Final Fantasy I


"The Gray Orb: A Prelude"


Brian Dobreski, bdobreski@usa.net





     Evening's soft, dying light crept slowly across the inner sea port known as Pravoka. The


many shops were just beginning to close down for the night, and most all activity at the docks in


the south western part of town had ceased. Any citizen who walked the neatly paved cobblestone


streets at this hour was either in a hurry to get home, or making their way to the local tavern, one


of the only places still open. The bustling port city was settling in for the night. However, a lone


figure stood wide awake at the edge of town, his blue eyes focused on the suns last glorious rays


sparkling orange and gold upon the salty expanse of the inner sea.


     As the sun sank below the horizon, and the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky, the


man looked about him in all directions before slowly creeping away from the docks. Silently, his


leather booted feet took him down the narrow, dark alleyways between the town's large, white


houses. Moving quickly, he continued on, stopping here and there, dodging into shadows to avoid


any passers by. In a few minutes he reached his destination, halting to look up and survey it.


     Before him stood a large, luxurious mansion, constructed of smooth white brick and a


roof of gray wood. A black chimney sitting atop let forth a wispy puff of gray smoke, which


dispersed quickly in the night air. No lights came from any of the numerous, intricately designed


windows. Surrounding the house were several small maple trees, their leaves still brilliantly green


although it was late summer.


     "Perfect..," the man cooed quietly to himself, a smile cracking across his face. He pulled


the hood of his brown cloak over his short blue hair. Looking about him in all directions, he


sprinted forth, carrying himself to one of the maple trees. With the grace of a cat, he leapt onto


one of the stronger looking branches, stopping but a moment to steady himself before proceeding


on, leaping now to one of the window ledges. He tugged at the bottom of the window, and


surprisingly, it was unlocked, and gave way. Sliding the window up, he moved slowly into the


dark room, closing the window behind him. He sat under the window a moment, his back against


the wall, letting his eyes adjust to the deeper darkness.


     In a minute or so he could soon make out his surroundings. He was crouched in a narrow


hallway, with a closed wooden door on either end. He looked from one door to the other, finally


deciding to start with the one on his left. Standing, he slowly walked to his left, tightening his


leather, finger-less gloves in anticipation. He grasped the cold door knob, turning it carefully and


pushing the door open. Groaning, the door gave way to another dark room. The man held his


breath, hoping no residents of the house had just heard the door. After a satisfactory period of


time, he passed into the room like a shadow.


     "Bingo," he thought, his eyes spying a large rustic chest at the edge of the room.


Tiptoeing over, he pulled his short iron dagger from its leather sheath at his side and knelt down.


He made short work of the lock that hung defiantly on the front of the chest. With great caution,


he lifted back the top of the chest, revealing several small bags of gems, a few expensive antiques,


and of course, a small mountain of gold coins. As he lowered his hands into the chest, eager to


collect this small fortune, he stopped suddenly, a puzzled look on his face.


     Keeping the rest of his body as still as possible, he glanced over his shoulder. Behind him


was another window, framing the starry black sky. Silver beams of moonlight were pouring in,


stretching across the wooden floorboards. Aside from that, the room appeared empty. He shook


his head out and again reached for the glittering treasure. Again he stopped abruptly, a chill


running through him. He spun around, still crouched on the ground, his eyes widening. He felt as


if someone or something was watching him. He was sure of it.


     He sat still a moment, his keen ears listening for breathing, but not detecting any. He


withstood a few more agonizing moments of silence before his curiosity finally got the best of


him, as it usually did. Crawling quietly on his hands and knees, he made his way away from the


treasure to the other side of the room. He noticed that the moonlight seemed to illuminate all but


a small dark corner of the room to his right. Crawling that way, he stopped to draw his shiny steel


dagger. Holding it above his head just right, he reflected a patch of silvery light into the corner.


The light fell upon a small, ornate wooden chest.


     He reached out and carefully dragged the chest across the wooden floor into the light cast


by the window. He sheathed his dagger and lowered his head to inspect his finding. As his hand


passed over the top, the chest flipped open. He sprang back, waiting for poisonous gas or a


hideous creature to leap from it. He waited. Nothing happened.


