meant to shut him up entirely. But then, better he rode in silence than make any more dangerous slips of the tongue. Pello’s wagon wasn’t far up the line.
The afternoon wore on and the trail grew ever more rocky as we continued the relentless ascent. I kept an eye on the clouds overhead, which had started as occasional tiny puffs and were by now numerous and much larger. Still white, but I was guessing that would change soon. Sure enough, Meldon’s bell rang out once we reached a spot where the upward grade of the canyon lessened enough for the drovers to safely halt the wagons. We hadn’t reached the trees yet, but head high catsclaw bushes choked the boulder-strewn bottom of the canyon, which meant water lurked down there.
“We’re stopping here?” Kiran asked.
“Yep. See those clouds? They’ve been building all day, and there’s likely to be a storm. Cara’s told the boss, and he’s decided to stop for the night. Better to have plenty of time to cover everything nice and tight and set up shelter.”
“But what about water? I thought you said we wouldn’t stop today until we hit a stream?”
“We have.” I pointed down at the silvery green sea of catsclaw. “Catsclaw only grows where it’s wet enough. There’ll be a trickle of water down there. It’ll be a pain in the ass to bash through the bushes and fill the jugs, but it’s possible. We’ve got enough water left in the barrels to last the evening, but tomorrow morning we’ll have to replenish our stores.” I peered at the sky again. “It may even rain some, but I doubt it. This side of the mountains, you mainly get hail and lightning.”
A frown crossed Kiran’s face at the word “lightning.” He squinted up at the clouds, shading his eyes with a hand. “Is it normal to get this kind of storm?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Usually it takes longer to build up again. The last one was maybe four days ago. This time of year, you usually get a week or two in between, but you never know. No doubt the southerners’ll claim that banehawk brought bad luck on the convoy.”
Kiran still looked concerned, which surprised me. Most city dwellers think lightning’s only a fun fireworks show, like the ones Sechaveh commissions from the mages for holidays. With all the mage wards on the towers, nobody ever gets struck in the city. Up here it’s a different story, but most don’t know that.
“You worried about getting hit? Don’t be. Lightning likes to strike the highest point, and we’re well below the ridgelines, here.”
“That’s good to know,” he said, but his expression didn’t change.
“We gotta head back to the outrider wagon and give Harken a hand with covering the supplies.” He followed me as I spurred my horse up the trail, but he kept glancing at the clouds when he thought I wasn’t looking.
***
(Kiran)
Kiran hung on to his corner of the oilcloth as a sharp gust of wind tried to rip it from his cramping hands. He was grateful Dev hadn’t asked him to help secure the ropes lashing the oilcloth over the contents of the wagon. Kiran had seen how swiftly and nimbly Dev and the others tied their knots. He couldn’t match their skill, even when his muscles weren’t already burning with exhaustion. He only hoped Cara, Jerik, and Dev finished with the other end of the wagon before he lost his grip entirely.
The clouds had grown dark to the west. Massive thunderheads towered above the serrated rock of the western ridges, and wind gusts kicked grit and sand into the air, stinging Kiran’s eyes. Far worse was the sting of power against his inner senses, crawling along his nerves. His initial suspicions had solidified into certainty: this was no natural storm, no matter what Dev thought. Magical power coiled and twisted through those clouds. Invisible and intangible to the others, but each lightning strike would slam that hidden power against his mental barriers with the force of a battering ram. And if his barriers failed...Kiran
The afternoon wore on and the trail grew ever more rocky as we continued the relentless ascent. I kept an eye on the clouds overhead, which had started as occasional tiny puffs and were by now numerous and much larger. Still white, but I was guessing that would change soon. Sure enough, Meldon’s bell rang out once we reached a spot where the upward grade of the canyon lessened enough for the drovers to safely halt the wagons. We hadn’t reached the trees yet, but head high catsclaw bushes choked the boulder-strewn bottom of the canyon, which meant water lurked down there.
“We’re stopping here?” Kiran asked.
“Yep. See those clouds? They’ve been building all day, and there’s likely to be a storm. Cara’s told the boss, and he’s decided to stop for the night. Better to have plenty of time to cover everything nice and tight and set up shelter.”
“But what about water? I thought you said we wouldn’t stop today until we hit a stream?”
“We have.” I pointed down at the silvery green sea of catsclaw. “Catsclaw only grows where it’s wet enough. There’ll be a trickle of water down there. It’ll be a pain in the ass to bash through the bushes and fill the jugs, but it’s possible. We’ve got enough water left in the barrels to last the evening, but tomorrow morning we’ll have to replenish our stores.” I peered at the sky again. “It may even rain some, but I doubt it. This side of the mountains, you mainly get hail and lightning.”
A frown crossed Kiran’s face at the word “lightning.” He squinted up at the clouds, shading his eyes with a hand. “Is it normal to get this kind of storm?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Usually it takes longer to build up again. The last one was maybe four days ago. This time of year, you usually get a week or two in between, but you never know. No doubt the southerners’ll claim that banehawk brought bad luck on the convoy.”
Kiran still looked concerned, which surprised me. Most city dwellers think lightning’s only a fun fireworks show, like the ones Sechaveh commissions from the mages for holidays. With all the mage wards on the towers, nobody ever gets struck in the city. Up here it’s a different story, but most don’t know that.
“You worried about getting hit? Don’t be. Lightning likes to strike the highest point, and we’re well below the ridgelines, here.”
“That’s good to know,” he said, but his expression didn’t change.
“We gotta head back to the outrider wagon and give Harken a hand with covering the supplies.” He followed me as I spurred my horse up the trail, but he kept glancing at the clouds when he thought I wasn’t looking.
***
(Kiran)
Kiran hung on to his corner of the oilcloth as a sharp gust of wind tried to rip it from his cramping hands. He was grateful Dev hadn’t asked him to help secure the ropes lashing the oilcloth over the contents of the wagon. Kiran had seen how swiftly and nimbly Dev and the others tied their knots. He couldn’t match their skill, even when his muscles weren’t already burning with exhaustion. He only hoped Cara, Jerik, and Dev finished with the other end of the wagon before he lost his grip entirely.
The clouds had grown dark to the west. Massive thunderheads towered above the serrated rock of the western ridges, and wind gusts kicked grit and sand into the air, stinging Kiran’s eyes. Far worse was the sting of power against his inner senses, crawling along his nerves. His initial suspicions had solidified into certainty: this was no natural storm, no matter what Dev thought. Magical power coiled and twisted through those clouds. Invisible and intangible to the others, but each lightning strike would slam that hidden power against his mental barriers with the force of a battering ram. And if his barriers failed...Kiran
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