The caravan moved again, its speed a bit slower now, it was hard for the wheels of the caravan to move easily cause of the sand.
By Garran's order, the formation had changed. The front line, all of whose members were a bit injured and tired was sent to guard the carriages for a while. The rear line — Solen among them — took their place at the front. It was a precaution, Garran said. If another ambush came before the front line had time to recover, they'd be in a disadvantage.
So now, Solen walked near the head of the caravan, his boots sinking into the sand with every step he took. The sun was sinking lower, its colour changing to a darker shade of red. It was about time for the sunset.
He glanced toward Garran. The man rode his horse slightly ahead of the new front line, his blade was strapped to his back and it looked as if almost nothing could stop him. His armor was stained with dust and dried black blood, yet his movements were steady. He didn't seem to be even a tiny bit injured.
Even after all that fighting, he didn't seem the least bit fatigued. There was not even a change in his posture of even a slightest bit of haggard breathing.
The rest of the guards, even the ones, who while being selected had said that they were seasoned warriors, showed clear signs of exhaustion. But Garran? He looked the same as he had before the battle, looking like nothing could touch him.
Solen found himself thinking about the strange way Garran had been staring at him earlier. He wasn't sure if it was cause Garran had found something unusual about him or just because he found him to be a baggage that he was staring at him.
'Damn! Why was this bastard staring at me. He couldn't have found something about me. Could he?' The more Solen thought the more he felt the pressure of the situation. Firstly, he still didn't know clearly what the drawbacks of his powers were and now this shit.
As he recalled about what he had read in the description of the 'Soul devouring' ability, he couldn't help but grimace a bit
'Madness huh? Whatever it is, I will have to deal with it.'
He clenched his fists. 'If I want to survive, I will have to use this power anyways. I just hope that whatever the drawbacks are, they are at least worth the price.'
He still had to choose some item so that he can store the souls in it, he had already decided on the half-broken lantern that had been with him since before the start of the trial.
He thought he would, use his other ability 'Soul Collection' to make the lantern his vessel.
As the sun set and the night began, the caravan finally began to slow again. Garran gave a sharp nod, a signal for them and then the line of guards began helping to unload some stuff that was needed for the night. The night Temperature of this desert, now known as the saharan desert whose name he happened to listen his fellow guards talking about, was the same as any other desert. It was really cold.
Solen helped unload a few crates before quietly excusing himself.
He looked at one of the fellow guards and told him, "Hey man, I am going to relieve myself. If someone asks then tell them. OK?"
The guard who he was talking to was Jaron, a boy of similar age to his own. He had thought they might get along cause of their similar ages. But, boy was he wrong.
Looking at him coldly, Jaron replied, "It's not as if anyone out of us is going to miss you."
Solen, who had just turned couldn't help but think in his mind, 'No need to be so rude man. I know that much myself.'
As he walked further his muscles still pained from the march, but his mind was only thinking about using his ability on the lantern.
He needed some space. Some private space in which he could do what he wanted to.
But before he could move too far from camp, something made him pause.
A figure stood near one of the central carriages — someone he hadn't seen before.
She looked completely out of place between the dust and leather. A woman in her early 20's perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two, who was dressed in beautiful silks of the colours soft gold and crimson with some unique patterns engraved on them. Her posture was calm, her expression distant, as though the world around her didn't exist.
Her clothes were really beautiful but it wasn't her clothes that had stopped him.
It was her face.
Solen froze for a few seconds. The world seemed to narrow around her. Her features were delicate, her eyes deep and strangely familiar — not because he had seen her before, but because something in them felt like remembering a dream.
Beautiful didn't quite cover it. The word, in fact the whole world seemed too small, too fragile.
He blinked once, then twice, forcing his gaze away. For a moment, he almost walked toward her — without thought, without reason. His steps had already started to shift before his mind caught up.
'What the hell am I doing?'
He clenched his jaw, turned sharply, and walked away back to the way he was going earlier. The cold night had removed the warm feeling that he was getting from gazing at the women.
Behind him, the woman watched silently. The firelight flickered across her face as her lips curved up as if she was feeling amused.
"Hmm," she murmured under her breath, eyes following his fading silhouette. "He wasn't completely caught by my charm ability…"
She paused then made an expression that looked like she was both a bit interested and a bit confused.
"Not bad. Just as I thought — he really is somewhat special. But he broke it sooner than I had expected."