The desert dwellers did not dare to leave the city limits without the strictly necessary clothing. The process of "wrapping" oneself in all this could well be called a ritual. Everyone's body was covered with a long robe, usually white or cream-coloured. A narrow belt was wrapped around the waist, which served to store tools and accessories necessary for orientation in the endless wastelands. These included a compass stone and an hourglass for accurately measuring the route. The head was usually tightly wrapped in bandages, and everyone had to wear glasses over their eyes. And all this was also convenient, because it did not restrict movement, on which our Magic depended.
After spending several hours getting dressed and noticing how well it protected me not only from the sand but also from the sun, I finally understood the smiles of the locals towards any "tourists." It was impossible not to laugh at a person who was completely exposed and still intended to cross the Shi Wong on his own two feet.
Looking at the threshold of the Misty Oasis, feeling the gaze of children fixed on my back, I took a deep breath and took a step forward. My inner panic rejoiced — I hadn't been blown up by a mine. But that was only the first step. To reach the gathering group, I had to do a little more.
"What are you doing?" At that moment, the man pulling the sail noticed how carefully and slowly I was stepping on the sand, examining it for signs of life. From his voice, I recognised my father.
"Oh, just... I heard that inexperienced children rarely look where they're going and find poisonous scorpions," my father said, and a couple of people dressed as crew members slowly examined me and nodded very quietly. He introduced them as Bael and Hamri.
"Everything comes with experience. Now climb into the boat and watch.
Approaching the edge, Tassad held out his hand to me. Surprisingly, this was one of the very few items made of wood that was usually purchased outside the desert. For the first time in my life, I stepped onto a wooden floor instead of hard sandstone. Each boat was worth its weight in gold, but it more than paid for itself.
My father quickly introduced me to several of his assistants — not magicians. In addition to useful tools, they had curved swords on their belts. Each of them obeyed my father's orders without question, cringing under his heavy gaze.
"You have your father's eyes," one of them smiled crookedly.
"Yes, you're like two identical scorpions
Tassad and I took a good look at them before sending them on their way. Then my father pointed to the platforms on either side of the small cabin, where, as I had seen many times before, the mages were supposed to stand. He stood next to me and handed me something from his belt.
"Look, this is an hourglass. It's a unique way of measuring time that only we know about. Each hourglass contains the same amount of sand, which we can easily and quickly feel. They are always carried by the assistant to help the leader keep track of time," Tassad said, placing it in my hand and making me squeeze it. By feeling the exact number of grains of sand inside, it was possible to determine the time down to the second, although it required some knowledge, which Tassad tried to quickly impart to me. He didn't expect me to get used to it right away.
After that, he stood behind me and found a foothold. At that moment, all his workers ran into the cabin.
"Our ancestors say they learned Sand Magic from the tribes of water and air nomads over a hundred years ago. The boat is propelled by the wind created by the smooth acceleration of the grains of sand. The leader - usually me - gives the sand speed and shape, preventing it from scattering. The assistant—in this case, you—provides additional acceleration. Circular movements with both hands at the same time, smoothly, each movement flowing from the other.
The sand began to rise, followed by the sail, which began to flutter gently. Watching this up close was mesmerisingly beautiful. But Tassad made me repeat all his movements - to put extra momentum into every grain of sand and not even think about turning everything the other way or repositioning my feet for convenience. The previous assistant's mistake had jeopardised the current attempt, so he took my movements very seriously. Seeing that I wasn't so dumb that I couldn't follow a couple of instructions, and that I was even strong enough to help the sail start to fill with wind, my father nodded firmly.
"Let's go," Tassad said, stepping onto the deck and suddenly accelerating his movements, and in a second, the whirlwind tore the boat away from the shore. My heart naturally skipped a beat — sand flew past us at an incredible speed, the boat bounced on the dunes and literally flew, which was downright terrifying. And with it came wild excitement.
"Holy shit!" My hands spun frantically in the same trajectory, my brain froze and refused to break the rules. When my life was on the line, I usually took the rules of conduct very seriously.
