“You’re lost, aren’t you?”
“It’s around here somewhere! I remember a strong smell of fish!”
“Kyosti, we’re by the sea. Everywhere smells like fish.”
“You’re lost, aren’t you?”
“It’s around here somewhere! I remember a strong smell of fish!”
“Kyosti, we’re by the sea. Everywhere smells like fish.”
Kyosti spent most of the voyage sick belowdecks. He, Anglorae, and Sanji huddled in their blankets for the tumultuous and treacherous trip, green-faced and wretched. John abandoned them almost immediately to run around in the sun and wind, only coming down to bring them water and food.
“What a traitor,” Anglorae griped. “I should have left him in Mardoo.”
“Hot water!” Anglorae yelled, banging down money on the startled innkeeper’s table. “And lots of it!”
It took them almost a month to finish their journey up to Mardoo, which was the nearest big city that could take them across the ocean. Winter chased them all the way there, but finally the wall of night receded and the snows stopped. They entered a gleaming desert that reached scorching temperatures during the day and dropped to freezing in the night.
They eventually left the mountains behind and dropped down into Mel Iorn, a hilly, wet country at the best of times. Now, in the winter, it was frigidly cold and humid. The usually green vegetation was gray and brown, blanketing the ground in an icy, soggy mass. Many of the streams were already frozen over or dried up, but several rivers still rushed down through the hills. On one memorable occasion, the four of them even had to cross a freezing river.