Winter had settled deep over the mountain, a heavy blanket of snow coating the world beyond. The windows of the training hall were frosted over, a fine plane of ice obscuring the outside world, making it look like a frozen wasteland. It had been days since I’d seen Trendil. He’d left without a word, leaving me to train alone in the cold, echoing chamber.
Though I hadn’t used bloodburning like we’d agreed, I hadn’t been able to stop using wind manipulation. It had become second nature—no, more than that. I used it at every possible opportunity: to turn the pages of a book, to shift the bedsheets when I was too lazy to get up, even—on more than one occasion—to lift my food to my mouth as I lay back, enjoying the quiet of the world.
It had become integral to the way I fought, woven into my movements like an extension of my body. I’d begun to realize just how powerful this ability was. If I’d had it in my previous life, I dare say I could have taken down entire battalions by myself.
I jumped through the air, using a gust of wind to propel me toward the training dummy. As I twisted in midair, the two daggers strapped to my legs flew out toward the target. But as I landed in a crouch, I watched in frustration as both blades veered off course, missing the dummy completely.
“What the…?”
“Remember, lad, there are other forces at work,” Trendil’s voice cut through the room, and I turned to see him walking in. “Don’t just push. You need to guide the wind all the way to the target.”
He’d kept calling me "lad" ever since I arrived, even after I explained to him that I was well over seventy winters old. To him, though, I was still a child—especially considering he was over twelve hundred years old. In that light, I supposed I really was a lad to him. I couldn’t argue with his experience.
“Thanks for the advice, old man,” I said with a grin. “Nice of you to show up today.”
“Think nothing of it, lad,” Trendil replied, his voice carrying that ever-present teasing tone. “Although, I think it’s about time we go, don’t you?”
My interest piqued. “What are you thinking?”
“Real-world action. Put everything you’ve learned into practice.” He stepped into the room, arms crossed, the glint in his eye unmistakable.
“That sounds perfect to me. Honestly, being cooped up in here is driving me mad.”
“Splendid! The city of Elvensham lies to the west of these mountains—second largest only to Calmeion. There are reports of a young child being chased by a group of arcane adepts. The boy’s a bloodburner.” He raised an eyebrow. “I still have my ears out in the world, you know.”
A bloodburner? That term hit me like a jolt. I hadn’t used the power myself, but I knew what it could do. The thought of a child dealing with that kind of magic, especially with the Ministry closing in, sent a wave of unease through me.
“So, what do you say we hop down there and give the kid a hand?” Trendil asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
I frowned, calculating. “West of the mountains... that’s at least six weeks on foot, assuming we make good time. Do you really think he’ll be able to avoid the Ministry for that long?”
Trendil’s grin widened. “Lad, we are windgiests. We can be in Elvensham by morning, that is—of course—if you’re not afraid of heights.”
Before I could respond, Trendil burst out laughing and strode toward the door, leaving me to quickly follow behind.
I found Trendil in the courtyard, the usually warm, quiet area now transformed into an icy battleground. The stone floor was frozen solid, the wind whipping around like a thousand invisible taskmasters, each lashing at us with the authority of winter. The cold gnawed at my skin, cutting through my clothes as if they weren’t even there.
“Here, take this,” Trendil called, his voice barely rising above the howl of the wind. He passed me a thick, fur-lined cloak. I grabbed it quickly, throwing it over my shoulders. It was heavy, but the warmth spread through me instantly, acting as a shield against the bitter cold.
“So, what’s the plan?”
Trendil smirked, a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “We jump, lad. Over the side, straight down the mountain to Elvensham.”
I blinked several time and stared at him wide eyed. “Are you mad, old man?” I shouted, struggling to make my voice heard over the screaming wind.
“Not at all!” Trendil called back, completely unfazed by the storm raging around us. He turne walked to the far wall of the courtyard, grabbing two large diamond-shaped patches of leather, each one attached to a metal bar. He struggled as the wind tried to throw them about.
