Vibrations in the sand

"There's still a bit left over there, kid," Shukran said with an irritated voice. Kael grunted but made his way to the indicated spot and began sweeping the dirt from the floor. He had been doing this all day, yet this damn house never seemed to get fully clean.

Constantly, Kael discovered new items that seemed out of place—whether they were outdated food remnants, random junk, or sometimes items he had never seen before.

For instance, this morning, he found a stick tied to a tube with a string hanging from it. Curious, he was about to examine it when the old man snatched it from his hands, muttering something about pyrotechnic devices not being for children, and stashed the tube in a box.

This had happened several times now, and Shukran never allowed Kael to handle anything valuable, though Kael doubted there was anything of true value in this heap of junk!

"What a waste of my time," he thought, grimacing as he continued to sweep. He should be with his father right now. Instead, his father had denied his request.

"I'm sorry, son," his father had said, "there just isn't enough time. Especially now, with all the preparations needed for the festival."

The rejection had saddened Kael, not least because he had hoped to spend more time with his father. But he could bear it. Part of him had even hoped to be rejected outright.

It had taken considerable courage to ask his father for anything at all. Implementing it would have been another matter. It wasn't that the idea of fighting or training scared him—quite the opposite.

What he truly feared was as straightforward as it was daunting: failing. Disappointing his father, and himself. Kael had never really tackled anything head-on before—no education, no adventures, no challenges.

This had meant no failures so far, but also that he had increasingly closed himself off to changes. Simply put, he lacked self-confidence. Where would he even draw it from.

He felt insecure. Was he good at anything at all? If he turned out to be a flop at fighting, he'd not only waste his time but his father's as well.

But how would he ever find out if he always avoided challenges? And if he tried and failed, would he find the courage to start something new?

Kael despised these irrational yet profoundly human thoughts. He knew he suffered from an inferiority complex, particularly in comparison to his successful family.

Kael had been rejected anyway, and he could handle that. However, what he truly detested was the fact that his mother had forced him to assist the miserable old man, Shukran!

"I've actually become a maid... unbelievable," Kael groaned audibly, loud enough for Shukran to chime in.

"Shut it, brat. I dislike this as much as you do."

"Why don't you stand up to her then?" Kael retorted, though his gaze remained fixed on the floor, "Lyla isn't your mother, you geezer. You shouldn't let her boss you around like this."

"Ha!" the old man laughed, "Do you think age matters to an Al'Shalin? To her, we're all foolish children."

Kael couldn't argue with that.

He had just finished cleaning the area and let the broom fall against the wall. Then he leaned next to it and stared out the window.

"What are you doing there?" the old man suddenly asked, looking at Kael with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean? I'm done," Kael frowned.

"Done?" Shukran exclaimed in disbelief, "You call that done? Get back to work, kid. If we're going to do this, we might as well do it properly. Maybe then we can convince your mother not to repeat this whole mess."

"But it's already clean!" Kael protested, "I've been scrubbing this house all day!"

"Find something, dammit, you can't be that useless!"

A vein throbbed on Kael's forehead. He had managed to restrain himself in the morning, but now the inevitable desire to punch the old man was rising again.

Shukran seemed to have instincts like a wild animal, for as soon as Kael harbored these thoughts, the old man looked at him sharply, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"What's the matter, little fart? Want to end up on the floor again?"

Kael managed a slight smile too. "Maybe you'd like to experience that yourself, you fossil."

"Oh, look at that," Shukran responded as he set down the book he had just been dusting, "the little mouse hasn't had enough yet."

Kael also stood up from the wall. Anything was better than continuing to clean this wretched house. Especially if it meant getting his revenge.

But then he paused. He had just cleaned the house. It would be a shame to mess it up now. Shukran appeared to share the same thought.

"Let's go outside," he suggested and headed towards the door. Kael followed.

Outside, they circled to the back of the house. Since it was located on the edge of the village, they were more or less shielded from prying eyes.

"Good," Kael thought. At least he wouldn't get in trouble with his mother if someone saw them.

Shukran stopped a few steps ahead of Kael in the sand. Although Kael was slightly taller, the old man had a broader build and stood upright as if age had no effect on him. Only the grey hair and the unkempt face gave away the years he carried.

"And now?" Kael asked, his hands already balled into fists. For some reason, he couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Now, you're going to get a slap on the ass again," Shukran replied, the broad grin still on his face.

As if it were a silent agreement that this rematch had to happen, Kael took his stance. Shukran simply stood relaxed, just like last time.

This time, Kael would be prepared. He must have not been focused enough last time; otherwise, he wouldn't have lost sight of this old codger so easily.

Kael fixed his gaze on Shukran, his muscles tensed and ready. He remembered how effortlessly he had been defeated last time, and this knowledge made him act with more caution.

