Into Dreams: A Gina Harwood Novel (Gina Harwood Series Book 3)

by Indi Martin

  60

  Thick black plumes of smoke rose from the horizon, and Morgan called down the line excitedly. He was beyond ready for a bed and a fresh meal, and a day off of Mati’s back. Toma frowned, peering at the columns.

  “That’s a lot of smoke,” he said.

  “That’s Gak,” said Nikolai, slowing his horse to pace theirs. “And it is an awful lot of smoke.” He sounded worried, and his eyebrows drew down over his eyes. “Toma, stop the caravan and wait for us here. Morgan, with me.” The caravaneer kicked his horse into a gallop without waiting for a reply, and Morgan exchanged glances with Toma, shrugging. He nudged Mati in the ribs and the horse leapt forward into a sprint, his hooves pounding the sand.

  “What is it?” called Morgan, standing slightly in the stirrups and leaning close over Mati’s yellow mane.

  “That’s what we’re going to find out,” yelled Nikolai over his shoulder. “I don’t want to take the wagons in unless it’s safe.”

  The horses ran across the dunes towards the small city, and as they neared the outskirts, Morgan could see that the streets were filled with people fighting the flames. Several buildings were on fire, the flames licking out of the windows and searing the sky. The thick smoke pumped out of the buildings almost rhythmically, and the black clouds stretched and undulated. Morgan shifted uncomfortably in his saddle as Mati slowed to match Nikolai’s pace, but his discomfort wasn’t from the ride.

  “Hail,” called Nikolai to a group of women standing at the city walls. “What happened here?”

  The women looked cow-eyed at Nikolai, but one stepped forward and raised her hand. “Hail, traveler. The rest of the city is safe. Some men attacked our library, and the fire had gotten out of control, but the other quarters are unaffected.”

  “What men?” he asked, glancing back at Morgan.

  “Brotherhood,” she answered, looking exhausted. “They nearly killed our librarian, and murdered three guards when he cried for help. One of them threw a torch into the books.”

  “When?”

  “A few hours ago.”

  “Are the men dead?” asked Nikolai.

  “I think so,” she answered.

  “Good enough,” he replied, motioning for Morgan to follow him back to the caravan.

  “Wait,” said Morgan. Back in his old life, he had usually discounted intuition - besides, his partner had been intuitive enough for both of them. But here, he’d come to rely on it almost entirely, having had a difficult time trying to rationalize his way through it, and it was screaming at him that Something Important was happening here. “Why the librarian?”

  The woman cocked her head at him and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. You would have to ask him.”

  Nikolai clucked his tongue at Morgan and jerked his head in the direction of the wagons. “Let’s get, kid,” he said. “You can ask your questions when the wagons are unloaded.”

  Morgan gritted his teeth, but turned Mati and trotted behind the caravaneer. He didn’t want to burn any bridges, and he needed to retrieve Toma anyway. Nikolai kept their horses at a slow trot, which was uncomfortable but not so much that Morgan couldn’t think. There was nothing about the scene, other than the timing, that stood particularly out to him. He nodded to Toma as he rode up, and dismounted to let Mati breathe, walking beside him as the caravan started its final crawl towards Gak. He recounted everything he’d seen to Toma, who blinked at him and concentrated.

  “It sounds like the same group that attacked us,” he said after a few moments. “But we need to ask about Gina, yes?”

  “We’ll ask about both,” said Morgan, patting Mati’s neck. The horse was panting from the heat and exertion, and Morgan poured a bit of water from his canteen into his hand, letting Mati drink from it.

  They broke off from the caravan as soon as it was settled, saying a shortened goodbye to their mounts and their traveling companions. Nikolai handed each of them their payment with a chuckle. “I had a feeling you two would run off again so I had it ready,” he admonished. “Good luck. We’ll be here for three suns if you want to join us for the trip back.”

  “Thank you, Nikolai,” said Morgan, clapping the man on the shoulder.

  “I didn’t do anything you should be thanking me for,” waved the man. “Except maybe digging that arrow out. Take care.”

