Vadhaka Ro

Vadhaka Ro - Prologue

The scorching sun was sinking into the horizon behind them. In the distance, charcoal-tipped hoodoos appeared in shadowy indifference to the plight of a woman and child staggering through the windstorm. Gritty linen clothes flapped about them, tattered and torn – the only protection they had against the onslaught. Squinting to see as best as they could, the silver haired mother plodded onward, refusing to give in to the hunger, thirst and pain she suffered.

They held onto each other, hand in hand. Broken stone bit into their bloodied, blistered feet. From time to time the desert elf woman would fall, pulling the child down. But each time they would rise again. The mother marveled at the stamina and determination of her daughter. She had always been a strong-willed child, full of excitement and intensity. She was a lot like her father in that respect. Her father...

I hope he makes it, she thought, not for the first time.

It had been many days since they had parted. The image of the lone Peostrian warrior fighting those vile creatures was emblazoned in her mind. His shouted warning giving her enough time to snatch up their daughter and flee still echoed in her mind.

Soon the stark rocky ground gave way to rolling mounds of soft sand; hot on the surface but mercifully cool beneath. Entering the formidable Dunes of Morralysta would frighten others, but they gave the woman hope. She knew that if they could survive but a few days more, they would reach a safe haven: a village on the shores of the Sea of Dorsa near the eroded eastern end of the Rimbhotain Cliffs. There they would find a place of refuge; a place to heal and become strong.

She touched the small leather pouch strung about her neck that he had given her. He had her promise him to protect two things: their daughter and the contents of the pouch. And he had told her to go to the village at the edge of the world. He said he would meet her there... It would be a place where they could live in peace, lost from all else. She hoped it would be a place without anyone hunting for them anymore.

Another blast ofscratchy sand hit her in the face. The stinging brought her back to her ordeal.She glanced at her daughter, struggling to block the sand from her eyes. Fatigueand determination were etched upon her young face. But there was no trace offear. If anyone could make it through, she could – her daughter was a survivor.And with luck, they would soon have a new life, far from the dangers of a harshpast.