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
DALE RETURNED TO THE PLATFORM TWO DAYS later to discover Minh was there, having been instated as the new night cook. If Minh was uneasy about being on the Platform in such close proximity to the creatures responsible for the deaths of his friends and shipmates, he hid it well. Two weeks later, Yutha joined Minh as his assistant, though Dale saw little of them.
Life settled into a familiar—if not quite comfortable—routine. Dale spent his days working on the Platform, pumping gallons and gallons of glitter-oil out of the ocean floor and piping it to the Rift City mainland. In his spare moments, he studied his language book or spent time talking to Belly, Hawk, and the small handful of men with whom he had become friends of sorts.
On his off days, he always spent a few moments talking to Charles about books before leaving the Mining District for the rest of the city. Charles having gotten over his initial impression of Dale as a thickheaded lummox, they now traded books and book recommendations back and forth with great interest. Sometimes Belly would join them, but most often he stumped off with a hearty wave and disappeared for a few days.
Dale was never quite sure where Belly went during that time, but the old sailor always returned with a few interesting items—and, more importantly, new information about Rift City and its inhabitants. Particularly the Family Scion courting Elena.
Though Belly would likely deny it to his dying day, Dale knew Raphael’s determination to find Elena in the face of all the unknown dangers associated with the Wild Sea touched a soft spot buried deep inside him. That Elena and Raphael had both survived their separate encounters with the Wild Sea left the old sailor all the more convinced they were meant to be together. He had therefore set about systematically uncovering any and all information about Raphael’s rival.
The results were…not encouraging. Corwin Hamper was a well-liked and well-respected member of Rift City society, and he belonged to a group of adventurous young souls who had permission to patrol the coastline during storms in search of New Arrivals washed up on shore. He was, Belly assured Dale, considered a most advantageous prospect for a husband.
Elena, on the other hand, had been welcomed into Rift City society as an anomaly. Female survivors were rare; especially young, single survivors who emerged from the Wild Sea without any missing limbs or hideous disfigurements. She had immediately been offered a job by a well-known seamstress to help them reproduce—and sell—the latest fashions from the Other Side.
Her father, however, had not escaped the journey through the Rift unscathed. He had lost his right leg and a chunk of his left bicep to Streamers.
“Gave him a leg like mine an’ a job as a Lift operator in a nicer part of the city,” reported Belly.
As long as he lived, Dale did not think he would ever forget the look on Naya’s face when he walked into the classroom for his third language class. She had happened to glance up at that moment and catch sight of him, and the way her face brightened for a second before she shuttered her expression and looked away put a warm rush in the center of his chest. Naya, at least, had noticed his absence from the class.
He took a seat two chairs over from her and tried to focus on the lesson, though his eyes occasionally strayed to her dark, frizzy head bent over her book. Once, he caught her looking at him; her dark cheeks flushed and she pointedly looked down at her book again.
When the class came to an end, Dale debated saying something to her, but he had no idea what that might be. You could tell her about Raphael and Elena, he thought, but the words stuck in his throat. He could only pack his books and papers away in mute agony while his classmates streamed out of the room and down the hall.
He reached the door, and someone coughed.
Startled, Dale looked around to find Naya standing just outside the door, clutching her book to her chest and regarding him with furrowed eyebrows. He nodded to her and forced words out of his dry mouth. “Evening, Miss Azlynn. Did you—did you enjoy the class?”
She nodded once and blurted out, “I thought you weren’t coming back to class.” Her curly black hair was tied with a red band today; one that matched the stripes in her brown dress.
“I work on the Platform. I couldn’t attend class last week, but I studied.”
He did not need to say more; the blood drained from her cheeks. “The Platform?” she squeaked.
“It’s really not as bad as everyone makes it out to be,” Dale assured her, with a kind smile.
The look on her face clearly said she did not believe him for a second. “Well, that’s nice. Good evening, Mr. Mortensen.” She sailed off down the hall with a regal nod, leaving him staring after her in bemusement.
When he arrived at the University for Thursday’s class, Dale carried a letter for Elena in his pocket. He had smuggled pen and paper in to Raphael, and promised to deliver the resulting letter to Elena as soon as he had the chance.
That had required departing Hodges’s classroom as soon as the lecture ended in order to find her, which resulted in him missing a conversation with Naya. It was unfortunate; he had been looking forward to exchanging a few words with her.
Getting the letter into Elena’s hands proved more difficult than finding her. As usual, Mariska had accompanied her to the University. Dale did, however, succeed in catching the redhead’s eye. She looked torn, but shook her head to decline a conversation.
Dale discreetly drew her attention to the letter he held and watched her eyes widen.
Elena cast a meaningful glance at her companion and he suddenly understood. She doesn’t want her friend to know.
He supposed that made sense, given that Elena was being courted by a Family Scion. Moving through the press of people exiting the University lobby, he worked his way over to her and slipped her the letter under the guise of brushing past them.
