The Sandstorm King

by PioneeringAuthor

Chapter 3: The Strong Wind

“I am tired of your rules!” Karam snapped at his father angrily.

“My son, my patience is wearing thin with you,” Khayri warned, trying extremely hard to not say anything he would regret later.

“Your patience is always thin with me!” Karam whined, “But you never get upset at Daud!”

“That is not true,” Khayri retorted, “I do have my quarrels with Daud, but he knows to keep his arguments civil and calm, unlike some beasts in this palace.”

Karam snorted.

“Karam, it is not befitting for a prince---” But Khayri’s speech was interrupted by his son with,
“I CARE NOT FOR YOUR SPEECHES! I CARE NOT FOR YOU AT ALL!”

With that, Karam turned and bolted down the stone hallway.

“KARAM, GET BACK HERE AT ONCE!” His father roared as he spread his wings out and flapped them one time in frustration.

However, Karam refused to listen.
Angrily he sped away, zooming down the corridors until he reached a balcony. Immediately he leapt from the balcony, spread his wings, and flew away.
With angry tears in his eyes, he flew far, far away from the palace of Rikhab, the capital city.

As he flew, he began to feel calmer, but was still bitter at his father. Deep inside, Karam knew his father cared for him, but he felt that all his father ever did was chide him. Day and night, Karam would get lectures about how he wasn’t being a proper prince, or wasn’t doing this, or wasn’t doing that.
Karam loathed it all.
Yes, he was royalty, but did EVERYTHING have to be about rules?
Surely not!

With these rebellious thoughts, Karam ignored whatever his father was trying to say and flew away.

Into the desert he glided, and eventually he stopped to rest at an oasis. For a time, he ambled about, grunting and grumbling over his father, which he knew he should not do but he did anyway. Angrily he stomped around, kicking up sand and swishing his black tail back and forth.

Childishly he furled out his wings and mimicked his father's voice, saying, "It is not becoming of you-- WELL I AM THE PRINCE! IS IT NOT BECOMING FOR ME TO BE MYSELF!? WHO IS TO TELL ME OTHERWISE!?" "
He snapped his wings, reared up and stomped on the ground with his forelegs as he bitterly finished those words.

Breathing heavily, he glanced around as he folded his wings again.
He felt exhausted.
Grumpily he laid down to rest, tucking his head beneath one of his golden-yellow wings.
There was a gentle breeze blowing that cooled his pelt, playing a gentle rhythm in the fronds of the date trees far above his head. All his life he'd heard the breeze, and it felt as if an old friend was singing him to sleep as he closed his eyes and drifted off.

---

Suddenly, he awoke.
He smelled something all too familiar in the air.
Alarmed, he jumped to his hooves and spun around.
There, in the near distance, he eyed an incoming sandstorm.
It was much too close for comfort, to say the least.
Karam spread his wings and zoomed to the sky.
With all his might he pumped his wings and leaned as far forward as he could.
Behind him, he heard the howling winds and smelled the scent of the dirt and debris caught in the storm.

It was gaining ground.

After a minute, he could see rocks and bits of debris flying past his head. Craning his neck around, he could see the storm right behind him.
He gasped.

He couldn't outfly it.

Collapsing to the ground, he covered his head with his wings and prayed that the storm would pass over him soon. He felt layers of sand wash over him, as well as bits of debris. The wind tugged on his wings, pulling them away from his head, allowing sand to blow into his closed eyes and nostrils.
He choked bitterly as he pulled his body out of the sand, trying in vain to keep his head covered with his wings, playing a terrifying game of tug-of-war between his weak muscles and the powerful wind that pulled on his wings, tail, mane, and body. To the left and the right he was buffeted, and it felt as if his wings and ears would be ripped clean off his body by the storm.
With a pounding force a small rock slammed into the side of his head, causing him to cry out in pain, which only let more sand into his mouth and throat. Karam choked. The storm battered him. He wrapped his wings around his head again as the storm dragged him across the ground like a limp, wet towel.

I’m going to die out here!
NO! I can’t die! I can’t!
Not now! I must go home… I…
I need to apologize to Father!
I must live! I MUST LIVE!
Karam wailed in his mind.

