The sand mages' boat was very similar in structure to a catamaran. Resting on two skis, the vessel glided smoothly across the surface, and compared to the more common boats, it rocked less on uneven surfaces and was easier to steer than single-hulled boats. Catamarans were significantly inferior to boats at low speeds, but in the desert, no one even paid attention to such a trivial fact. Here, you had to go as fast as possible. But despite all this... catamarans were more difficult to repair.
If you broke one ski, you couldn't patch the hole or start bailing water out of the deck. You couldn't even move, which was, to put it mildly, the biggest problem possible for desert dwellers. Stopping in front of the right ski, which had split in two, all the members of our "caravan" wiped the cold sweat from their foreheads.
"We won't be able to fix it," even Tassad's face fell. "The crack is across the board, we must have hit a sharp rock on the way. The right side will just come apart and spread in different directions as soon as we start moving. We can't ride it."
"Hey, maybe we should steal it?" Bael whispered, covering his face with his hand. He stared predatorily at the boats of the bandits who had recently been hanging around us. But there were three vehicles there, which meant it was a whole gang.
"If you like relying on brute force, why don't you just join their gang? - Tassad glared at his workers, forcing them to duck their heads. It was obvious that stealing would lead to a fight, and therefore bloodshed. He was just assessing the odds, and instead of rushing in, he looked around." "We'll have to fix it. There are no boat shops in this town. But materials are often brought here.
Waving his fingers at me, Tassad stood behind the boat and began to push the sand under it to get it deeper into the settlement. Realising what was required of me, I began to help, carrying the boat along the current we had created. It was like we were sailing a paper boat down a stream, only everything was much bigger. And all the residents were staring at us, watching our efforts with malice. My uneasiness grew with every step, and I began to feel resentment and irritation towards the workers who were just walking calmly alongside us and resting.
"We're here," my father stopped near a large sand-coloured brick house. The sign had a picture of a lotus flower on it; it was a florist's shop. Strange as it may seem, even in this godforsaken place, people loved plants, and we had several in our house too. After instructing the workers to keep an eye on the boat, he called me inside.
Ding*
A bell rang above our heads, and pots filled with tightly packed sand appeared before our eyes. They contained not only expensive plants, but also valuable soil. All of this stood on beautiful wooden shelves — it was clear that we had come here for the wood. Tassad looked around carefully and saw a salesman sitting behind the counter, fanning himself with a newspaper. He approached him and stared intently into his eyes.
"We need a piece of processed wood to repair our boat.
"You're out of luck. We don't have any," replied the thin shopkeeper, not surprising me. My father's gaze hardened. "Actually, I do have some wood. I bought it not long ago. It just needs to be dried before it can be worked on. That will make it stronger."
"The wood needs to be dried... - this information was new to my father. Frowning, he opened his mouth, "How long...
"A month," my father was about to ask, when the salesman confronted us with a harsh reality. "You're lucky we're in the desert. In the humid climate of the continent, you'd have to wait at least six months. Anyway, as soon as all the moisture has evaporated, you can come back."
"Hm? - and at that moment I blinked. To make the wood stronger, you just had to remove some of the moisture. It sounded very simple. I looked at my father, who had lowered his gaze, apparently considering various options, and quietly tugged at his sleeve. At that moment...
Choose:
1 - Share the idea that came to mind with your father (You will improve your relationship with your father. You will have a chance to earn money)
2 - Suggest robbing the bandits. Your survival is more important than the bandits' lives (There is a risk of serious injury. You will get three boats and all the goods in them)
3 - Suggest stealing a boat from the merchant. Your life is more important than his earnings (Your relationship with your father and mother will become - tense).
For a second, I had a lump in my throat. My father asked me what I wanted from him, but all he saw was me standing there with my mouth open. Get a bunch of boats at once, get a bunch of stuff? Rob a merchant? That would make our lives a lot easier. It would allow us to expand our business. But avoiding injury and practising the skill my father taught me would be more important.
"What if we... help remove the moisture?
"Oh..." - Tassad's eyes cleared. While the merchant tilted his head in confusion, my father quickly decided to make a deal. First, he simply asked to see the wood so he could choose a piece for the future. The salesman rolled his eyes, got to his feet and went out into the fenced-off backyard, where thick logs lay on stone pallets. As soon as my father had walked through the rows and chosen the wood he wanted, he looked back at the merchant. "I'll make you a deal.
"More crooks," he said, rolling his eyes wearily.
"Hear me out. We'll help you dry all the logs, and you'll pay us and give us one log for free. It's more important to you to sell your goods as quickly as possible, am I right?
Placing his hand on the piece of wood, after covering it with sand, Tassad began to squeeze all the moisture out of the thick log — it changed shape before our eyes. The previously angry seller, who had already been thinking of chasing us away, froze, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
"What kind of trick is this?!" The thin guy quickly ran up and started feeling his own goods. With every second, his eyes grew wider and wider. "Unbelievable, shouldn't the wood have cracked from drying so quickly? How did you do it?!"
"I didn't burn it. I just absorbed the moisture evenly from the entire surface. Can we agree on that?"
Tassad was magnificent. He didn't break character as a serious man — although I doubt that was his character — and took control of the situation. The merchant, who had examined the log, thought seriously, but quickly agreed. He negotiated with his father for a few copper coins for each log. In the end, it should have been about sixty coins. That amount was more than we had earned from selling all our goods in the city.
