Friendship in the Far South

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The unending daylight of polar summer was something which took getting used to. When the expedition had first arrived in the far south, Harkwin had spent a few days disorientated and sleep-deprived as he learned to adapt to this new environment where the sun never set.

Unlike some of the other sapient species, dragons were normally used to flying long distances and their body clocks were quick to adjust to travel. Waking up, sleeping, and other natural rhythms were reliant on the local time of day, which could advance or delay accordingly if a dragon flew a considerable distance. The problem was that all this natural adaptation was based on seeing the changing light levels as caused by the rising and setting of the sun, but the sun didn't set during the polar summer. Faced with this problem, various expedition members had quickly decided to completely darken the windows of all the various dormitory buildings, so they could have some facsimile of night even if the sky was still bright.

Nevertheless, the eternal daylight just felt off. Morning, evening, even the middle of the night—the level of sunlight was constant. It was now nearing the end of the day, yet even as Harkwin sped through the skies, the polar sunlight was shining as bright as it had ever did, albeit from a different angle.

Channelling his air affinity, Harkwin flew as fast as he could. His wing muscles were noticeably starting to ache after a full day's flying, and his internal reserve of magic had its own limit too, but being tired would have to wait. Harkwin retraced the exact same course he'd taken this morning, flying out across the icy plains and passing by all the same landmarks as he headed for Outpost 20. It was a test of mental discipline just as much as it was of physical strength—he forced himself onward, beating his wings to a steady tempo that was neither too fast nor too slow. He couldn't sprint for hours, so he had to ration his strength and maintain a speed which he could sustain all the way. He was tired, but he didn't care; not until his task was complete.

Four hours to Outpost 20.

About halfway into his journey, the storm began to come into view. A massive wall of grey clouds gradually became visible, covering the entire horizon and everything ahead in the extreme distance. Harkwin kept beating his wings. He had no time or energy to waste, not even on being worried about the storm. Up ahead he could see the polar highlands—plains became rolling hills, and hills eventually became mountains. Somewhere at the top of one of those mountains was a large crater, in which lay his target.

Despite his efforts, stray thoughts did slip through his focus. There was just nothing to do except beat his wings and fly, and his mind inevitably wandered—Harkwin thought about all the other outposts, and all his fellow scouts who would be flying out to warn them. He hoped that everyone made it safely, though he couldn't know till he got back to Central Camp. In fact, he couldn't know until the storm had blown over and flights had been re-established between Central Camp and the insulated outposts, where there were dozens of dragons sheltering out the storm.

Harkwin ran through the flight calculations, repeatedly estimating his flight speed. He was definitely flying fast. Even though he'd spent the entire day flying and was increasingly tired, he was sustaining the same high speed as this morning when he'd been well-rested. And yet the great unknown was the storm—even though he could see it, Harkwin didn't know how fast that storm system was moving. From long distance he had no way of knowing how strong the winds were, or how cold the temperature was dropping. Perhaps those grey clouds were just a front, and the real danger of the storm was hidden far behind and would take longer to arrive?

However, such hopeful and optimistic thoughts weren't the entirety of his mental state. There was doubt and uncertainty too, even though he tried to push those thoughts away. It really was madness to fly towards a storm! The weather system was a raw force of nature, and Harkwin couldn't help but stare at the massive blizzard as he approached. He watched the skies repeatedly, looking for any sign of Nacen—if she had somehow seen the storm or otherwise decided to evacuate early, he would come across her in flight and they could both just head to Central Camp immediately. That would be the ideal scenario, but he saw no one else in the skies.

A shiver of guilt snuck in—this morning he'd been the one who'd told her that the storm would only arrive tomorrow. It wasn't really his fault (or anyone else's fault) that the storm had unexpectedly proven so much faster than the previous storms, but still there had been a sequence of events where this unfolding danger would not have materialized.

Right this morning, if he'd been in just a bit less of a rush to leave for the Bluefall Weather Station, perhaps Nacen would have decided to leave Outpost 20 and fly along with him? Or perhaps not. Perhaps that would have just been more delay, and it would have been even longer before the main expedition force at Central Camp had become aware of the speedy storm.