  Morgan patted Mati on the nose once more and they walked through the streets of Gak. He asked after the librarian and was eventually pointed in the direction of a small building that apparently served as a barbershop, dentist, and first aid clinic. He thought it was an odd combination, but no one else seemed to think twice of it.

  The librarian was on a cot in a “room” separated by a hanging curtain. He was old, his back was twisted with age, and his very light blue eyes were dull. Bruises blotched across his cheeks and the fingers on his hands were wrapped with thick gauze. “We gave him some tonics for his pain,” explained the nurse. “He might be a bit fuzzy.”

  “I was attacked, woman,” seethed the librarian. “And you just let anyone in here?”

  She sighed at him. “They’re not Brotherhood, Hagar. They have beards and hair. They said they wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  “Fine,” sniffed the man. “But I hope it’s not to do with any of my books. I’ve been told my entire library was destroyed.” He looked about to cry, and the nurse placed a hand on his before walking past the curtain.

  “What did the men who attack you want?” asked Morgan. He felt bad for the man, who seemed more broken up about the loss of his books than he did the state of his body.

  “They were asking about a woman and a cat,” sighed the man, wiping at his face with his gauze mitts. “Wanted to know where they went.”

  “Did she have red hair? Was her name Gina?” asked Morgan excitedly.

  Hagar adjusted his head to have a better look at Morgan. “Maybe. Are you going to attack me too?”

  “No,” replied Morgan, but Toma clapped him on the shoulder happily and he grinned up at the giant. “But I know her, and I’ve been looking for her for a long time. Where is she?”

  “She left the city two days ago, with that cat and a man with scars on his face, Agni I think his name was,” replied Hagar, who looked miserable. “She’s headed east, to the palace. She should be arriving soon.”

  “Did you tell the Brotherhood that?”

  “Of course I did! It was the first thing out of my mouth! They did this anyway.” He lifted his hands and looked at them bitterly. “Took their time, too. Only reason they didn’t kill me is one of the town guards ducked his head in to say hello. Rickard. He got a blade through the heart for his troubles, but they left, after they kicked in my knees and lit my shelves on fire.” He closed his eyes and winced from the memory. “She was a nice girl, but I didn’t feel like dying today.”

  “So they’re still alive, and they know where she’s going?” asked Toma. Morgan stood to his feet.

  “Probably. I think the guards got one, but there were three of them.”

  “We have to go,” Morgan said to Toma. “Thank you, Hagar. I hope you heal soon.”

  “I may heal. My library will not.” The elderly man sighed and turned his head away.

  Morgan walked quickly out of the clinic, breaking into a run as soon as he got outside. He glanced back to ensure he hadn’t lost Toma, who was puffing his way up behind him, and retraced their steps to the caravan, scanning the people for Nikolai’s grey mane. He found it and walked up to the man.

  “I will give you everything I own,” he started, his breathing ragged from running. Toma skidded to a halt next to him and bent over to catch his breath. “If we can buy Mati and Aleka and their tack.”

  Nikolai raised an eyebrow at them. “How much do you own?” he asked, bemused, but his eyes were searching.

  Morgan dumped out his coin purse, and Toma did the same. There was about 700 dinar between them. Nikolai squinted at the amount and looked back up at Morgan with a frown. “They are w
orth more,” he replied.

  “Then just Mati,” urged Morgan, and Toma yelped. “Gina’s in trouble,” he said. “I ride faster. I’ll come back for you when I can.”

  Toma appeared quite uncomfortable with this answer and looked away.

  Nikolai looked between them. “A damsel in distress?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Morgan nodded fervently. “The men who attacked us on the mountain, they’re after her too. I don’t know why,” he added quickly, as the older man opened his mouth. “I only know she’s not far away, and they’re right on her tail.”

  “Lady in town said the men were dead.”

  “She said she thought so,” replied Morgan, looking over to Mati as his anxiety rose. “She was wrong.”

  Nikolai set his jaw. “I’m getting soft in my old age. Take them.” He opened his pouch and they each poured the mounds of dinar into it. “Here,” he said, handing them each 10 dinar as they moved to rush away. “So you can eat wherever you’re headed.”

