“Do you think you’re going to go in and join them?” Pahlo asked Oleja. Only the two of them remained on solid ground, save for Casmia back up the hill.
“I might. I want to. But I—”
“Can’t swim?” finished Pahlo.
“No,” she admitted.
Pahlo shrugged. “Me neither. I’ll wade in if you will, just not past my knees.”
“Deal.”
They tugged off their boots, gathered up the hems of their robes, and waded into the water. A chill raced through Oleja’s skin as she touched the waves—colder than she expected given the heat of the sun and desert air. The burden of the heat melted away as she stepped in deeper and deeper. Chills invaded her entire body despite the water only reaching her shins. Sand comprised much of the lake bottom, soft beneath her feet, but rocks of varying sizes dotted the shallows as well. They were slimy beneath her feet, a lesson she learned the hard way when one nearly brought her down to get a closer look at it.
“Raseari!” called Trayde from behind her. Oleja turned just in time to get hit with a torrent of water. Her soaked clothes clung to her skin. A matted curtain of her hair obscured her vision. She brushed the hair and water from her eyes, dropping the hem of her robe into the water in the process—not that she had any reason to try to keep dry anymore.
Trayde had ditched her sodden robe and now stood before Oleja in her underclothes. She held a metal pail in her hands—the very same that she had just emptied on Oleja. A wide grin carved through her face.
“Bad move, Trayde,” she said, and then with an equally wide grin she charged the girl.
Trayde ran through the shallows, and Oleja quickly learned how fast the other girl could run. Oleja struggled just to keep from slipping on the rocks underfoot. Her drenched robe weighed her down, and it wasn’t long before she shed it as she ran after Trayde.
As Trayde splashed through the shallows, she stooped to fill her pail again. Oleja did not have long to wonder at her reasoning; a moment later, as she passed Onet, she emptied it above his head and kept running. But while Trayde moved fast, Onet moved faster. In just a few bounds he caught her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down into the waves as they both disappeared beneath the surface amidst a huge splash. Both resurfaced a second later, coughing and laughing and gasping for breath.
Oleja fetched her robe, now fully soaked through, and then returned to the shore to wring the water from it and to dry herself off. She looked up the hill to where Casmia still sat, plotting their new course around the lake.
Not only would a detour waste time, but it could give Honn an opportunity to catch up if he cut a few corners in anticipation of the lake and their path. Finding an alternative route would not only negate such consequences, but could also buy her a good margin of extra time. Honn, with his sled and eight coyotes, would have no choice but to go around. Granted, at the moment it looked like she didn’t either, but she was craftier than him. She could find an alternative. But what other options did they have? Several miles separated them from the opposite bank. Even if some in the group could swim that distance, not all of them could, and that didn’t even take into account the wagon and all of its cargo or the horses. Oleja walked a circle around the vehicle. Perhaps it could float if she removed the sled runners. She bet it could, in fact—the wooden walls rose high and it looked buoyant enough, minus the long slats of metal fastened to the bottom of course. But their crew consisted of nine people and two horses. It would be a great feat just to fit everyone inside—forget the horses—and with nine people plus all of the gear and loot, they’d all quickly become well-acquainted with the bottom of the lake. Getting everyone across by such means required at least two boats of that size—still not accounting for the horses.
She climbed up inside the wagon. In the dim light, she could just make out the shapes of the various objects stored within. She went shelf-by-shelf, looking for nothing in particular—save for a boat, but something told her none of the boxes hid one. She just needed something to give her an idea, light a spark in her mind that would tell her how to get everything across to the other side of the lake.
Plenty of metal weaponry and scrap filled the boxes, enough so that if the goal was to sink, they’d be all set. Plenty of wood lay about as well, but not enough to build even a small boat or raft.