Harkwin dropped that line of thought. Wondering about the past and what might have been could not be allowed to distract him from the present. None of that helped him now, as he flew into the mountains.

---

The winds were picking up, and scattered clouds filled the skies. From afar the storm had appeared as a single massive wall of grey, but up close the cloud bank split up into many layers and different areas—towering pillars of clouds, and immense areas of moving air. Especially from within the mountainous polar highlands, the storm's approaching boundary was not quite so obvious, as the mountainous terrain affected the winds. The sky directly above had portions which were covered by thick clouds, but there were other areas where clear blue was still visible.

As Harkwin flew through the valleys and mountain passes leading towards Outpost 20, his flight speed accelerated sharply as a powerful tailwind pushed him forward. Without slowing down, he checked his pocket watch; he was close now. In this final race against the storm, both of them had almost reached the outpost.

When Harkwin finally swept through the final mountain pass which led to the summit crater, he tried to let out a roar, but his voice sounded too tired and the wind swept the sound away. "Skyahh...!" Down in the crater, thin columns of vapour were still visible rising from the hot springs; but there was no response from the orange tents erected a short distance away.

As Harkwin approached the outpost, a flicker of worry crossed his mind—what if somehow Nacen had already left for Central Camp, but they'd somehow missed each other as she flew past him? It would be good if she was already out of harm's way, even if that would mean that his flight here had been for nothing. Harkwin shook his head and banished that thought. No use worrying about that possibility unless it turned out to be reality.

As he swept over the hot springs on final approach, the air above those bubbling pools of mineral-rich water was heavy with humidity and shockingly warm in contrast to the cold air he'd been flying through. Then it was gone in an instant and Harkwin landed right beside the tents.

"Nacen? Ah..." Making a high-speed landing on a patch of ice nearly made Harkwin fall, but he stumbled forward and managed to steady himself. His claws dug into the ice, giving him some grip. "Nacen!" he shouted, and this time his voice was clearly loud enough to be heard over the gentler winds here. "Nacen!"

For a few seconds there was no response and Harkwin wondered if the outpost had truly been already vacated, but then a beige-scaled dragon stuck her head out of a tent. Nacen looked surprised to see him. "Harkwin? What are you doing here?"

"Nacen, the storm! I've come to warn you about the storm!" Harkwin tried to run over, but he nearly slipped up on ice again and he had to flap his wings to regain his balance.

"Careful! Don't trip." Nacen stepped out of the tent and shook herself all over. She looked slightly groggy, as if she'd been sleeping and had only just woken up. Despite the polar sunlight still shining into the crater, night had fallen. "The storm? Warn me about the storm? You already told me about it this morning. You gave me a message scroll, remember?"

"That message was wrong!" Harkwin had an impulsive desire to pick up some snow and throw it at Nacen to shake her out of her sleepiness, but that wouldn't be helpful; or nice. "I couldn't even make it to Outpost 3 this afternoon. The storm is much faster than expected. It's not going to hit Central by midday tomorrow but by tonight, and it's going to be here even sooner. We need to leave right now."

"Now?" Nacen glanced up at the skies, and Harkwin followed her gaze. The sky above was already partially obscured by clouds, but the sun was still at just the right angle to shine into the summit crater. The weather was not as clear as it had been in the morning, though it didn't seem as bad from their perspective here.

"Now," Harkwin insisted. Their view was obscured by the mountains, otherwise they would have been able to see that the outer boundaries of that massive storm would have almost reached. From outside the highlands, Harkwin could remember seeing that immense wall of clouds that had been sweeping across the land. "There's an immediate recall order in effect for all non-insulated outposts, but number 20 is the closest to the storm. Let's get out of here."

"I can... let me grab my report books and seal up the tents." Nacen turned around to head back inside her tent, but Harkwin moved forward and grabbed her tail in his jaws. He gave it a short tug, just enough to stop her.

