The dust gathers.

The days become a blur to Doa and Ruben as they travel with the Desert Tamers tribe. Their newfound mentor, Yanig, told them he would teach them magic. So far it only feels like madness.

 “Three days! Three… I am beginning to see things!” Doa yells, evidently frustrated with the instruction to count grains of sand and not do anything else.

Listening patiently, Yanig just smiles at Doa, noting that the day is likely to be filled with many more such outbursts.  Yanig is a patient man, so he lets Doa keep complaining. Frankly, he is amused how they still persist. “Why are you still counting then?” he asks when Doa takes a breath.

“To learn!” Doa says curtly. Ruben just nods in agreement, still looking at the sand in his cupped hands; counting. Before Yanig can respond, Doa follows Ruben’s example and continues to count the grains in his own palms.

The mentor just smiles, and they continue the next hour's walk without any outbursts.

Being nomadic, the Desert Tamers tribe is always on the move. The tribe's kids get their education on the move. Everyone has their part, and chores get done before the evening's respite.

Abruptly Doa exclaims, “Oh!” then shoves his hands towards Ruben, who pauses for a moment, then looks up at Doa and nods. Yanig notices the two and smiles knowingly. “Ok, come with me.” He steps between them and slaps each on the back, making them drop their homework.

As Yanig walks off to the back of the caravan, the two stunned boys recover their senses after a moment of wide-eyed disbelief and rush after their mentor.

They join Yanig at the back of the caravan and worry for a moment if they will get left behind. ‘The tribe does not seem to be moving fast until you are the one standing still,’ Doa thinks.

As the boys join Yanig, he points into the distance; to the boys, it seems like he is pointing to a dust devil on a nearby dune. “Do you see that?” he asks them, and both answer yes. “What do you see?" he asks, not indicating whether "yes" is the right answer.

“A person,” they both answer.

“What did you see just now while you were counting?” Yanig continues his questions, much to the growing irritation of Doa.

“I don't know, why not tell me, oh master,” Doa replies with a bit more venom in his words than he might like. Ruben quickly chimes in with “Yes,” and nervously looks back at the ever-distant caravan. “Should we not be getting back?” he asks, making his anxiety of being left behind obvious.

Yanig laughs at the two, wasting precious "steps per second" by Ruben's estimation. Ruben is not keen on having to run and catch up with the rest of the tribe, and Yanig is now "milking it" according to him.

“Ok, I will tell you,” Yanig says between breaths. He can't help that they amuse him; he does not even know why. “Now, when you were counting the sand in your palms, you noticed the grains around the one you are focusing on get pushed away. In the distance there,” he tells them and points to a spot a bit closer than before, “you can see what most would call a dust devil, but more than that, you can see the shape of someone? Right?”

“Yes,” the boys say in unison.

“Ok then,” Yanig responds happily but quickly turns his tone serious. “Now Ruben, we will be back with the tribe before nightfall, so please focus here.”

“That thing is a Sandshadé. It is born from death. As I have told you, the desert gives greater affinity to people's wind and sand abilities. So it is not surprising that there are bad things that also benefit from this. Usually, a ghost is just a ghost, but here, it is a Sandshadé. Understand?” Yanig asks them, knowing they likely do not. Before they can answer, he taps their shoulders and rushes in the direction that the tribe went. Ruben, evidently relieved, is first to follow Yanig's lead.

Doa, still lost in thought, follows a moment after. “So that thing is a monster?” he asks from behind Yanig. “Yes,” comes a quick answer, and Yanig increases his pace. Ruben is happy they are heading towards the tribe again, but that is replaced with a new concern.

“Why are we rushing back?” Ruben asks Yanig.

“Because that thing is moving faster,” he responds in a tone making it clear no further explanation will be given. After ten minutes, they are at the tail end of the caravan and Yanig gives a nod to one of the men walking at the back. The man yells something in alarm that Doa cannot understand, and then a group of men detach from the caravan.

“What is happening?” Doa asks as the whole caravan comes to a standstill. If he was amazed at the efficiency the tribe has when setting camp and breaking camp, what follows leaves him awestruck.

In no time, the tribe's people assemble a defensive formation. The pack lizards which carry the tribe's wood and other stock are unladen and moved to the vanguard. They are odd beasts, many times the length of a camel and just as tall. Known as the whales of the desert, they feed by scooping and filtering the desert sand, including anything it may contain; be it cacti, rocks, or people. They do not actively prey on anything, but anything unfortunate enough to land in their mouths will surely become a meal.

Usually, the lizards are led, but now each of the ten animals has a rider. Next are the tribesmen and women who, by the looks of it, can fight. Behind them are the children, camels, and those who are not able to fight.

Before Doa receives an answer, everyone is assembled. “Now you will see why you have been counting grains of sand,” Yanig finally says.

“Everyone, there is a Sandshadé coming in fast. I don't think it is alone, so those in the rear, be lookout. We will head it off here and now!" 

Doa and Ruben stand next to Yanig since they have not received any instructions counter to that. Neither thinks it is a good idea to pester Yanig with questions.

“Riders forward!” Yanig calls. In perfect unison, the lizard riders get the beasts moving, quickly they are ahead of Doa and Ruben, the lizards' tails swiping the sand as they move and their bulk slapping the ground in a rhythmic pattern. “That is the weirdest marching band I have ever seen,” Ruben quips to Doa in an attempt at humor.