Since there were no incidents, my father looked down at me.
"Orientation is done with a compass, which always points to the magnetic centre — the Shiv Wong rock. It's a damn dangerous place," he said more seriously than usual. But listening to him was more interesting than before.
As we sped across the sandy expanses and time slipped through our fingers, he occasionally told us about the dangers, such as quicksand, bandits and sandstorms. As for our destination, even with such fast transport, we didn't reach it in a single day, so we decided to stop for the night.
My father's assistants built a fire near the boat, gathering dry wood nearby, and caught a few scorpions. Meanwhile, Tassad patted me on the shoulder and motioned for me to step aside.
"You did well. The endurance of some novice mages leaves much to be desired. They don't spend enough time on the basics, thinking that because they're working with malleable sand, they don't need to train as much.
"I can't feel my hands," I wanted to collapse next to the warm fire and stare at the night sky, but Tassad just grunted. A smile appeared on his face!
"This trick will help you relax," he said as we approached a lone cactus, and he quickly cut off the top with a wave of sand. He held the cactus with the suspicious liquid up to me and made me squint. "Look. You can use sand to dry out the moisture in cacti. That way, you can reduce their hallucinogenic properties."
Unexpectedly, the cactus began to shrivel before our eyes, losing almost all of its moisture. It was like seeing the seventh wonder of the world, or simply the unimaginable magic of water. But no, Tassad absorbed the moisture through the sand, then cut off the flesh and enjoyed the taste of the cactus.
"It's very difficult to use this ability anywhere else, but if only it worked the other way around, to extract moisture... I developed it so that I could eat cacti if I ran out of food on the road without experiencing a mild euphoria," he said, looking at his workers who had stuffed themselves with the same cacti. I dare say they were already used to the effects.
Nevertheless, it was very powerful...
"Will you teach me?
Tassad grinned and nodded. He didn't say it out loud, but he made it clear with his eyes that he was teaching me this ability for self-defence. And it turns out that cacti really do taste very cool.
***
The other settlements were not much different from our Foggy Oasis. They were just as sparsely populated, and there were just as many suspicious characters. I had been standing near the house for a couple of hours while my father unloaded all the goods he had brought back — fruit, water, and basic necessities. The boat was nearby, and I was keeping an eye on it, watching all the strange characters from the corner of my eye. My father's assistants were standing nearby.
"They usually try to surround you so they can attack from behind," said one of the assistants, looking at his reflection in his sword. "If I saw them now, I'd scatter the whole crowd.
"Last time, they kicked you behind this house.
"I was just messing around.
To say I was on edge would be an understatement. Maybe that's why I wasn't surprised when a crowd of people in costumes approached, laughing provocatively. Some had weapons on their belts, and the sand crumbled beneath their feet. It was obvious they were thugs.
My father's employees turned pale, as if they remembered someone they knew.
"Hey," I said, but nothing bad happened. The door to the house opened, and Tassad appeared, holding a sand-covered dagger, which he pointed at the thug who had approached me. The dispute was resolved before it even began.
"Hah... They usually intimidate, but they're afraid to fight. They don't want to lose their own either," explained one of the workers, smiling as he sheathed his blade. According to the second worker, it was him who had been beaten up by the mob. I met my father's serious gaze — he had seen me standing on guard with my arm outstretched, wrapped in sand. I was ready to draw blood, but not enough to kill.
"It's dangerous here. Since you're travelling with me now, you'll have to learn how to fight mages. This skill will come in handy," he said. It seemed that everything in my life was starting to fall into place, and now I could finally take a step towards becoming independent. "Let's go, we need to get away from the city," he said.
With a wave of his hand, Tassad forced the workers to their feet and jump into the boat. In high spirits, I jumped in myself, wanting to use magic again. But at that moment.
Crunch*
Something cracked. Out of habit, I touched my spine.
"...We've broken a ski.
"Phew, thank God.
***
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