Skyborn by Cameron Bolling

Author:Cameron Bolling [Bolling, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781693403743
Publisher: Realmwrite Publishing
Published: 2019-09-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The tension in the air followed them, too stubborn to stay behind. It weighed heavy enough upon them that if Oleja had found a means by which to throw it over the side of the wagon back in the middle of the lake, its absence alone would have lifted them up out of their predicament and—quite likely—into the sky.

They followed along the lakeshore heading west. The terrain on their right was rocky and steep, the base of a line of hills. In some places the slopes ran right up to the waterline, forcing them up towards the peaks until they could descend back to the banks.

Night descended in full shortly after. They made camp on a dry spot of land near the water, far enough away that they were in no great danger of finding their campsite splashed; they all agreed they’d had enough unplanned water for the day.

“Gleathon, Trayde, Dirin—pull out the tents and get them set up here,” said Casmia. “That is, if we still have them.”

Oleja shot her a look, but Casmia failed to notice, or at least pretended she did. Oleja had made sure not to throw anything important into the lake, only extra loot from the ruins. Tents were important supplies and would have been among the last things to go.

The trio set to work on the tents. Hylde got a fire started while Onet and Kella prepared their supper. Casmia pulled Jeth aside to discuss some features on her map, leaving Oleja alone without a duty. She highly doubted it was by anything but explicit design. After a few minutes jumping between groups and attempting to look busy, she gave up and wandered down to the water’s edge. Slick gravel blanketed the beach. Water ran between the rocks, rippling and pooling in tiny channels as waves sloshed against the land. Rocks more significant in size dotted the dark shoreline, and on one around which the waves surged in gentle rhythm, Oleja found a place to sit.

She sat cross-legged at first, keeping her feet from the water that flowed around her, but soon pulled off her boots and lowered her feet to let the cold water run over them.

Ude would have liked it by the lake. He always enjoyed sitting by the village river. In his age, he was no longer expected to work in the mines. He sometimes spent his days making clothes or pottery, and he rather enjoyed hanging around Oleja’s workshop, carving new scenes into her workbench or prodding her for a nerve to strike, but no rule required him to do more for the village. Leisure was the gift of living to see an old age, reserved for those lucky enough to bypass the most common cause of death: mining accidents. In Ude’s case, few in the village were particularly happy about his luck. They disliked his presence enough when he contributed to their survival—having him around as a freeloader did no favors for their detestation of him. Of all the reasons they wrongfully wanted him dead, it just added another item to the list.

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