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-FOUR
DALE STORMED OUT OF HODGES’S CLASSROOM, A man on a mission, and departed the University. A few clusters of young men lingered here and there, earnestly finishing debates about various matters, but none of them gave him more than a cursory glance. With every step he took, the words of Elena’s letter burned themselves into the forefront of his mind.
Raphael is missing…I fear he has Disappeared.
Dale clenched his jaw. He has to be missing. After everything the man had gone through to even find Elena again, after everyone on their world told him to abandon hope because she had obviously drowned at sea, and after everything he had gone through to prove himself to her and her father, Dale did not believe for a second that Raphael would willingly forego an evening in her company.
They were engaged again. Raphael, if Dale knew his friend at all, was counting down the days ‘til his wedding night. Elena’s right—something’s happened to him.
The walkway in front of the University was all but deserted. Dale stopped by the railing and stood there for a moment, his mind whirling with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, questions, and ideas. He wished now, suddenly and most fervently, that he had developed more of an interest in learning about Rift City’s less savory aspects. Specifically, the mystery surrounding Disappearances. He was doing his best to find out what had happened to Belly, but it was not good enough.
I can’t lose Raphael too. The closest thing Dale had to a brother, and they had spent the last few months ignoring each other. Bitter recrimination poured over his head; if they had been on speaking terms, he might have more information about where Raphael was when he vanished.
Dale cut that thought off at the knees. Can’t think about that now. The important thing is finding him.
His broad face settled into grim lines. I know just where to start.
The Revolutionaries.
An image of Naya’s pamphlet flashed before his eyes and his gut twisted uncomfortably. Oh, yes. They certainly talked to Belly or Raph. Unless other sailors had come through the Rift between when Peabody vanished and the Infinity sailed through it, they were the only living creatures who could have given them that information.
Yutha and Minh, Dale dismissed out of hand. Both of them had been cooped up in the Hospital under Mrs. Weatherby’s watchful eye before they were transferred to the Platform. As far as Dale knew, Minh refused to leave the Platform and he refused to let Yutha wander the city alone until he was older.
No, the Revolutionaries had somehow convinced either Belly or Raphael to help them—and it was time they returned the favor. Especially if they’re the reason my friends have Disappeared.
The only trouble would be finding them.
Dale abruptly took off down the walkway and cut across a hanging bridge to the other side. It occurred to him that the real trouble would actually be finding the Revolutionaries without attracting attention from the wrong sort of Rift City’s denizens, but he waved that thought aside. Concern for Raphael was paramount in his mind. I’ll deal with that when the time comes.
~oOo~
HALFWAY back to West Lowersedge, it occurred to Dale that he needed to ask his fellow boarders if any of them had seen Raphael since Monday. He doubted they had, but it would at least eliminate possibilities. He therefore headed straight to Mrs. Yunker’s and began banging on doors.
No one had seen Raphael since he left the Rail Station Monday morning, and no one was happy to be bothered at this hour of the evening.
“It’s late, Mortensen.” Sam Withers followed him back through the boarding house, stifling a yawn with one hand. “Do you really think you’re going to find him tonight?”
“I’m going to try,” said Dale stubbornly. “I owe him that much.”
“Where are you going to go this late?”
“Start making the rounds of the local pubs. Raphael had to have visited them.”
“You might start with the Gold Pearl, a few blocks into East Lowersedge on Level 5.” When Dale gave Withers a suspicious look, the older man simply shrugged. “Avarez spoke of it to me often enough.”
Another reminder of how far they had drifted apart. Dale clenched his jaw again, but offered Withers a tight nod. He left the other man standing in Mrs. Yunker’s dining room, frowning after him.
~oOo~
DALE located the Gold Pearl easily enough. As always, his sheer size drew attention the moment he darkened the door, but most of the men sitting around the bar or a variety of tables went back to their drinks after a good look.
“Evenin’, friend.” The barkeep, a barrel-chested man with a round face made less round by a fully, bushy red beard, nodded affably to Dale. “Name’s Roark. Welcome to the Pearl.”
“Dale Mortensen.” Dale slid onto a stool at the bar—carefully, because one never knew how sturdy they were—and ordered a pint. As the barkeep handed him a foaming tankard, he said, “I’m looking for a friend of mine, Raphael Franco Avarez. Haven’t seen him lately, have you?”
Roark’s eyes slid to the ceiling as he considered it. “No, not in the last few days, I don’t think.” He raised equally bushy red eyebrows at Dale. “Got over your disagreement, have you?”
Dale suppressed a wince. Does everyone know about that? Even strangers? “Working on it.” He took a deep swallow. “Wanted to buy him a drink. He’s getting married, you know.”
“Aye.” Roark shook his head in wry amusement. “He’s only been telling every man with ears.”
“I need to find him.” Dale darted his gaze left and right before leaning in a little and dropping his voice. “Thing is, Roark, Raphael seems to have gone missing.”
“Missing?” A good deal of cheer abruptly drained away from the barkeep. “As in—” He broke off, as though afraid to say the word.
“Disappeared,” said Dale bluntly. “Yes. That’s what it looks like.”
Behind his red beard, Roark went even paler. “Are you—” he cleared his throat, “—sure, man? Absolutely sure?”
Dale nodded. “Nobody, including his fiancée, has seen hide nor hair of him since he left the Platform on Monday.” His fingers tightened on his tankard. “Something’s happened.”
