Tales From a Thousand Worlds

The fields that they passed through around the village had been made dry by a long, hot summer. Crops withered and wilted under a blazing sun. The harvest was destined to be a poor one, another in a string of them, reaching back to the days when the Empire had fallen. Ahead of the rough trail they followed, lying shimmering blue against a hazy horizon, were the hills for which they were making, low and rolling but dominating the flat lands before them. Not a cloud marred the sky, a burning washed out blue that promised days of no relief, whilst the air hung still and heavy, without a breath of breeze to stir it. Insects sung all about them in the stifling heat that bore down upon them like a heavy blanket.

Follow this link for Part Two of The Merchant’s Legacy