A Crown Of Blades(ARTK, Book 3)

Chapter 111-112

  Juhna 26th,3330 A.G

  It would be far simpler to just give up. To lay on the sandy ground with his eyes and mouth open and wait for another sandstorm to come and slice open enough of his nostrils, or to look around for one of the many snakes he'd encountered that made strange sounds and spit things at him. At one point he thought he saw a bird, but Aenor eventually chalked that up to imagination or worse; heat induced hallucinations.

If he were going to accept that he were having those after just two weeks in the desert, there were other things he had to look into as well. Had the Skelton he he saw just yesterday (the furthest inland yet, and he hadn't come upon another since) been a hallucination - or were it another who'd gotten so close?

He knew he had to be- not that there were much to go off, yet..... the ancient texts claimed that as it took four days to fly over the continent on dragon back, it must take two weeks to walk to the middle on foot.

He could be as close as a thousand paces or as far out as another few days. The pain shot up his entire body now, not just the leg muscles-

But he'd done the best he could with what he had. He'd kept the loose fabrics on to protect his skin(though it could only do so much, he'd still burned some), started to ration his water- and only ate now when he felt as if he would collapse.

A few more days- that were what he'd told himself the last week.

And he would have to tell himself nothing else for a while.

He'd occupied his mind by going through every dragon name, every legend he'd ever come across- and everything that were known about the bonds. It were possible that he could be burned by another rider's dragon, but not his own. That the beast, should he find one- could continue to grow until a shadow were cast over the entire continent. It could immediately take to him; or it might make him work for the bond with food offerings. Where he'd find those offerings..... that were a point of question.

If he were lucky enough he would find one large enough to ride, or one that weren't far off from it. If unlucky.....

He hoped he would die quickly, without pain- but perhaps that were just the heat talking.

Yes, that were what he'd tell himself. A week ago he wouldn't have dared to believe anything but that he'd get gone to his wife and children alive. Now each step were a fight, but it were one he told himself he could continue.

For before he'd gone to sleep, and then again when he woke- he'd thought he saw something in the distance. A green speck- but so green it were difficult to believe he could hallucinate that.

Now that he were close enough, he could tell he hadn't. He began to laugh maniacally, in such a way that would scare people were any around- and collapsed.

Just a few hundred paces.

A few hundred more, and he would not become another tragedy like that other skeleton. So close.... Yet a failure.

His legs did not work. He were going to die right there in the sand, a snake making that odd noise at him from somewhere in the desert brush- the only other sign of plant life....

He would shrivel up, turn into feed for whatever were strong enough to live here- and turn into a bone marker. One day some soul would come upon him, make it a few extra paces and think 'well at least I lasted longer than him' before they collapsed too.

But he did not have that luxury.

Children. I have more than one of them- he reminded himself. A wife who, for whatever reason- had chosen not to leave him in all their years together.