  “Thank you,” said Morgan, as he rushed to saddle Mati. The horse stamped twice and snorted, but stood still while he was redressed.

  “Now is finally the appropriate time to thank me,” grumbled the grey-bearded man. “Try not to die.”

  “We’ll do our best,” said Toma, grunting as he threw the heavy saddle and blanket onto the tall roan. They’d each grown comfortable with ride preparation, and it only took a few moments before they were each sitting in their saddles. Toma nodded his readiness at Morgan and they kicked their horses forward.

  Morgan ran through calculations in his mind as Mati ran underneath him. Gina was two days out. If she was on horseback, he’d run Mati into the ground before they caught up, and that wasn’t appealing. If she was walking, he had a chance to catch her before Mati dropped. Either way, the men after her were only a few hours ahead of them at most, and he needed to concentrate on that.

  The trail wasn’t easy to follow, with the stone pillars marking the path much less well maintained than those on the way from Kadatheron. They were half-buried in the dunes, and their edges were almost completely rounded from untold years of being blasted by sand. Morgan tensed up whenever they rounded the top of a dune, scanning through the slit in his scarf for other shapes, but so far all he had seen was more expanses of sand, dotted here and there with sparse scrub and cacti. Mati snorted underneath him, and Morgan slowed their pace with a sigh, patting the horse’s neck in apology. He’d had a hard day, between the hard gallop to Gak and the hard gallop out of town with very little rest in between, and there was no benefit in being one horse down. It physically hurt him to pull the gelding back into a walk, though, a sharp stab that pierced through his stomach.

  “What do we do when we find them?” asked Toma, looking relieved as Aleka slowed to match Mati.

  “They tortured an old man for fun,” Morgan sighed. “And we’re in the middle of the desert. If they don’t die in the fight, I want answers.”

  “Okay,” grunted Toma, rubbing his shoulder. “I got some payback in me.”

  Morgan checked the load on his flintlock and re-holstered it with a dark expression. “So do I,” he agreed, tensing up as they rounded the top of another dune. Toma inhaled sharply through his teeth, pointing with his good arm to the top of the next dune, and Morgan saw two shapes just as they passed over to the other side. They exchanged frowning glances and urged the horses forward faster, with Morgan flicking open the snap on his holster and resting his hand on the handle. “I have to know for sure,” he hissed. “I’ll ride up first and get a look, and you can bring up the rear.”

  Toma pulled back gently on Aleka’s reins. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry, Mati, I’ll let you rest right after this,” he whispered, and kicked Mati into a full gallop. The sand rushed underneath him and he topped the dune, riding up quickly on two men in hooded leather cloaks. He circled Mati around them and they drew their blades. The one closest to him swiped at Mati with his curved sword, and his hood fell back to reveal a clean-shaven head with blood spatters around one of his ears. Morgan drew and shot the man in the head. Mati whinnied at the crack, but the dead man’s horse bucked and bolted, leaving the corpse in the dust.

  He pointed the gun at the other man. “Dismount. Hands up.”

  The hooded man grinned at him, twirling his sword in his hand. “Your flintlock is empty,” he said.

  “You’re right,” shrugged Morgan, reholstering it. Aleka charged at the man, huffing and spitting, and Toma leapt off of her and onto the man, sending them both hurtling to the ground. They landed with a thud, and dust flew up around them. Morgan slid off of his horse and drew his dagger as Toma rolled over the man and drove his elbow into the cloaked man’s soft forearm, causing the sword to clatter away. Morgan grabbed the man’s hood and jerked him backward, holding the blade to his throat. Toma stood, panting, and wiped his mouth with his arm.

  “Why is the Brotherhood after Gina Harwood?” asked Morgan as Toma set to tying the man’s wrists together.

  The man howled in pain, his arm clearly broken, but Toma tied them together anyway and he glared at the giant. “You will die in agony,” he spat, and Morgan pressed the blade tight enough against his throat that a rivulet of blood dripped down his neck.

  “Why is the Brotherhood after Gina Harwood?” he repeated in a menacing growl.

