Onward

Ruben wakes early, surprised at how good he felt given the previous days' events. Sitting in his tent listening for any activity, he eventually decides to go out and explore. He moves quietly past Doa's tent to not disturb him. This is their first “morning” together, so Ruben figures it is best to be a bit more considerate of the other's sleeping patterns.

Although for Ruben it feels rather late to be still sleeping. As he walks the perimeter that makes the enclosed space, he is amazed how protected it is from the outside. The rock formation seems to rise up majestically from so close. It feels a world different from viewing it from the outside, Ruben thinks. From the outside, it just seems like a bunch of rocks leaning against each other. Tall, sure, but not imposing. From the inside of this wonder of nature, the tall narrow boulders feel like unscalable peaks to Ruben.

He reaches the end of the perimeter, having circled around to the opposite side of the little pond that is the other reason for the space was far removed from the cruelty of the desert. Ruben takes his shoes off and decides to walk back to the camp through the shallow bit; the water feels so invigorating, his knees buckle and he almost lies flat in cool liquid.

Finishing his look around, he sees Doa has come out and is already making a fire by their camp. Ruben quickly wades the last few steps through the water and walks towards Doa.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” Ruben asks, then chastises himself a bit for speaking louder than he might have liked. Doa picks up on Ruben's discomfort. “No worries, sound travels a bit differently here in the morning,” he responds, ignoring Ruben's actual greeting of merriment.

Ruben goes to sit on his side of the camp fire. “I will just be having some of my tinned beans this morning. What are you planning to cook?” He asks Doa, then gets up and moves to the tent to get his proposed breakfast.

"I was lucky to get some sand rat this morning before sunrise, you want some?" Doa offers. A simple “Urrgh” coming from the tent gives him the answer. “Anyway, I plan to be moving on today. What are your plans?” he says without retort to Ruben.

Thinking it through for a moment, Ruben sits back down by the fire, now armed with a can of beans. “I think you saved me in a way, and if this place is not my home like I know it, likely heading out I would find myself in a very precarious position. So I would like to maybe go with you?” He tries to make the request sound nonchalant, but Doa knows better.

“So you are saying you owe me your life and will serve me till death?” Doa retorts quickly with a cheeky grin that Ruben can't see, as Doa is placing his soon-to-be roasted rat on the fire, his back turned to Ruben.

“No…” Ruben begins but is cut short by Doa. “You would not need to call me liege though,” he says without a hint of sarcasm. Ruben clears his throat, hoping to shut Doa up.

“As I said, you only saved me in a sort of way; if anything, you only did your duty as a stranger pointing another in the right direction,” Ruben says, not willing to entertain Doa's goading.

They argue for a while longer from Ruben's perspective, and Ruben entertains Doa for a while longer from the other's perspective. In the end, both pack their things and head in the same direction.

“Are you following me?” Doa asks Ruben after about an hour’s walk into the desert.

“Don't start!” Ruben retorts.

Smiling to himself and scanning the barren landscape, Doa spots something on the horizon kicking up dust. “You see that?” He asks Ruben, who follows where Doa is pointing to in the distance.

“Could be a caravan? Still a bit far but doesn't seem like one big thing,” Ruben answers and stops walking. Doa follows his lead and, after a moment of thinking, decides they should go towards the activity.

As they approach, it becomes evident that it is a caravan of people with pack animals coming towards them now.

“Hello!” Doa yells out as they get closer. “How are you?” He continues, but realizes no one can hear him yet, so he just waves and stops a slight distance from the caravan, which also comes to a halt. “Hello! How are you?” He calls again and waits for the “leader” to approach Ruben and him.

“Well found, young one,” the man approaching says. His voice is soft but somehow travels right next to their ears as though he was whispering to each of them personally only a breath away. “We are the Desert Tamers. A nomadic people on a journey of wisdom harnessing the desert's will.”

Doa glances at Ruben and gets the nod, which he assumes means: you are the leader, speak. “Hello, we are fellow travellers heading to the center of the desert and maybe beyond to learn more of this mysterious place,” Doa answers, trying to sound more formal than his normal demeanour. It seems to sit well with the leader, and they invite Ruben and Doa to join them for the evening.

After everyone sets up their tents and a bonfire gets started from wood the caravan carries on the pack lizards, they all find a spot to sit. The caravan members have been nothing but friendly with Doa and Ruben, but that does not stop them from still taking precautions and camping a bit further from everyone else.

Sitting next to the leader, they listen to the stories of the desert; in particular, Doa asks about what he meant by the "will of the desert." The leader, Yanig, explains it is a form of magic gained through exposure to the desert over a long time. It begins the moment you enter, but most would never know. He tells Doa how it amplifies not only innate abilities, but also grants superior wind and sand abilities.

