Welcome to Gaia! ::

“Alright, line up.” The crisp voice of their group’s drill instructor traveled out clear and clean — audible despite the hubbub of voices from his peers as well as the perpetual winds of Aisko. “I want you gathered up by your age dynamics. Everyone who has yet to see their sixteenth name day by me. Sixteen to seventeen gather with Professor Abravi, and those eighteen summers and up, see instructor Vartrien.”

Virtually every student who’d come to participate in the trip was out, lined up just outside the temporary walls of their camp. The instructors had arranged a trip for them all up, off of the tundra and into some of the first mountain sets. The idea was to give them exposure to working with their elements and fighting styles on different terrain, as well as coping with the harsher conditions of the mountain winds.

Lithian tugged at the edges of his cloak, wrapping it tighter around him and dipping his chin in, resisting the urge to shiver. They hadn’t even gotten to the supposedly harsher conditions yet — how could he be shivering already?

On the one hand, he actually liked the idea of traveling up into the icy mountains. They looked lovely from a distance — serene and elegant, like something one might expect an artist to attempt to mimic in paint or sculpture — and they had come all this way. It would seem a pity to spend the entire time simply staring at them from afar without ever setting foot there. Yet, on the other hand, Lithian had already had plenty enough dramatic incident for one stay and wasn’t particularly desiring for more. Something about travelling miles up into slippery and unpredictable icy peaks with frequent storms, rockslides, and any number of vicious beasts who wouldn’t appreciate having their territory encroached upon made Lithian leery of the trip.

He said nothing aloud, of course. In all likelihood he was overreacting and fretting without cause. There would be a multitude of students with him and a good number of highly skilled instructors as well. More than enough to take on whatever they might encounter on the off chance things went awry once they arrived.

Gathering together with the few others in his age range, Lithian huddled in, watching the wisps of his breath curl out from between his lips as conversation floated around him. Three large cargo sleighs waited for them, impatient hastars waiting at the ready, some pawing at the snow as their warm snorts sent out similar billows of white mist.

Lithian felt displaced from the scene, however. No matter how much he tried to focus on the moment, his mind kept reverting back to thoughts of the previous days’ adventures. His ‘near death experience’ with getting lost in a blizzard and attacked by Aiskalas, his rescue, and the boy involved. Mostly the boy involved.

Casseth.

He frowned, lifted his gloved fingers to his lips, cupped his hands over his mouth and blew, warming them. He’d been thinking about the hybrid boy a lot. Too much, perhaps. Despite the myriad risks involved Casseth seemed to enjoy coming to ‘visit’ him — in other words, sneaking across the tundra from wherever he lived to the dovaa campsite and dragging Lith off on various escapades — and while Lithian more than appreciated the company and excursions, it worried him at the same time.

It also didn’t help him think of anything else, and since Cas had started up this trend of sorts, Lithian found he looked forward more to Cas’ visits and their time spent together than likely anything he was doing here. Casseth, it seemed, was the best thing that had happened to him since landing on Aisko.

“Alright, everyone on, in order,” the instructor in charge of his age group called out. “Lithian Bhardvaris, Osrith Cystrienne, Tryllia Estaere, Yadri…”

Lithian climbed in as directed, tucking himself against the far corner, back row of their transport. Osrith, one of the boys who’d lead him off into the snow and gotten him lost and nearly killed in the first place, climbed in next to him, pale cheeks warm with apparent abashment. Lithian tucked his hands to himself and looked the opposite way as the others piled in. Things wouldn’t have to be awkward unless Osrith made them so, and as long as the boy didn’t speak to him, he wouldn’t have to worry about—

“‘M sorry ‘bout what happened, y’ know.”

Lithian mentally winced. So much for that hope. Maybe if he kept quiet, though. This in mind, he shrugged, saying nothing and keeping his eyes diverted.

“Pravis really did make it out like it was going to all be in good fun. They didn’t say particularly nice things about you…”

Lithian frowned, resisting the urge to look but plucking at the hem of his cloak anyway, curbing the urge to reach up and rub at one of his horns. Instead, he scuffed his boots along the varnished planks at their feet, trying to focus on the soft scraping sound and the bustle of other voices as the last of other students climbed in.

