Chapter 147: The Convoy
Jonas staggered back under the weight of the replacement axle. The wood was massive, cracked in several places, clearly patched together in a hurry. He let it drop into the dust with a cloud of splinters.
"Damn thing weighs a ton," he panted. "And it’s warped. This won’t hold."
"It’ll hold till Martissant," grumbled the bearded man. His hand absentmindedly tapped the handle of his axe. "Otherwise... we’ll find a nice hole to die in."
Dylan crouched near the shattered wheel. His fingers traced the fractures, the torn-out bolts. Not an expert, but he understood the logic of broken things.
"We need to lift the back," he said to Maggie.
She nodded briskly and moved into position, hands set firmly on the sun-worn wood.
One... two... three...
They pulled. The cart groaned. Dylan’s muscles bulged beneath his sweaty skin.
"Elisa! The block!"
Without waiting, Elisa used a chunk of rock she’d already lined up in her field of vision, sliding it under the remaining axle. She controlled her breath, not spending more essence than necessary, saving her focus for the moment it would truly be needed.
Marisse watched without letting go of the reins. The suspicion in her gaze had faded, replaced by a hollow weariness.