“I haven’t seen him.” Roark reached for a tankard with shaking hands and proceeded to mindlessly wipe it out. “Raphael, Disappeared? My God.”
They had drawn a bit of attention from one or two of the more observant patrons in the pub. Sensing time was slipping through his fingers, Dale hastened to extract whatever information he could from Roark. “Can you tell me who he’s been talking to lately? I need to find the last person to see him.”
This time, Roark wiped his brow. “Mark my words, man, if he’s Disappeared, it won’t matter who saw him last.”
“Please.” Dale discreetly pushed another coin across the bar’s scarred wooden surface. “He’s my friend.”
As he had hoped, the coin vanished. Roark exhaled heavily and turned away, as though he was not speaking to Dale. “All right,” he said in a low voice. “There’s a couple of men, come in here regular enough. Sit at one of the back tables. Your friend started joining them a few weeks ago.”
“Any of them here tonight?”
Roark hesitated. “Saw one of ‘em earlier, but he ain’t here now.”
Disappointment bloomed in Dale’s chest, heavy and painful. “Thanks.” He finished his pint mechanically, his mind reeling. They aren’t here. Every fiber of his being thrummed, demanding that Something Be Done Immediately, but what could he do? Wander Rift City until he stumbled across something?
What would Raphael do? Unbidden, the thought rose to the forefront of his mind. The answer came almost immediately—and if the situation had not been so dire, Dale would have laughed. His friend was impetuous and passionate, and he nearly always leaped before he looked, but he had way of pulling off grand, impossible gestures.
Dale dug in his pocket for a few more coins and flipped them to a bemused Roark. Turning back to the rest of the pub, he raised his voice. “A round for all my fine fellow men here. In honor of a good friend of mine, Raphael Franco Avarez.”
A chorus of cheers met these words and a general bustle ensued as Roark set about filling tankards and his barmaids whisked them away.
Dale experienced a brief wave of panic. Now what? Clearing his throat, he spoke above the noise again. “Speaking of my good friend Raphael, has anybody seen him?”
He looked about the pub hopefully, but only received a few confused headshakes and a chorus of, “Nope! Haven’t seen ‘em!” A few of the more adventurous men shouted, “Probably gone to see that pretty girl of his!”
Well. That was no help. Dale waved a hand in answer and slouched against the bar. It was an idea.
Something cold nudged his elbow. Dale turned to find Roark offering him another pint.
“It’s no use, Mortensen,” said Roark somberly. “Disappeared is Disappeared.” He tipped his head toward the rest of his pub. “Every man in here knows someone who Disappeared. Most men in here have tried to find ‘em. Nothing to be done.” The skin around his eyes tightened. “Best thing to do now is keep your head down and don’t ask questions. ‘Tis bad luck.”
Bad luck. Dale’s mouth twisted into a frown. “He’s supposed to get married in a few weeks.”
“I know.” Roark sighed. “It’ll be hard on her, there’s no doubt about that.”
Dale swallowed his ale, which left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. It suited him fine; it tasted the way he felt just now. Looking around the pub, he took in the men carrying on their normal jibes and conversations and a wave of white-hot anger swept through his veins. Raphael was missing—quite probably dead, given the pessimistic view everyone took of such vanishings—and this group of men who had interacted with him on a regular basis were drinking up as though it did not matter.
Straightening, Dale slapped a hand down on the bar. The sound sliced through the chatter, drawing all eyes to him again. He raised his voice again. “I’d also like to talk to somebody from this blasted Revolution I keep hearing about.”
Dead silence greeted his words.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m noticing a pattern here in Rift City. Mention the Revolution and in short order, you turn up missing.” Dale waved his tankard for emphasis. “Happened to my friend Belly Skoog, and now Raphael has just up and Disappeared. I don’t suppose any of you know a thing about that?”
“Boy, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” growled a voice from the back, but it was weak.
“I know that people Disappear and nobody in Rift City does anything about it,” said Dale coldly.
Roark tugged on his sleeve. “Mortensen, you’d better stop while you’re ahead.”
Dale ignored him. Instead, he raised his tankard. “To Raphael, to Belly, and to every other sorry person who’s ever had the misfortune to Disappear in this godforsaken place.” He drained the rest of his ale in two great draughts and slammed the tankard down on the bar’s weathered surface.
A few men stared at Dale in surprise; the rest exchanged unhappy looks and furtive mutters.
Dale ignored them. Swallowing again to rid his mouth of that bitter aftertaste, he nodded curtly to Roark and headed toward the door. He left the pub fully intending to track down the next place Raphael had made a habit of dropping by, but halfway down the boardwalk, his purposeful gait turned into a stagger. His head grew fuzzy, his vision cloudy.
It hit him like a bolt of lightning. One moment, Dale was in full command of his body, and the next, he had staggered into the railing separating him from a four-story drop to the boulevard below. A thought formed in his mind—a reason for this insanity—but he lost it in another wave of dizziness.
“Whoa, there, lad,” said a familiar voice, as a strong hand grabbed his arm and kept him from leaning too far over the railing.
“He’s had a wee dram too much,” said someone else.
Dale did not recognize that voice. He blinked up at the men, trying to make out their faces, but his sight was blurry and his eyelids kept sliding shut as though they were tired of holding themselves open.
“Looks that way. We’d best get you home, lad.”
Hands pulled at him again, but Dale was fading fast. The last thing he heard before darkness closed over him like water was a grunted, “Blimey, he’s heavy.”
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