Flash Fiction

Stolen dreams were becoming an issue to the guardians of the wyrd. It appeared to the guardians that the dreams were being stolen to order and shipped to senior, willing clients. The guardians had determined it to be certain types of dreams and certain types of dreamers that were being targeted. They had set their finest dreamcatcher on the case. He had not lasted very long before being brainwiped by the unknown perpetrator or perpetrators.

Quickly the lead guardian deemed it necessary for him to take personal charge of the matter. First business, he gathered all the experts. There weren’t many. He questioned each one closely. They were mostly of a similar view. Most, except for one. A newly graduated magician, whose apprentice master had bestowed on him the working sobriquet of El Ness the Untouched. It was a suitable moniker as he was an orphan who lived without guile.

El Ness was of the opinion that the dreams were being taken by a cult for the purposes of advancing the cult itself. The cult had remained hidden, so El Ness, believed for at least three centuries and were now just starting rise to a new prominence. But how, the prime guardian wanted to know, would the dreams help them achieve this. The dreams, El Ness held, would enable them to understand those they wished to recruit. The cult is, he said, an amalgamation of two much older cults. One was known as Mafia and the other Triad, the new combined cult is now known as Fyst. Members are identified by delicate tattoos on the upper arm. After the collapse of the world financial markets and the abandoning of money the two joined forces and reassessed their future. They decided on patience and purpose. Until now they had only recruited through family. Employing dreams would mean they would be able to identify suitable recruits quickly and with a confidence previously lacking.

The prime guardian looked deep into El Ness’s eyes and reached far down into his soul. El Ness, he determined, was at one with the truth. He took a slow deep breath and put his hand on the magician’s head and said in a regal tone, ‘Young magician, you shall now, from this moment forward, be the chief magister of the wyrd. You will now take charge of the curtailing of the actions of the cult known as Fyst. Ask for who you wish to assist in enabling that outcome. Failure does not exist’.

El Ness sat open mouthed, still full with the rationale of his thoughts and explanation. The prime guardian of the wyrd stared at him harder than anyone had ever done. He felt an urge rise in him and in reply he now shouted a loud and emphatic, ‘Yes’.