Chapter Four

Skyla huffed the last of her things onto the ground, and sat down on the hard bunk, mentally exhausted. It had already been quite a day, but the day was far from over. Come on Skyla, get up! Her little voice inside yelled at her. You can do better than just sit-down whining! Get moving! Skyla sighed at her self-berating, but got up, and sorted through her things. A few special trinkets she had found over the years and forged into tiny little toys or mementos. The armor chip that served as part of a necklace, a carved wooden soldier, all sent a smile to Skyla’s young face, as she brushed away some loose blond hair. She unpacked a few clothes and remaining items, placing them under her bunk or on a shelf nearby in a neat pile. Gliders were expected to keep their rooms clean and organized (“If you can’t keep your own things orderly and perfect, how do you expect keep yourself ordered and ready for a fight?” as Nali always used to yell at them). Certain that everything was organized and ready, Skyla again sat down on her bunk, if just to breathe and think about the day so far. A new routine, a new flight, and a new mission, if the goal was still the same. Protect Nephinal, defend against Mig. Skyla touched the tattoo marked under her eye again, the porotector mark given to her by one of the older members of the corps. Lots of gliders had little signs like that, something that supposedly was a magical sign that could give the wearer a magical effect. She was shaken by her thoughts when a calm and young voice asked, “So you’re the new one, hm?” Skyla looked up, to see a young dark-haired woman standing at the doorway of the flight’s quarters, decked out in her armor, as if she just got back from a routine flight. Which the woman most likely just had. She looked exactly like what Skyla thought of the perfect glider, strong and stern, but with a calm and almost motherly look from those deep green eyes. “Yeah, I’m Skyla Varen, the new recruit, or now, glider. I, uh, actually just got my wings certified.” “A pleasure to meet you,” said the woman, out stretching her hand, which Skyla shook eagerly. “I’m Blanche Arnolda.” She paused for a moment in thought. “Skyla…you wouldn’t happen to be the recruit I heard about from the test? The one who singlehandedly saved a fellow girl from a fall?” Skyla got red, as she always seemed to do when people knew she that one. She didn’t really know how to handle the attention; it wasn’t like something like that hadn’t happened before. “Please,” she said, “I just did as I was trained. Steady, brave, and‒” “‒Calm, yes I know. Well, it is a pleasure to have you in our flight.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Blanche smiled softely, then turned around when a gruff and very old voice said, “Blankie! Who are ya talking to?” as an older man, maybe in his fifties, emerged from the hallway and turned into the door. “What’s all this, oh! You the new recruit!” “Yes, sir, I am.” Skyla replied to the man. “Ah, ah, nice to see you! This Blankie‒” “Blanche.” Replied the woman, smiling and rolling her eyes. “Whatever, and I’m Soren Wolf! I’ll be your maintenance and assistance in this nice journey you’re going on, miss?” “Skyla. Miss Skyla Varen,” she replied simply. “Skoy-lo Voren?” he asked cheerily. “Sky-la, sir.” “Skoy-lo it is!” Seeing her confused look, Blanche intervened, just chuckling at the old man’s ramblings, saying, “That’s just Soren for you; he’s just a cracked old bird.” “That’s right Blankie! I’ve got to do something in the meantime! But wait, you wouldn’t happen to be that Skyla Varen I heard about?” She just nodded. “By the aardvark, I don’t believe it! Ole’ Iron herself was impressed by that I here said!” Skyla was overwhelmed by the strange little old man, with his scraggly beard and small size, everything about him was just comical. “Alright, that’s enough Soren, let the girl get settled in. Don’t you have something to forge or work on.” “Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, alright ya mangy raccoon! I’m off! See you around Skoy-lo!” With that, the little man hurried off, almost as quickly as he had popped in, running down the innumerable hallways to Sol knew where. Blanche just smiled and turned back to Skyla, her dark brown hair swishing with her head movement. “Don’t worry about him; Soren’s just being friendly,” she said to Skyla with a slight grin. “He said he was the ‘maintenance’ of the flight?” Skyla asked, “Is he a smith or something?” “Yeah. Soren used to be a glider, but he broke his leg in the Scour Fields almost a decade ago. He’s been put on the smith and assistance role, helping out flights. He’s an old friend.” Ah, that explains it. Most gliders were young and fit, as you had to be in order to perform the maneuver and battle tactics needed in a fight, able to withstand the swift turns and shifts in flight, then land on the ground hard, and instantly get into a fight. There were