"Outwitted (Part Thirteen)" an original work of fiction for 365days...

This is today's offering (day 165) for @mydivathings' #365daysofwriting challenge (click here to see her current post)

Today's picture prompt (below) is a Photo by Daria Tumanova on Unsplash

The Desert Lands seemed to throb with the magic of the power. Perhaps the dust was contained within the grains of sand that flew about my face, getting into my eyes, my nose and my mouth. Perhaps it was inside the bodies of the people - Pewds said they were the oldest people, that their ancestors had discovered and controlled the power.

Whatever it was, magic seemed to be used there almost casually. The man who met us off the boat - a tall, thin man, wrapped in cloth to protect him from the sand that whipped us as we greeted him - was carrying a lantern with strange glowing orbs of sparking dust that appeared to float around it. The power had been harnessed as a light source, and the man appeared not to be under any strain from its constant use. At that time, whenever I used the power - even for a simple task - I had to focus on it, and it was hard and tiring work. If I lost concentration - even for a second - the magic faltered and failed. Here - like the trick my sister had managed in the captain’s cabin - was evidence that the power could be somehow manipulated so it could maintain itself. I tried to ask our guide about it, but he did not speak our language - and I had not yet mastered his - so, if he understood my questions, I certainly did not understand his responses.

The journey on the ship had been enlightening. The captain had taught me much about navigation and the stars - in many ways he was a far better teacher than Pewds - and was also able to tell me a little about my sister. At first I was shocked to find that she had made the journey some weeks in advance of us. Was she after the same small artifact that we had come for? And if so, what did that mean? Piggs had assured us that he had intercepted all communication between the wider world and Grevyl. But if my sister had made this journey first, returning at least a month before we intercepted the missive to Grevyl, perhaps he had found another way to receive information about manuscripts and artifacts relating to the power.

Perhaps Grevyl was playing with us. Deliberately feeding us false information, to send us one way to distract us from his real target. Or perhaps he wanted to lead us into some kind of trap.

I had tried to talk to Pewds about my worries and concerns, but it was difficult having a serious conversation with a man who was throwing up over the side of a ship, whist the wind blew vomit back into his face. So I waited until we were on firm ground - if that was the right expression to use when one walked on the soft sands of the Desert Lands.

It was later, after I had first sampled the hot, spicy food - that was later to induce such a violent illness - and we had retired to our rooms that I was able to tell Pewds in detail all that I had discovered about my sister, her voyage and her magic.

“Her trip probably had nothing to do with what we have come searching for,” Pewds said, his voice low, for it was late, the walls did not seem very thick, and we did not wish to disturb our host. “Perhaps, Grevyl sent her here to learn the art of the power from one of the old masters.” That was a reasonable explanation. From what I had seen, from our walk from the dock into this strange town that seemed to be built on the shifting sands of a huge dune, magic was not feared here. It was seen as an everyday tool, to be used by everyone.

Whatever the explanation, I was irritated. Once more my sister was ahead of me. She had been here, had learned skills I could not even imagine. I was determined to discover where she went when she was here, who she met. And I wanted to learn whatever it was she had learned.

The next day I awoke at first light. The wind that whipped the sand through the air had vanished, and the sky was clear. I left Pewds snoring in his bunk and pulled a tunic over my head, took my boots from the end of the bed and went outside.

There were no people in sight, although I could hear people talking from somewhere. Chickens roamed freely, pecking at the ground. I was surprised - and impressed - to see one spear a foot and a half long snake with its beak and then fling it up into the air, before swallowing it bit by bit down its gullet.

I decided to take a walk, so I pulled on my boots, and headed off into the town.

It was hot already, and the sun was barely in the sky. I wondered how the people lived here, with all the heat, the sand… and the snakes. But they had the power, I thought. To be this close to so much of it - to be surrounded by it - I would live here too.

Sand covered everything, I could not see if there was anything like the roads we had back home. My boots soon became heavy with sand, and stopped several times to remove them and pour the grains from them. I would need to buy some sandals, I decided. Like the ones our host wore. I had some of the local currency - the captain had willingly exchanged coin on board ship.

I aimed for the turrets of the tallest building I could see rising above the others in the town. It was likely to be a place of worship, or some other place of importance. If their culture was in anyway similar to ours, the market would not be far off.

I was not wrong. I found myself in a square, full of people, even at this early hour. Many of them already ready to sell their wares. I took my time in exploring, marveling at the different colours, smells and sounds. I bought a pair of sandals off an old man, white of hair and beard, with a toothless grin, and put them on, tying my boots and dangling them from my neck. I stood and admired my new footwear. The old man nodded happily, and said something I did not understand.

As I looked up I caught a sudden movement on the other side of the square. It looked as though someone had ducked out of sight. Was I being followed? I walked over to the nearest stall - one selling clothing, made from some kind of leather - and picked up a tunic and pretended to examine it.

There it was again. I was right! I was being watched. And, this time, I had seen them.

And, not only that, I recognised them.

...

Part 14 is now available: @felt.buzz/outwitted-part-fourteen

"Outwitted (Part Thirteen)" an original work of fiction for 365daysofwriting challenge