Dale did not look back behind him as he walked away; there was no need. He had felt the way her fingers closed over the folded paper. Raph said she’d at least be curious.
He had been right.
~oOo~
DALE found himself counting down the days to his next language class. He found the Platform interesting—though his work was quickly becoming routine and therefore dull—but he wanted to go back to learning…and if he was honest with himself, he wanted a chance to see Naya. It was with a light heart that he traversed the University halls and settled into his usual seat in Hodges’s classroom. He was early this time; only a third of his classmates had yet arrived. Naya was nowhere in sight.
When she sailed into the room, he greeted her with a shy smile and a nod. “Evening, Miss Azlynn.”
She nodded back to him and tucked her skirts around her as she took a seat across the aisle. “Mr. Mortensen.”
Dale made a few inquiries about her day and she relayed a few anecdotes of funny things that had happened over the course of the week—as well as tales of a few things that were only funny in hindsight. She asked him a few things about the Platform, though she still seemed uneasy with his being in the Wild Sea.
At the end of class, as they joined the line to exit the room, Dale took in the rapidly emptying halls around them and found he did in fact know what to say this time. “May I walk you home, Miss Azlynn?”
Naya opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I, ah, well…” Her eyes drifted off to his right and her expression firmed. Lifting her chin imperiously, she shook her head once. “No, thank you. Good evening, Mr. Mortensen.” With that, she whirled around and swished off down the hall.
At a complete loss for words, Dale could only gape after her. He turned to see what could have possibly elicited such a reaction from Naya—
—and found Elena Mountebank standing beside him.
“Mr. Mortensen,” she said quickly, “walk with me. Please.” Her green eyes were pleading; her usual companion nowhere in sight.
Dale blinked at her, but complied.
As they walked down the hall, she asked in a low voice. “How is Raphael? I read his letter, but he didn’t say when he would be released.”
“You would know if you’d visit him, Miss Elena.”
She bit her lip. “I can’t.”
Incredulous, Dale looked down at her.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Mortensen,” said Elena in a rush. “He crossed the Wild Sea to find me, and all that. But before that, he wounded me grievously. His letter was lovely, of course—they always are—but now—” Her gloved fingers clenched and unclenched on the strap of her book bag.
“Now you have the Scion,” said Dale gravely.
“I beg your pardon?” Elena looked startled, but then her expression cleared. “Ah, you mean Corwin.” When Dale just looked at her, she sighed. “Things are…complicated. He saved me, you know.” She glanced up at Dale. “After the storm and the rocks and those—those creatures.”
Dale had not known that. And if I don’t know, it means Raph doesn’t know either. “Do you love him?”
Elena’s shoulders stiffened. “That,” she said coolly, “is an impertinent question.”
“What do you want from me, Miss Elena?”
The affronted look faded from her porcelain features. “I wondered if I might impose on you to deliver a letter to him for me. Please,” she added softly, correctly interpreting the reluctance in his face. “You must believe me when I say I cannot go to the Hospital. Nor can I mail it to him.”
It was the earnestness in her eyes that decided Dale. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “Give it here and I’ll make sure it gets to Raphael.”
“Thank you,” breathed Elena, slipping a sealed letter into his hand. “Take care, Mr. Mortensen.” Giving him a stiff little curtsy, she hurried away.
Shaking his head at his own sentimentality, Dale stowed the letter inside his shirt, next to his heart. Glorified letter-bearer, I am. For Raphael’s sake, he hoped Elena had written him good news.
~oOo~
IF Raphael’s face was anything to go by, Dale decided the next morning, Elena’s letter was a mixed bag. His friend’s expression had run the gamut between elation, shock, confusion, and frustration, before settling on a grim sort of determination that boded ill for the Scion’s chances. Dale leaned up against the window in the meantime, waiting.
Raphael flung the letter down on the bed, only to pick it up a second later and smooth a finger over Elena’s signature. “Pah. I do not know what to think. She says this man saved her, and that she is very grateful to him, but nowhere does she say she loves him.” He looked at Dale. “She is frightened of something.” His eyes darkened. “Or someone.”
That caught Dale’s interest. “How do you figure?”
“My Elena has the heart of a lioness. She does not speak in half-phrases and figures of speech that convey no meaning whatsoever. If she did not love me still, she would have told me at once.” Raphael waved the letter. “This? This tells me she feels compelled to allow this…” his upper lip curled, “…Corwin to court her. Something is wrong—I feel it in my soul.”
Under normal circumstances, Dale would have smiled in amusement at his friend’s dramatic pronouncements, but Raphael’s words stirred the memory of Elena’s face. “I’ll agree with you about one thing, Raph—she’s afraid of something.”
“Perhaps it is her father.” Raphael looked at Dale, but his gaze was far away. “Perhaps she feels the only way to ensure he is taken care of—crippled as he is now—is by marrying this…this…” He pronounced a word in his own language.
