Magic

It was dawn. The town below was already buzzing with life as venders set up for a day of selling, haggling and yelling at little thieves with sticky fingers. A soft whimper from the bed on the floor told the vigil teenager that his uncle was close to waking. A sun-brown hand reached up to wrap long callous fingers around the pendent of Yamin, the God of the Desert. He said a prayer to the God of his long-dead people to help his uncle with his disease.

The night before was hectic and heart-winching as the sand-blond teen waited with a bowl of herbal water and a wet cloth to cool down the fever. He already washed the spit up blood from clothes. Benini moved from the window, closing the curtains to keep the sun out and went to the table where Yama cut and dried herbs and made his leather and silver and stone jewelry for selling. The teen heated the little burner and laid the small pot on top. As the water boil, he mixed in some medicine powder and waited till the medicine was ready before turning the burner off.

With practice ease, Benini picked up the little syringe needle and filled the little glass with pink medicine. He held up to the light to make sure that it was right before carefully sitting beside his wary and whimpering uncle. A man that was only eight years older then he was, a man of great strength but gentle grace in his brown hands. His uncle gave up a lot for his life, gave up discovering a cure for this illness that claimed over half of his own family so Little Benini could have a comfortable and safe life.

Off the side, on the crimson and purple rug laid a little white piece of paper that led to the man‘s coughing attack that led to a long night of sweating, fighting off a great fever and spitting up mucus and blood. The little piece of paper reported that his older brother had died a week ago; his body simply gave up trying to fight off the family illness. Benini wished that he had gotten a hold of the letter and destroyed it then letting his caretaker know anything about the death of his sibling.

With a caring and soft hand, the teenager carefully un-wrapped a dusty brown arm from around the slender but muscular waist. He laid it over his lap as gentle fingers followed along the dark ink of the swirling tattoo on the dark flesh, feeling for a vein. Finding a small one, he washed the area with a cool wet cloth and gentle insert the needle in.

The blond desert boy cooed and gentle rubbed circles on the dusty brown shoulder as the man whimpered and tried to move from the pinch that the needle gave. Yama wasn’t one for pain of any kind. It was a wonder of how he lay still as his teacher marked his skin with a tattoo needle and for the piercings that could be finding in different areas of the body. Luckily, Benini was taken out of the village before he was old enough for such rites of manhood. He wasn’t that fond of pain that much either.

Once the liquid was pushed into the bloodstream, the needle was then removed, not without a whimper from the sleeping man, and then placed on the floor as a small wooded bowl of fresh herbal water was taken up.

“Uncle, drink this.” He whisper against the dusty brown cheek as the rim of the bowl was lightly pressed against the thin pale brown mouth. He cupped a hand behind the head of pure white hair to lift his uncle up enough to drink comfortably without choking on the water.

The slender throat moved slightly as the water was slowly gulped down till the bowl was empty and Yama was allowed to lay his head down on the soft green pillow again. He was back to fully sleeping; he was one for sleeping well into late morning. Benini quietly cleaned the small room where they slept, eat and worked on their crafts in before stripping down to his bare chest and cotton boxers and climbed under the cotton pale green sheets and curled up around the limber, sinewy brown body of his uncle.

His own desert tough arms pulled his precious uncle to lie against his chest. The shallow slow breath of warm air tickled his bare chest as little wisps of pure white hair tickled his chin. He smiled, knowing that grown man in his arms will last another day but it was bittersweet since he did not know when the next attack would come and if it would be the one that will take his loving caretaker away from him.

The sand-blond teenager brushed the knuckles of his fingers over the sharp cheekbone, over the curve of the dark tattoo that rests on the cheek. His uncle was strong as well stubborn. He will not die from a disease, not as long he is wanted and loved. He feather-kissed the tattooed cheek and forehead and lips before tucking the head of white under his chin and closed his eyes.

Today will be a good day.

****
Market day was one of excitement. Everyone was out for the best deal and that one big sale. Old mothers and old wives argued over the price of bread, meat and vegetables and fruits that would go into feeding their families. Craftsmen sell off their crafts and then use the money to buy more of the items that will go into making whatever it is that they made for a living. A healthier Yama was out buying silver and other sorts of supply that he and his charge can’t find while out on their little runs in the desert wilderness that lie beyond the safety of the city’s gates. Benini dealt with the selling of the leather jewelry that his uncle spends late afternoons and well into the night making.

He helped with the more basic or simplest types of jewelry but the finer stuff were magically crafted by the grace of practice-worn fingers and trained sharp eyes. It was a crafted that was passed down from generation to generation and when Yama died, the technique will die with him for he was the last of the desert-wind tribe. Benini was much too young when he was carried away during the last raid to have been taught anything by his own people so he knew nothing more then what he has seen his uncle do or been taught to.

It was just as well, Benini lacked grace and patience that took into creating fine works of art. He just has the skills of a merchant that was needed to gain money that went into keeping their little apartment and use of water and little bits of electricity and buying supplies. His uncle has the charming personality of kitten that most of the female venders find so adorably charming and could also get the best of things for the smallest price. It’s that same personality that sometimes gets the desert man into trouble with grown man that mistook his meekness and delicate-looking body structure for an easy capture. They soon learned that his uncle was a man that does what he want and won’t be forced to do what he didn’t want.

Never judge that book by its cover. You may soon regret it.