“It is not as easy as it sounds though, and the desert does not just give without taking,” Yanig continues his explanation. His throat feeling the strain of talking so much, he pauses long enough to have a drink. Normally he would not speak much, and the caravan knows him as quite reserved. Yanig loves teaching, though; the members don't listen to his ramblings as much anymore. So he is overjoyed to have found Doa and Ruben, who seem to be enthralled with his teachings.

Hearing that the desert takes something for the power it seems to bless people with, Doa can't help but be concerned. “What does it take? Your soul?” He asks Yanig, frowning.

“Oh no, nothing so serious; if anything, I used a bit of poetic license there,” Yanig says, then laughs at how grave the two men look.

“You will find out though," then he jumps up from his seat and looks at the two. "Now, enough theory, would you like to see a demonstration?” He asks them, knowing the answer.

“Duh!” They respond in unison, making the leader laugh again. His laugh is deep and guttural, contrasting his scrawny stature; the only thing that aligns with his laugh is the thick grey beard and silver waterfall of hair framing his charcoal face.

Yanig steps away from the fire to stand behind them, then focuses for almost a minute before Doa notices the sand crawl up his body; with every second it seems to increase in pace as more grains flow upwards. After only a couple of seconds, Yanig is covered in sand from head to toe.

“How?” is all Ruben and Doa have to say. Neither of them has ever seen magic beyond cheap tricks. They instinctively know that this is no cheap trick. “Can I do that?” Doa is the first to recover and asks Yanig.

“Not yet, it took me ten years to learn this. Want to try and punch me?” The seeming sand monster answers and asks.

Not one to be asked twice to hit someone, Doa quickly lunges forward from his seated position and decks the sand monster in the face. “Ouch!” He yells out in pain, rubbing his fist in his other hand.

“This takes a bit to set up, but once I have the sand on my body I can easily control the thickness of the layer and gather more sand to provide better absorption or, as you found out, pack it densely to be almost as hard as rock—given I predict the impact point close enough,” Yanig quickly rambles an explanation. Then adds, “My bad.”

“Still cool,” Doa says while still shaking his hand a bit to relieve the ache.

The three men continue to talk past the last lick of flame. Yanig makes them an offer to stay with the caravan and he will teach them how to harness not only the blessings of the desert but their more innate magical potential.

“Most people where I come from looked at magic as some special ability known only by the nobles. It used to be worse though; even the nobles looked at magic as nothing more than barbaric beliefs,” Yanig says, his voice sounding sad with the pain of the past. “It changes; with every generation, it becomes more known, less taboo, and hopefully it will become less classist next,” he continues, then takes the last sip of his cup.

“You will teach us? Why do you avoid the centre of the desert? Can we learn enough in a couple of days? Do we need to have beards? I don't think I can grow a proper beard.” Doa takes his chance to ask everything while Yanig stares at the bottom of an empty cup.

Yanig turns to Doa and Ruben then smiles; they are really the first new people the caravan has found in almost two years. I hope things are changing again, he thinks to himself before answering Doa.

“Yes. It is dangerous. No. No. Any beard is a proper beard,” he answers each of the questions posed. “You will need to stay with us for at least a month to learn anything of worth. Are you in a rush?” Yanig rehashes his proposal for them.

“All good!” Ruben and Doa answer in unison. A month is a small price to pay to gain something so immeasurable as learning magic, they think.

The next morning, both Doa and Ruben wake with a fright. The camp is a cacophony of noise; the few kids there are, are running around chasing each other, yet to be drained from the desert heat. Animals groan loudly as they are laden again for the day's journey. The people are efficient in their packing and move like army ants clearly set on their goals. “You two should get packed too!” someone yells at them in passing.

On their way with the sun yet to even warm the sand, Doa and Ruben hurry through the caravan to the front to walk next to Yanig. “Hello,” Doa greets Yanig in a strained voice, followed by Ruben in what sounds to Doa as a bit prim; “Good Morning!”

“Good Morning, are you boys ready for your first lesson?” Yanig wastes no time getting them excited and does not wait for the answer. “To begin, I need you to count as many grains of sand as you can while we are moving, while we are resting - the whole day. Only count ones you can clearly see; don't just count for the sake of it. Also, no questions or talking from right now, or you will fail.”

Ruben considers saying something for the briefest moment, but the tone of Yanig's voice makes him reconsider quickly. Both Doa and Ruben then look down at their feet and start counting sand. After a few minutes, Doa scoops sand into his hands and Ruben follows. Yanig smiles, and hopes that things are changing.