“We’re windgiests, lad,” he said as though the meaning should have been apparent to me. “We control the wind. You’ve seen a cape caught in a storm, haven’t you? This works the same way.”
He tossed one of the leather contraptions to me. I caught it, turning it over in my hands, feeling the weight of the leather and metal bar. “How exactly does this work?”
“Simple.” Trendil held up his own sail. “Grip the bar and direct the wind into the sail. The wind will lift you, and with a little finesse, you can steer it—like a sailor steering a ship.”
I looked from the sail to the edge of the courtyard, where the stone dropped away into a sheer void. “You expect me to just… jump?”
Trendil chuckled, gripping the bar tightly. “I don’t expect anything, lad. I know you can do it. Or would you rather walk down the mountain for six weeks?”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Before I could answer, Trendil stepped off the edge of the courtyard wall. A surge of dread rushed up my chest as I rushed forward, expecting to see him plummeting to the ground. But instead, I saw him gliding smoothly through the air, suspended beneath the taut leather sail. He drifted away from the mountain, the wind carrying him effortlessly like a gliding bird
“Come on, lad!” Trendil’s voice rang out as he sailed through the air. “What are you waiting for?”
I swallowed a ball of hesitation, staring down at the sail in my hands. My stomach twisted, the thought of throwing myself off the mountain. My heart pounded slowly in my chest as, if time was slowing dow. I stepped closer to the edge. The wind roared around me, daring me to jump.
I gripped the bar tightly, feeling the leather tug against the wind as I held it out. My pulse quickened.
Holding my breath, I jumped.
I was falling—heading feet first to the jagged rocks below. Panic surged through me, and I instinctively tried to pull myself up on the bar attached to the sail. The wind slammed into the sail, like a thousand small daggers of air were thrown at it from all directions. My movement, instead of lifting me, tossed me sideways like a rag doll. My body whipping through the air uncontrollably, I struggled to make sense of my surroundings.
The ground rushed toward me, I twisted the sail, trying to steer, but the more I fought it, the worse it got. The wind buffeted me, pulling me off course, and I tumbled through the air in a panic.
“Steady, lad!” I heard Trendil call from somewhere ahead, his voice calm despite my flailing. “Stop fighting the wind, let it guide you”
That was a lot easier said than done. My heart raced. I let out the breath I had been holding as I tried to steady myself on the sail. The wind howled past my ears, my hood flapping about like a blanket left out in a storm. The wind pulled and tugged at the sail, trying to send it in multiple directions. For a brief, terrifying moment, I thought I was going to crash into the side of the mountain..
I remembered Trendil’s words. “Control the wind. Don’t fight it.”
I took a deep breath, and slowly adjusted the angle of the sail, allowing the wind to fill it more smoothly. I manipulated the wind, blowing it in an upward direction. Gradually, the wild tumbling stopped, and I felt the wind lift me. I was no longer falling—I was gliding.
But it was still a struggle. Every gust felt like a new challenge, threatening to send me off balance again. I had to focus on each movement, guiding the wind beneath the sail, trying to maintain control as I soared through the air.
Trendil was just ahead, steering effortlessly, as if he’d been born in the sky. “There you go, lad! See? Just like that!”
I gritted my teeth, to stop them from rattling as I slowly gained control. My heart was still racing, but now I wasn’t sure if it was fear or exhilaration.
The ground stretched out below us, a vast expanse of snow-covered peaks and frozen valleys. The sheer drop that had terrified me moments before was now a sea of white beneath my feet, and the thrill of it sent a shiver down my spine.
Trendil turned his sail, glancing back with a grin. “Keep up, lad! Elvensham awaits!”
Focusing, I steadied myself as I adjusted the sail again, feeling the wind’s pull more keenly now. The struggle wasn’t over, but I was getting the hang of it—slowly. With each gust, I felt a little more in control, a little more connected to the wind.
