The Book of Sam by Rob Shapiro

Author:Rob Shapiro [Shapiro, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Fantasy / Epic
ISBN: 9781459746770
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2020-06-17T00:00:00+00:00

Hours passed before we disembarked in Anais, a place where everything was scarce except rotting wood. It was a quick walk from the port to the small city, so in no time we were strolling through streets of broken pavement, surrounded by houses and shops that needed a fresh coat of paint.

Thick-bodied Volacs went about their daily lives. They were known for two things: skin shedding and serpent riding. Stolas didn’t seem to appreciate either quality, and I didn’t want to run into a serpent big enough for these guys to ride.

The Volacs were shaped like Vikings, their red skin ravaged by what looked like shingles. The females wore dresses, shawls, and tight head wraps. The males wore tunics and loose trousers. I got a long look at a few of them who were crowded around a barrel, drinking water from a ladle. Close by, a merchant was selling purses and wallets that attracted only small insects to his booth. He spat into a puddle of saliva by his foot.

The smell of leather made me think of my first high-school dance. My mom had convinced me that I needed a night away from Cloaked Atlas, and my dad seconded her order. I spent the first hour of the dance listening to bad pop music and guarding a dozen leather purses along the wall of the gym. Finally, through a sea of bodies pulsing under a strobe light, I saw Harper. She pushed Kyle off her as she walked toward me. She took my hand and pulled me into the middle of the dance floor. We danced until Javier turned on the lights. We were the last two students in the gym. I didn’t even care that I had to buy seven new purses.

We stopped to ask a Volac for a ride on his wagon but were met with a vulgar rejection. Stolas requested a word in private, and they went inside the Volac’s house. Minutes later, only Stolas returned, telling us that the gentleman had offered his wagon as a kindness to strangers on a long journey.

Hollinshead, Thorlton, and I rode in the back of the wagon as Stolas manned the reins up front, the horse trotting briskly through a parched field. A gothic castle stood tall in the distance. That was Irekeep, the last home Stolas had known before he was robbed of his life. It was also the name of the blanket fort I’d built on more than one occasion.

“I don’t trust him,” Hollinshead said over the sound of the wheels rolling over rocks.

“You don’t trust anyone. This guy freed like a million slaves and united the worst place ever, and that’s still not enough for you.”

“Right, ’cause that’s what the good book told you,” she said. “Take it from someone who’s been wrong about a guy before, there’s something up with him.”

“Enough, Hollinshead,” I said harshly. “If you want to leave, then leave.”

The wagon clattered over some train tracks, the impact lifting us all from our seats. Sensing the tension, Thorlton shuffled over to sit between Hollinshead and me.

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