The desert dwellers never ventured beyond the cities without strictly necessary clothing.
The process of wrapping up in all of it could be called a ritual.
Every body was wrapped in a long robe, usually white or cream.
A narrow belt at the waist held tools and supplies needed for navigating the endless wasteland, like a compass stone or an hourglass for precise route measurement.
The head was tightly wrapped in bandages, and goggles were worn over the eyes.
It was all surprisingly comfortable, too.
It didn’t restrict movement, which was crucial for our Magic.
After spending hours getting dressed and realizing how well it protected me not just from sand but from the sun, I finally understood the locals’ smirks at any “tourist.” You couldn’t help but laugh at someone fully exposed, planning to cross Shi Wong on foot.
Looking at the threshold of Misty Oasis, feeling the gazes of kids on my back, I took a breath and stepped forward.
My inner panic was thrilled.
I hadn’t exploded on a mine.
But that was just the first step.
I had a few more to go before reaching the gathering group.
“What’s wrong with you?”
A man tightening the sail gave me a strange look as I carefully stepped on the sand, studying it for signs of life.
By the voice, it was my father.
“Just heard that inexperienced kids rarely look at their feet and find venomous scorpions.”
My father and a couple of equipped men slowly looked me over and nodded silently.
He introduced them as Ba’el and Hamri.
“Everything comes with experience.
Now climb aboard and watch.”
Approaching the edge, Tassad extended his hand.
Surprisingly, this was one of the rare items made from imported wood.
It was the first time in this life I’d stepped on springy planks instead of solid sandstone.
Each such boat was worth a fortune, but it paid for itself.
My father quickly introduced his subordinates, non-benders.
On their belts, besides the useful tools, were curved swords.
Each obeyed orders without question, flinching at my father’s heavy expression.
“You’ve got your dad’s look,” one of them grinned crookedly.
“Yeah, you two are like matching scorpions.”
Tassad and I both stared at them, making them scurry off to work.
He then pointed to the platforms on either side of the small cabin, where, as I’d often seen, the benders stood.
He stood next to me and handed me something from his belt.
“Look, this is an hourglass.
A unique way of telling time only available to us.
Each contains the exact same number of grains, which we can easily and quickly sense.”
“They always hang on the assistant’s belt, helping the lead bender keep time.”
Tassad placed it in my hand and made me squeeze it.
Feeling the exact number of grains inside, that’s how you could tell time to the second.
Though it required specific knowledge that he tried to quickly impart to me.
He didn’t expect me to get used to it immediately.
Then he stood behind me and found his footing.
At the same moment, his workers ran into the cabin.
“The ancestors say they learned Sand Magic from the water tribes and air nomads, over a hundred years ago.”
“The boat is propelled by wind created by the smooth acceleration of sand grains.
The lead bender, me, usually gives the sand speed and shape, preventing it from scattering.
The assistant, in this case you, adds extra momentum.”
“Circular movements with both hands simultaneously, smooth, each gesture flowing from the other.”
The sand began to rise, followed by the sail, fluttering gently.
Watching this up close was mesmerizingly beautiful.
But Tassad made me repeat the movements after him, pouring extra inertia into every grain and not even thinking about spinning in the wrong direction or shifting my stance for comfort.
The last assistant’s mistake had jeopardized this entire trip, so he took my movements very seriously.
Seeing that I wasn’t entirely stupid, that I could follow a few instructions, and that I was strong enough to help inflate the sail, my father nodded firmly.
“Let’s go.”
Standing on the deck, Tassad abruptly accelerated his movements.
The tornado that formed in seconds tore the boat from its spot.
My heart literally stopped.
Sand flew past us at breathtaking speed.
The boat bounced over dunes and practically flew, filling me with terror and exhilaration.
“Holy crap!”
My arms spun in the same trajectory, my brain locked up and refused to break the instruction.
When my life was on the line, I usually followed the rules very carefully.
Since nothing went wrong, my father glanced down at me.