“But I know they didn’t really mean to hurt you,” Osrith continued, apparently oblivious to Lithian’s anxiety. “He really was worried when we lost track of you—”

‘Probably because he was terrified about how much trouble he’d get into if I died,’ Lithian thought, lips pursed.

“—made us search for ages until the storm really picked up. He started shouting at us…”

When Osrith trailed off, Lithian glanced over for the first time and found the other younger boy frowning, expression pinched at the memories of events surrounding and leading up to Lith’s ‘adventures’ in the snowstorm.

“He sounds really nice,” Lithian said at length.

Osrith cringed. “He’s not as bad as you might think?” When Lithian said nothing in response, Osrith sighed. “I think he was just jealous, you know? He said you thought you were too good for us. That your family was trying to show everyone up by sending off their kid so young, like it was a contest. And…”

Again, he trailed off, and Lithian eyed him. “And…?” he prompted after an extended pause.

Osrith’s cheeks burned ever brighter. “It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter. He didn’t mean it, I’m sure.”

Lithian looked away again, shrugging.

“…he said…” Osrith began hesitantly, “…that a family that looked so much like hybrids had no place being as politically powerful as yours. That they shouldn’t ‘flaunt’ like they do and ought to just be grateful instead that they got anywhere. That maybe…” His voice quieted further still, “…teaching you some humility would be good. But,” Osrith hastened to add, “he didn’t want to kill you.”

Lithian almost laughed, but it was aa chopped, brittle sound when it came out. “Thanks,” he murmured. “You’re right. He doesn’t sound bad at all. I should just be grateful that he was so nice he didn’t even want to kill me.”

Osrith frowned. “That came out wrong, I think…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lithian’s expression pinched, and he gripped his seat as their instructor gave the final roll call, counting heads in preparation for giving the call to pull out.

Moments later, the call came and their vehicle jerked forward, gliding out over the snow with a grace and speed that suggested more than just the hastars were at work here — dovaa magic from several of the instructors was almost undoubtedly playing a role. Behind them, the two other groups follows, first some ways back and then catching up until all three were racing smoothly along the tundra in an even line.

“Hey,” Osrith started back up again when the reached an even pace. “If—”

“Don’t,” Lithian cut in, his voice quiet but loud enough to be heard over the combined scraping and clattering of background noise. “You don’t have to be nice to me. You don’t need to pretend or try to be my ‘friend’ so that you get in as much trouble, because you don’t have to worry. I’m not telling my parents it was your fault, or either of the others. We were playing a game, and I got lost. That’s it. I get lost a lot.” He plucked at the hem of his tunic, frowning. ‘So you can stop talking to me now,’ lingered at the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t add it.

Osrith matched his frown, but at least seemed to take the hint. At least for a while. Then, minutes later out of the blue, he asked, “So why did you say you fought six dragons?”

Lithian spared him a sidelong glance. “What do you mean?”

“Like…” Osrith huffed, as though his intentions were obvious. “You’re not that bad, you know? Yeah, you’re the kid here, and some people get stiff about your family name, but I think you could make friends if you wanted. When you say stuff like that though…it makes you look a bit ridiculous?”

Lithian’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. I didn’t go looking for the dragons…”

Osrith looked incredulous. “Nobody believes you. If you want to try to impress people with a make up story, you got to at least make it plausible, you know? Maybe just one dragon? When you say six, you’re kind of just asking for people to roll their eyes. You’re tiny. How are we supposed to believe you took on six and lived when less have destroyed entire villages before?”

Lith pinched the stitching of his tunic, focusing his stare on the tips of his snow boots. After some time spent trying to figure out how to respond, he simply shrugged. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Osrith looked pleased enough with this answer and butted his shoulder up against Lith’s, smiling. “Oi, see? Not so hard, is it? So. What did you actually fight? That was a pretty nasty scrape on your leg. Looks like something tried to claw into you alright.”

“I fell,” Lithian said.

Osrith blinked. “You fell? And scraped yourself up that bad?”

Lithian cupped his hands over his mouth, blowing on them again as he frowned. He’d always been told he was a poor liar, but what was he supposed to say when no one believed or wanted to hear the truth? Thus, at length, he simply shrugged again.

