Journey onto the Storm (BOOK 2)

Chapter 19

LAUCAN

"It starts with finding your balance on ice, Little Prince," Madame Titania instructed with a strict shake of her head when he failed time and time again to climb the ropes and to ascend the heavens as their ancestors had, where her light blonde waves bounced and weaved with her graceful movements. "No. No. No. It is not done just so. If the Little Prince wishes to fly, he must learn to fall first — feel the cruel sting, and find the strength to stand and stretch his wings." Her every tumble and twist in the air spread out the fumes of snow with her guarded chakrams, hanging loosely on the edge of her fingertips, but never fell from her grasp. Pearls bounced off her boots when she landed in a ripple of memory while he stood in the silence of the blizzard among the wrapped aerial silks all across the marble pillars within the dancing arena.

Before the Summit, it found use again with the Volaris Performers, but it spread silky spiderwebs along the corners with their swift departure. Laucan stepped into the middle of the battleground, and held out his chakrams. Out of practice and out of an arena staring down violet-eyed death. Magick coursed through the runic circuitry of the large practice dummy. Its limbs groaned from ice and disuse, but he held his breath when it came to the center to join him in the dance.

"We are unlike the glaive-wielding sentinels," Madame Titania instructed with several thrusting motions, sending powerful shards of ice into the walls of his mindscape memory. "But no less dangerous with our battle song. I am teaching you how to dance, Little Prince. You shall dance and find your wings in time."

He remembered his question of the past when the icy dance partner took a lumbering step forward and tugged out their own ice blades, 'What is the point of falling? Wouldn't it be better to avoid it? Wouldn't it be better to never fall? I thought we were descended from wyverns. Wyverns don't fall out of the sky. None of the past kings of Naveera ever fell from the great Ice Climb on the way to their coronations. I need to learn to fly, Magistera.'

Laucan circled his runic dance partner and her instructions came louder than his question.

"Let me tell you something, Wyverling Prince." Titania followed his steps with a mischievous, wise smile. "Every Naveeran will understand one thing when they stand on the precipice. You fear the fall, but you should not. You should accept it. Jump into its awaiting arms. Feel the wind. Hear the song and let it resound against your very soul. We have lived and died with this one simple truth of our heritage. In the fall is when we learn how to fly. Every Naveeran, from the peaks of the mountain to the deep ground of the tundra — will choose to fall without fail, and fly higher than the clouds."

But I need to be able to fly to deliver Naveera out of this frozen hell. I do not understand it, but if Naveera falls, what will be left of my people? Our stubbornness fades. We freeze and throw ourselves against the blizzard's eye with no end in sight except outside of our lands. For them, I must do more than fly.

Icy twine collected over his fingers and circled his chakrams. Crystals flecked off the training partner's movements when they came to a stop. In an instant, it lunged.

"So dance, Little Prince."

Laucan slid out of the way, using his chakrams as both a balance and a counteroffensive to send a wave of ice straight into the training partner's head. It crystallized and weighed it down. He kicked off its core and put distance from his opponent. It stumbled with heavy clanks, but twisted around to send its own burst of ice. He slid underneath it, and it blasted the marble wall and shuddered the tied up aerial silks above his head. It raced forward with ferocity, and he sliced across its side to send himself into another slide on his icy dance floor, before sending the other straight at its back when it turned. It skidded off and sent another trail of crystals up the wall, where it lodged in the cracks.