few old gliders, or at least one who could still fly. Old age whittled the bones and muscles and made it difficult to keep the same pace. The veterans who still wanted to be useful were set to work in the forges, or kept guard over certain areas, delegated to less extreme duties. “So, who else is in this specific flight, do you know?” Skyla asked Blanche. She wanted to know who exactly she would be spending the next months, or even years with. “Well,” Blanche replied, “There’s Commander Ile, that you know I’m sure already. Then there’s Naria Minamoto whose another high officer, and one of my old friends, as well as a new member I don’t of yet, one who’s supposed to be our local ‘brainehead’ and logistical support.” A lot of experienced members. Better make a good impression. Skyla thought to herself. She talked with Blanche for a few more minutes, and Skyla grew increasingly encouraged by the bold woman. Then more and more members began to filter in. First came Naria Minamoto, Blanche’s friend. She was smaller than Skyla expected, but with a tough character, talking far less and just seeming to stare into space. “Don’t worry about Naria,” Blanche had said to Skyla, “She’s seen a lot of things. But she always has your back.” The woman certainly looked like it, with a steely gaze that looked like it could melt metal. Then popped in a young woman around Skyla’s age, who must have been another talented recruit that the management liked. The girl was very tall, almost the size of Blanche, with a cheerful smile, that reminded Skyla of Alleria, though Tamara Yentar held more of an air of intensity, yet was calm and helpful. Skyla had heard about Tamara, one of the most talked about trainees in the corps, extremely dedicated to the cause, but also humble and approachable. They say she learned to fly when she was ten and already had survived a trip in the Scour Fields. Seems the perfect person Skyla thought in the back of her head, with, if she was being honest, a touch of jealousy. Finally, with most of her new flight, her new family, in the quarters, they all sat down, talking to each other, knowing each other’s past and history, skills, and more. Naria sat in her top bunk, sharpening a knife with a stone, while Blanche talked with Tamara and Skyla. The group was interrupted when Commander Ile entered into the room, coughing to get their attention, and everyone snapped to attention. “Well,” he said, “I take it you all have been acquainted. That’s good, because we’ve got our first mission.” He paced around the small room, setting a couple of scrolls on the desk in the center. “We’re heading out to Elvenia tomorrow, to make sure our defense alliance stands, and that we have elven backing.” “Another political run?” asked Naria flatly. “*Sigh* Yes. We get to deal with nobility. But what needs to get done will get done. Get some rest people. Tomorrow, we head out!” Everyone then prepared for some sleep, taking off any armor and folding it up and setting in the mini-storage area of the room. Blanche talked with Tamara for a little bit, but Naria and Ile were already asleep in their own beds. Skyla pulled the covers over, rolled back, and dreamed of soaring clouds, burning lights, and soaring above the stars.

The morning was cool and calm, as Skyla and the flight prepared for their journey. Skyla wrapped on the laces and clothing, before retrieving her armor and strapping it on, helping the others do the same. She braided her hair back (it was a terrible thing to have it flowing around in the wind) and tied it down, while making sure her thick gloved right arm was tight and secure. The blue and white colors of her armor shined of the sunlight, polished and clean. I wonder if Soren cleaned this off. It would make since, as his job was to maintain and keep their flight functional and operational. She went over and asked Tamara, “Do you need a hand?” “No, it’s fine, I can do it by myself.” Tamara replied simply. “I could use some help Skyla,” offered Blanche. Skyla went over and helped her finish on the straps and plates of her armor, making sure everything was on tight. Once everyone was all dressed and set, Commander Ile entered in, along with Soren, the short man appearing even shorter and older to the tall and young commander. “Is everyone set?” he asked, and upon receiving several nods and affirmations, he continued, “Good. We will be heading out to Elvenia. Get your wings on and head to the flight deck. We leave immediately.” “With all due respect, sir,” asked Skyla, “I know the elven have access to airships. Wouldn’t it be more efficient to take one of those, sir?” “It would be,” replied Tamara, “But if there’s one thing about the elven, they love to be impressed. So, we glide there, to give them a show.” “Indeed,” responded Ile, “Appearing in full sync and uniform makes an impression, and we need all the help we can get in order to maintain our alliance. Now let’s move people!”

