CHAPTER TWENTY
Anvin marched through the wasteland, dragging one foot before the other in the baking heat of the desert, every step an effort, each step making him more certain that he would die out here. The blood from his wounds had dried long ago and it was caked to his skin, mixing with the dirt, each step making him feel as if his wounds were reopening. Still covered in welts and bruises, in agony from being trampled, his body swollen with heat and wounds, each step required a Herculean effort. He felt as if he were walking underwater.
Anvin forced himself to look up, needing a reason to go on, and as he did, he spotted in the distance a sight that made his heart beat faster. There, on the horizon, was the tail end of the Pandesian army, marching away from him, heading north, leavin
