Skate the Seeker by Jeff Ayers EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Jeff Ayers
- Language: English
- Genre: Coming of Age Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
In which an orb is pilfered, a horse is spooked, and a
wound is healed.
The morning sun was bright, and the camp was warm despite lingering
patches of snow. The porters and merchants were busy packing up tents and
bedrolls, while the mercenaries guarding the caravan helped one another
into their armor. The driver from Caribol swore as a kettle slipped from the
back of his wagon and landed on his toe. He and his passengers had joined
up with the small caravan a day after leaving the port city, glad for strength
in numbers on the road.
His two fares were off to the side of the dissolving camp, a boy and a
girl of an age with each other. Skate, the girl in a comfortable black coat,
held a blue glass ball close to her chest, with a yellow book open on her lap.
Twitch, the boy with a jacket no less fine, was sprawled out in the grass
after a hearty breakfast, watching her strain and struggle in silence.
“Focus,” the steady voice of Petre said again. The man trapped in the
glass ball had been repeating that word as a mantra for days.
“Yeah, I got it. That’s not helping.”
“I’m not just saying it to say it,” Petre replied. “You do need to focus.
This is no easy text you’ve chosen for an early reader.”
“Yes, thank you,” she muttered through gritted teeth. She went back to
staring at the book. Petre said nothing more. Twitch put a leg on his bent
knee.
A slight breeze picked up, and the bare trees gave a rattle in response.
By the end of the soft wind, she had made it to the end of the line, but not
the sentence. Skate growled in frustration.
“You’ll get it. It takes time.” It was an attempt at conciliation, but it
felt more like condescension. Petre continued, “Reading is hard, and
reading a text for learning magic is harder still. If it were easy, everyone
would do it.”
Before Skate could respond, their driver sauntered over. Skate slipped
the glass ball inside one of her coat pockets, and the eyes within
disappeared in a swirl of fog. “Wagons are moving. We’d better get going,
unless you wanna be at the back of the line again.” This driver, Corrin, had
warned them that behind the caravan was an unpleasant slot, and they’d
found the truth of that when they’d joined the group half a day out from
Caribol; the smell of trampled horse, ox, mule, and donkey manure on the
road had been overwhelming.
By the time Skate reached the wagon, Twitch was already in his
accustomed spot, nestled snugly between two bundles wrapped in canvas.
When she sat down, a spindly black leg slid out of the top of her bag,
patting her on the back. “Thanks, Rattle,” she said gloomily.
The wagon jerked forward with a snap of Corrin’s reins. The children
waited until the wagon was clacking and creaking on the road before
speaking. Twitch pointed to Skate’s bag. “You think w-we’re on track?”
“Pretty sure.” They needed to let Rattle out with the statue to really
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