     He drew closer, a faint glow emanating from the chest catching his eye. Daringly, he


reached in. He felt his hand clasp around a smooth, warm surface. Pulling his hand back out, he


discovered he had retrieved a palm sized orb. The dull glassy surface glimmered in the moonlight.


     "An orb," he thought, "That's all? A dull, old orb?" He placed the orb back in the chest,


ready to shove it back in it's corner and return to harvesting the real treasure. Something was


stopping him, though. There was something odd about that orb. Before he knew what he was


doing, he had taken the orb in his hands again. 


     He stared at it, becoming lost in the foggy gray world it held inside. His mind drifted for a


few minutes, until a sound catapulted him back into reality. The sound of footsteps. He looked


over, realizing he had left the door wide open. The footsteps grew closer. His eyes darted back to


the open treasure chest on the other side of the room.


     "Shoot, no time now...," he cursed himself for not collecting the treasure when he had first


laid eyes on it.


     "Who goes there?!" a voice boomed out in the darkness, coming from down the hall. The


thief winced, tucking the orb into his leather vest and rushing to the window. He flung it open and


jumped out, not bothering to close it. He flew head first into a maple tree, this one not quite as big


as the one he had climbed to enter. He tumbled through the tangle of leaves and branches, landing


on his knees upon the soft grass.


     The thief was back on his feet in less than a second, moving stealthily over the shadowed


cobblestones. He ran through the alleys, not stopping to look back. He kept going, beyond the


town limits, running off into the late summer night.





***





     The thief yawned, sitting up and scratching the back of his head. His back was sore from


sleeping on the ground, and his knees even worse thanks to last night's fall. He looked up into the


bright blue morning sky, which was somewhat obscured by the branches of the tall oaks


surrounding him. He stood up, looking about the forest as he dug in one of the pouches strapped


to his belt. He withdrew some dried meat and began his breakfast.


     He had been in this forest, north of Pravoka, all night. Luckily, no one from the port had


been sent after him. That only went to prove to him how worthless this orb must be. Still eating,


he cursed himself yet again for taking the orb rather than the valuables. He was running out of


money, and could have really used those gold pieces.


     His finding might not be all that bad, though, he thought. As he finished eating the slightly


bitter meat strips, wiping his hands off on his baggy tan pants, he recalled hearing something


about a missing crystal and a reward.


     "A crystal... a crystal... who wanted it?" he asked himself, searching his memory. He took


out his canteen and gulped down the luke warm water. "A witch! Yes, a witch was looking for a


crystal of some sort. This might be it," he told himself. Seen as how he traveled alone much of the


time, he was quite used to talking to himself. "A witch,... in a cave northwest of here...," He


checked the position of the sun, spinning on his heels until he was facing northwest. He felt the


inside of his vest, assuring himself that the orb was still in his possession. Taking a deep breath of


fresh morning air, he set off through the forest.


     No trails were designated in this forest, but the trees were spaced far apart, making travel


in any direction relatively easy. He walked at a quick yet leisurely pace, giving himself enough


time to soak in every bit of his surroundings. He liked forests a lot more than he liked cities. But


cities are where the money is, he reminded himself. He continued on through the forest, not


exactly care free, but light hearted all the same. 


     A sudden, sharp rustling split through the warm air like a bolt of lightning. The thief


stopped dead in his tracks, listening. The rustling came again, from his right. Without making any


sudden movements, he withdrew his dagger, gripping its worn leather handle tightly.


     In a split second, a small dark figure burst from a bush to his right. It was a short, lizard-like creature, donning a cloth tunic and hood. It held out its long curved blade, ready to charge


the thief.


     "An imp...," the man spoke calmly, hurling his dagger through the air. It struck the imp in


its chest, sending it to the ground, dead. The thief walked over, kneeling down over the putrid


smelling creature. He plucked his dagger from the corpse, wiping the black blood off on the grass


and placing it back in its sheath. Carefully, he searched the imp's pockets, producing a few golden


coins. "Better than nothing, I suppose," he remarked. He pocketed the coins, looked around a bit


to make sure no other imps were about, and set off once more.


     After traveling for a while, he pulled the orb from his vest, holding it out in front of him,


still walking. The orb appeared even more dull and gray than it had last night. Why did I take this,


he thought. It looked to worth very little. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want it back,


let alone offer a reward. Still, there was just something about it. It was almost as if it had called


him, forced him to take it. He stared at it a moment longer before tucking it back away in his vest.