“Ice is sharp sometimes,” he said.

Osrith laughed, openly as though imagining Lith cutting himself up on jagged ice was the most humorous thing he’d heard all day. “I can attest to that I guess, so you got me there. Oh well. I suppose I can see why you might not want to come back toting that story, eh? My Great Battle Against Unmoving Ice.” He snickered. “Not as glory filled, eh?”

For lack of any better way to respond, Lith nodded.

Osrith spoke to him more throughout the ride, but Lithian largely tuned him out after that, paying only enough attention to nod or murmur a monosyllabic response of one sort or another to keep the boy satisfied. The majority of his attention he dedicated instead to other musings — the sprawling, elegant, but lethally frigid scenery stretching out before them and then, as the ride progressed, back towards his ‘saviors’ of several days past. He wondered what Casseth was up to, wondered where on this vast tundra Cas actually called home and what it must have been like to not simply visit but grow up and spend the majority of one’s life here.

His thoughts were still on Casseth and his family when they arrived on site.

Their destination was an icy plateau, tucked up amongst one of the earlier mountain ranges and overlooking the vast tundra below. When Lithian looked, though, their camp was invisible amidst the snow flurries, too far buried and likely hidden besides behind the jutting ice pillars that broke up the landscape.

“Alright,” the instructor in charge of their group called out as the hastars leading their cart pulled to a stop, “…everyone out. Line up as you were seated — you will be paired up accordingly. We’re working on passing drills and multi-element exercises, and as such I want everyone working with someone of a different clan for once. The aim of these exercises will be to stretch you out of your comfort zones, experiment with each other’s magic, study other techniques, and adapt to what you learn. When you fight — should you ever set foot on a battlefield — you will be working with fighting styles and magics you’ve never seen before. The more exposure you have prior to, the more prepared you will be come that moment. Out, out, out.”

Lithian clamoured to exit as instructed, eyes flitting around the chosen practice site as their instructor guided them into paired lines. She doubled him with Osrith, but Lith was hardly paying enough attention to feel so much as mildly disgruntled. Instead, his focus was on something caught, fluttering in the harsh winds: a single, pristine feather, trapped between a small stone and the icy face of the mountain. When he turned his attention up, following the jagged earth face towards its inevitable peak, he found the top obscured. Too much wind and snow to see much more than fifty or so paces up the face of the mountain.

“We are opening with some simple, paired warm up exercises,” their instructor began once they’d formed into their lines.

The sound of shuffling feet on the gritty earth and snow at their feet sounded as the last of them adjusted into position and several quiet murmurs ghosted down the lines. The middle group of students age wise — those guided by instructor Abravi right next to them — had already their opening sets, and Lithian watched, momentarily distracted as Ara began the first of her paired exercises.

“Turn to face your partners,” their instructor said, cutting into Lithian’s thought process, and he turned, moving to face Osrith’s lopsided grin. “I want you all to begin with passing drills. Keep in mind to balance your elements and be extra careful if you’re working with something volatile that could easily get out of control.” Their instructor’s eyes flit to and lingered on Vinara, the only firani in their age group. In response, she flicked a sweet, ‘innocent’ smile, and the instructor pursed her lips. “Any misconduct will be met with consequences. Begin.”

“What were you lookin’ at?” Osrith asked as Lithian worked to uncork the vials at his waist — a bit of a clumsy job with thick gloves on — and while he waited, Osrith began playing with the snow flurries: pointing two fingers together and holding them out as though aiming a bow before drawing his finger around and making a semi-circle of glimmering ice.

Lith shrugged, drawing his water out with an upward curve of his palm and twining the strands together with a twist of his fingers.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Osrith tilted his head, eyes on Lithian’s water ribbon. “So what happens if I freeze that — can you still even do anything?” He laughed. “That would be pretty lame, huh? Oh, all powerful peisio until—” He shifted his stance: one clipped jerk of movement as his arms snapped out and body angled down.

Lithian felt the chill of the other boy’s magic, however, and immediately rocked his own stance, curving his water out of the way, up, behind him and around, staving off the onset of the freezing process.

