Axel Timberson's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

The timber sat stacked by Isaac's fire, whole and ready. But Axel had never marked where the inn would stand. He walked the open ground past the shack and stopped cold. The land looked flat. He knew it wasn't. Aldric had warned him of hidden sinkholes and old wells. Build on a soft spot, and the whole inn would crack and fall. He needed to find solid ground before he cut a single beam. "I can't just pick a spot," Axel said. "I need to know what's under it." Isaac crossed his arms, a giant beside the bear cage. "Then test it. My father sank a post to find rot before he built anything." He handed Axel a long iron rod. "Drive that down. If it drops easy, don't build there." Axel took the rod. He started near the shack and worked outward. He drove the iron into the frozen dirt, again and again. Most spots held firm. Then, ten paces on, the rod plunged deep with no fight. He pulled it out. Loose black soil clung to the tip. A well, buried and forgotten. He marked it with a stone. Stella came from the shack, her boy trailing her. She watched Axel probe another patch. "You're doing it slow," she said. "There's a faster way. My husband found soft ground by where the frost melts first." She pointed across the clearing. "The ground breathes there. Warm air rises through the holes. Snow won't stay." Axel looked where she pointed. She was right. Three bare patches showed dark against the white. He walked to each and drove the rod. All three swallowed it. More hidden wells. He marked them all. Morgan watched from the shack door, staff in hand, the red stone dark. "Waste of a day," she said flatly. "Better than a collapsed roof," Axel answered. He kept working. By afternoon he had probed the whole clearing. He had found five soft spots and marked each with stone. Between them lay one wide stretch of firm ground near a cottage with a thick thatched roof, close enough to draw water yet clear of every well. He drove four stakes into the corners. He stepped back and looked. For the first time, the inn had a shape. A place. Real edges on real ground. Stella stood beside him and studied the stakes. "That's it, then," she said. "That's where Leo and I wait out the storms." "That's it," Axel said. He should have felt sure. But standing inside the staked square, he saw how big it was. Four walls. A roof. A floor. He counted the timber by the fire, then counted the corners he had just marked. The pile was far too small. He had the ground now. He did not have the wood to fill it.