In a small crate tucked away on the bottom shelf near the corner, Oleja found something smooth and cool. By touch alone she could not identify it, so she pulled the crate from its spot and brought it into the light. The rolled-up bundle inside was a bright, vibrant yellow. Dried mud caked the object in patches, but it crumbled away with the brush of a hand. She lifted the material and unfurled a corner. Stretchy and thin like fabric, yet free of the holes that filled even the finest cloth. She took it from the crate and hopped out of the wagon.
Back at the waterline, she dipped the material into the waves. They lapped at it, but it did not absorb the water. Next, she scooped some up in a pocket of the material and held it up. It did not drip through. The material—whatever it was called—was completely waterproof.
She returned to the wagon and sized it up anew. Coating the wagon in the material might make it more buoyant, but if it could already float that seemed like a foolish waste since it didn’t solve the more pressing issue of space. But what about the roof of the wagon? Canvas stretched across the curved wooden frame—nowhere near watertight on its own, but if she removed it from the wagon body and covered it with a layer of the yellow stuff it could serve as a second boat. Together, the two structures could carry all nine of them plus their cargo. But what about the horses?
“Raseari, what are you doing?” Casmia’s voice sounded strained—annoyed, but with no conviction, no anger. Like she knew what was to come and lacked the energy to deal with it. Oleja turned to face her.
“I figured out how to get across the lake.”
“That’s excellent,” said Casmia in a dismissive tone. “And I found a way around. The water level is just low enough that there should be a pass to the north. It will only add a day’s walk to our trail. We are still ahead of schedule, but I suggest we get going nonetheless so we can lose as little time as possible. Please gather the others—and remind Trayde she is supposed to be using that pail to refill the water tank.”
When Casmia mentioned the pass, it was like the final piece of her plan fell into place. She knew exactly what to do. A glance up to the sky revealed the position of the sun: high overhead, midday.
“I can get us all across the lake by the end of the day. Listen; the wagon will float on its own if we take off the runners. I can turn the roof into a second boat by lining it with this,” she held up the yellow material. “Five people can ride in there, along with the two runners for the wagon. Two can go in the wagon and paddle that across with all of the supplies. The last two—probably Trayde and whoever else is best at riding—can take the horses around to the pass. Without the wagon, they will be much faster. They’ll meet us on the other side, where we can put the runners back on the wagon, hitch up the horses, and continue on our way.”
Casmia looked neither impressed nor convinced.
“Is this about the earthborn again?” she asked, her voice low. Oleja’s face fell. She didn’t want to show any of her fear, especially not to Casmia.
“Yes, but also in the interest of taking the best route. This won’t pull us off course at all. It’s overcoming the obstacle instead of going around.”
“My answer is no, Raseari.”
“Why?” She kept her voice firm, a challenge rising in her tone.
Casmia narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Why? My plan is better.”
“Need I remind you who is the leader here?” asked Casmia through gritted teeth.
“Supposedly it’s you, but I have yet to see evidence as to why.”
The anger that fell over Casmia’s face radiated none the same fiery rage that Oleja had seen before. This one embodied the
cold and sharpness of steel.
“And I suppose that makes you think the leadership role can fall to you? You have been a part of this group less than a week.”
Oleja did not want to waste her precious time arguing with Casmia; enough of it had been lost to that fate already. It was time to act and set her plan into motion. She turned her back on Casmia.
“Trayde, Jeth, Hylde!” she called. “I need some help over here.” The three hurried over.
“Raseari!” called Casmia in a stern voice. The trio of raiders looked behind Oleja to Casmia in confusion. Oleja ignored her.
“I need you all to lift this side of the wagon, then the other. I’m taking the runners off—we are going to float it across the lake.”
“You absolutely are not,” hissed Casmia, grabbing Oleja by the shoulder and spinning her around to face her. “This is my wagon. This is my crew. You will do as I say, or you will not be part of it!”
“Actually, this is my wagon,” said Trayde. Casmia looked past Oleja to where Trayde stood alongside Hylde and Jeth.
Casmia stared at her open-mouthed for a moment. “Yes, well, I just meant…” She stammered. She grappled for words but found none.
