The Elves of Loth

Chapter Eighteen

Having fallen asleep in the waiting room, Aspenleaf was momentarily disoriented when she woke. After a second or two, she remembered the room, carved into the great redwood that housed the medical facility.

"Aspenleaf?" called the elderly voice that had woken her up, "Hawkwing may receive visitors now." The old elf disappeared around the corner. Slowly, Aspenleaf stood from the chair that she'd spent the last eight hours in, and stretched her aching joints. Cautiously, she proceeded along the hallway around the outside of the tree until she reached Hawkwing's bed.

"I thought you were dead." She stated, watching his head swivel to find who was speaking to him, "The others said they saw you diving into dragon fire." He blinked a couple of times with the one eye that was open, and then focused his right eye on her, while the other stayed closed.

"I almost was dead." It was a simple statement, "I feel dead." It was just another simple statement. It wasn't like Hawkwing to speak in short sentences. Could he have suffered brain damage when he crashed? "They say I've got a pretty nasty fracture in my collar bone and a lot of strained muscles in my legs but I don't feel that so much when I'm lying down. It's the burns that hurt the most and I feel like I'm still on fire." Almost sighing with relief, Aspenleaf peered at the eye that was closed, noticing the burns that came across that part of his face. Presumably, the whole left side of his body had been dipped in fire.

"I suppose you'll have a lot of scares when this is over." Aspenleaf knew that many of the warriors prided themselves on the scars they'd earned in battle. She wanted to offer something positive to their conversation.

"Actually," Hawkwing's expression became hopeful, "there might not be any scaring at all. One of the healers has a poultice that heals burns within days." Incredulous, Aspenleaf asked what herbs they put in it, and they talked and laughed for a few more hours before Hawkwing erupted into a coughing fit and Aspenleaf was told, politely but firmly, to leave. He'd inhaled a lot of smoke, and his lungs were protesting. Once she was assured that he'd be okay, she made her way back down to the clearing.

Cliffbreeze was waiting for her. "I assume you spoke to Hawkwing." Aspenleaf nodded. "Did he tell you where his dragon was? It's very important that we make sure none of the dragons are injured."

"He said he left it at the cave with the other dragons." This seemed to satisfy Cliffbreeze, but the older elf didn't let Aspenleaf get away that easily, and sent her instead to the forest to help clear the debris.

Many other Elves were there, including most of her team. They worked hard, chopping up fallen trees, and rolling them back to Loth as firewood. On the third day, many elves fanned giant leaves, dispersing the ash. As a result, a thick layer of haze hung in the air, making it impossible to see anything over five meters away.

In the haze, a figure hobbled towards her, growing clearer and clearer as it drew nearer. Squinting through the eerie mist, Aspenleaf made out the form of Hawkwing. He hobbled towards her using a walking stick for support. As he drew nearer, she noticed that his left side was no longer covered in burns.

"Can I help with anything?" he offered, but judging by his limp, he was in no condition to roll the massive logs. Now that she thought about it, she'd love a break from the heavier work.

"Let's go clear the lighter stuff." She gestured towards the mounds of twigs and burnt leaves that were being lifted into buckets to be carried back to Loth as well. As they rummaged around in the undergrowth, grabbing handfuls of leaves, twigs, and a few larger branches, Aspenleaf turned to Hawkwing again, "Why did you dive into the jet of fire?"

Hawkwing sighed, "You know that north pine got an arrow in his leg, right?" When Aspenleaf nodded he continued, "I was behind him when it happened. I couldn't see where it had hit him but I was pretty sure it would be fatal. His dragon was panicking and spiralling downwards. In between the trees, I could see the dark elf that had shot him, so I swooped downwards to roast him, but I didn't see the dragon fire coming at me from my left." He shuddered at the memory.

In silence, the two of them made their way around the clump of bushes they'd been sitting by. As soon as they rounded the corner Aspenleaf swung her bow off of her shoulder and mounted an arrow in it. On the ground before them lay a dark elven soldier in full battle armour, its chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Aspenleaf pulled back the arrow, ready to shoot.

"Aspenleaf!" Hawkwing's hand gripped her shoulder as he stepped forwards between her and the soldier, "Is that a child?" he emphasized the last word, confusion in his voice. Gingerly, he knelt beside the dark elf, gripping its mask with both hands, and removed it.

Confusion threatened to overwhelm her at the sight of the eight year old girl lying in the ash, her white hair fanned out around her head. Like a ghost drifting across the backs of her eyes, the impossible child lay there, before her. The girl was so peaceful, so serene. As if by magic, the child's eyes suddenly snapped open and Aspenleaf couldn't stop herself from gasping. The girl's irises were a surreal, ghostly shade of an almost turquois blue and a thin mist seemed to have settled across her eyes. The eyes and hair were symptoms of winter sickness – the sickness that Icewing had had.

Without hesitation, Aspenleaf lunged towards the ghostly girl, wrapping her arms around her and lifting her onto her feet. "Icewing?" she whispered, in the girl's ear, desperately wishing it could be true.

"I think so." The girl muttered, each word taking some thought. Suddenly, Aspenleaf pulled back, regarding her sister with concern. Icewing seemed oddly distant, as if her mind was in some other realm.

Holding her sister all the way back to Loth, Aspenleaf tried to understand what had happened. Clearly Icewing hadn't died when her parents said she had, which meant that her parents must have thought she had died because they wouldn't lie to her about that. Her mother had told her that they had buried Icewing which made no sense because thy must have known what they were burying. The other strange fact was that Icewing hadn't died of her incurable winter sickness, which meant that she probably hadn't actually had winter sickness in the first place. The healer who had told them that Icewing was sick couldn't have made a mistake – she was the wisest healer in Loth – so clearly she was lying, but why would she lie about the condition of a patient? Shaking her head, Aspenleaf tried to clear the questions from her mind. Maybe Icewing would know the answers.

When they arrived at Aspenleaf's cabin, she almost told Hawkwing to let her talk to her sister alone, but changed her mind at the last minute. When Icewing was seated on her bed, staring vacantly at the wall, Aspenleaf's emotions finally kicked in and she knelt before her sister, crying, as Icewing continued to stare at something directly ahead of her.

"Icewing, I thought you were dead!" Aspenleaf stared into Icewing's eyes, willing her to respond, "Mom and Dad said they buried you." The hurt expression on her face was getting more and more visible as her emotions threatened to explode.

Suddenly, Icewing turned to regard her sister, confusion playing across her face. She began to ask why they would say something like that, but then trailed off, as if realising something. "When you were at school," she began, her eyes closed, "the dark elves came. They wanted me as a sacrifice to Thraxia, goddess of darkness and decay. I was going to die anyway; I can understand why our parents wanted you to think they'd buried me – if you knew they'd taken me you might have thought I was still alive and gone crazy, searching the forest for me. Your mind is stronger than that, but how were they to know?"

 "I don't understand," Aspenleaf pressed, "how are you still alive?" Icewing blinked a few times, closed her eyes once more, and sat still for a while, in thought. "Icewing?" Aspenleaf prompted.

"There are no dark elven whisperers." She stated, as if this explained everything, then, when it was clear that that hadn't answered Aspenleaf's question, she continued, "The whispering sense runs in our family. I am a whisperer. When the dark elves took me to be sacrificed to Thraxia they changed their minds, decided I would be more useful alive." She paused again and opened her eyes, leaning forwards, towards Aspenleaf, "They have the cure to winter sickness, you see." She spoke as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.