The Pale Tower
The theodolite lens was cold against Major Elias Thorne’s thumb, a slick circle of glass that refused to hold the image steady, vibrating with a frequency that seemed to rise from the iron tripod rather than the air. He adjusted the spirit level, the bubble sliding off center despite his meticulous corrections, and watched the crosshairs drift across the grey expanse of the northern moor where...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews