On the other side, the head of the delegation, who had entered the border of Holy Egypt for about several hours, just raised his head and glanced at the sky.
Today is another sunny day.
The desert, that's what it is.
The hot sand rubbed against the scarred cheeks of the head of the delegation, as if being pricked by countless tiny needles.
He could no longer remember how long he had been walking in the desert. Time had lost all meaning here, leaving only pain and suffering that seemed to never end.
His clothes were already tattered, and the exposed skin was red and swollen from being burned by the scorching sun.
Several wounds became infected and inflamed due to lack of medicine and clean water, emitting a faint stench of decay.
Every time sweat flowed into the wound, a piercing pain would make him gasp.
But compared with the physical torture, the psychological pressure was even more unbearable for him.
The death of Saladin, the tragic deaths of his companions, the crisis in Damascus...
As long as he closed his eyes, those images would start playing automatically in his eyes.
"Hold on a little longer, we're almost there..."
He kept repeating this to himself, even as his consciousness gradually faded.
The head of the delegation had already used up all his water and food. His swollen tongue filled half of his mouth, and his throat was dry as if on fire.
Even his camel was exhausted, its steps were slow and heavy, but it was still carrying him forward with difficulty.
This strong camel that once looked down upon the desert is now almost a walking skeleton. Its ribs are becoming more and more distinct, and its eyes are beginning to dim.
Its breathing became heavier and heavier, its steps became more and more unstable, and it almost fell on the sand dune several times.
"Old man, keep trying, we have entered Holy Egypt."
"Just hold on a little longer, and we'll be in Cairo soon."
The head of the delegation patted the camel's neck, his voice sounded a little apologetic, but he was still encouraging his "old friend".
The camel hummed softly in response.
But soon, it began to behave strangely.
It no longer moved in a straight line, but instead kept wandering left and right, sniffing the ground and occasionally making anxious calls.
The head of the delegation noticed something was wrong with the camel. He raised his head with difficulty and looked around.
"What's up, man? What are you looking for?"
"Wait...are you thirsty?"
The head of the delegation naturally knew very well what that action meant.
It represents a camel searching for water.
The animal's instinct told it that there should be an underground water vein in this area, but it could not accurately determine the location.
In this situation, camels often explore around based on instinct without paying attention to their owner's wishes.
"No, we can't deviate from the direction!"
The head of the delegation grabbed the reins in panic, trying to control the camel's course.
"Cairo is that way! We must keep going straight!"
“Stop!”
It was too late. The camel stubbornly broke free from his control and headed northeast.
Its eyes were wet and it made mournful humming sounds from its nose, obviously being tortured by thirst and becoming unconscious.
“Stop! Stop!”
“Damn it!”
The head of the delegation cursed, knowing that he could no longer rely on this beast.
He struggled to get off the camel, and as soon as his feet touched the hot sand, he felt a piercing pain.
The endless riding had caused his leg muscles to atrophy, making them unable to support long walks.
In the few seconds he hesitated, the camel had already walked dozens of meters away, and was walking faster and faster, gradually disappearing in the dust.
“Come back! Come back!”
"ah......"
The head of the delegation shouted hoarsely, but his voice was gradually blown away by the wind.
He realized that he was in an extremely dangerous situation.
No camels, no water, no food.
Hiking in this desert is tantamount to suicide.
But he had no choice.
"Cairo is in that direction..."
"good......"
He muttered to himself, determined the general direction, then gritted his teeth and started jogging forward.
However, every step he took was like walking on the edge of a knife. The hot sand burned the soles of his feet and blistered them, and the sharp grains of sand pierced into the wounds, causing severe pain.
But what frightened him more than these sensory tortures was the movement behind him.
In the distance, a few black spots appeared on the horizon, as big as flies, but they were constantly expanding.
The head of the mission was all too familiar with this.
Those were the Mamluk cavalry that were pursuing him.
These ruthless killers were ordered to hunt him to the ends of the earth and would not stop until they had fulfilled their master's orders.
The head of the delegation panted and continued to quicken his pace.
The Mamluk cavalry obviously discovered their target and immediately split into two teams. One team continued to chase the camels, while the other team went straight to the head of the delegation.
Their speed was astonishing, and they soon closed the distance with the leader of the delegation.
“It’s too late, too late…”
The head of the delegation was painfully aware that he could not outrun the well-trained cavalry.
His legs were cramping, his lungs were on fire, and he was having visions.
But his instinct for survival and sense of mission drove him to move forward.
He had to deliver the letter to the Holy Pharaoh, which concerned the fate of Damascus and the future of all Arabia.
"Let me run one more step, one more step..."
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