DRAGONDARK Episode 1
Rolling down the dirt road through The Black Desert, the wagon left a cloud of dust trailing behind it. The sun's heat gave no remorse. Months ago he left his home, a busy trade town that sat on grassy hills with farms, churches, and a crowded marketplace. The town of Jemeroth was large and sat outside of the walls of El Tomath Keep. It rested on the border of The Black Desert, where the man had gone west, traveling across for Port Skell, in the eastern coast of Nerin Toth. Food was scarce in the El Tomath kingdom where Jemeroth was. Famine had struck months ago. Suffering hunger and death like his home, the North and west were no option. The south was just more desert and the Hulderk Mountains. East through the dangerous desert had been the man's only choice. Right after he had started he ended up hiding from bandits; two nights later, he saw those same bandits rob another traveler. A month after that, he had come across a caravan with dead bodies in it. Travelers who hadn't been able to fight both heat and hunger at the same time. Hoping that's all it was, and not something far more dangerous, he moved on and a few weeks later arrived in Port Skell. His journey across the desert had been hard and the journey back across it, while uneventful, was harder just because of the heat. Port Skell was a fishmonger city with high trade and high danger, run by pirates. Most larger cities and port towns had done well through the famine, but those in smaller communities or living in their own often went hungry. He had been lucky and able to purchase supply oats and grains. The food has the flavor of horse-feed but would keep his family fed for a while.
Wiping the sweat from his brow and short, black hair, Erron Stairin, looked at the sky. He would finally make it home tomorrow where his wife and son were, and out of this inferno desert. Watching the flying buzzards overhead, he adjusted his sitting on the wooden bench of the wagon and saw another wagon that had stopped. Stopping in the desert during the daytime wasn't an action anyone took, except for a moment or two. There was no reason. Keep moving. Don't wait to die from exposure, or worse. Feeling the kopesh blades he always traveled with for protection, Erron was ready. He was well trained with the curved swords. Bandit ambushes weren't uncommon in the desert. Not trusting the stopped wagon, Erron thought of his cargo he had acquired in Port Skell. If it was more bandits, there would be no hiding this time. Drawing closer to the stopped wagon, Erron saw a man, woman and a small girl kneeling next to a body of another small girl. He could see the girl was sick and the family who cried for her were facing the inevitable. Famine was killing her. The people of the El Tomath kingdom were starving. Erron rode closer, thinking of the hunger of his own family. The family saw Erron and ran toward him.
"Please, something! My daughter needs food!" the man said running beside Erron's wagon. Erron looked at his hands holding the reigns to the horses, trying to ignore the man.
"Please!"
Looking at the girl who cried for her sister, Erron's heart began to break for the family. No one should have to suffer this.
But he couldn't. His own family needed him. Thinking of them, Erron pressed forward.
The mother stood, "Sir, please, my daughter will die if she doesn't get food!"
Pretending not hear them, Erron continued to roll past. He knew what desperation to feed his lives ones meant. Turning angry, the father began hurling insults at Erron, while the mother began hurling rocks. Still, he rolled on.
Later that evening, rubbing a welt on his shoulder from one of the rocks, Erron warmed himself at the campfire near the wagon. He didn't want to camp but the horses needed rest. He pulled his long, black, leather trench-coat closer.
"Almost home," he said to the horses. Hearing another wagon, Erron peered into the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did, the family he had seen earlier came into his vision. He ignored their wagon. They seemed to ignore him too or didn't see the campfire burning. Erron wasn't sure which and after a few minutes, it didn't matter. They were gone. Erron slept.
Arriving in Jemeroth the next day, Erron rode the covered wagon to his small farm. It should have felt good to be home. It didn't. Something felt odd. Passing a neighbor's field, he saw the same family again, this time burying their dead. Erron allowed them privacy and went home to his wife, Gabrielle, and their son, Gory.