"No! There's no time. The storm is almost here. We need to fly right now!" Harkwin realized he sounded almost panicked, but that was because he was almost panicked. All this flying as fast as he could, and now every second spent on the ground felt like time wasted. "I saw the storm—you can't see most of it because the mountains are blocking the view, but the storm is almost here. We need to leave immediately or we're going to freeze to death! We'll go by the southern mountain pass and fly right back to Central."

"Ok, ok. I... That's... Alright, fine." Nacen looked confused, but she shook away her sleepiness and nodded. She turned back out of the tent and opened up her wings. "The storm shouldn't... I expected that... Fine, let's fly. Lead the way!" She hesitated for a moment, then ran forwards and flapped her wings hard to leap into the air.

Harkwin was right after her. Even before they had gained much altitude or speed, he pulled ahead and tossed out the tow rope from his flight harness. "Clip on! I'll tow you back to Central."

"An aerotow? I've never done that before..." Flying several body lengths behind him, Nacen tried to grab that dangling rope. Harkwin even slowed his wingbeats and tried to fly straight to make it easier, but wind shear buffeted them from side to side and made the flight unsteady.

"Just clip it onto the main chest strap," Harkwin told her.

It took several tries before Nacen managed to snatch at the end of the rope and grab it firmly. Once she had the rope, she then fiddled with the shackle and clipped it onto one of the main supporting straps of her own harness. "Ok, I think I got it. Is this right? I think it's right."

"Good. Keep flapping your wings, and stay behind me to ride the slipstream." Harkwin stopped looking over his shoulder and glanced back forward. Taking a deep breath, he called his magic and reached out into the air around him.

The process of using magic was difficult to describe. Not even that many years ago, Harkwin had been a fledgling—a young dragon capable of flying, but not quite full size and not able to use magic, which were the differentiators that marked an adult dragon. As with most of his peers, Harkwin had been curious about magic, but the explanations for what using magic felt like had always seemed overly simplistic or lacking specific detail.

However, now having developed his own frost and air affinities, Harkwin could understand why it was hard to properly describe what using magic was like. Outwardly, he could hear a whooshing rumble from the moving air, and he could feel as it swept over his scales. Inwardly, using magic just felt like using magic. It felt like some hidden part of his body was reaching out and extending into the air around him, and then somehow commanding the air to move as he wished. Dragons were unique amongst the sapient species—they needed no spells, no hand waving, and no magical runes, for using magic was as intuitive to them as breathing.

Tired as he was from flying for so many hours, Harkwin took a couple of tries to actually channel his magic and catch the winds, but in the end he still managed to use his air affinity to push himself forward and accelerate his flight. The tow rope connecting him to Nacen snapped taut, pulling her along too. Harkwin glanced over his shoulder, just to check that Nacen was still flying normally. "How are you doing? Are you alright? A tow can take some getting used to."

Nacen nodded. "I'm alright! Are... are you alright? You look tired."

Harkwin could sense a deep ache in his wing muscles even as he kept flying, and it must have shown in the way he was flapping his wings. "I don't have time to be tired! We have to get back to Central. It's not safe till we get there."

Wings beating in lockstep, flying one after the after, the two dragons angled towards one of the mountain passes leading out from the summit crater. However, the closer they got to the crater edge, the harder it got to fly. When Harkwin had been flying out towards the outpost, a strong tailwind had swept him forwards and sped up his flight—but now they were going in the opposite direction, and that tailwind had become a headwind. The winds were getting stronger, slowing their flight even as they approached the southern mountain pass.

Compared to the large, open area of the summit crater, the narrowing valley walls of the mountain pass concentrated the winds and made them all the more treacherous. "Are we...? I feel like we're not going very fast!" Nacen shouted, raising her voice to be heard over the wind.

"I know! There's a headwind!" Harkwin's air affinity normally let him fly faster, but the wind was just too strong to entirely overcome. Every bit of distance was gained slowly by repeated, exhausting effort as they fought against the wind.

"If the wind is blowing in from the southern mountain pass, can we go by the eastern pass instead?" Nacen suggested.

