60th of Glade, 115th Year of the Age of Steel
Talon felt the currents of the wind around him. He searched inside of himself, listening for the soft voice that whispered to him which current he should follow and how he should glide through the air. It was faint but he felt a tug to his right. Rather than fight the urge he rolled to the right and into a gust that pushed him further along in his desired direction. He smiled to himself enjoying the rush of the air over his body. To any other it would have been cold but for him it was pleasant as the air played through his hair and wrapped around the feathers of his wings. He heard a whisper and he listened to its prompting diving lower and avoiding an air pocket. He was feeling triumphant, letting out a shout of glee and completely missed the guidance tugging him further to the left. He hit an air pocket and dropped several feet as the mix of wind and lack of movement caused him to plummet a short distance before he caught himself.
Talon’s heart beat faster in his chest but not from fear, from exhilaration. He glided down to an outcropping of rock extending out from one of the mountain cliff faces. He landed, stumbling slightly as his momentum sought to carry him forward. Spreading his wings he used them to steady himself.
“Don’t get cocky, young prince.” The voice of Aoren drifted over to him over the winds winding over the mountains and through the various trees and bushes jutting out of the rocks. Talon turned to watch Aoren glide effortlessly down to the earth, landing gracefully on his feet. He folded his wings behind him placing his hands on his hips. Despite his chastising, there was a smirk on his lips.
“I heard it. Or, maybe I just felt it. It was like…” Talon shook his head. This was so different from how he had learned to fly previously. Before this, he had simply been taught to understand how to manage his own balance and how to propel himself through the air. This was different, this was like he was swimming through the air following rivers of wind that not only propelled him forward but wanted to move him and move with him.
“Like following your instincts.” Aoren summarized what he was feeling which had Talon nodding. It was a strange sensation. The desire to follow the wind currents came from his own ability to feel the winds but it also felt like they were almost guiding him in certain directions. The quiet voice in the back of his head was sometimes difficult to hear out of the noise of his own thoughts but it was there. Over the past few weeks, Aoren had been teaching him how to listen to these instincts more and more. It was not easy, especially when it felt as though he were doing something counterintuitive to what his rational thinking told him. Talon walked over to the edge of the cliff. He seated himself on the earth, spreading his wings so that he could be seated comfortably. His feet dangled off the edge, swinging lightly in the breeze. Aoren seated himself beside him.
“It is strange. The things we are taught growing up, about our connection to Von Rabe and how the Avialae came to be, the stories make all of it seem so vile.” Talon shook his head. He looked down at the palms of his hands as though he might find some great revelation in the lines there.
“The stories aren’t far from the truth. Lorien is a prison for our kind, Talon. That part is very true. You either serve or you are useless. If you are useless as an Avialae, then you are made to suffer. I saw it…” Aoren’s eyes grew distant. The muscles in his jaw tensed before he spoke softly. “...I lived it.”
On instinct, Talon reached out to touch his hand to Aoren’s shoulder. The Kathar smiled at him.
“It is alright, Aoren. You are safe here.” Aoren had an unreadable expression on his face before he shook his head, frowning.
“Nowhere is safe from them, Talon. They are spirits. They can go anywhere and do things beyond what mere mortals can. All our strength means nothing in the face of them.” Talon shook his head.
“Not all of it.” Aoren scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“You mean the Bond? Another prison.” Removing his hand Talon brought both of his hands to his lap sighing heavily. This was an argument the both of them had been having for some time. Aoren believed the Bond to be nothing more than another tool to chain the Avialae to one another and force them into positions where without it, it made them weak. He railed against the idea of having to depend on anyone for his own freedom. Talon supposed he could understand Aoren’s fears but that was not what the Bond was.
“That is not what it is, Aoren.” The Kathar shook his head vehemently. He looked at Talon dead in the eyes and there was a fire in them.
“Yes. It is. It is another form of control. You all say that the Pale Lady gave you a gift, that she freed you from the shackles of Von Rabe. No. What she did is made it impossible to stand on our own. You might think otherwise but that’s how I see it.” Aoren stood up then. He shook his shoulders and flexed his wings.
“Come. We’re burning daylight.” With that, Aoren lifted himself into the air and drifted forward. Talon sighed inwardly. He supposed this was a conversation for another day. Rising to his feet he dusted himself off then leapt fearlessly into the open air. Extending his wings he listened for that whisper, felt for that tug and when he felt it he followed it. It was no clearer than it had been before but at least he was learning how to follow it and to trust his own instincts in flight. The young Novalys followed after Aoren, gliding through the air. He followed after his Kathar teacher and silently worried for his friend.
Much like Riven, Aoren had many secrets. While there was little that wasn’t shared between himself and his Companion, there were still some things that were off limits. The both of them viewed Lorien very much like the prison it was oft described to be in the stories. At the same time though, there was an appreciation for the land that spoke of the tenacity of the people that lived there. Riven spoke of the Kindred with a mix of terror and revulsion. Aoren spoke of them with abject hate and anger. It was two very different takes on the same subject but both stemmed from a place of pain and suffering. Having grown up in Kalzasi his whole life, Talon couldn’t imagine the horror of such a place above the surface. To him, all nightmares dwelt in the Warrens and its yawning chasms.
He didn’t like to think that a place with living, breathing people could be filled with such malice. Talon recognized that Kalzasi was not perfect but it was home and it was beautiful. And he found himself asking, why would the Dragon Gods allow such malevolence to subsist? If the Masked Queen had gifted the Synnekar with the freedom, why did she not gift it to the mortals that still dwelt in Lorien? Talon was not a philosopher nor was he a religious scholar. These were questions for someone else.
He rolled to his left then dived down before swooping back up, following the trail of the winds with a much less difficult time than he’d ever had previously.
“Down there!” Aoren pointed to a stone platform that Talon knew well. A circle carved into the mountains, suspended in the air by the mineral known as eberrite with statues of ancient figures long gone surrounding the circle. Sentinels of the ancient past that presided over tests of worthiness, of strength and of wisdom, Talon felt a shiver go down his spine.
The Circle of Wandering.
It was a place well known in the stories of Kalzasi. The Circle of Spells, the mages guild that made its home in the city and from whom the battlemages of the Sky Guard received their training, often visited the Circle when performing rites. His old teacher, Saris Kore, had taken him to the Circle as a boy when he’d initiated Talon in both Semblance and Kinetics. Saris had told him that it was a place where the aether currents of the world gathered and where the veil between this world and the aetherium was not as strong. That made it a place of power...and danger.
Together, he and Aoren glided down until they both landed upon the stones of the circle. Talon felt his runes throb briefly which made him shiver. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aoren do much the same.
“We’re here.” Aoren walked forward, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Talon opened his senses up to a different kind of perception. He awoke his aether and touched upon the rune of semblance. His eyes were opened to the aura of the Circle of Wandering. Colors swirled in his vision, infinite and unfathomable yet close and familiar. He sensed things he couldn’t describe and he was more keenly aware of the vast power in the Circle at that moment. He flinched away from it, closing off his magical senses so as not to get overwhelmed.
“Why did we come here, Aoren?” His friend turned to face him. There was a light of determination in his gaze.
“We’re here to train.” Talon quirked a brow.
“Train in what?” Aoren smiled. What came next had Talon’s jaw dropping. With little more than a flourish of his wrist, Aoren summoned a pristine blade into his hand. He adopted a stance and pointed the tip of the blade to Talon.
“Sword and Sorcery.”
