Where Sand Meets Sea:
The Adventures of Horan Sand
Chapter 4
The green villa stook out like a fly in milk. A whole forest of lemon trees, olive groves, and bushels of dragon peppers could be seen against the dead orange sands. Even from a quarter-mile away the scent of the pomegranates and plums was a wonderful treat. The light bounced of the fruits and twinkled like rainbow crystals in the distance. In the middle of the canopy a creme painted dome rose speckled with what he guessed where drawings of flowers.
Horan had seen nothing but sand and sand dunes for days. He had lost count after five. The only way to tell time now was the grumble of his stomach and the call of sleep. Nearly all his water had been emptied out of the jugs. The lemons, olives, and peppers where rationed but eaten all the same. Horan as of late had relied on the meat from desert vultures plucked from the sky and unlucky scorpions tanning in the early morning. The only edible good he still had from Sandstone was the small flask of Hippocras which he intended to drink when he saw Hellholt.
A fertile house like that is bound to be well protected he thought. He could go in and trade coin for crop, but he didn't want to risk it. A house like that had to be fed by a channel of some sort from the nearby lake. As Horan got around to the other side of the villa he saw the thin strip of cobblestone rock that marked the presence of irrigation.
Hellholt was nestled on the western bank of the Brimstone. A small lake was present just before the river turned into a waterfall that was so tall the water in the bottom turned to mist. Across Westeros it was known as Aegon's Aguish for the pain he felt after he learned of Queen Rhaenys death at Hellholt. But the smallfolk called it The Toad's Tear's after Meria Martell shed tears of joy at the death of the invader.
Brim Lake or simply The Brim as it is called by many provided many farms in the vicinity with water. Sandstone did it similarly but on a small scale with its well. The farm was connected to the lake through the spiderweb of canals that could stretch out for leagues.
Horan could see The Brim through the haze of the desert though he could smell it too. The sulpherous water smelled like dead eggs. It didn't stop Horan from dismounting from Dama and drowning himself in the water when he finally reached its edge.
He rubbed the sand off his skin and led Dama in to drink the water. Horan went to Dama's side and opened the Hippocras.
The sweet liquid made every inch of his tongue flourish with life. The cinnamon was truly wonderful. He even tried to give some to Dama who after a few drops turned it down. He emptied the flask and walked Dama to the town following the shore.
They came through a rich grove which smelled of lemon and blood oranges. He saw field hands tending to some of the leaves, but they paid him no mind as he walked though. After about two miles they came to the small town if it could even be called that of Hellholt.
If The Brim smelled bad the village smelled worse. Flies and horse shit where everywhere along with a overbearing heat that seemed to intensify by the minute. Crude buildings of clay and sod parted to form a main road and at the very end was the castle.
The castle by its self was a single tower followed by small buildings and a parapet. Even from across the way he could see the Painted flag of House Uller's red flames against the yellow desert. The smallfolk paid him no mind as he went about his business. They were mostly farmers although he did see a company of Martel guards escorting what looked like some important female paramours to the castle, old and young.
Horan made his way to the market passing by the only pillow house and inn. It would be so nice to sleep in a bed again. It had been a lucky occasion for the past few days not to wake up next to a snake.
At the market it was more of the same. Farmers selling crops and what merchants they had selling tools. There where some rarer good he spied though. He saw a man selling lumber from god know where. The nearest forest was in The Stormlands hundreds of leagues away. He saw a Myrish merchant with a crimson beard, haggling with a fisherman over his catch. Horan finally found what he was looking for. He walked up to the large stand where the owner sold clean water. He paid the reasonable price and even bought another Jug for his trip over the hills. He moved on to another stand to buy horse feed for Dama.
After visiting more stands, he finally had replenished his supplies of food and crossed the bridge over to the eastern side of The Brimstone. It was sunset by then, so the lake had turned the color or blood orange juice. The Toad's Tears looked like sparks rising from a fire as they soared up into the sky. After riding past a few more stinking clay houses he looked out across the desert that lay in his path. Just above the horizon he could make out the thin outline of the burnt Black Hills. It would be a long journey and the Winter Winds as of late where making sandstorms more common. He pushed his creme veil over his forehead and dashed of into the sand making a cloud of dust and casting a long shadow.