SAND TRAP

II

A harsh, sandy wind wrenched Jott open and blew across its pages. Mainu winced and shielded his brow, gazing across a sea of grayscale grass and rows of parched crops with no civilization in sight beyond the occasional farmhouse. "What?" he sputtered, looking around in panicked confusion. "What happened to the deal?" The wind whistled. When minutes passed and there was no reply, he had no choice but to assume Hesykhia had helped him to cross only some of the distance to the city, which meant his teleportation rune was useless. He shut Jott with a huff, looked up at the sun and started to walk east.

"It's not every day that the fates force random people to solve their problems," Mainu grumbled to himself as he wandered along something that may have once been a gravel road. His robes were unbearably dusty, and his usually pristine staff, which had been doubling as a walking stick, had gained an unpleasant light brown tinge. The dust devils in the distance suggested that these farms hadn't seen a drop of rain in a long time. It was a wonder anything grew at all.

Mainu glanced down at his leather boots and groaned. They, too, were layered with dust. It wasn't unlike the tower library's insidious grime, but this felt different. He was out in the world and away from all the comforts of home for the first time since he had finished his training. He had hoped to live a quiet, peaceful life after his journey to his new tower, but as Weshirel had warned him, life was often unexpected.

Finally reaching a lonely shade tree that had been wispily beckoning to him, Mainu leaned his staff against its trunk and sat on an old, forgotten wooden swing, pondering. Reaching out to him proved how weak the fates were, even if he was about as good as mages came. The fates really were just bystanders most of the time. When they weren't teleporting someone halfway across the kingdom or performing some other miraculous act, anyway. According to 'Spirits Watching,' the fates had very limited magical resources. Mainu's train of thought derailed as he struggled to remember the author of the book. In it, he'd learned most of what the magic community knew about the mysterious higher powers they called fates. He swung back and forth absentmindedly.

The name wouldn't come to him. Mainu sighed and stared at his dusty hands, cursing the dry landscape. He hated dust more than anything, and he usually tried to wash it off his hands as quickly as possible. It made his skin feel dry and suffocated. Of all the places between Oeram and Ruptia, it just had to be dry, deserted farmland. The fates could have teleported him anywhere. Mainu suddenly stood with his realization. "You could have brought me straight to Ruptia!" he told the plains indignantly.

"Straight to Ruptia..." they echoed.

The dust was starting to get on Mainu's nerves, and he fruitlessly brushed his hands off on his robes, glaring at the featureless landscape that, for whatever reason, he had been intentionally placed in. "You know what else you could have done with that magic? You could have solved this yourselves!"

"Solved this yourselves..." the echo replied.

"Wouldn't that have made more sense?"

"Made more sense..." it insisted, and Mainu grabbed his staff, searching his memory of spells in a blind fury. His exhaustion and forgetfulness betrayed him. He considered pulling out Jott and going through his personal collection of insults in spell form, but just the thought of leaving any dust from his hands on Jott made him shudder.

Feeling suddenly faint, Mainu reached out to the tree to steady himself. The dust was invading all his senses at once. Everything for miles around, from the scattered trees with their broken, leafless branches to the colorless barns dotting the horizon, seemed arid, lifeless and oppressive. He was sure now that the fates were testing him, though to what end, he couldn't imagine. "Did you just put me here to see me struggle?" he called out again.

"See me struggle..."

Bark dug into his skin as he slid his hand down the tree in one final attempt to clear the dust away. When it proved useless, he grasped his staff tight, grimacing at the sandpapery texture between his hand and the carved wood, and started to walk. The unpredictable wind began to toss minuscule grains of torment into his eyes and nose, making him sneeze. "Or maybe you wanted to watch me go insane talking to myself," he continued in a mocking conversational tone.

"Talking to myself..."

Mainu slammed his staff into the ground again and again. "If there's some lesson I'm meant to learn here-" He was interrupted by another sneeze. "I'm not getting it!"

"Not getting it..." the echo admonished.

He growled and picked up his pace. A sudden gust rustled and tossed his dark hair, and he pulled his cloak closed against the gritty wind, gagging at the taste of earth in his mouth. As soon as the air became relatively still once more, he spat to the side with an utterly disgusted expression. Another strong wind yanked on his cloak, and he whipped around, just in time to see a thin dust devil hurtling straight towards him. He dove out of its path, yelping, "Are you trying to punish me?"

"Punish me..."

"What did I do?" he said, getting to his feet again. "I've never bothered anyone! I live alone!"

"Alone..."

Before Mainu's eyes, the whirlwind of dust slowed to a stop and began to charge him again. He clenched his teeth, and dirt crunched between them. Another one was approaching from behind. He sprinted off the path and into a field of dry corn stalks, wincing as they scratched his hands and face, but the tornadoes only changed direction to follow him. Holding back a swear, he knelt and burrowed deep into his cloak, preparing for the worst. Dust pelted every inch of him, and then there was silence.