Recalling his mental map of the local terrain here, Harkwin decided against it. "The eastern pass is even closer to the storm! If we go by that route, the weather will probably be even worse than here. Just keep at it!" He tried to channel a bit more of his air affinity to counter the winds, but he was at the limit of his magic. After having flown the whole day, he wasn't sure how much more he had to give. "The winds might calm down once we actually enter the mountain pass," he added, though this was more of a hopeful wish than a realistic prediction.

In the skies up above, grey clouds was sweeping over the tops of the mountains. There was no sudden, dramatic transition, but progressively the weather was getting worse and worse as the storm arrived in force.

When Harkwin and Nacen finally managed to reach the southern mountain pass, there was no respite to be found. Fighting a headwind would have been bad enough, but then the wind shear started picking up too—over short distances, dramatic changes in wind direction knocked them from side to side. A gust from the left forced Harkwin to tilt his wings to keep flying straight, then a sudden updraft forced him to dive just to remain at a steady altitude.

"Ah!" Nacen let out a grunt as the wind shear continued to toss them around, pushing them almost like leaves swirling in a breeze. The aerotow only made things more difficult—the tow rope was supposed to let Harkwin use his magic to pull himself and Nacen forward, but now it messed with both their individual abilities to fly straight. A gust of wind might push him to one side, but then a different gust of wind would push Nacen the other way, and the rope would pull them in weird directions that made it even harder to fly properly.

"Can't you stop the wind...? I thought you can control the winds!" Nacen shouted. She was now starting to sound worried too, as she realized the true severity of the weather conditions.

"I am controlling the winds! This is the best I can do!" Harkwin shouted back.

For long, tiring minutes the two dragons continued on through the mountain pass. It was just as Harkwin had feared—the ridges and valleys of the mountain pass amplified the winds, making it difficult and dangerous to fly. On a clear day they might have tried climbing high to just fly entirely over the mountains, but by now the storm had come. A layer of clouds rolled over the mountain tops, covering the sky like a lid of swirling grey over the world. There was nothing to do but to keep flying forward, and keep fighting the fierce turbulence.

Worse yet, visibility started to deteriorate as well. With thick grey clouds now covering the sky, the limited polar sunlight was shrouded away and the landscape grew dim. Dragons' eyes had superb optical resolving power to help them see prey on the ground from high altitude, but their vision was optimized for the bright light of day. Their night vision was lacking, and not being able to see properly was becoming yet another problem to add to their growing list of problems.

"We can't keep this up! The winds are really bad!" Nacen warned, but Harkwin wasn't sure if there was any viable alternative.

"Yes we can!" he shouted back at her, because there was no other choice. "We'll make it out of here." They had to leave the highlands and get out of the storm, or they would freeze. Was that even possible? In an automatic, practiced motion, Harkwin reached a paw into one of his flight harnesses pouches and fished out his pocket watch. Squinting in the grey, darkly overcast lighting, he tried to estimate their forward ground speed and came up with a number that was very unsatisfactory.

They had just barely made any progress, continuously fighting the winds in this mountain pass. But to turn back would be to admit defeat—Outpost 20 had nothing but a scattering of thinly insulated tents, and the deep cold of the storm would kill them.

Harkwin really wasn't even thinking much anymore. He was just focusing entirely on trying to keep his flight stable despite the wind shear, and to keep moving forward. What finally started to break his resolve was when the precipitation began. Clouds were continuously blowing in over the mountain tops, and the lower layers were starting to reach their altitude. The air felt cold and hostile, and then came the icing. Gusts of wind blew droplets of supercooled water and tiny flakes of ice and snow, throwing the weather against them.

Even as he kept flapping his wings, Harkwin felt his flight surfaces slowly becoming heavier and less efficient. They were barely flying below the lowest, thinner layers of the clouds, but ice was starting to condense out of the air and freeze onto his wings.

"Is this the storm? Already? There's ice on my wings! We can't fly in these conditions..." Nacen said, and Harkwin wanted to disagree. He wanted to tell her that they could keep flying, except that wasn't true. They had to, but they couldn't.