The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 38

Tugging her sheet across her forehead to collect sweat, Lillian squinted out at the horizon. The sun was finally beginning to sink, turning red-gold as it settled toward the sand. With it dropped the temperature. A cool wind brought relief to Lillian's feverishly hot skin. She closed her eyes as it hit her face.

"We should stop soon," Nyle said.

Lillian opened her eyes and glanced at him. He'd insisted on walking rather than riding one of the already heavy-laden camels; she'd eventually given in and modified his crutches so their bases were wider, better for walking in the shifting sand and packed, dry patches of dirt that hosted scraggly brush and starved cacti.

Nyle had tied his hair back by stretching a rag over his head and fastening it in the back, since the strands were shaggy and sticky with sweat. It reminded Lillian of when she and Sam and Nyle had played pirates in the camp when they were younger, cutting eyepatches from dark cloth and carving swords from tree branches. It made her heart ache for better days.

"How many miles have we gone?" Sam asked, crossing his bare arms. It seemed like he was the only one not bothered by the heat or the sun, leaving his head and his arms uncovered. As long as Lillian could remember, he'd never gotten sunburned, even after hours of swimming that left both she and Nyle red and peeling.

"Fifteen at best," Lillian replied, yanking the sheet off altogether, letting her hair flow loose in the wind. Chad followed suit, then Crynia. "Far enough to deter anyone following us, I hope."

Crynia snorted, tucking stray, sweat-curled hair behind her ear. "Right," she said, adjusting her grip on the camel's lead in her hands. Chad had the other two, one of which Sam had relinquished after being spat on several times by the animal.

Her white cloak snapping in the wind, Crynia continued. "Fifteen miles. Such a distance."

Nyle shrugged, squinting out at the sunset. "Either way, we need to stop. My knee won't take much more of this."

"And that," Lillian said, giving him a pointed look, "is why you'll be riding tomorrow."

"Your knee is just about a member of the group at this point," Sam cut in. "What should we name it? Jordan? Hezekiah?"

Chad choked on a laugh, not-so-skillfully turning it into a coughing fit. Nyle's mouth twitched.

"We're not naming his knee," Lillian said, shooting Sam a hard look that was far from serious.

Crynia rolled her eyes, clearly not amused. She'd been in a sour mood all day. "Let's set up camp, yeah? I've heard it gets cold out here at night."

With a disbelieving laugh, Sam pushed her shoulder playfully. "Right. Cold. In the desert."

***

Sam was beginning to regret not grabbing that fur cloak he'd seen at the market that morning. Because it did get cold in the desert. Deadly cold. So cold he was seriously considering curling up next to one of the camels, who smelled like dung and barns and animal sweat.

The fact that Crynia was wrapped in a wool blanket looking snug and warm with a smug look on her face as she watched him shiver wasn't helping.

But at least he wasn't alone.

Lillian had her arms wrapped tight around her, her thin white cloak providing very little warmth against the chill. Chad was back-to-back with her to share body heat, his chin on his collarbone, trying to sleep.

"I-I think it might be a good idea to huddle at this point," Nyle got out between chattering teeth.

"You think?" Sam said, more sharply than he'd intended.