The Inferno Slayer: Book Two- Charm

THIRTEEN: The Journey

They set off. Sam strapped Soren to his back, alongside his pack, slung over both shoulders. Argon and Aryel walked in front, Irys and Sam in the center, and John the rear.

"A question, Sam," called John from behind Sam.

"What?"

"If we go outside Skrimonn, won't you be unable to use your magic?"

Sam swallowed. "That is true, yes."

"So Flynn won't be able to, either."

Sam shook his head sadly. "Flynn draws from the Charm, enabling him to use magic wherever he goes. But he won't be able to control the seasons anymore. That's only Skrimonn."

John harrumphed and returned to the rear.

"But you have the staff, Sam," piped Irys. Sam frowned thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but I could only control the elements. Maybe the land is all dirt. A sandstorm? It wouldn't affect Flynn or the dragon."

They trudged through the forest. First, to cross into Tzogras, they would use the bridge over Finch Creek, then go along the road. The wilderness would only endanger them even more. Whenever they got onto the road, they would stop by a few farms, refill their supplies, and go on. They hoped to set up camp for the night near Chaffle, the capital of Tzogras.

From there, head a day north by northwest, straight to his parents' home. Then they would split up if Aryel sensed Flynn had left Skrimonn, and Sam's parents would return to Riptide to help in the reconstruction.

The group reached the bridge and headed to the Gorkon side, stopping for a break once safely off the unsteady wood.

Sam nestled himself next to a tree trunk and opened his supply of food. Slices of tender, salty meat, juicy, crunchy apples, and even a few fresh vegetables were left in his sack. But he knew he had to ration himself, or he wouldn't have enough food for the rest of the trip. And he had very little money. That meant very few refills of food. If the farmers were willing to sell food. They would only offer money to farmers. The markets in Chaffle had ridiculously high prices.

He took a strip of meat and stuffed it into his mouth. He sucked the salt off, then chewed slowly. As Argon called for a wrap-up, they packed day the rest of their supplies. Sam washed the last of his meat down with the water in his canteen and refilled it from the creek. The waters in Skrimonn were amazingly clear.

They broke camp and continued on. Soon, at nightfall, they reached Chaffle. They had stopped by a few farms, and one farmer gave them a few potatoes and turnips from his crops. Nothing more.

Sam munched on a cold turnip as they settled in their tents at the edge of the city. They had too little money to pay for an inn- it would be a waste.

Sam's eyes began to close, simply out of exhaustion. He felt himself drifting away, and safely put  whatever was left of the turnip in his mouth. The tent swayed gently. Or was it his vision? He didn't know, and like an old man on his deathbed, Sam floated away.

Let there be light. Sam hated the light. It entered his eyelids through every single minuscule crack, flooding his vision with dark splotches. He rubbed his eyes, and sat up, groaning.

"Get up, you lazy sloth!"

John's voice.

Sam bolted awake, remembering how the demon would escape in only four more days.

"Look who's here," John called, as Sam stepped out of his tent, fully and haphazardly dressed.

Thom and Kian, two from the original expedition to neutralize the Necromancer, stood in front of Sam, grins on their faces.