     Shortly, he came upon a narrow brook. He moved over to the clean, cool water, sitting


down to rest his feet and refill his canteen. His canteen full, he leaned of the water, looking at his


reflection. Dirt covered his face. He reached his hands down into the water, scooping up a cool


handful and splashing his face. He dried off with his brown cloak, and leaned back against a tall


oak.


     He looked up into the sky, seeing the sun almost directly above him. He had been traveling


for hours now, and was undoubtedly nearing the witches cavern. He rested for a moment more


before resuming his journey. Refreshed, he got up, dusted himself off, and went forth.


     He had not been traveling long when he saw another rustle in the brush up ahead.


     "I'll be ready this time!" he whispered, drawing his dagger. He rushed forward, keeping as


quiet as possible. He crouched down behind a tree stump, peering around it at the disturbance. He


gasped.


     A few feet away from him stood a gnarled brown broom, hovering upright about a foot


from the forest floor. It swayed back and forth slowly, gradually making its way to the right. The


thief couldn't believe his eyes. Intrigued, he decided to follow it. He kept it insight, moving from


tree to tree. He wasn't sure if it could see or hear him, but he wasn't taking any chances. He


continued to follow the broom until they reached a giant mass of stone. The broom stopped,


swaying back and forth in place for a second, before entering a hole in the rock.


     The thief waited for a few minutes, to see if the broom would come back. When it didn't


emerge, he ran forward to the cave and entered.


     Instead of finding himself in complete darkness as he had suspected, he found himself in a


narrow stone hallway, dimly lit by torches. Dagger still drawn, he proceeded slowly through the


hall. A bat's cackle echoed through the cave. Up ahead, he saw a staircase leading down.


Debating with himself about going down it or not was not necessary. His mind was already made


up. Carefully, he snuck down the stone stairs.


     At the foot of the stairs, he crept out into a large, brightly lit stone corridor, and once


again, gasped. It was filled with over a dozen brooms, all milling about, swaying back and forth.


The suddenly stopped, seemingly alarmed by the man's presence.


     "Regnarts!" a voice called out. The voice of a broom. The thief pinched himself. I must be


dreaming, he thought. However, the pinch resulted in nothing more than a slight bruise, forcing


him to believe his eyes.


     "Tnaw uoy od tahw?" another spoke. The thief couldn't understand a word either of them


had said.


     "Hctiw ees ot ereh?" yet another said. The way they were talking. It was almost as if they


were speaking...


     "Backwords!" the man realized. He approached the mass of brooms, tucking his dagger


away. "A witch? Did you say a witch lives here?" he asked, hoping they would respond.


     "Sey! Ereh sevil hctiw! Retsam ehs," the chorus of brooms replied in unison. The thief


took a moment to sort out what they had said.


     "The witch does live here," he spoke to himself, "I wonder if she's the one after the


crystal?" There was only one way to find out. "Brooms, take me to your master!" he commanded.


     The brooms shuffled about excitedly, moving over to a large opening which led to


another, darker corridor. The thief followed close behind, still a little stunned by the fact that


those brooms could not only move about, but talk as well, even if it was backwards.


     His footsteps echoed through the damp cave as he followed the eerily swaying sea of


brooms. He felt his vest for the orb, but decided against taking it out at this point. He would wait


to see if this truly was the witch in need of the crystal. He didn't have long to wait.


     As he was escorted into the dark corridor by the brooms, his eyes made out a dim robed


figure up ahead. He continued following the brooms to her, walking down a thin aisle flanked on


either side with shelves upon shelves of magical herbs and potions. An acrid smell hung in the air,


and as the thief could see as he drew nearer, the robed figure was hunched over a bubbling


cauldron, its contents most likely the cause of the odor.


     "Who's  ere?" the figure snapped suddenly, almost loosing her tall, pointed, crimson hat


into the vat of mysterious liquid.


     "Rotisiv a! Regnarts a!" the brooms chanted out to their master.


     "A stranger, eh?" she questioned, still failing to look up at her brooms and visitor. "Come


closer. Tell me, what do you want with me, Matoya the witch?" Her shrill voice rang through the


cave. Reluctantly, the thief approached Matoya, the mass of brooms parting for him as he went.