Yama was a beautiful man with his light hair and dark skin, and soulful and kind light grey eyes. But he hid everything under clothing of dark earth tone colors and a leather hat, so no-one but Benini fully know what he truly looks like. His soft and gentle personality makes up for this fact and his love for children. He would have made a great father if the fates were a bit kinder, but the children of their little desert city became his children. He was never one to turn a child away for anything and when a child’s birthday comes; you can bet that the little darling would find a piece of candy or toy in their pockets before the day was over.

Benini knew that his uncle turned down many offers of marriage because of the fear of passing down his horrible disease to his children. Even with news that his own siblings’ children were born healthy and almost free of the disease couldn’t persuade the man to try his hand at a relationship. Besides, the teenager has a theory that the dark skin man preferred the men over the women in the matters that belonged in the bedroom. But he has yet to see his uncle with another man in that sense over the past ten years of living with the man.

Benini often wish that they were truly blood-related then maybe he would have gotten the more pleasing features of the body then his dull and rough ones. His nose was too broad and sloping; his mouth too flat and thin turning him into a toad. His hands and feet were too big to even dream to be graceful. His body was pudgy even after hours of heavy lifting and it didn’t help him to be swift and unseen like his uncle and his tribe was mostly famous for. There were faint freckles all over his cheeks and shoulders. What man of the desert have you heard about had freckles?!

His sandy hair was always too messy and unruly that it couldn’t be tame with a brush and hair gel. What hopes did he have to land a wife when none of the city’s young ladies thought him too hideous and without a real money-grabbing job? Oh well, it just meant that he won’t be snatched away and be taken from his uncle who still needed him for the same reasons that he needed the man.

Benini was very content with that life.

That day was pretty much average, mostly tourists would come by and buy a bracelet or a necklace as little trinket for their trip to the desert to show off at home. When a local came by, it’s usually a man or boy wanting to buy a gift for their lovely lady with hopes of gaining favors with that woman and then you get a woman coming by, hoping to catch a glance of the older white-haired man or needs a gift for their father or husband. With the fans, Benini would often use little tricks to get them to buy a little something while talking about his uncle, often giving them false information and hope since his uncle wasn’t in the market for a wife just yet. Or never, if you want by the way that the man acts.

But when Fafil, a woman that was mixed gossiper and mother hen, comes up to anyone’s stall, it’s usually more likely going to gossip then to buy anything. And with that woman, no sweet or charming words were going to help you sell something to her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Fafil. How are things?” He politely greeted the big woman as he showed off a tray of bracelets with matching anklets to a tourist couple that kept fighting about the price and quality of the jewelry among themselves.

“No time for that!” She squawked, waving her hand in front of her and pushing the couple away and telling them politely to buzz off.

Horrified at the treatment of the treatment of his customers, Benini scolded the old hag. “Miss Fafil, you can not-“

“Never mind that!” She interrupted the attempted scolding and leaned in close to whisper, or what was her belief of a whisper. “You know who is launching a platoon of solders to this very city to look for magic-users.”

That was a cause to be quiet and to listen, despite the fact that the old goose tends to overdramatic everything that she hears.

“You and I and the whole town know about your sweet uncle and the fact that he practices such things, despites the many laws against such things.” Well, she does have a point there. Half the magic tricks that the man does couldn’t be done without a hint of magic.

His uncle was being trained to be a shaman while he was still small boy back in their desert tribe. All of his markings on his body was put there as prayers to the Gods to enrich their magic potential. Those markings were one of the many reasons why the man’s body was always covered from head to toe.

“But how would any-“

“They will have magic detectors. Besides, all they have to do is send a child to the man to ask him to perform a magic trick.” The old woman brushed back wisps of stringy grey hair behind her ears.

“True. He’s not going to deny a child, even if it’s a matter of life-“

“Exactly!” She pointed a gnarly finger at the boy. “So you going to close up shop right this insistent go find that sweet man and you two are going to pack up your things and get on the next hover bus out of town.”

“But Miss Fafil, if I do that now. What about-“

“Never mind all that!” She hissed, waving her hand in a dismissal wave. “You two need to get your little butts out of town now or your uncle is going to be killed!”

Before anyone could say another word on the matter, a load of screams and crashes filled the air. All of it coming in the direction of where Yama usually gets his tobacco.

“Oh, Yamin!” Benini, worried more about his uncle then the stall, jumped over the stall, knocking over the trays of merchandise to the dusty sand covered ground and rushed with staff in hand that usually helped with threatening thieves and troublemakers.

The sight that met him was not one that he had totally expected but was still most likely to happen. His uncle was standing in a defensive stance with his hat gone and his shoulder length hair unbound and flying behind him, caught in an imagined wind.

Standing in front of him was a woman, tall and menacing with sparks of lightening producing at her long finger-tips. All around them were broken vender stalls and a chaotic mess of broken items. One clay wall of a building already had a human-size dent where someone had been thrown into. Most likely his uncle from the way that flakes of broken clay clings to his sleeves and the back of his shirt and pants.

For the first time in years, the only time in years for that matter, Yama, sweet and kind natured Yama, was locked in a battle of magic and was looking as wild and feral as his namesake, the desert fox, could be.

Benini only hoped that it was a battle that caused the man his life.
************

A/n: if you know a great name for Yama's illness or have an idea what to call it, then share because I have no idea what to call it. Reviews are mandatory to get chapter two.