Chapter Nine
Children of the Gods
Barlo woke feeling miserable the next morning. His head pounded and the inside of his mouth tasted awful. The desert sun seemed even brighter than before, its rays stabbing his bloodshot eyes. He took a sip from his waterskin. His stomach roiled at the thought of food.
Jadir and his tribe had vanished, leaving only a cloud of dust behind them as they rode west. Jadir had given them a packhorse and supplies, and dressed them in the manner of his own people before saying farewell. Barlo felt strange wearing a loose, linen robe over his armor. He hoped it wouldn’t get in his way if they ran into another fight. His head was covered by a length of fabric that wound around his skull before wrapping around the lower half of his face. Jadir had called it a burn
