The Shadow Walker

62. Mortality

Legolas's POV

"The arrow went right through her lung," Faèola explained, tucking the blanket around Eda's sleeping form. "And while I have no idea how she survived with it there for as long as she did, I promise you, she's better off asleep right now."

I nodded halfheartedly. I wanted Eda to wake up; I wanted to talk to her and hear her respond. But Faèola had already poured a sleep drug down Eda's throat to keep her asleep for a few more hours.

On the other side of the screen, Amina started coughing again. I turned to Faèola. "What's wrong with her?" I whispered.

Faèola's expression sagged. "Amina has always been a sickly child. She gets sick every year, sometimes more than once. But lately she hasn't been recovering well." Faèola closed her eyes. "I fear this sickness may take her."

Grief threatened to settle over my mind, but I shook it away. "Why is she sick? Has she been cursed?"

Faèola gave a sad scoff. "Yes. We all have. The curse is mortality. Have you never before seen death, Elf?"

I scowled, trying to keep this sudden vulnerability at bay. "I have seen death," I hissed. "I have witnessed the very heat of battle, and listened to the dying screams of my companions." I closed my eyes for a moment, gritting my teeth. "But in war," I continued, "there is stragegy. There are lives saved, as well as sacrificed. And there is victory." Again, Amina began to cough, and I added, "This—this is wrong."

Faèola nodded, not defending, not arguing. I sighed, suddenly guilty for taking out my frustration on her. But before I could apologize, a voice called, "Lady Faèola! Lady Faèola?"

She stepped out of the screened area, and I followed. A boy just on the verge of manhood was looking around the room anxiously. "I am here, Èolir," she said. "What is the matter?"

"It's Mama," he gasped. "She says she's having the baby."

Faèola flew into action, gathering what things she needed, and Amina gasped. "Will she be okay?"

The boy flashed her a grin. "'Course she will, Mina."

"Well tell her to come show me when she's had it," Amina grumbled. "It's not fair that I'm stuck in here when everything important is happening."

The boy trotted across the room to Amina, and ruffled her hair fondly. "I will, Mina, don't worry."

"Okay," Faèola said, carrying a large bag. To me, she said, "If the girl wakes up, don't let her move and especially don't let her get up. If your friend comes back, tell him I left an ointment for him on the table. And if Amina starts coughing, there's some extra medicine on the table, as well. If the cough doesn't go away..." Faèola frowned. "Come and find me."

"Go," I said. "All will be well."

Faèola nodded gratefully, then let the boy lead her out of the building.

Amina huffed and glared at the wall, tears shining in her eyes. I walked over to her bed and seated myself beside her. "You want to be with your mother," I murmured. "I understand this."

She turned to me, her big eyes full of questions. "Why? You're all grown up."

I masked a wince. I hadn't meant to lead our conversation in that direction. "How old are you, little one?" I asked, hoping that the abrupt shift in conversation was subtle enough for the intended audience.

Amina grinned. "Guess."

I smirked. "Well, let's see. You look about...thirty."

Her eyes got big. "No way!"