Standing a few feet from her, he could see she was an elderly woman, with wispy strands of gray


hair protruding from her cap.


     "I think I have something of yours," he stated, "namely, a crystal...,"


     "My crystal! Give it to me!" she screeched, reaching toward the thief. He took a step


back.


     "What's my reward?" he asked slyly.


     "Nothing, if it's not the right the right crystal! Now let me see," she flailed her arms wildly


in front of her. "I... I can't see without it. Wah! Won't you please help a poor old woman like


myself?" she begged, deciding to change her tactic.


     The thief, somewhat amused by the strange antics of the witch, snickered a little. He


withdrew the palm sized orb from his vest, thrusting it into her pale, bony hand. She howled in


delight, and the brooms sent up a frenzy of cheering. With great care, she held the orb up to her


forehead, facing the thief.


     "What's this?" She frowned, shaking the orb and trying again. "This... this is not MY


vision crystal!" she fumed.


     "It's not? Are you sure?" the thief replied. Thinking back on it now, it did seem rather


unlikely that a wealthy citizen of Pravoka would have stolen her vision crystal.


     "What is it, though...?" her voice trailed off, still holding the orb up to her forehead. "This


orb, is quite special! Indeed, it is extremely important! You, young man, you must hold on to it."


She gave him back the orb.


     "Me? What use do I have with it?"


     "The orb has bound itself to you. You have been chosen as a Light Warrior. You must


light it again," she ordered.


     "Light it? How? Why?" The thief was utterly confounded.


     "Your orb, is one of the four orbs which protects our planet. You must gain back its


element from the Fiends, and then it will shine once more," she instructed. "South of here, in the


city of dreams, you will find three others such as yourself, three other Light Warriors. They hold


the other orbs. Together, you will win back the elements from the evil that threatens our planet as


we speak."


     "But," the thief began.


     "You have no choice. The orb has chosen you. You must go. The sooner the better. Our


world is at stake!" she thundered.


     The thief wondered if he could trust this odd old woman. She sounded as if she were


absolutely insane. However, something inside him told him to believe her. He had to travel south,


and light the orb. It was his destiny.


     "Alright. I'll do it," he declared. He turned around, eager to leave and go south.


     "Wait. One last thing," Matoya called. The thief stopped, turning back to face her. "If you


find my vision crystal, please bring it back  ere?"


     "Sure thing," he nodded, then hurried down the aisle, exiting the corridor. Soon, he found


himself back in the forest outside Matoya's cave.


     "Southward, to the city of dreams," he told himself. He wasn't quite sure about being able


to save the planet, but it sounded interesting, and besides, he had nothing else to do. "Supplies!"


He grimaced, reminding himself that he had very little food or money. He sat down cross legged


on the soft, green grass and rummaged through the many pouches he carried.


     "Twenty six gold coins, three pouches of dried meat, canteen of fresh water," he


documented to himself. "If I ration this, I should be able to travel southward for quite a while.


This city of dreams can't be too far..." He got up, putting everything back in its own pouch or


pocket, save for one strip of dried meat. He nibbled on this salty strip as he set forth to the south.


     The forest was beginning to thin out. Soon he would be traveling over the grassy plains.


The city was probably there, he thought.


     "Stop right there!" a hideous voice cackled from behind the thief. Without turning around,


he dropped the rest of his dried meat, reaching for his dagger. "Don't even try it!" The thief's


hand stopped just short of his weapon after this command was shouted.


     "Who are you?" the thief asked boldly, turning around. He came face to face with another


lizard-like imp. Its short sword was just inches from his nose. Suddenly, a dozen more imps


moved out from behind nearby trees.


     "You thought you could get away with that?" the lead imp demanded, keeping the shining


steel saber dangerously close to the man's face.


     "Get away with what?" he asked innocently, though he knew perfectly why there were


there.


     "Don't act stupid. We know you killed our fellow tribesman!" the furious imp screeched.


The other imps growled angrily, closing in on the thief.


     "Me? Kill a tribesman of you noble beings? No way!" The thief began to back away,


hoping to distract the rowdy bunch with a little flattery. "I have been in the woods all day,


gathering firewood for my home, which is not far from here..."