To say that I was delighted would be an understatement. My father called for help so that we could sort everything out quickly and begin the super-fast drying process. At first, he watched closely to make sure I was removing the moisture evenly — I'd be lying if I said I got it right the first time. But following his instructions and practising a lot, I learned to squeeze it out as quickly as my father. As soon as we had sorted out the logs, everyone was happy. The merchant rubbed his hands greedily, and we got our block and a chance to save ourselves.
"Dad... but the wood isn't trimmed, what are we going to do? - As soon as we pulled the wood out and placed it near the boat, I asked the obvious question. In response, Tassad shrugged, stamped his foot on the sand, and caused a wave that trimmed the wood the way we needed it. With the help of the workers, I quickly changed the ski and climbed into the boat," ...Like new.
"We're not going to die!" Hamri rushed over and hugged me, almost knocking me off my feet.
"You guys are great. If you hadn't succeeded, I would have definitely gone to rob the bandits, I swear," the second one hugged me.
They didn't do anything, and now they're bragging. I looked at them with narrowed eyes, wanting to hit them, but Tassad grabbed them by the scruff of their necks and threw them into the cabin.
"Let's go, finally.
He gave me an approving look and created a tornado. As planned, we headed not far from the city, just for some simple training. We stopped a couple of kilometres away and got out with my father onto the sand. While the others cooled off, he knelt down and ran his fingertips through the sand.
"You've probably noticed that all our houses are made of sandstone. Hardening sand is an important skill, but not just for building," he said, scooping up a handful and shaping it into a dagger. "And I sharpened the edge of the blade and turned it into a stone." The attacks of sand mages are cutting, unlike those of earth mages, which are crushing. Let nothing prevent you from compressing sand into a stone and breaking something with it, but... need I say that it's not as deadly?
At that moment, Bael and Hamri jumped off the boat and drew their curved swords. The sunlight reflected off the clean metal, creating a pair of sunbeams. I was surrounded on all sides.
"Nevertheless, we are not very good at dodging blows. Smoothly parrying attacks while standing firmly in one position is where our strength lies," Tassad clenched his fist sharply, and the sand beneath my feet began to pull me down. It was difficult to even lift my leg, as if I had fallen into a quicksand trap. At that moment, Bael swung his weapon, cutting a piece of my clothing. They all looked at me coldly. Especially my father, who I thought had become warmer. "Without the ability to defend yourself, they will drive you into the sand and you will die.
Then he turned his back on me and went to the boat, while the labourers raised their swords and quickly cut through the air. Unable to escape or call for help, I was thrown into a cruel reality. Even now, with my 21st-century mindset, I couldn't understand how cruel the world I found myself in was. High mortality rates, no antibiotics? That wasn't the most important thing... there was a war going on, and smart people like my father understood that it could affect everyone. If you weren't strong, you would die like a hunted sand snake.
DZYN*
The sand tentacles that rose into the air instantly deflected the oncoming blades. The sharp edges struck sparks upon impact. Bael and Hamri smiled broadly, but such an attack did not surprise professional swordsmen. Their paired swords created a whirlwind of blows, each movement flowing smoothly from the previous one. These feints resembled... sand magic.
Just like my father taught me. Spin in one direction, directing every grain of sand. Alone, they were incredibly weak, but when they came together, they formed an unstoppable whirlwind - the pointed tentacles began to deflect each blow in unison. The sand really did resemble the water shown in the cartoon, but with one noticeable difference. Each swing felt heavy, causing the workers' hands to quickly pull away.
"I hope you understand," Tassad's voice rang out again. But it was followed by a sandstorm that knocked the workers off their feet. Small holes appeared in their clothes. "How flexible our abilities can be. The main thing is not to limit your mind. But don't get carried away, there will always be someone stronger.
His men's legs were covered with sand and turned to stone. The next moment, a sand tornado rose, which usually drove our boat away. But the grains of sand in it began to sharpen, turning the tornado into a harbinger of death. The workers were almost cut to shreds, the men fell fearfully onto their backs, until... the sand simply collapsed.
Hamri and Bael exhaled relaxed and smiled.
"Tassad held back," they said, as if nothing had happened. The atmosphere seemed to have normalised, but the mood was still low. The rules of the desert were no different from the laws of the jungle. And that was sad.
"Choose:
1 - Help them up (Your relationship with the workers will improve)
2 - Turn away (Survival of the fittest. You will learn to betray your friends in order to survive)
3 - Hit them back (Your partners will start fighting for their lives, your training will speed up. Your relationships will become heated)
And Anubis preached the same thing to me. With my head down and my fists clenched, I still didn't want to accept such conditions. Betray others? I wanted to live a normal life, not cover up holes with betrayal and backstabbing. An option for a morally fallen pirate.
"Oh... thank you," the guys blinked at my outstretched hand. They got up and dusted themselves off.
"I wanted to ask," I began in a whisper so that Tassad wouldn't hear us, "Does your father always behave like this? I mean, so rude."
Bael and Hamri exchanged glances and smiled.
"Don't worry about it, we're used to it.
"Tassad is a child of the streets, just like us. We weren't even surprised when the boss took you on the expedition. He went into the desert at the same age to survive and find food. Hey, he didn't even want to take you at first," Bael turned to his friend.
"But he bullies you more. You're weak.
"Hey, he abuses both of us.
Looking closely at the arguing workers, thinking about the so-called "tenderness" shown by my father, I had to nod my head. It's good that he is the way he is.
***
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