Flights of Fantasy - The Pub Fantasy Smackdowns

Grains of Sand - Part 1

Grains of Sand

The temperature is dropping, the water rising, as I walk to the edge of the Sea of Lost Dreams. The light of the sun is failing as it dips below the horizon, and we steel ourselves once more for the onset of darkness. We sleep with one eye open as night falls.

Night: a time of doubt in the Forgotten Realms. Governed as we are by all that is experienced by those outside, we are utterly dependant on their moods, their aspirations, their dreams and their nightmares. Without them, would we even be?

Those few of us who exist here do so only on the whim of those whose fragmented dreams have left space for us to exist. We are but will-o'-the-wisps in a land of chaos. All we can hope is that the continually shifting maelstrom allows us a door to another reality before this one ceases to be and the evil takes hold.

We travel the Forgotten Realms, endlessly searching, fighting for the light and the Source of all things, for only through the dreams of others can we try to find where we truly belong.

Stranded in this strange land, I find myself amidst failed hopes, discarded promises, darkness and light. Myriad small droplets contain the broken, half finished and littered remnants of a million nightly journeys. A sea of them splash at my feet.

They lie dark, pearlescent and unending; luring like ripened fruit. I lift up a droplet and gaze into someone else's dreamscape. There are so many, yet none give me the answer I seek.

How am I here? And Why?

(Extract from the ninth book of the Histories of the Forgotten Realms.)

~~~

Calasta slashed his sword through the neck of the Soul Stealer as it lunged for him, its hollowed teeth bared in a rictus smile of hunger. Barely pausing to smash the creature out of the way, he charged across the cobbles of the courtyard, sword held high and his winged Paladin cloak flying out behind him.

"Esta!" he shouted as he ran, veering toward the faint response, and charging out of the gate of the long deserted fortress to follow the path outside the walls.

"Cal!" The desperate reply was echoed by several screeches and looking up he saw a stealer dive from the sky, its destination hidden by the corner of the castle wall.

Roaring a battle cry, he rounded the corner as Esta collapsed, a stealer fastened to her throat and two others closing in.

"No!" Rage gave his feet wings, and in seconds he was crouched by his friend, the swiftly decapitated bodies of the small group of stealers crumbling to dust around him as he knelt.

"Esta?"

A small dribble of blood from the wound at her neck slowed and ceased, and the body blinked from existence, leaving him alone. A low moan brought him back to his senses, and he turned to face two more Soul Stealers as they moved toward him, their insidious whispers taunting and wheedling as they approached.

"All alone little Paladin..."

"No friends..."

"No hope..."

"No future..."

"The Forgotten Realm is ours now..."

"Cease your fighting..."

"Join us, embrace the darkness..."

"Let us embrace you and bring you into the fold..."

Calasta stepped toward them as they both lunged at him, his left hand grabbed the throat of the closest, his gauntleted hand clamping around the windpipe and stopping its teeth mere inches from his throat. As it struggled in his iron grip, he stabbed the point of his sword low into the abdomen of the other, twisting the blade and dropping it to its knees. A backhand blow took off the top half of its head and black funereal dust whispered away with the wind.

He tightened his grip on the other stealer as it squirmed and clawed at his armour, its breath rattling in its throat as it tried to wriggle free. Abruptly it ceased and its body slumped. The creature's eyes widened and changed, deep red spots appearing in their depths.

"Calasta, you are one of the last of your kind. You have failed..."

Calasta smiled grimly. "I wondered if you'd show your ugly face, impotent godling."

"Impotent? And yet here you stand, alone, one of the last Guardians. You are doomed Calasta, you and the Lady. Pray to me now while you have the chance. Pray for forgiveness and cast your pious nonsense aside."

"Even one candle gives out enough light in a darkened room Braemon." Maintaining his grip, Calasta breathed deeply and closed his eyes, his lips moving in silent prayer. A web of light coalesced around the form of the God possessed Soul Stealer, the strands tightening and melding together to form a cocoon. There was a brief shriek of pain and the stealer and its unwelcome passenger were eviscerated and exorcised.

"If only that were the end of you," he muttered. He knelt where his comrade had perished. "I'm sorry Esta, I failed you." Rocks shifted around him, dust swirled and when he had finished his plaintive offering to the Source, a small cairn stood where she had fallen.

"You did not fail her." Faint words whispered from the wind as the Lady, Source of all things, communicated with him.

"She is dead and Braemon is not. I failed."

"Calm yourself gentle Paladin. Two others of the order remain. They have been journeying across the ice from the Sea of Lost Dreams to meet you. This world is dying, but there is one last chance for you to escape it, finish Braemon and save a child. You must commune with them and tell them what I am about to tell you, then you must journey to the Mountains of Night, for only the sands there can speed your passage and give the child a chance of life."

Calasta rose from his knees to address the emptiness that surrounded him. "And who are these warriors?"

"Escobar and Alendra."

"They still live? Are there any more?"

"No, my Paladin. You three are all that remain. There is not much time..."