The Mage

The blazing hot sun had set and nightly chill had set on the vast desert Karan. The tender, shifting, winds blew moving the quickly cooling fine sand, that only less than an hour ago had been too hot to walk on bare footed, here and there, smoothly shrinking and raising the dunes as though deliberately morphing the landscape in to something completely different.
         Kar’Aln set his palms against the cool sand on the less steep side of dune that was probably at the peak of its height. Despite the rather continuous shifting of the landscape, due to the winds that never seemed to cease, the dunes ever grew only to a certain extent at their maximum. Despite the piece of cloth that covered half of his face, including mouth and nostrils, he could smell strongly the smoke of the fire, whose smoke they had seen curling up in twirls from distance.
         He looked back and slightly nodded his head to the man behind him, who had, like him, tightly bound his robe on to his body, and covered his head and most of the face with a piece of cloth that was often seen on the side of the hood of those who ever had to venture in to the desert. The man’s lack of replying even with the slightest gesture was an agreed sign on understanding and agreement; the less they made noise when they had probably entered the area where the mage’s wards were in effect, the better chances they had of survival.
         Letting only their palms and feet touch the sand, they pressed their bodies as close to the sand as possible. They crawled forward rapidly without causing a sound that was within the hearing abilities of a normal man standing only few feet away, achieving a fluent movement that much reminded that of a lizard, and would’ve had reminded much more if they hadn’t had the hind parts of the hems of their robes tied securely against their stomachs.
         They stopped as they arrived at the top of the dune, careful to stay out of the possible line of sight anyone standing under the dune might have. Now lying tightly against the dune, the man still just behind him, Kar’Aln reached to peek over the edge of the dune, to see a man dressed in a simple robe sitting in front of the fire, his back facing him. Retreating back in the total cover of the dune, he signaled with simple hand gestures to his companion that there was only one man and in addition a caravan and four horses to pull it.
         They had to make a decision. The mage did not wear any of the robes the members of the mage guilds in Karan’El did, which was not only unusual, but also troubling. He was not able to determine how the mage would react to their sneaking up on him, and more importantly, if they survived the confrontation, how likely he was to accept them to accompany him to wherever he was going.
         He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it at all. Their current location deprived him of the possibility to discuss it with his companion.
He felt a soft touch on his ankle and saw the man looking at him, with an expression he had learned during the years to be an asking one. Without answering, he turned back to take another at look at the camp the mage had built.
          “You may stop hiding and come down to the camp,” he suddenly heard the mage, who was still sitting at the campfire his back facing them, say.
         He reflexly drew back behind the edge of the dune, quickly as though he had noticed an arrow shot at him. They had still a chance of making an escape, that’s success much depended on the powers of the mage and on his interest on them. However, as it was, they were incapable of evaluating either of those and they needed a mage cross the desert. He signaled to his friends to stay down, noticing the same bewilderment on his face as he felt. He stood up starting to make his way down the slightly steeper side of the dune.
         As he had made half of his way down, he heard the mage speak again in normal speaking voice, despite the distance that he thought to be around 150 feet. “Both of you.”
         He knew without looking back that his friend would appear from behind the dune. He waited for him to arrive at his side, exchanging a troubled look as they continued down the dune. They had examined four mages within the last month and a half, which of three had been from a guild that’s mages didn’t officially act outside the law, but were commonly known to practice less than ethical methods, which was overlooked by the ruler of the city and thus also by the law enforcement. The rumor was that the ruler received some personal benefit that kept him blissfully ignorant. The fourth mage had been an apprentice on an assignment to a city on the other side of the desert and would not have been able to pull enough water, from deep under the desert, for the three of them. They were running out of time: this might very well be their last chance to cross the desert in time.
         They approached the man, who still didn’t even take a look at them as they came closer. “Sit down closer to the fire, it is cold,” the mage spoke, “if you please. I’d very much like to see the men who saw such effort to spy on me.”
         There was no discontentment or anger in his voice, Kar’Aln contemplated as he walked past the man to sit down at a respectful distance, his friend settling down on the opposite side across the campfire. Examining the mage’s face, he noticed he was a man past his middle age, with deep impressions in his clean shaved face and a hair that had started turning grey in rather recent years. Though, as he was a mage, he could not be certain that his appearance was a credible proof of his age.
         He had a rough metallic cup, half full of something that smelt like some herbal tea he distinctly remembered, in his right hand. His robe was open and his shirt and trousers under it were as simple as the robe was, if not even simpler. He did not, at least seemingly, wear any sort of necklaces or bracelets that were common for mages, not for appearances but because they usually were somehow invested. To all outward appearances he was rather a farmer than mage.