     "Enough lies!" the imp exploded fiercely. "You are guilty. We'll kill you now!" It swung


back its sword, ready to cleave the man's head straight off his shoulders.


     The thief jumped backwards, somersaulting through the air and tumbling to his knees,


away from the imps. "There's too many," he told himself, quickly rising from the ground. "I've


gotta lose  em!" He took off, running as fast as he could. "At least I'm going southward..."


     Behind him, he heard the clumsy company of imps tumble recklessly through the forest


after him. Being taller and faster, he had the edge. True, he did feel somewhat humiliated from


running away from a pack of imps, but as he knew, there was nothing worse than an angry mob of


those awful little creatures.


     He kept moving, threading his way back and forth through the trees, hoping to lose them.


Up ahead, he could see the vast plains opening up. He charged on ahead, out of the trees and on


to the open field.


     "You can't get away!" He heard one of the imps cry, as a flung sword flew by, barely


missing his head.


     "Damn it!" he thought. He hadn't lost them, obviously. His only choice was to keep


running. As he moved rapidly over the short grass, he struggled to keep his breath. His side ached


terribly, but there was no stopping now.


     As he continued, he noticed the plains dropping out of sight up ahead. Hills, he thought.


Perhaps he could lose the imps there. As he drew nearer, he felt his heart sink. Not hills. He know


stood upon a sharp cliff, the crashing sea roaring below him. Across the channel was another


section of forested lowland, probably where the city of dreams was, he thought. Funny, Matoya


never mentioned there was an ocean in his way.


     Looking over his shoulder, he saw the pack of imps about twenty yards away, practically


foaming at the mouth. His eyes went back to the channel.


     "It's not that far," he encouraged himself. "I could swim it!" He remained motionless,


hesitating to jump. He had no choice, though. Closing his eyes, he jumped high off the cliff. He


felt the misty winds fly past him. For a second it seemed as though he was floating.


     Suddenly, the cold water hit him. The salty liquid poured into his nose and mouth as he


submerged. Pulling himself to the surface, he spit out the water and began swimming as quickly as


possible southward, toward the lowland.


     Back on the cliff, the imps cried out. They had lost their prey, and greatly fearing water,


they could not follow after him. They watched a moment more as the blue haired figure darted


across the waves, before turning around and heading back to their tribe.


     "Keep going, keep going...," he willed himself on through the choppy water. He couldn't


hear the imps any longer, but he would feel much safer up on land. In a minute or so, he crawled


up on shore, collapsing to the ground, soaking wet. He took a moment to catch his breath before


standing to survey his surroundings. A narrow band of trees blocked his view southward, and,


taking one last look at the cliff to make sure the imps were gone, he headed over toward it. As he


passed through the dense thicket of foliage, his eyes widened.


     He found himself just a short distance away from a modest looking town, accompanied by


a graceful marble tower which shot up high into the sky. He rushed toward it, his eagerness


overpowering his exhaustion. He may have been cold, tired, and soaking wet, but he had made it.


Before him stood Coneria, the city of dreams.





***





     The thief leaned against a tall oak, sighing as he watched the sunset sparkle on the ocean


waves. His eyes passed over to the new wooden bridge which spanned the channel he had swam


just a few days before. Still, it seemed like an eternity since he had first arrived at Coneria.


     He had gone to see the king, and that's when he had found the other three Light Warriors,


each possessing a similar orb, who now stood with him, before the bridge. To prove to the king


they were the true Light Warriors, they rescued his daughter from the clutches of the evil Garland.


Actually, it had been a snap for them. Garland didn't put up much of a fight. Besides, they worked


quite well together, their individual skills complimenting those of their fellow travelers.


     Returning the princess to him, the king promised to help them on their quest to light the


orbs, by ordering the construction of a bridge to the northern continent. Though that was where


the imps dwelled, the thief did not worry. Four against thirteen were better odds.


     A warm breeze fluttered through the trees, rustling their green leaves. The companions


finished their rest, and moved away from the trees, toward the new bridge. The breeze blew


through the thief's cloak as he followed behind his comrades. He took one last look back to the


marble spire of Coneria, before hurrying to catch up to the others. Together, they marched on to


the bridge, onward, to meet their destiny.