The Elves of Loth

Chapter Fifteen

Various shades of brown and green blurred and spun as the blinding sunlight continued to play across what must have been the forest floor. Aspenleaf groaned. There was no doubt she was still alive but the reason for this continued to elude her. With a groan she pushed herself off of the forest floor, confronted suddenly by a searing pain in her side.

At that moment her senses decided to kick in, and she heard the cries around her, smelt the acrid stench of burn flesh. The world around her swayed slightly and she struggled to keep her balance as a group of mangled forest elven soldiers ran past her. Turning to see what they had been fleeing from she shook her head, trying to escape the haziness that was settling around her. She blinked her eyes, focusing and refocusing on the forest around her until her eyes settled on a shape in front of her.

In a heartbeat she was awake, alert, and ready for combat. The fear coursing through her veins cleared away the fog that she had seemed to be wrapped in.

In front of her stood the terrible, shadowy form of the creature she and the other elves had put out of their minds. How could she be so naïve as to think that it would just go away, that it wasn’t lurking in the shadows, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to wander into its path?

The Nightmare released a sickening, whining, electric scream, rearing its black, feline body and displaying deadly teeth, including two terrifyingly long ones that descended from its upper jaw and curved down on either side of its mouth.

Slowly, deliberately, it crept towards her, making no sound as it moved across the fallen leaves. Unlike falling from the sky, this situation did not leave her helpless. Although there was almost certainly no way to survive an encounter with the Nightmare, she could try.

Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for the unthinkably stupid plan she was about to execute. In one smooth motion she lunged for the Nightmare’s fangs, using them to swing herself up, onto its back. Gripping the teeth like reins she hung on tightly as the Nightmare reared, shaking its head violently from side to side. Aspenleaf clung desperately to the Nightmare’s fangs as it tried to dislodge her.

After a failed attempt at shaking Aspenleaf off, in crashed back down onto all four paws and snorted at her, but made no other attempts to get rid of her. A dark elven soldier sprinted towards her, reminding her where she was. Before she could take action, though, the Nightmare charged the soldier, knocking him dead with one swift blow to the side of his head. The strength of this beast was breathtaking.

An idea occurred to Aspenleaf that she would have dismissed as stupid moments ago, but that she now took into consideration. After a few moments of thought, she urged the Nightmare forwards using the same form of communication through body language that she used with Fireflight. Within moments they had arrived at the line of combat, where the forest elven army fought the dark elven one. Elves gasped and sucked out of the way, then everything seemed frozen, like time had stopped and they were all just staring at Aspenleaf and the creature she rode, their expressions fearful.

A few steps brought Aspenleaf to the dark elves’ side of the battlefield. Not many of them were left and the survivors were injured and bleeding. This would not be difficult.

Aspenleaf yanked on the Nightmare’s fangs, causing it to rear up onto its hind legs, snarling and shrieking. Its scream echoed through the scattered dark elven army. As it brought its front paws down to the ground once more, snarling evilly, the dark elves turned and ran, fear making their eyes wild.

The creature roared again, as if it understood what Aspenleaf was trying to accomplish, but could a bloodthirsty beast like that really see the advantages to a war with no death? Aspenleaf wished she’d come sooner, that she’d been able to prevent more of the casualties the battle had caused. Telling herself that it was just her people she was worried about, not the dark elves, she steered the Nightmare away from the other soldiers, back into the forest. A few paces through the trees and they were obscured enough that the warriors wouldn’t have to worry about the creature’s presence.

Dismounting, she stood directly in front of what she would have referred to as a monster. Despite the help it had provided her, she still didn’t trust it entirely; after all, it had hunted her people for months, and killed more than twenty of them. She held its long curved teeth, preventing it from attacking her, but her grip was looser that it should have been and she focussed her attention on its eyes rather than its powerful jaws. Somehow, the beast didn’t seem so daunting now.

“Aspenleaf,” Began the lightly quavering voice of one of the commanders, “would you care to explain yourself?” His brow was furrowed with something that was meant to look like anger, but was quite clearly concern. It was as if he was trying to scold her but was too focussed on the Nightmare to do so properly.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” she smiled the mischievous smile of someone who knew they were supposed to feel guilty but really didn’t feel that way at all.

Turning swiftly from the scene, she led the Nightmare further into the trees, not wanting the soldiers to feel nervous around it. With all distractions gone she was left to stare even more deeply into those unnatural violet eyes. There was something deeply wrong in there, a great sadness. It wasn’t just the sadness of the creature; it was the sadness of everyone else as well. The Nightmare mourned the death of all those who had fought and died in this war, and felt the grief and loss of their families. Such great pain would drive an elf mad.

Breaking away, Aspenleaf calmed herself, taking deep breaths, and then closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to the creature’s silky fur. Almost immediately she drifted into the ream full of bubbles that reflects a thick golden light from the distance. This time, though, the bubbles were darker and the light seemed further away, partially obscured by smoke that drifted through the realm inside Aspenleaf’s mind.

At first she though maybe she wasn’t seeing it as clearly this time, wasn’t focusing hard enough. She cleared her mind but the smoke remained. It was the smoke from the battle, myriads of burning elves, their screams echoing faintly in the distance. This was a realm of higher perception, a realm where Aspenleaf could feel the world around her as it really was, and she realised that Frostraven was right – Aspenleaf’s guaranty that they would all be fine was an illusion, and one that she herself had created. Where was Frostraven now? Was she even still alive? What about the other dragon riders? It was impossible to predict the forest elven casualties – or the dark elven ones.

Instinctively, Aspenleaf stepped forewords, toward a large, dark bubble. Pressing both palms to it she caused it to separate into many smaller ones. This was the Nightmare’s bubble, and when it split apart, the Nightmare stood in front of the smaller bubbles, unmoving.  After a few seconds she realised that it was just her mind’s representation of the Nightmare, and was therefore never going to move.

Refocusing, Aspenleaf reminded herself of the reason she’d returned to the realm inside her mind. Gazing at the smaller bubbles, she encouraged them to become transparent, revealing images, concepts and feelings she couldn’t adequately describe. It was as if her senses were unfolding, bridging the gap between her mind and the real world.

The Nightmare felt the pain of everything it could sense, and as far as Aspenleaf could tell, the limits of its senses included thousands of creatures. With a huge effort, Aspenleaf reached out and touched the Nightmare’s mind, letting the pain flow through her and out into one of the larger bubbles around her. The sensation was like standing in the wind, trying not to be blown over, and the feelings flying past her were fleeting. She was unable to grasp at the individual ideas.

There was a moment, though, when she absorbed one of the messages traveling through her. It was the pain of two creatures – one of them was a forest elf who’d lost her dragon and the other was the dragon itself.

Startled by the wave of emotion, Aspenleaf stumbled backward. The river of feelings was over, the sadness trapped in the bubble she’d channelled it into, and so she picked it up and hurtled it into the distance angrily. She was the elf and Fireflight was the dragon.

Overwhelmed by pain and guilt that she’d forgotten about her dragon she collapsed, sobbing. Aspenleaf had never been so glad that no one could see her.