  Morgan couldn’t bring himself to slit the man’s neck from behind, and so withdrew the dagger with a frustrated hiss. The man glared up at him, and there was an angry resignation in his eyes, but he said nothing.

  “Tell us and you might live,” threatened Toma.

  “Yeah, right,” spat the man.

  “We bound your arms, but not your feet,” Toma pointed out, pummeling his open palm with his meaty fist. “Tell us before I have to beat you so badly you can’t walk back to town for help.”

  The man seemed to consider this. “She’s wanted for crimes against the Brotherhood,” he said simply.

  “What crimes?” demanded Morgan, taken aback.

  “The woman is allied with the Yellow-Eyed King. Murdered two brothers. What do you care?”

  Toma and Morgan exchanged glances. Pan, he thought, remembering the sickly glint of yellow in his eyes. Toma had called him that when Morgan had shared his story, and it was clear from his current expression that he remembered that part of it. “Are there more of you after her?” he asked.

  “The entire Order. She’s top bounty,” he grinned, but then dialed his expression back to neutral. “Can I go now?”

  “Why did you attack us on the mountain pass?” asked Toma.

  The man stared at them blankly. “I don’t even know who you are,” he said with a sneer.

  “How many more of you are close? Within a day or two?” resumed Morgan.

  “I don’t know, maybe a dozen?” guessed the man, rolling his eyes. “I’m not my brother’s keeper.” He grimaced down at his arm. “Either kill me already or let me go.”

  “Fine. Go,” commanded Morgan, and the giant grabbed him by the arm.

  “Are we sure that’s smart?” asked Toma in a low voice, glancing nervously at the cloaked man as he struggled to his feet, his bald head glinting in the sun.

  Morgan leaned down and picked up the man’s sword, packing it into Mati’s saddlebags. “He’s unarmed and many hours’ walk away from Gak,” he whispered. “He’s not an immediate problem, and I won’t just kill him outright if he’s not a threat. We gave him our word.”

  The cloaked man looked back at them and noticed that they were whispering with one another, and hurried his pace away from them. Toma nodded and sighed. “I’m just afraid he’ll warn any others coming to be more prepared.”

  Morgan gave Mati some water and didn’t respond. The thought had occurred to him, but he wasn’t a coldblooded killer, and he knew that Nikolai’s orders to kill the previous battle’s survivor had wounded Toma as surely as the arrow had. “Then we stay prepared,” shrugged Morgan. “I’m more worr
ied about finding Gina.”

  Toma fed Aleka an apple before clambering back into the saddle. “Alright,” he agreed. “Let’s go find her.”

  61

  It was the evening of the second day, and the palace was finally in view. It was a bizarre sight to see, the massive structure with spiraling columns that reached into the heavens in the middle of such a desolate area. The palace was beautifully constructed, with gothic arches and blisteringly white stone that glimmered softly against the fading sunlight. Kyrri growled anxiously beside her as they approached the massive stone doors and the party stopped twenty feet from the walls.

  “Well,” said Kyrri, staring wide-eyed up at the door. There were no apparent handles or mechanisms to open to massive slabs of rock, and the two halves closed almost seamlessly. “What do we do now?”

  “He was the Dreaming King, right?” asked Gina nervously, taking a step forward. “Maybe a Dreamer has to open the doors.”

  “That’s a big gamble,” murmured Agni, who watched her move forward with gritted teeth. “You might be wrong.”

  “I know,” whispered Gina under her breath, continuing forward. She reached out her hand to touch the doors, pausing just before she touched the stone. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and shoved herself blindly forward.

  A hand held hers, and she opened her eyes as her companions yelled and drew their weapons. Gavin Crowell stood beside her, his hand between hers and the stone. “You were wrong,” he said with a wink. “And I just saved your life. You owe me. Again.” He grinned at her and blinked without blinking, a yellow film closing horizontally over his human eye, like the inner lid of a crocodile. Gina stumbled backward and drew her knife.

  Agni roared and ran at the velvet-clad man, but Gavin snapped his fingers and the mercenary crumpled to his knees, gasping in pain. “Agni!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up as though he’d seen his best friend. “It’s been so long! How ARE you?!”