Here's a new addition to my Dreamland Articles short story series. Enjoy and critique if needed.
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A Begger's Chance
Mike walked slowly along a long dirt road as sand wafted up around him in fine, grainy clouds. He hated the desert. While he liked the sand, the general lack of water bothered him. He took a quick glance at his watch and kept walking. A small desert city loomed before him as the afternoon sun hung high overhead, baking everything around him like a giant bread oven.
He tightened the cloth mask around his face as he squinted between the thin walls of swirling dust, trying desperately not to breath the abrasive material or get it in his eyes. He soon reached a small side door in the wall that surrounded the city and studied it. He was surprised it was still in one piece, since the wood it was made of looked sand worn and dry rotted. He grabbed the handle and slowly opened it. The door sounded worse than it looked as it groaned miserably on its simple wooden hinges.
Mike carefully studied the street on the other side of the door and noticed that it was surprisingly empty. He peaked his head through, checked both ways, and then slipped inside. On either side of him were small wooden booths used by merchants in the city bazaar, all of which appeared abandoned and neglected.
"Wow, this place is in worse shape than I thought. Even the market is a ghost town," he thought.
He knew this couldn't be a good sign. Even in the poorest towns there was always at least a few merchants in the bazaar. Yet here, there were none. He shrugged and began to turn down the street when a woman called out to him from a nearby doorway. Mike stopped and glanced over at her.
"Are you a Remian?" asked the woman.
Mike pulled his mask down from his face and nodded.
"I am," he said cautiously.
The woman clapped her hands together in joy!
"Oh thank goodness! You are here to fulfill the prophesy!" she shouted.
"Prophesy?" replied Mike.
"Yes! There is a prophesy that tells of a Remian who would come to our humble town and take a gift of Royal Bread to the goddess Imimbia. When it is given to her, our land will be saved and our drought ended!"
Mike shook his head. "I'm not here to fulfill a prophesy," he said.
But the woman wouldn't listen. She vanished inside the doorway and reappeared several moments later with a large, steaming tray of a very sweet smelling bread. She quickly wrapped up two loaves and gave them to Mike. He eyed them curiously.
"Go! Take these to the goddess Imimbia in the center of the city and offer it to her as our gift in exchange for rain," said the woman.
Mike furled his brow. "Why can't you do it?" he asked.
The woman waved her hands furiously. "Only a Remian can fulfill the prophesy! If anyone else tries to offer the bread to her, they will be stuck dead on the spot!"
Mike frowned. "Great, a trigger happy goddess with PMS," he thought. "Alright, I'll take it for you, but once I drop it off, I must be on my way," he said.
The woman clapped her hands joyfully. "Oh thank you! Thank you oh great Remian who will fulfill the prophesy!"
"Remian?" came a voice from behind Mike.
The woman looked past him and gasped in horror. Mike felt slightly uneasy as he noticed the woman's expression. He spun around and spotted four men standing behind him. He studied them with curious interest.
"Oh joy, the local thug brigade decided to send out a welcome party. If I wasn't so low on energy, I'd smoke them all right now and be done with it," he thought.
He studied each of the four men and reached out with his mind to feel their auras. What he felt was at least slightly reassuring. None of them were mage wielders. Of course, that didn't do him any good since his weakened state made him no stronger than they were. If he was going to reach his next objective, he'd have to bluff his way out of this situation. He turned and handed the small bundle of bread back to the woman and stared defiantly at the four men.
"Ah, we've got a tough one here," said the first man.
Mike pointed the palm of his hand at the men so that they could see the castling symbol of a mage wielder emblazoned in it. The men studied it and grinned.
"A mage wielder, eh? So, you're one of those special crime fighters who go about busting skulls and putting bad guys away, eh? Well, I'd like to see you put me away, punk," said the first man. He strode forward and put Mike's hand in the middle of his chest. "Go ahead, blast me, if you can, punk," said the man defiantly.
Mike groaned inside. His bluff wasn't working. It was right at this moment that he was regretting not picking up at least a few extra casting stones before leaving on his quest. Those would have come in handy right about now. But since he was fresh out of stones, and had no other magical devices with him, he would have to go back to basics and find some other way to deal with these thugs. If he couldn't, he was a dead man. People in these parts didn't take kindly to mage wielders, and a wielder without his powers was desirable prey.
He narrowed his eyes and said, "Back away, or I will kill you."
The man grinned mockingly. "Awe, what's the matter, little mage? Haven't got any energy? Or are you too scared to take a life?" he said.
The man pulled out a long knife and waved it tauntingly at Mike. Mike swore quietly. Just then his ears heard the sound of a sword being drawn. He scanned the deserted market around him until he locked eyes with a tall, robust young man with body armor thick enough to stop a tank shell. He held a obscenely oversized sword in his right hand. Mike cocked his head slightly in amazement as he took careful note of the young man's weapon.
"Alright you four. Leave the stranger alone, or I'll have to punish you," said the swordsman.
"Punish you? Where'd this guy learn to talk?" thought Mike.
Suddenly he realized that the four men weren't looking at him anymore. They had turned around and were now facing the swordsman. Mike glanced towards the city door, and then the bakery. There was little chance he'd get past the four hooligans and get out of the city, so his only other chance of escaping was through the bakery. He raced up to the woman, grabbed her bundle of bread, and slipped through the bakery while the hooligans were occupied.
As he ran out the other side, his nose caught the fragrant odor of fresh bread. He was about to unwrap it and take a bite when his senses detected something else. He paused and used what little magic energy he had left to scan the loaves. He quickly detected a strong poison mixed in with the bread. He smirked.
"Crafty. Very crafty. They make up a special type of bread that is to be delivered by foreigners of a specific country. If they take it all the way, they make everyone here happy. But if they try to sample some of the bread, they end up as a statistic. Well, I guess it can't hurt for me to deliver this to their local goddess. If nothing else, she ought to be able to enjoy it. After that, I need to find a shop that has jewel stones so I can replenish my energy," he thought.
Just then the sounds of a gigantic, heavy sword clanging against stone, and the cry of several frightened men rang out in the small city. Mike grimaced.
"Well, that's one less group of hooligans to worry about."
He then turned and hurried off to deliver his precious cargo of bread. Even if he wasn't able to do much else, at least he could deliver that.
