Sand Castle.

[rossi]

"Our King is cursed."

The foot soldier's companion nodded, spitting out a mouthful of sand. Only a few of them were left now, huddled against the rock wall. The rest were dead or vanished into the howling winds. The food was gone. The water was gone. Hope was gone. The only thing remaining was a small group of soldiers, waiting for death.

There was a flash of teeth in the gloom. A hollow laugh from another man up the line.

"Not as cursed as we, eh? Not even the gods will find our bones." He paused, coughing against the sand he'd breathed in. "Kings. Kings and their wars. All it, dust."

Another laugh. "Don't you mean sand?"



Inspiration drawn from this story, as linked to by warrenellis.