The wind splayed across Skyla’s face as she soared above the Shroud, formed in a triangular shape with her flight. They glided above the warm currents of the misty fogs below, arcing their way towards the massive structure that slowly expanded across the horizon. Elvenia, or otherwise called by the elven as Teurhoemo, their realm of residence. The sight of the massive spired mansions and castles of the elven nobility, splayed with color against the backdrop of the drab and grey walls of the Room, was impressive, to say the least. The massive rectangular structure that formed the nation was divided into several different layers, with the very top where the nobles and aristocrats ruled, and then three distinct levels below that, each with a weaker class of people who slaved for their elven leaders. Skyla had heard many stories about the elven; everyone had. They all knew about the arrogant mages who were convinced of their own superiority to the rest of the denizens of the Room, lived for only the next party or event, and performed heinous magical experiments on subjects, using their magical arts to redefine the natural state, and creating monster, horrible hybrids, or worse. Yet despite all that, the elven were exceptionally powerful with magic, and were indispensable in defending against Mig. So Nephinal, often begrudgingly, had to continue to smile at their “friends” offer trade and military assistance, bite back their tongue against the atrocities committed by the elven, for their own defense. All these thoughts and more filtered through Skyla’s mind, as her flight approached the docking bays of the top level, home to massive spires and extravagant carvings. Seems pointless to have so much beauty if it doesn’t do anything against a sword. The group descended slowly, with Commander Ile right at their head. As they approached the ending ports of Elvenia, Ile began landing procedure, as did the rest. Skyla, at the end, shifted so her body was pointing upward, and her wings were out to slow down, stretched out her hands and, as everyone else said, spoke the words “Donwo sowol.” Her training braced her for what was to come; by uttering the correct magical incantations, the glider was able to slow themselves almost to an instant stop without serious whiplash effects, landing almost immediately. Ile was first, blue auras emitting from his hands as his body suddenly pulled back and then he dropped a few inches of the ground, quickly stabilizing himself with the sudden landing. The ones next to him did the same, as the chain of gliders proceeded with the landing, until everyone finally stood on the ground. “Alright, follow my lead. Let me do the talking, and everyone just smile. They like that. Understood?” asked the commander, turning around to the other gliders. He was answered with several “Yes sirs” and such. It was then that Skyla noticed several beings next to them, who must have been waiting for the gliders. Elven, clearly. Skyla had only seen poor pictures of them, or a few fleeting glimpses of them, but they were something else up close and in person. The glimmer of their very, unearthly pale skin made them appear to shine in the sollight, with long ears that popped out of their heads, and long thin bodies, fingers, and height, their white or blue hair falling like waterfalls down the side of their heads. “What’s with the clothing,” Skyla whispered, mostly to herself, though Tamara must have heard her because she replied, saying quietly to Skyla, “The elven clothing is intentionally designed with random colorful lines, an endeavor to release the ‘true expression of art’ and to stand out from the rest.” Skyla nodded at Tamara’s apparent knowledge of everything (Though she is the brains of this flight) and kept walking with her mouth shut. The elven dignitaries who were waiting for them greeted Ile, with who appeared to be the leader saying, “Tisgnidi godoo nada heollo, friends! Or, as you commoners say, welcome!” The man, or rather, the elven had outstretched arms, as if to display the splendor of Elvenia. He continued speaking, his voice soft but with a defining air of pomp and pride “Behold the might halls of Teurhoemo! You are most welcome here, gliders of Nephinal friends and allies! We are most happy to accommodate you warriors in our glorious halls! Please follow me.” His speech made Skyla want to throw up; she could feel the superiority the elven felt behind his smiling white teeth. At least I just have to do simple duties instead of being forced to deal with these leaders. Skyla thought as she the group walked on, Ile conversing with the elven leader. Or, rather, he was simply smiling and responding with “Yes” or “Indeed” to everything the elven, complimenting when necessary. Politics was something Skyla intended to never go into; she was much happier in the simpler areas. The elven continued to lead them from the docks, and across several paths, travelling toward a large gate, carved ornamentally over centuries with elven design. Skyla couldn’t help but gasp at the massive structure, much to the enjoyment of the elven nobles nearby. The beautiful gates slowly opened, as the carved blue sigils glowed the gates opened, seemingly by an unseen force, and revealed the glorious halls and mansions of the elven. Commander Ile looked back upon his flight, and simply said, “Let’s go.”