“The lizzies, I guess,” Doa replies, then reprimands himself for stooping to Ruben's level.

“Ok boys, here it comes. Now watch the men beside the lizards; this is why you have been staring at sand for hours on end,” Yanig interrupts their patter.

Doa and Ruben watch as the lizards come to a halt in the distance; they can barely make out the features of the men beside the beasts. A moment later, the air in front of the unit of lizard and men shimmers like the heatwave on a hot surface. Ruben taps Doa on the shoulder and points to the man he is watching, and Doa nods knowingly. Their gazes follow the shimmer as it moves forward.

“Is that a storm?” Doa exclaims, finally seeing the target of the thing the men released.

Shaking his head, but not taking his eyes off of what is happening ahead, Yanig answers Doa, “No. That is a group of Shadés. They tend to gather, so our little dust devil we saw has become more of a sandstorm.”

Hearing this, Ruben feels panic rising in him, then looks at Yanig and feels the panic overridden by confusion. ‘Smiling. He is smiling? Guy says a horde of ghosts are attacking and he is smiling,’ Ruben thinks, his face making no attempt to hide his thoughts.

“Yes, Ruben, this is not so bad. Please calm down. Now tell me what you see,” Yanig says after a quick glance at the contortion Ruben calls an expression.

“I see a horde of demons disguised as a sandstorm coming to eat my face,” he responds, then slouches to the ground.

Yanig usually does not tolerate panic, but he can tolerate ignorance. Ruben's fear stems from not knowing what he is seeing, so Yanig avoids being too stern, but he needs them both to understand first. There are things worth fearing, but you will learn nothing if you cower before the unknown. “Just tell me exactly what you boys see. There are no wrong answers, but keep it factual,” he calmly tells them.

“It is more a sand cloud than storm,” Doa answers. Ruben gets up and looks in the distance again. “Yes,  and there are about twenty humanoid shapes gathered in it,” he adds to Doa's observation.

“Good, what else? What about my men?” Yanig prompts them, then ruffles their hair as they stand each side of him. Both frown at the gesture, finding it absurd that he treats them like kids, but shrug it off.

“The shimmer, it is moving towards the Shadés but seems to have made a wall, like a mirage,” Doa answers this time.

“Heat?” Ruben adds.

“Yes,” Yanig answers quickly. “The Shadés don't eat people's faces, Ruben. They sand it off. The thing about sand is it contains many different particles. The Sandshadé tend to be weak alone, so a single one, although still dangerous, can't usually do much because they can't use the heavier particles in the sand. Hence the one we saw seemed more like dust rather than what we are looking at now.” He stops explaining and moves forward. “Wait here,” Yanig tells them and rushes towards his men on the frontline.

Doa punches Ruben in the shoulder, then to avoid revenge, quickly points to the heatwave in the distance. The Shadés have hit the wall of heat and from where they are standing, it looks like it is raining.

Thinking about it for a moment, Doa asks Ruben, “You think it is glass?”

“Probably, and the Shadés don't seem to be able to move much further,” he shares his observation.

When the sandstorms visibly thins, they see the heatwave dissipate and the lizards move forward, their maws open, scooping troves of sand and glass into their mouths. The Sandshadés begin to cover the area again. Even with their density having gone from impenetrable to more foggy, the scene still leaves the boys concerned. They do not understand completely how these things operate, but they figure it is not a good idea to be in the midst of them.

“There is Yanig!" Ruben loudly points before punching Doa in the shoulder. “Look!” he adds, then coincidentally steps more than an arm's length away from Doa.

Taking note of the score, Doa looks towards the battlefield and sees Yanig covered in his armour of sand. Then he notices all the fighters wearing sand armour.

Tendrils of sand lash out from the men's armour, scouring the air. The atmosphere clears instantly around each one until the sand-heavy strands snap and fall to the ground. As they drop, the Shadés' numbers vanish along with them, leaving only the empty blue sky behind.

“Did they just vacuum the ghosts?” Ruben asks as he watches the men's sand armour drop to the ground. “Bit anti-climactic for a grand battle, I think,” he adds.

“What is a vacuum?” Doa asks. “I think they sucked them up if you ask me,” he tells Ruben, who takes note that apparently they don't have vacuums in this era, or world, wherever he is now.

By evening, the tribe is back at rest. The transition from battle to travel had been seamless; they waited only for the lizards to be laden with wood before moving out. Now, by the fire, Ruben is ignoring the people laughing at his earlier panic while Doa excitedly relives the fight.

As Yanig tries to steer the conversation toward the "why" of what they saw, Ruben’s mind drifts. He plays with a handful of sand, watching the firelight catch on individual crystal particles like tiny stars. He scoops and pours, scoops and pours, a mindless loop. Yanig’s gaze shifts from Doa’s animated face to Ruben’s quiet, repetitive motions.

Then Yanig notices Ruben's hand is not going down to scoop sand anymore; instead, the sparkling waterfall reverses to fill his palm before rushing down again.

“You did it!” Yanig exclaims and jumps up from his mat. He quickly rushes to Ruben and pats him on the back, then he takes Ruben's wrist firmly and tells him to do it again. “Do what?” Ruben asks in confusion.

“Vacuum!” Doa retorts, hoping the foreign word will explain everything to Ruben.