“Navigation is done with compasses, which always point to the magnetic center, Shi Wong Rock.
A damn dangerous place.”
He spoke more seriously than usual.
But listening to him was more interesting than before.
While we raced across the sandy expanses and the hours slipped through our fingers, he occasionally told me about dangers like quicksand, bandits, and sandstorms.
As for our destination, even on this fast transport, we didn’t reach it in a single day.
So we made camp for the night.
My father’s assistants gathered dry wood nearby, started a fire, and caught a few scorpions.
Tassad patted my shoulder and nodded for me to follow him aside.
“You did well.
The endurance of some novice benders leaves much to be desired.
They spend too little time on their foundation, thinking that because they control such pliable sand, they can train less.”
“I can’t feel my arms.” I wanted to collapse next to the warm fire and stare at the night sky.
But Tassad just snorted.
Then, something unexpected happened.
A smile appeared on his face.
“This trick will help you relax.”
We walked over to a lone cactus, and he quickly cut off the top with a wave of sand.
He brought the spiky plant with its suspicious liquid close to me, making me squint.
“Watch.
With sand, you can drain the moisture from them.
It reduces the hallucinogenic properties.”
Completely unexpectedly, the cactus shriveled before my eyes, practically losing all its liquid.
I felt like I’d just seen the seventh wonder of the world, or maybe just unimaginable water magic.
But no, Tassad was absorbing moisture through the sand.
Then he cut off the flesh and enjoyed the taste.
“Using this ability elsewhere is quite difficult.
If only we could extract moisture instead.
I developed this so we could eat cacti on the road if food ran out, without getting high.”
He glanced at his workers, who had gorged themselves on the same cacti.
I assumed they were already used to the side effects.
Still, this was impressive.
“Teach me?”
Tassad smirked and nodded.
He didn’t say it out loud, but his eyes made it clear he was teaching me this ability for self-defense.
And as it turned out, cacti actually tasted pretty good.
Other settlements weren’t much different from our Misty Oasis.
There were still too few people for a comfortable life, and just as many suspicious characters.
I’d been standing outside a house for a couple of hours now, where my father had gone in after unloading all the goods he’d brought, fruit, water, and essential supplies.
Next to me was the boat, which I was keeping an eye on, glaring at every shady figure passing by.
My father’s assistants stood nearby.
“They usually try to surround you, attack from behind,” one of them said, watching his reflection in his sword.
“If I saw a crowd like that now, I’d wipe them all out.”
“Last time, they kicked your ass behind that house.”
“I was joking.”
To say I was on edge would be an understatement.
Maybe that’s why I wasn’t surprised when a group of rough-looking characters approached, laughing provocatively.
Some had weapons on their belts.
The sand seemed to part beneath their feet.
It was obvious, they were thugs.
My father’s workers paled, as if remembering someone familiar.
“Hey.”
But nothing bad had time to happen.
The door to the house opened, and Tassad appeared.
A sand dagger was in his hands, pressed against the bandit who had come too close to me.
The conflict ended before it even began.
“Heh.
They usually try to intimidate, but they’re afraid to actually fight.
Don’t want to lose their own people,” one of the workers explained with a grin, sheathing his blade.
According to the other worker, he’d been beaten up by a mob.
I met my father’s serious gaze.
He’d seen me standing alert, my hand wrapped in sand.
Ready to drain the moisture from living flesh, but not enough to kill.
“It’s dangerous here.
Now that you’re traveling with me, you’ll need to learn how to fight back against benders.
You’ll need that skill.”
It felt like my life was finally starting to come together.
Now I could take a step toward becoming independent.
“Come on.
We need to move a bit away from the city.”
Waving his hand, Tassad made his workers stand up and jump onto the boat.
Feeling encouraged, I climbed aboard myself, eager to use magic again.
But at that moment…
Crack.
Something broke.
Out of habit, I touched my spine.
“…Our ski broke.”
“Phew.
Thank goodness.”