“What is your plan, Oleja?” asked Jeth.
She summarized it for the three of them. Casmia never loosened her grip on Oleja’s shoulder. When Oleja finished, they all looked to Casmia. A wild look shone on Trayde’s face.
“That’s genius and completely reckless,” she said. “I’m in. What do I do?”
Jeth held up a hand. “Casmia?”
Casmia explained her route, though Oleja had already told them about the pass to the north as part of her plan, leaving Casmia with little left to share. Bids for her own plan peppered her speech—saying it would take “a day or less” despite what she told Oleja, referring to her plan as “the safest route,” and wrapping it up with a reminder that she was the leader and they always relied on her for direction, which she never failed to “provide expertly.” When she concluded her speech, the other three looked around uncomfortably, and Oleja started to doubt whether or not she’d have their backup. They would side with Casmia purely for the sake of preserving whatever establishment of leadership she clung to, dragging Oleja along on their day-long detour.
“What is wrong with Oleja’s plan?” Jeth asked Casmia.
“It’s completely and unnecessarily reckless!”
Jeth considered this. “But we would test the buoyancy of the two crafts while still in shallow waters. We aren’t throwing them right out into the middle of the lake and hoping they float. If they don’t, we will know it pretty quickly. We can pull them back in, put the wagon back together, and go the long way. Your plan doesn’t have an abundance of concern for time, so at least testing her idea shouldn’t be a problem.”
Oleja breathed out a sigh of relief. At least Jeth and Trayde stood by her.
Casmia shifted uncomfortably. “Fine. But if everything sinks, I will be collecting repayment in full for the damages.”
They jumped into action immediately. Trayde unhitched the horses and then joined Jeth and Hylde in lifting the wagon. It took more muscle than Oleja initially expected, but with the others joining in they managed to get it off the ground just enough. Oleja rolled underneath and made quick work of removing the first runner. She had built them to come on and off relatively easily, knowing that when they reached the edge of the desert they would want to switch back to the wheels—after all, having both on hand allowed for better travel over various types of terrain. Once both runners lay in the dirt off to the side, they set to work on the roof.
Removing the roof proved easy as well. Wrapping the material around it presented them with a challenge. The material turned out to be just barely too small, but with the stretchiness they managed to pull it to fit. Keeping it taut while fastening it to the frame took many hands, however, though fortunately they were in no short supply. Within the hour, both boats sat in position on the shore, ready to sail.
They sifted through the scrap wood available on the wagon and selected the pieces that would serve best as paddles. Oleja also divided up roles to the raiders: Trayde and Pahlo would ride the horses around the lake and across the pass to meet them; she and Onet would ride in the wagon; the others would ride in the roof. As a final preparation, Oleja turned the knob on the spigot attached to the water drum and let the drinking water drain out onto the beach. They could refill it from the lake on the other side, as they intended to do on the beach already before Trayde got distracted and put the pail to more chaotic use, but this way the wagon did not bear the added weight.
When at last the time came to put the boats in the water, Oleja just prayed that both crafts would float. She could afford neither the embarrassment nor the fine from Casmia.
Thankfully, luck joined Oleja’s side of the brewing feud.
Both boats held, bobbing gently in the waves. A round of cheers arose from many of the raiders as the excitement of the plan took off. As it turned out, not one of them had ever been in a boat aside from Onet.
The group waved to Pahlo and Trayde back on the shore as they paddled into the water. When they were certain the makeshift boats were in no immediate danger of becoming decorations for the depths and that they would not need to revert to Casmia’s detour, the horse riding pair rode off at top speed, racing along the bank as they headed north before finally vanishing in a cloud of dust in the distance. The groups in the boats continued paddling.
The wagon-boat moved slower than the other, both due to its weight and having only two passengers to row. Oleja kept her eyes on the shore ahead as she dug into the water, pushing her weight against the long, wide wooden board she held with each motion of her arms. Her muscles ached but the repetition of the movements helped. She let her mind drift as her body took over the motions.
