No Destination (Chapter 4: Words to Pave the Way)

As soon as the two of them reached the crowd gathered around a makeshift stadium, Abel stomped into the muttering masses. Bumping caps and elbows out of the way, he moved to get a better view as well as to make sure he heard everything this time. A poorly aimed nudge from his elbow dug into a brunette’s ribs, and she twisted on him, her laughter dropping to a growl. “Sorry,” Abel said with less faux sincerity than usual, and moved on. He squeezed between two boys and found himself at the front.

A man stood before the platform, his back to the crowd as he hunched over something. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the golden highlights on his rasin uniform, which ran down the sleeves and sides of his torso to meld into the glittering borders of his shirt. It was because Abel was studying the man’s expensive-looking outfit that when the man first turned around, the first thing to catch Abel’s eyes was the assortment of medals pinned onto his chest. A silver tulip, aqua wings curled around an obsidian heart—Abel’s heart skipped a beat to recognize the array of top military decorations. He dragged his eyes from the medals to a familiar wrinkled face. One that any student of Caelum University would have recognized, though the brushes of black that formed his hair in the oil portraits were inaccurate to the graying reality. Principal Davis J. Brown. the fifty-third head of Caelum University and world-acclaimed navigator. Also known as Abel’s hero.

Abel inhaled sharply. He forced himself to exhale in a much calmer manner, although his heart felt like it was dancing in his throat. Lucky that he would not need to talk anytime soon.

Could you blame him? It was true that Brown the principal of arguably the best flight academy in the discovered world, but the impressive part was that he got there through his achievements. Not inheritance or money, like most previous heads. Brown had mapped out approximately eighty-five percent of the known Farlands, and was one of the driving forces behind the first civilized establishment in those untamed lands. He and his partner were the first to fly through the Goliath Storms that basked the Iron Mountains and make it back alive. And of course, the children’s books he wrote describing his adventures were international best-sellers. Abel had all of them at home.

He snapped out of his reverie when cheers began to arise around him. While he wasn’t looking, the principal had made his way onto the center of the stage. Arms folded behind him and spine perfectly straight, the man seemed to be waiting for something. When those gray-blue eyes swept over where Abel was standing, the boy shivered. It was like Brown was staring right at him and judging his soul.

Finally, everyone got a hint and quieted down. There was a period of nervous silence, and then Brown began to speak. His voice was loud and surprisingly smooth, considering his gruff appearance. “There are thirty-six of you.”

The ensuing silence clawed at Abel’s sanity.

“Thirteen pairs. Thirteen pairs, to graduate the proud Caelum University of Flight, which has stood for over three centuries. And for these centuries, we have produced generation after generation of the land’s greatest pilot and navigators. And you know what? I don’t see that in you. What I do see, what I see is thirty-six youths at turning point in their lives. What I see is thirty-six boys and girls reaching to grasp Caelum’s flag, ready reveal every dim corner of the world and illuminate it. Ready to fly across the world.

“Up until now, you have spent your days working through procedures and technicalities, bent over sprawling maps or convoluted gears. You have progressed down this laborious, respected path to be where you are now. And I want you to be proud of that. I really do. Less than one percent of children your age have accomplished as much as you have. But it will soon be time for you to choose. You,” and here he pointed to a started boy in the corner, “may find yourself an escort, carrying royalty across familiar skies with your tedium compensated for in pockets of gold. And this girl here may one day look over the wastelands beyond the Iron Mountains, a blank map in hand. And any of you may even find yourself a ground-worker, patenting the next Delphic or Avain and being more than satisfied with the direction you never would’ve expected your life to take. I’ve seen many students go in a million different ways. That includes, of course, my own classmates.

“The point it, no matter where you go from here, know that it will be the right choice for as long as you have carved it with your own two hands. I and this academy have been proud to house you for these four years. Two more years, and then you will be free to fly across the uncharted skies—or don’t, it’s in your hands.” Finally, Principal Brown wetted his lips and took a deep breath. He stiffly nodded his head. “Thank you. I wish you luck, and I will hand the stage over to my vice principal, Mr. Lin.”

Brown turned to relinquish the stage. It was that movement that broke all the students out of the stunned stasis that had befallen all of them, and a thunderous noise came forth, like a volcano out of a long slumber. Abel couldn’t hear himself clapping anymore, but the ever-sharpening sting in his palms assured him that he was. At some point during the speech, tears had begun to roll down his cheek. He wasn’t sure when, but now he hurried to wipe it before it dripped down to his collar.

He opened his mouth to praise that speech, but then vice principal Lin, a tall, lean Xingese man, situated himself at center stage. Students sobered as their manners returned to them. The patriotic glow faded.

Abel thumped his head to return himself to the present. Yet even as he took in the stream of information, comprising mostly of tomorrow’s schedule, a childish part of him recalled Brown’s words. He let himself reminiscence. That persisting glee and wonder reminded him of reading Brown’s (simplified) journals for the first time, and he cherished that warmth.

Several minutes later, the vice principal finished the announcements. “Dismissed.”

The crowd dispersed, and Abel stood there for a while, wondering what to do the rest of the day. Other students were breaking off in their pairs, looking to know their partner better, no doubt. He briefly wondered if he should seek out Cain to do the same, then dismissed the idea. The Xingese boy would probably glare at him for even trying to talk to him, then storm off.

Abel thought about it a little more, before deciding. He’d better go check out his student airship before the day was over.