         Kar’Aln was not sure whether he should wait for the man to speak, but as he seemed to be more interested in sipping what had in his cup and staring at the fire as though he saw something more than mere flames in it, he decided to take the initiative. “I am Kar’Aln and this is Kar’Alnar, my brother.”
         The man nodded. “Welcome to my humble camp, Kar’Aln and Kar’Alnar, I am Karl,” the man said taking a sip of the cup, shifting his gaze from the fire only momentarily to look at both of the men quickly; not as in seeming shy, but more like a man who has learned to take in every detail of a view with a mere glance.
         Upon hearing the mage’s name, Kar’Aln exchanged a brief glance with his brother, both noticing the same thing: the man was not from any of the cities on the outskirts of the great desert Karan, which was extremely rare for someone found in Karan’El; the city considered the most stranded and isolated of those counted among the Karan’ city family. It also aroused another question in Kar’Aln: if the man was not from Kar’El, how come his accent was that of the native? This question combined with the fact that his normal speaking volume seemed to carry well over 150 feet, made him suspect the involvement of magic, which was all the more weirder. Mages, at least the ones he had come across in his city and travels to the nearby cities, were rather focused, if not restricted, in the area of their practice, and he had never heard of anyone specializing on anything as vain seeming as speaking.
          “You are a mage,” he said as much inquisitively as making a statement.
          “That is correct,” the mage said, meeting his look, “in a way. I assume that is the reason for your being here.”
         Kar’Aln nodded, slightly surprised by the sudden eye contact, not only because it was unexpected, but also because there was something stern in the mage’s eyes, something resembling determination and concentration. “We are bound for one of the cities on the eastern edge of Karan, we seek your protection for the travel across the desert.”
         Karl nodded, returning his gaze back to the fire. “I thought as much, though this is not the usual way of doing so. Did none of the guilds offer you a guide?”
          “The circumstances and the personal nature of our business prevent us from going through the official routes. We are willing to offer a fair compensation for your protection,” he nodded to his brother, who loosened a coin bag off of his belt and threw the small but heavy bag, tied shut with a leather string much like the ones that held their robes tight against their bodies, so that it made little noise as it hit the ground, next to the mage.
         The mage didn’t spare a glance at the coin bag, but instead stayed silent for a while, looking at the fire. “You can keep the coin. What city are you heading to?”
          “Any city on the eastern edge of the desert will do. We will continue from there to our final destination,” Kar’Aln said, noticing his brother had begun to take off the tight leather strips holding the robe; suddenly feeling heat of the fire and followed his brother’s example. “Do you reject our offer?”
         The mage shook his head, emptying the cup. “No, I only reject your coin. However, a compensation as you promised, will be required. The way you moved quietly and the lack of words you use to communicate things with your brother are, I assume, result of much more than spending a childhood playing together. The swords you carry on your backs are not the cheap sort a farmer buys to defend his family, probably much more bloodstained too. Neither do you come across as young noblemen who have custom made swords to show off at the training fields. No, I suspect you are two men who know how to use those swords, and that is what I will require as compensation. We will arrive at Karan’Ruhn and from there I will continue deeper in to the inland, to the city of Ran’Ur. Upon my safe arrival at Ran’Ur, the protection through the desert has been compensated for. Do you accept?”
         Ran’Ur was not far off of their way to their own destination. However, the perception of the mage bothered Kar’Aln. He had also been correct about every observation, yet had not asked to know more about their background; neither had he asked more about their shady means of acquiring protection for the travel through desert. He had many doubts and questions he wanted to ask the mage, yet he knew he felt that the mage seemed to have similar intentions as they did: don’t tell more than you have to; dn’t ask too many questions. The mage seemed to be reluctant to find a reason to trust in them and had he tried, it would have yielded nothing. It seemed to Kar’Aln that they would have to manage a situation where trust was nothing short of essential without trusting each other. He did not like that. He looked at his brother, to find him looking at him and nodded. Kar’Alnar nodded back and spoke for the first time since they had set out to inspect the distant curl of fire in the desert. “We accept.”
         Karl stood up. “I will see you two in the morning, then,” and turned to make his way in to the caravan.
          “One last thing,” Kar’Aln said as he watched the mage’s back. “You could’ve warmed the tea faster and easier, why the fire?”
         The mage stopped for a while and looked over his shoulder. Kar’Aln heard a hint of what he thought to be sentiment in his voice. “Well, I enjoy it,” he said, and continued making his way to the caravan, eventually disappearing in it.
         Kar’Aln looked at his brother, standing up and starting to walk towards the dune. “Come on, we should get our backpacks. It’s late and I suspect we are off to an early start.”