An hour passed and the western shore neared. The travel went by at a slow, dull crawl, providing no new scenery in the identical waves. Still, the day-long land route would have taken longer. Oleja’s arms felt like they had acquired a nasty sunburn, though only the fire in her muscles burned her as they worked overtime to keep the wagon-boat moving towards the shore.
As she paddled, a chill seeped through her boots.
Oleja looked down. Crystal-clear water rose up from the wooden floor of the wagon—no more than an inch or two deep, but she would have much preferred it to be zero inches deep. She didn’t need to be overly familiar with boats to know that water did not belong on the inside.
The wagon tipped deeper on Oleja’s side just enough that the water level had not yet risen high to reach Onet. He stood at his side, still unaware of their predicament as he remained equally focused on rowing as Oleja had been moments prior. Oleja looked ahead to the other boat, paddling along just in front of them. She didn’t want to alert them if it wasn’t dire.
“Onet,” she said, keeping her voice calm and low enough that the others wouldn’t hear her.
“What?” he asked without shifting his gaze.
“We may have a small issue.” At that, he turned.
“Uh oh. That’s not good,” he said, looking down at the water as panic blossomed on his face. The water was getting deeper, she could feel it.
“We need to make the boat lighter,” said Oleja, but no plans for how to do so came to her, save throwing their cargo overboard—a good way to stoke a fierce rage in Casmia.
Onet looked ahead to the other boat. “They are floating fine, let’s hand some stuff off to them.”
Oleja bit her tongue before she could protest. Now was not the time for pride to take the reins—she couldn’t swim. If they sank, more than just cargo would sink to the bottom.
“Jeth!” called Onet. “Can you pull your boat over here beside us? We are taking on some water; we are going to pass a few crates over.”
“You’re taking on water? How much?” asked Hylde, concern rising in her voice.
“Not much,” Oleja called over. “A few inches
at most.” She looked past the other boat to the shore. They had crossed the halfway mark, but the water level inside rose quickly. They would need to unload more than a few crates.
The other boat got into position and they handed over crates until it bobbed as low in the water as they ruled safe.
“That’s all we can take,” said Wulshe, scratching a hand through his golden beard. “How’s the water situation?” Oleja looked down. Water covered the entire floor now and rose to her ankles in the deepest places. Her heart pounded in her chest. Asking to join the other boat would be cowardly, a defeat. She formed this plan; she would go down with it before letting Casmia prove her wrong. Casmia remained quiet through the whole ordeal, yet the tension she exuded grew more palpable with every glance she stole.
They kept paddling. Adrenaline fueled their movements and gave them fresh steam, but not enough. When the water pooled around her shins, Oleja knew that little time remained to get them to the other side.
“Keep rowing,” she said to Onet as she threw down her paddle and seized the nearest box. Metal scraps rattled around inside. She dumped them overboard.
“Raseari, stop!” shouted Casmia, her first words since leaving the shore.
“Would you rather see them drown?” asked Hylde, who stood beside her. “Oleja, Quinje, can you swim?” Onet’s answer provided an ounce of reassurance to the situation. Oleja’s did not carry so much hope. She dumped another crate overboard. Casmia groaned in frustration and slumped against the side of her boat.
After grabbing a large metal bucket filled with an assortment of spare weapons and sending that to the depths as well, Oleja took her oar back up and continued rowing. Perhaps it was a pure manifestation of optimism, but she almost thought she felt the water level stop rising.
By some stroke of luck, they took on only a small amount of additional water before the bottom of the wagon scraped against the sand of the western bank. The crew from the other boat stood ready when they arrived and pulled the wagon as far onto the beach as they could, though the water inside made the boat heavier. Onet opened the back gate and the water poured out in a surge, taking with it some loose items that Wulshe and Kella quickly scooped up. With the wagon fully ashore, Oleja jumped out of the back and flopped down in the sand, letting her breathing return to normal.
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