And as I glided through the sky, the thrill of the flight began to override the fear. I could do this.
After some time, I managed to even direct the wind away from myself, shielding me from the bitter cold. This is what Trendil must do, why he looks so comfortable in this freezing weather. I started enjoying it, swooping now and then gaing speed as we sailed down the mountain range.
The air grew warmer the more we descended, still cold as winter was about us, but the winds had also died down making controlling the sail a lot easier. AS we costed out and came to the end of the mountain range, I lost my breath. Build into the side of the mountain, a city made of stone and brick. It rose to meet the mountain, tall spires and towers dotted all over the place.
The very heart of it at the base of the mountain, a massive building adorned with hanging tapestry, shone out with it large windows of coloured glass.
I hadn’t seen it on our decent, as the mountain obscured it. It wasn’t until I had flown over it, That it came into site.
Keep going, lad” We don’t want to land in there, somewhe save a mile or two ahead will be just fine. Trendil said, as if his word were carried by the wind to me.
I banked and followed trendil, landing in an open plane several miles beyond the city of elvensham
After some time, I managed to direct the wind away from my body, creating a buffer that shielded me from the bitter cold. I glanced ahead at Trendil, now understanding how he looked so comfortable in the freezing air. He had mastered this art completely, making it seem effortless. As I got the hang of it, I began to enjoy myself, swooping and gliding through the air, gaining speed as we sailed down the mountain range.
The further we descended, the warmer the air became. It was still cold—winter clung to the world around us—but the sharp bite of the wind had softened. The gusts that once fought me had died down, and controlling the sail became almost easy. The world below us opened up, vast and white, as we coasted down the last stretch of the range.
And then, as we rounded the final peak, I saw it.
My breath caught in my throat.
Built into the mountainside, rising majestically from the rock and stone, was a city the likes of which I had never seen in my life—neither in the war camps nor the palaces of the old empire. Elvensham sprawled out below, a masterpiece of stone and brickwork, its towering spires and turrets reaching skyward like the fingers of a giant trying to grasp the heavens.
The city cascaded down the mountain, tier upon tier, each level connected by wide, arching bridges. Tall buildings made of pale stone lined the streets, their roofs glinting in the faint winter sun. Tall spires pierced the sky, adorned with flags that fluttered in the breeze. At the very heart of the city, built from the mountain, stood an enormous structure—a building so grand it dwarfed everything around it.
The monolithic mountain building gleamed with colored glass windows, their intricate patterns catching the light and casting splashes of vibrant hues across the city, bathing it in a rainbow. Tapestries draped along its walls, strangely rigid in the breeze. My eyes caught sight of the familiar sigil embroidered on them—the hand symbol of the Ministry. Even from this distance, it radiated power and authority, the dark threads woven into the fabric like a reminder of the tyranny that hung over the world.
I hadn’t noticed the city as we descended, hidden by the curvature of the mountain. But now, soaring above it, the full grandeur of Elvensham revealed itself to me, and it was unlike anything I had ever seen. The scale, the artistry—it was as though the city itself had been crafted by gods.
“Keep going, lad!” Trendil’s voice reached me, carried effortlessly by the wind. “We don’t want to land in there. Somewhere safe, a mile or two ahead, will be just fine.”
I tore my eyes away from the awe-inspiring sight, focusing again on the sail as I banked left, following Trendil’s lead. We glided silently over the city, the wind beneath our sails carrying us smoothly past the towering spires and out over the plains beyond. The landscape opened up into a vast stretch of rolling hills and frozen fields, untouched by the city’s grandeur.
Eventually, we spotted a suitable landing spot—an open plain several miles beyond the city limits. With careful control, I guided the wind to slow my descent, landing with a soft thud as my feet touched the frost-covered ground. Trendil landed beside me with practiced ease, folding his sail as though it were nothing more than a routine task.
I glanced back over my shoulder, the city of Elvensham still visible in the distance, its towering spires like sentinels watching over the land.