Chapter Thirty-Three
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“This journey is taking forever!” Lodariel complained, rolling her eyes.
She rode beside Iarion. Daroandir and Silvaranwyn rode on separate mounts nearby while Sinstari loped through the sand a short distance away. Barlo sat behind Iarion, his thoughts echoing Lodariel’s words. It was taking weeks to travel westward across the desert with Tamir’s tribe. The size of their group combined with the heat made for very slow going. Barlo was uncomfortable enough on horseback without having to spend days on end in the saddle. His thighs were no longer raw when they stopped to make camp, but his legs were exhausted from holding such an awkward, splayed position. During the little time he spent on his own two feet, he could only manage an ambling, bow-legged gait that