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? If he saved her?”
“Not if she is now afraid,” said Raphael grimly. His gaze turned considering. “You are friendly with that girl, yes? Naya? The one who warned you about the Scion in the first place?”
“What of it?” A bad feeling crept over Dale; he had the distinct impression he was not going to like whatever Raphael said next.
“Can you extract more information from her?”
“I don’t think Naya cares for me much.” The words stung to say. “I offered to walk her out of the University, but she just sailed off when Elena popped up at my elbow.”
A smile cracked Raphael’s solemn face. “Oh, did she?” He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with returned good humor. “You know what this means, do you not?”
“Oh, no.” Dale held up a hand. “Don’t tell me she’s jealous, Raphael. You haven’t met this girl.”
Raphael shrugged. “Fine. I still think you should ask her if there is anything else she can tell us.” He smirked, but it held a bitter tinge. “I would do it myself, but if I was able to leave the Hospital, I would travel straight to the source.”
Dale gave him a non-committal shrug in response. “I’ve got to go.”
He was halfway to the door when Raphael called out, “You are a good friend, Dale Mortensen. I shall not forget.”
Shaking his head, Dale left the ward.
~oOo~
TWO days later found him back in Professor Hodges’s class. Naya had given him another of her frosty little nods as she resumed her usual seat, and proceeded to ignore him again. Dale found himself wondering if there was not something to Raphael’s theory after all. Don’t get your hopes up, he told himself sternly. You’ve never pretended to understand women—this could be something else entirely.
Despite his best intentions, his focus was only half on Professor Hodges. The other half of his mind was trying to figure out what to say to Naya—how to explain what was going on. Not that it was particularly any of her business, but he loathed her frosty looks—especially when directed at him.
As soon as class ended, Dale caught Naya before she could escape. “A word, please, Miss Azlynn?”
For a second, he thought she would refuse, but Naya tilted her chin up and stood her ground. “Yes?”
Looking into her dark, reproachful eyes, Dale’s carefully rehearsed speech flew clear out of his head. “I—I, ah…” He fumbled for words and latched onto the first full sentence that popped into his head. “Can you keep a secret?”
“What kind of secret?” she asked suspiciously.
“An important one,” Dale assured her. He had a brief second’s worth of panic, but decided he might as well forge ahead.
Curiosity bled into her eyes, though she was trying her best to look disinterested. “I can.”
“Walk with me?” Dale offered her his arm. His throat was dry; his heart thudded in his chest.
Naya narrowed her eyes at him. “What about Miss Mountebank?”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about.”
To his everlasting relief, Naya tucked her hand through the crook of his arm. “I take it we’re headed outside then?” she asked dryly.
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
She was silent the rest of the walk downstairs and through the University lobby. Only when they had put fifteen yards between them and the University’s doors did she ask, “Well?”
Dale took a deep breath. “Elena Mountebank is my best friend’s fiancée. Or was, before they had an argument and she set sail across the Wild Sea with her father.”
Naya missed a step in surprise. Only her grip on Dale’s arm kept her from falling flat on her face. “What?”
“It’s true, I swear to you,” said Dale quickly. Over the next few minutes, he told her the entire story.
When he finished, Naya was very still. “He sailed the Wild Sea for her?”
“Aye.”
She shook her head slightly, her free hand coming up to rest over her heart. “That’s—that’s—I don’t even know what that is. Incredibly romantic and tremendously stupid, all rolled up together.” She glanced up at him in awe. “And here you are, caught in the middle.”
Dale made a sound in the back of his throat. He was grateful for the relative darkness that lay over the streets, now lit only by street lamps; he felt his cheeks burn.
“I suppose I ought to apologize for scolding you, then,” Naya huffed a little laugh, “and reserve it for your dunderheaded friend instead.” She motioned to the next hanging bridge. “I need to cross that.”
It occurred to Dale that this was an opportune moment to ask her if he might walk her home. He did.
Naya hesitated only a moment before nodding almost shyly. “I would like that.”
Over the course of their walk, Dale learned that Naya worked as a cook for an old lady in East Lowersedge, but she and her grandmother lived in a tiny flat in West Lowersedge. While Thursdays were her only day off, she was usually finished with work in time on Tuesdays to make it to her language class.
“The old lady won’t live forever,” she told Dale seriously. “I’m a good cook, but I’ve been told I’m too young. I’ve got to expand my horizon if I want people to take me seriously. Learning Demascenese will do that for me.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a pretty good plan,” said Dale.
Naya tucked a black curl behind one ear and shrugged. “We’ll see. Gran thinks so, anyway.” She nodded to the next corner. “It’s down this way.”
Dale deposited her at the door and bid her goodnight. As he turned to leave, he heard an older woman—presumably Naya’s grandmother—ask with great interest, “Was that a young man I saw bringing you home? Invite him in next time.”
He whistled all the way back to Mrs. Yunker’s.
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