Valadel

Chapter XXXVIII

"So this is Sandstar?" Miles asked as he and Jazmyn trotted up to the stables next to the large gate of the tropical city. The sun baked him in his cloth and leather garments, though he felt worse for his horse, under that saddle, armor and baggage. They had ridden for nearly half a moon, and talked about much on their way to the southern kingdom. Well, Jazmyn did. Though Miles did not find her as annoying as he had when they first met.

Though she is rather smart, her problem is that she knows it...

Jazmyn glanced up at the marble walls of the city. "Mm Hmm. Quite something, isn't it?"

"It is a beautiful city, but this heat is something else," said Miles.

"Jorden isn't much colder. Especially southern Jorden. It's nearly as hot as Valdor."

Miles nodded. "The ocean breeze helps keep it cool."

Jazmyn conceded her point with a grunt, and they rode their horses into the shaded shelter and dismounted, Miles giving a coin to the stable master. Their trip had been long, as the months were turning to summer. Their horses were exhausting themselves quickly and they barely had enough water. Jazmyn told Miles her past trip was easier, despite the thorn wolf attack she shared. He always had known Tytus was a strong man, but to kill a thorn wolf with his bare hands? He knew never to make him mad now, to say the least.

Through the gates was the actual city itself, protected by the smooth large, white walls. It was a different atmosphere, one Miles wasn't too quick to welcome. The city and houses were cramped and urban, a market stall every which way you looked, and there was a smell, like unwashed robes and body odor that clung to the humid, warm air.

Jazmyn looked back to him as she led the way. Her white robes were dingy, and the blue sash of the Scribe sagged around her waist. The straps of her knapsack had dampened her shoulders, and hung low on her back, but all these mild discomforts didn't break her smile or seem to bother her in the slightest.

Miles couldn't say the same for himself. His dark leather and crimson cloth surcoat felt like armor from all the soaked sweat, and his mail let little heat escape. His boots were filled with pebbles and grains of sand, and his short, black beard was sprinkled with sweat. As they shuffled through the crowded city streets, a snake slithered past, and Miles jumped quickly away, letting out a gasp. Jazmyn laughed as a fat, bald caramel skinned man in saggy robes chased after it, nearly knocking Miles over. Miles regained his composure, and grunted.

"Damn snake," he muttered. He noticed Jazmyn chuckling at him, and rolled his eyes. "Thought that was funny, did you?" He wasn't annoyed, just a little embarrassed he let something he could squash under his boot get the better of him.

Jazmyn stifled her laughter, and shook her head. "No, no, not funny, just...the snake was a charmer snake...it was toothless." She let out a giggle, and Miles waved her off.

"Yeah, yeah."

Jazmyn took his hand, not in a romantic manner, but rather a mother leading her child, and sidestepped and shuffled through the rest of the main market road, Miles gripping on to her hand for dear life at times when every inch of the streets were occupied. Finally, they broke into the city square, large palm trees surrounding the marble, dark wooded buildings. In the middle of the square was a large, pearly fountain, spitting up streams of clear, blue water. Jazmyn pointed to it.

"That water comes from deep caves below the city that are filled with running water. The Magus Roderys the Clever discovered them nearly four hundred years ago. The entrances were sealed with rocks, which," she came in close, and nearly whispered, "I think our friends, the elves, did during the Revolution."