At that moment, he felt a surge of magic within him.
Although he didn’t entirely know what he was doing, he closed his eyes and focused a beam of energy from his horn into the sandstorm around him.
His golden magic whipped into the wind, circling around into an enormous loop which swirled around the storm over and over again, forcing the wind to flow with it. In a few moments, the magic rope departed from his horn as he controlled it from a distance instead of directly, and the loop continued to speed through the storm, gathering everything into a huge dome around Karam.
The magic swirled faster and faster until the dome became a tornado with Karam at the center.
Coughing up sand, Karam was able to breathe again in the eye of the tornado, and looked around, stunned at what he was doing.
Slowly, gently, Karam lowered the tornado, pushing all the sand down while slowing the wind, until at last the storm was calm and there was nothing left except a wall of sand in a circle around him.

Exhausted, Karam fainted.

While he slept, one last surge of magic revealed his Destiny Mark on his flank: A sandy tornado laced with golden magic.

---

When he awoke, Karam was back in his own room, with his father and Daud standing beside him.

“He’s awake!” Daud sighed in relief.

“Indeed, he is,” Khayri whispered.

“How… how did you find me?” Karam asked, coughing up a bit more sand.

“I followed you, but I was quite far behind--and I watched from a distance as the sandstorm took you,” Khayri explained with a pained look in his eyes, “I thought for sure you were dead, but as I observed, I saw a yellow glow of magic take control of the storm, until it had died down....That was you, wasn’t it?”

Karam nodded, feeling how dry his throat was, as well as how his lungs stung with pain.

“You have your Destiny Mark now, Brother,” Daud announced after a few moments, looking very proud of his little brother.

“I do?” Karam asked.

Khayri moved the blanket with his blue aura, showing Karam his new mark.

At last, Karam got his mark. Daud had his own for a few years now--it was a mountain with three winds blowing it in a triangular formation. Though the wind blew at the mountain, it stood firm, just like Daud could harden his skin and withstand almost anything.
For a moment, Karam smiled, excited that he finally found his mark like his brother had.

“I wish you could have gotten your mark in a much more pleasant way, but it seems your destiny is not the quietest one,” Khayri reasoned with a sigh.

Hearing his father's voice, Karam looked up and his ears drooped in shame.

“Father… I’m sorry.. I’m sorry for being so angry earlier,” Karam apologized with another cough, “I know you are just trying to teach me, but… I don’t know. I am sorry.”

“I forgive you--and we can talk about this another day. Right now you need to rest,” Khayri comforted him by stretching one of his blue-grey wings over his son, gently giving him a hug, “And before I leave, I shall give you your Title of Destiny: The Strong Wind, for you are the one who controls the sandstorms.”

At that, Karam smiled and relaxed on his pillow. The Strong Wind… Al-Asif. Yes.
At last, he had his title, just like his older brother, who was known as The Rock-- Al-Butrus, for Daud could harden himself with magic until he was hard as stone, and nearly impossible to hurt. Now Karam didn’t have to be jealous anymore. However, he did have to recover from all the sand he inhaled.
That day, Karam rested. From then on he respected his father’s authority more, seeing how much his father cared for him.

Sadly, the peace would not last for long.

Author's Note:

Note:
I am not sure what other people headcanon about languages in MLP, but in this parallel universe, Saddle-Arabia speaks mostly Arabic.

Everybeast here is speaking Arabic, unless possibly noted otherwise for brief moments.

The word for "King" in Arabic, far as I know, is "Malik."
You may see that word pop up later. I want this story to have an Arabian flavor without being too overbearing, so I'll probably use the two interchangeably.

Al-Asif means something along the lines of "Strong Wind".
I could write Al-Asif every time I mention Karam's title, but for this story I wanted to keep it "Strong Wind" just to sound better when certain people say it affectionately.

Also, in case you are confused, I headcanon that in Saddle-Arabia Cutie Marks are called "Destiny Marks", and when Ponies find their mark they earn a title. Titles are a big deal in my Saddle-Arabia.

--Turquoise Dreamer, the dreamer with a heart for others and a thousand stories to write ~+~