He quickly checked the sand beneath his feet before charging forward. Instead of swinging wildly, Kael paused, closely watching Shukran's movements and aiming for areas that were harder to dodge.

His fist cut through the air, aimed directly at Shukran's shoulder.

However, Shukran seemed unimpressed. With a fluid movement, he dodged the punch, almost as if he could read Kael's intentions before Kael himself knew his next move.

"You need to be faster, brat!" Shukran called out, his voice a mix of amusement and challenge.

In a burst of frustration and a spark of creativity, Kael quickly grabbed a handful of sand and threw it towards Shukran's face. The sand grains flew through the air, but Shukran just laughed and closed his eyes, letting the sand bounce off him as if it were merely a light summer rain.

"Nice try," he said, his voice muffled by laughter, as he continued to dodge each of Kael's blows, even with his eyes closed.

By now Kael was already breathing heavily, but he tried again. He gathered all his strength and speed, aiming for the moment when Shukran would be unprepared.

But before he could seize this opportunity, he felt a powerful kick to his backside.

The force of the kick sent Kael stumbling forward, landing in the sand with a dull thud. He felt the sand crunch between his fingers as he tried to get back up.

"Sorry," said Shukran with a crooked grin, bending down to Kael. "I meant to kick you in the butt."

Kael sprang up, his anger mixing with determination. Shukran miraculously still had his eyes closed.

Without hesitating, Kael charged at Shukran again, who continued to play with him while wearing a wide grin. The game repeated itself; Kael attacked, Shukran dodged, and each assault ended with Kael in the sand.

Finally, after Kael had gotten up yet again, Shukran was still laughing, eyes closed, parrying each strike as if it were child's play.

Frustrated, Kael took a run-up and then leaped, aiming to strike the old man with higher speed in mid-air. It was a foolish maneuver that even a small child could have evaded.

Yet surprisingly, Shukran opened his eyes just as Kael was airborne. However, it did nothing to change the fact that such an attack would never land. With a slight step, Shukran dodged, and as Kael flew past, he gave him another strong kick in the backside.

Kael landed on the sand, his mouth filling with grains. For a moment, he just lay there, but his frustration didn't allow him to pause for long.

He spat out the sand and then turned to face his opponent again. He was ready to charge at the grinning old bastard, but then he paused.

Why had Shukran opened his eyes? The old man always grinned and mocked him; it would have been the perfect opportunity again, as Shukran seemed to never tire of it.

But he hadn't. Shortly after Kael had launched into the air, Shukran had opened his eyes for the first time in minutes.

Kael started to circle Shukran slowly, letting his thoughts flow. The old man seemed to notice the change in Kael and raised his eyebrows slightly; suddenly, his smile seemed not just a grin but almost pleased.

Everyone needed to see their opponent during a fight. Except this old man, apparently. It was as if he always knew exactly where Kael was. No, not just that, it was as if he knew every one of Kael's moves by heart.

As if he sensed it. Kael knew of such fighters. But not personally, only from fame and spooky stories.

The great sandworm Talak was said to perceive all vibrations in the desert. That's why it didn't need eyes. It felt everyone and everything that happened. The entire earth was its senses.

"You opened your eyes..." Kael said cautiously as he continued to slowly circle around Shukran.

His grin widened, but he replied, "Yes, I did."

"Why?" Kael asked, and as he reached the spot behind Shukran, he charged again, aiming for the unprotected back of the old man.

Yet again, his fist met only air, and he stumbled past Shukran. This time, however, Shukran did not take the opportunity to send Kael into the sand.

"Perhaps even that was getting a bit boring for me. After all, this isn't really a fight with you," the old man taunted. But Kael detected something else in his words—a challenge, not physical, but verbal.

"No," Kael said, "that wasn't it."

Kael tried his luck again and yet again failed, as if it were a universal law that he could never land a hit.

"What was it then?" Shukran asked, and now Kael truly realized that there was an invitation in the old man's gaze. Shukran wanted Kael to finally understand.

"You had your eyes closed, and yet you always knew what I would do. But when I jumped at you, you had to open them, didn't you?" Kael pressed on. Could it be that the old man was really...

"Yes. Come on, boy. You know it."

Kael halted and slowly lowered his arms. His own smile had long since faded, replaced by a look of surprise and admiration on his face.

"You can't sense me when I'm in the air. When I walk on the ground, you can feel the vibrations in the sand. You old coot, you're incredibly strong. Even Father said he could never beat you."

Kael had pieced the puzzle together. Shukran Horish was far from an ordinary merchant.

For the first time since Kael had known him, Shukran spurred him on with a look on his face that wasn't mocking, but one of satisfaction.

"You can never defeat me. Why?"

Kael stood there, bathed in the glow of the eternal flame, barely able to believe whom he had tried to challenge.

"You are—or were—a Sandspear. A warrior. But not just any warrior. You are a Binder. One of Talak's Binders. A Ramalkin."