CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Anvin galloped south through the hot and barren plains of Thebus, the air stifling with every step, racing into the sun, Durge at his side and their dozens of men behind them as they headed for the Southern Gate. They rode on, the thundering of their horses’ hooves filling the air. Anvin’s heart raced; the next few hours would determine his destiny, and the destiny of Escalon. He had never ridden all the way to the gate, and as they went the land narrowed to a strip of desert, bordered on either side by the two seas. On either side of him the water sparkled, the glare blinding, heat coming off the ground in waves and not a breeze to be found. This strip of land was all that separated the two seas, the mainland of Escalon from Pandesia, and Anvin knew that whoever held
