Ranestone: Return of The Serpent

Chapter Thirty Nine-Levy

The Prince of Cortlan had never realized just how hot the sun could be.

As he and Isla rode over the seemingly endless dunes, the sun beat down on them mercilessly, burning through the light woven hood scarf he wore to protect his face.

They'd been riding all day, taking short breaks to drink down the water they carried in large canteens, wiping the sweat from their brows.

The Andus, however, seemed unfazed by the harshness of the desert, their gait remaining steady as they maneuvered over the shifting sand.
There were trail markers scattered on the unseen path they followed, tall columns of stone and clay half buried by the sand.

Ancient symbols were inscribed on the baked towers, too old for even Lev to decipher with all of his lessons on Cortlan's history.

All he knew was they were going the right way, the right way being as far from Cortlan and Hiltston Castle as possible.

He hoped they'd make it to the Oasis before they ran out of water and food, but it was unforeseeable. As long as they rationed, there would be hope of making it for that long, but he also had to take into account that the horses would need sustenance as well, though they could last quite a long while without it.
It had been surprisingly simple to purchase the Andus and supplies back at the stables, and he hadn't expected to find such quality horses in the city.

They'd been very fortunate.

Isla rode ahead of him, her dark purple hood covering her mouth and nose from the blowing sand so that only her large dark eyes showed.

She looked back at him constantly, as if making sure he was still there, and sometimes he had to make sure himself.

It was as if he'd become detached from his body, sometimes finding himself back at the castle, running from the biting flames, smoke choking his lungs.

His parents.

They were gone, killed by the black cloaks as the stable master had so casually told them.
It would have been so easy for the stranger to give them up to the mercenaries. Lev knew the man had immediately recognized him as the Prince of Cortlan. And yet, he'd sold them the horses, allowing them to flee the city under the cover of darkness.

Perhaps Cortlan would remain strong against the sinister force against them, but without the royal family their kingdom would be weakened. And did all of this mean he was no longer a prince? Would never take the throne? Thinking of the unknown pained him just as much as the dull grief that ate at his mind. He wondered how Isla felt. If Uma was still alive back at the castle.

He desperately hoped she was alive and safe.

Sitting for so long in a saddle had badly chafed his inner thighs, every movement of the large horse beneath him sending a dull aching pain through his legs.

He'd never been fond of riding, and now here he was, stuck on a horse for possibly days. Weeks. How long would it take them to leave the vast Desert Haze? He hadn't the faintest idea. He'd never left Cortlan, never ventured past the endless golden dunes.
There was just no way to tell.

Isla looked back to him, and motioned to stop, pulling back on the thin reins.

Lev pulled on his own reins, and stiffly climbed down from the saddle onto the sand, stretching out his sore legs. Isla did the same, and opened the bag that hung off the side of her horse, pulling out one of the large canteens of water.

They'd decided to share one of the canteens so that they could keep better track of how much they were drinking.

After taking a long swig, she handed it over to him.