To the City of Salt and Sand

"Are you sure it won't break?" asked a young boy only eight summers experienced. His father, sitting next to him on a wagon of his own construction, took a puff of his pipe turning his head halfway to inspect the brown sacks behind him. Satisfied with appearances at a glance, his father puffed his pipe. The boy, Temigen, had his answer. Unsurprisingly to him, this brought little to ease his nerves. The pair carried on in silence, accompanied only by the sounds of the wheels hitting rock and the following wheezing of wood as the cart ached under the weight of their load.
"Why do they call it that anyway?", asked Temigen to his father.
His inquiry was only met with a puff of a pipe and a slight turn of the neck as Temigen's father wrinkled his brow. Temigen's curiosity was endless, and, at a certain point, his father decided silence was the best response. On this occasion, however, he relented, perhaps mostly to pass the boredom of the long journey, "Well, boy. That's because Hai'a'og has got two things in abundance...", he pause for a large puff of his pipe, "...salt...and sand!"
Temigen turned his blushing face away. His father was making fun of him, certainly. The answer couldn't really be that simple. Thinking to himself, Temigen turned his head to inspect the brown sacks they were hauling in their wagon. The cart would jump high with every bump and land hard, threatening to snap and leave the pair stranded. Temigen juggled fears of the cart smashing with every bump and curiosity about their destination.
"What, no follow up? Or did that finally quench your thirst for knowledge?", said Temigen's father, seeing Temigen's glazed expression.
Temigen's chest would build up in anxiety whenever he had to ask his father a question. His father's responses were rarely comforting. He couldn't help it sometimes, for curiosity is a powerful feeling. "That's too simple. You said Hai'a'og was the most important city. Why doesn't it have a great name? And if it has so much salt, why are we taking more there?", asked Temigen.
A puff of the pipe blew past Temigen's face as a gust of wind grabbed the smoke, dragging it across his face. This always made Temigen's face wrinkle and nose tighten. He let out a cough to try and bring fresh air into his lungs. The wagon hit another bump, sending the brown sacks jumping, but their weight kept them from going far. The cart struggled along, the aching wood echoing the feeling in Temigen's stomach.
His father finally responded after three heavy puffs, "Well sometimes simple things are best...like this cart...or our camel! Or this shortcut! Don't have to pay the toll on the mountain path... and how do you think Hai'a'og got so much salt if people didn't wheel--".
Before his father could finish, a black whoosh silenced the man. Temigen felt a hot sprinkle of moisture hit his cheek.
He didn't think to turn until he felt the hot ash from his father's pip fall unto his own lap. He looked to his father, slumped backwards over the brown sacks, a black shaft sticking out from his chest. A red wave rushed from his father darkening the sacks with moisture. Waves of questions started to rush into Temigen's head as he tried to make sense of it all. The cart hit another bump in the road jumping into the air. This time, however, the wheel found its way into a dark hole and collapsed. Temigen was flung as the wood splintered with sharp snaps. He rolled on the rock covered road, stinging like a bed of needles and broken glass. Before he could stand, a horde of hooves and shouts surrounded him. He spun in fear as a black mass of steeds and steel circled like vultures over a carcass.
A horn bellowed and the warriors turned to the fallen cart. They hopped from their horses and started to chuck the heavy sacks onto their saddles. Temigen lay there, dazed by the rush of events before him. The ground thudded to the heft of black boots landing in front of Temigen. A sword dropped just before his nose and he could see his face in the steel's reflection. Dusty, bloody, and unable to control his breathing. The questions wouldn't stop filling his mind. What was going on?
A low voice spoke to Temigen, "...hm...are you alive, boy?"
Temigen still couldn't make sense of what was going on. Too many questions flooded his head. He continued to lay in the road, his bloodied body slowly dripping onto the hot sands.
"Maybe I should cut of an arm and see if he squirms!"
"I'm alive!" shouted Temigen as some sense of what was happening finally hit his mind like a splash of cool water.
"Good, then you can answer my questions", said the man, the cheers of men looting the cart echoing in the distance, "...do you know who we are?"
"Yes..." said Temigen fighting back the water in his eyes. He knew better than to show any more weakness than he already had to these people.
"Did your father pay the toll?"
"...no."
"Now he's paid it in blood. How did he learn of the mountain path"
"...", Temigen couldn't help the stream of tears now.
Seeing the flood down his face in the steel, he chocked out an answer"...I found it."
"You! A simple child? You're lying...", the man in black boots pulled the sword from the ground. Temigen turned over, resigned to his fate, fully expecting the steel to soon meet his throat. He opened his eyes to see the sun burning high above. He heard the man in black boots stomp a away towards the jeering men. Temigen closed his eyes, ready to die. The man and his men chattered in words Temigen couldn't understand. Their language was rough and guttural, like the language Temigen imagined dragon's would speak. They laughed, probably discussing the most enjoyable ways to end his life.
The man in black boots made his way back, the ground thudding with every step, "...my men say I should kill you so that none learn of the mountain path. I'm inclined to agree, but tell me, how wise is this?"
Temigen didn't know what to say. Why play this game with his executioner? He just wanted it to finally be over
"...If even a small child could find it, how long until everyone does?"
Temigen still didn't know what the man in black boots was waiting for. He had heard horrific tales of the S'Jihag dragging people tied to horses, running them over with a herd of riders, and never hesitating to punish those who refuse their to pay their toll.
"What should I do?"
"Kill me!", Temigen cried out to the sky above for it to end.
"If you insist...", the man in black boots raised his blade into Temigen's view. The boy could finally see the face of his killer: a face darkened by the sun. A thin black beard made of a few strands streamed from his chin. He had a deep scare that cut across his left cheek. The steel blade rose high into the sky, sending a beam of the sun's rays onto Temigen's face. His face wrinkled as his eyes envisioned the direction of his swing.
"I think that is too simple, however", the man in black boots dropped the blade into its sheath and hoisted the boy onto his horse, "...if you had talent to find a path hidden to the S'Jihag, then we could have use for you as a scout".