The Elves of Loth

Chapter Twelve

Gusts of wind whipped back and forth, throwing sand and dust back and forth while tree branches slammed into each other as the storm continued to grow. Outside, the dragon riders readied themselves for battle in the miserable beginnings of rain. In grim silence, they prepared themselves for whatever lay ahead, strapping on their lightweight elven armour.

Aspenleaf stroked a hand down Fireflight’s back, trying to comfort her confused and fearful dragon. With her concentration on her dragon, Aspenleaf barely noticed this young boy peering from his window. Curiosity on his face, he leaned out his window, the light rain spattering his brown hair with darker, wet patches. Seconds later, a woman appeared in the window, pulling him back inside and slamming the shutters closed behind her.

The realisation that Aspenleaf and her team were seen to bring bad luck stung, but she supposed everything did in war. Soldiers meant battle; battle meant death. It wasn’t something that Aspenleaf had time to think about though, because the bearded man she’d seen at the meeting only days before was striding over to her, clunky boots splashing loudly in the puddles that were beginning form all around her.

“I’ve come to wish you good luck.” He stated simply, but Aspenleaf knew how much it meant that he’d come out at all, especially with a storm brewing. The commander offered his hand to Aspenleaf and she shook it firmly, her face as grim as his.

“Thank you.” She knew the words weren’t as formal as were expected in this sort of situation, but she couldn’t help it. He nodded and marched back out into the rain, yet again forgetting to mention his name.

Aspenleaf mounted her dragon, and gave the signal to take to the skies. It was a glorious feeling being in the air, but all their spirits were dampened by thoughts of what they were about to do. Surely her superiors were aware of the risks to their precious forest in going to battle with fire-breathing dragons, but she supposed that if there really was a dark elven weapon that could burn down the forest it was worth the risk.

Aspenleaf watched as the forest beneath them grew darker and darker, shadows elongating while the trees lost their blissful colours, taking on a more somber appearance. Soon, all the trees they saw were dead and sprinkled with a thin covering of ash. A worried glance to her companions revealed that they were as concerned as she was. Before long, the forest gave way to a series of ominous cliffs, their jagged edges making a fall from that height seem even more perilous.

Gripping Fireflight’s scales a little more tightly with her left hand, Aspenleaf raised her right, swinging it in anticlockwise circles to indicate that they should circle the area and wait for any sign of their enemies.

“Do you think they might have taken the mountain rout?” Northpine asked, swinging past her as the dragons began to form a huge circle in the air. It was a possibility, but one that she doubted very much. Although dark elves were good climbers, their armour was extremely heavy, and most of it had been salvaged from dwarf’s battle fields, meaning it didn’t fit them very well. The last few peek of katakora, closest to dark elven territory, were harsh an unforgiving – they wouldn’t be able to make the trek in their armour.

“No. They’re here; we just haven’t found them yet.” Aspenleaf closed her eyes, letting the wind whistle through her hair, blowing away all other thoughts. Slowly but surely she released her grip on Fireflight’s scales, leaning back until her body became streamlined with the wind. With her arms spread wide, she took a deep breath, and then let it out the way Birchwhisperer had when he sought a vision.

Relaxation came easily to her for the first time since she’d been recruited. Eyelids fluttering, she whispered to herself, “Where are you?” Instantaneously, her vision went from blackness to nothingness, as she was pulled into the eye of the forest – that was what Birchwhisperer had called it.