Osrith snorted, and then smiled lopsidedly. “Guess we won’t find out today. But aren’t we supposed to be—”

A deep rumbling sounded from far above them, and Lithian stilled, attention jerking up along with most of the present party. As though responsive to whatever was occurring further up the mountainside, the wind picked up from a bitter breeze to something closer to a low howl, and Lithian tucked his water back away — but didn’t restopper his flasks — before folding his arms against himself. The wind felt alive, spiteful, as though it could seep straight through his clothes unimpaired and chill his bare skin.

“What’s going on up there…?” Osrith said, frowning. “Since when—”

Birdcall cut the air, stopping Osrith’s words in their tracks. One, two, three shadows — no, more. The wind began screaming about them, isolated miniature wind tunnels dancing across the ground like wild spirits, and Lithian shielded his eyes as the flurries picked up fiercer still, the cold seeming almost to cut at his cheeks.

Birds. Blinding, silver-white, and so many of them. Alkarai? Wasn’t that what these were? Lithian could have sworn he’d read about them, but his reading had said specifically that they traveled in small groups or family units. Nothing like this.

The shouts of their instructors carried out over the wind, barking at them and telling them to move in. Osrith was saying something, but Lithian couldn’t hear it over the wind. Before he could so much as wonder, however, a near literal wall of wind slammed into him, sending his smaller body toppling over and skidding against the ice. He yelped — though the effect was something like screaming into a void — and scrambled at the ice of their plateau but couldn’t gain traction.

Seconds from toppling over the edge, the ice at the lip jutted up, forming a ‘wall’ or impromptu fence to net him in, and Lithian’s heart tripped over itself as he swallowed back down his panic. One glance backwards, and for a fraction of an instant, his eyes met Osrith’s, locked on him. Opening his mouth to mouth a ‘thank you’, another wail from above cut him off and Lithian was scrambling to his feet, shifting his heels to dig in in as solid of a stance as he could muster and then curving his palms up drawing his water to him and whipping it out only just fast enough to send the attacking fowl careening off its path and away.

The scene lasted for long enough in the end that Lithian near lost track of how many of the birds they fought — ten or more easily, he was sure — though no one could completely explain why so many had appeared and attacked at once. The instructors concluded that multiple separate nests must have been startled out of their roosting locations by a nearby predator and, already on the run and defensive, their fighting magic had goaded the animals into an attack.

Regardless of the reasoning, however, they concluded that study at such a location was no longer safe, and instructed all the students back towards their transport to head back preemptively. Moments before doing as instructed, however, Lithian paused, attention catching on something lying on the ground, faintly glimmering. An egg…?

“Everyone come now, if there’s something out there big enough to scare that many of the beasts we don’t want to be lingering. Let’s get a move on. If we…”

The instructor’s voice faded into the background as Lithian stooped, brushing some of the excess snow off of the object wish his gloved hand and then lifting it. It looked like a marbled egg, but broken — smooth on one half of an oblong shape but then jagged, as though another piece of it were lying about. When he looked up, Lithian spotted not one but three more of what looked to be the same thing, all of them pulsing with a faint magic. Quickly, he scrambled up, pocketing the first in one of the satchels at his waist and then moving to gather up the others. Just as he tucked the last of the four away, the instructor in charge of their group specifically called him out.

“Lithian.”

His head jerked up, cheeks flushing.

“We don’t have time to dally, boy, let’s go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he apologized, hurrying over to their vehicle. “Sorry.”

As he clamored in, Osrith raised his eyebrows. “Lose something out there?”

Lithian opened his mouth, but after a moment’s debate, decided he would keep the stones to himself. The other boy would probably think him ridiculous for gathering up more ice rocks anyway. Thus, instead of commenting on them, he said, “Not my life, thanks to you.”

Osrith blinked, surprised at first, and then — to Lithian’s surprise — only shrugged. Not a joking grin to be seen. “I told you I didn’t want you dead, didn’t I?”

Lithian pulled his cloak in close, eyeing his boots. “Thanks.”

“No problem, dragon slayer. Maybe one day you can save my life and we'll be even.”

Lithian considered mentioning that, depending on how one looked at it, saving his life might simply be considered making up for nearly getting him killed personally earlier, but he decided against it, and simply nodded. “Maybe.”