet someone new.” Clumsily, he opened the passenger door and climbed out of the automobile.
His uncle had already stepped out and swept the littlest boy up in his arms. “Look at you! I swear you’ve grown since I left.”
The children swarmed around their father and then all fell silent at once as they noticed Dale. He felt himself growing hot under the collar with five sets of curious eyes on him.
The only girl in the lot, two years younger than Dale and as tall as her older brother, flipped a pig tail over her shoulder and reached over to tug on her father’s waistcoat. She wore a green calico dress with a white pinafore. “Pa, is this our cousin?”
“Yes, darling. This is your cousin Dale.”
Dale stepped forward and awkwardly extended his left hand. “How do you do?”
His cousin’s eyes flicked from his hand to the cast on his right arm and back, before she met his gaze. “I’m Gloria. How do you do?” She took his hand and dropped a little curtsey.
“I’m Wayne,” said the older boy, cutting in front of his sister. He, like his brothers, wore a blue cotton shirt, suspenders, and trousers with the legs rolled up to his knees. “What happened to your arm? And your face?”
The scrape on Dale’s cheek was still healing. “I, er, smashed into a tree.”
“Oh.” The look on Wayne’s face sharpened. “Is that how your parents died? Hitting a tree, I mean?”
The other children looked at him with wide-eyed interest.
“Wayne,” said his father sharply.
Wayne flushed and scuffed a bare toe in the dirt. “Sorry.”
“The Wild Sea ate them,” said Dale stiffly, after a moment.
His words elicited a collective gasp from his cousins.
“Dale.” Uncle Liev directed a stern look at him, too. “I don’t think you’d best talk about that now.” He introduced the rest of his children and then said, “Come along and meet your Aunt Helena.”
Aunt Helena was a tall, buxom woman with dark, wavy hair tied up in a bun. She looked very much like an older version of her daughter. When they trooped into the house, she took one look at Dale and wrapped her arms around his stiff little figure.
“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Dale closed his eyes, unwilling for the tears that suddenly burned his eyes to escape. Aunt Helena did not smell like his mother—her perfume was different and there was no sea brine mixed in with it—but she exuded the same sort of comforting calm. She ruffled his hair before letting him go enough to get a better look at him. She touched cool fingertips to the side of his face and then examined his cast. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Dale shook his head.
“You’re s’posed to say, ‘No, ma’am’,” Gloria scolded him.
Aunt Helena silenced her with a look. “I’m your Aunt Helena,” she said to Dale, meeting his gaze. “I know I’ll never replace your mother, but I would very much like for you to think of me as your second mother.”
Dale nodded again. He could not have spoken if his life depended on it; a lump the size of his father’s boat was lodged in his throat just then.
“All right then.” Aunt Helena straightened and dropped her hands from his shoulders. “Liev, we were just sitting down to supper. Have you eaten yet?”
“No.” Uncle Liev offered her a tired smile.
“Very well, then. Gloria, please show Dale to the washroom. The rest of you, wash up after he’s finished.”
~oOo~
SUPPER was a noisy affair. His cousins chattered back and forth while his aunt and uncle exchanged quiet bits of conversation. Aunt Helena had asked about the damage to Port Ruby, but Uncle Liev put her off with a shake of his head and a meaningful glance in Dale’s direction.
Dale did not notice; he was having enough trouble managing his fork with his left hand. As soon as they said grace, Gloria asked him if he wanted any help. Before he could do much more than gape at her, she had briskly whisked his plate out from under his nose and began cutting his meat into tiny pieces.
Wayne caught his eye. “She does that,” he confided in a low voice.
Dale only nodded in reply.
When Gloria passed his plate back to him, he cleared his throat and said, “Thank you.”
She smiled at him and picked up her fork.
After supper, Aunt Helena and the children escorted Dale up to see his room. He would be sharing with Wayne and Davy. Theyoungest two boys shared the smaller room. Gloria, being the only girl, had her own room.
That night, Dale lay awake in his trundle bed, listening to the quiet sounds of his cousin breathing. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was home and listening to his little sister breathe. Almost. The air was too different; it should have been tinged with salt.
Dale clenched his good hand into a fist at his side. Things will never be the same. A fresh spasm of grief overtook him; he turned his face into his pillow to hide hot tears.
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
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