Blood in the Sand - III

JP with Winteroak and White_Caribou

The men did not follow. But that did not stop a few with slings to hurl rocks after he retreating figure.

A strong wind rose across the oasis, Shalia felt the sand started to slowly lift from the ground up, as if whipped by some unseen force, as it had that day, before the sandstorm crashed against them.

That is when she saw Amastan running towards her, robes fluttering in the breeze, her eyes flashing, an incantation on her lips.

She brought her hands up as if pushing the air in front of her and a barrage of wind and sand burst among the oasis and the attackers.

When the sands began to shift, Shalia was ready for the worst. Another storm or something nefarious to bite her in the ass. Her empty hand raised instinctively to block out sand and high winds she was sure were going to rise in an onslaught. But as she looked on in concern, it was Amastan's casting on the oasis. What an impressive relief.

As her legs carried her further away, Shalia slowed her pace until she came to a full stop. Rapidly taking in the dry air as she ran left her in another coughing fit, and the headache kept getting worse the more she tired herself out.

With the Air-Weaver came a handful of guards from the barge. As she battered the bandits with sand, wind and stones, her men advanced holding shield and sword aloft.

The sand she manipulated glistened like razor sharp diamonds whipping around flesh cutting dust devils around her targets.

It did not take long for the bandits to decide they had had enough seeing that they could soon be facing two weavers.

No, it was time to leave. Those that could turned tail, leaving their fallen behind and putting as much distance between themselves and the oasis. They had plenty of coin in their pocket and they would have gained a bit of time for the stranger to stowaway into the barque.