The Elves of Loth

Chapter Nine

Early-morning sunlight streamed through the open window, flooding Aspen-leaf’s room with cold, grey light. Blinking her eyes open sleepily, she stretched, pulling the covers a little higher on her shoulders. The morning was cool, but she had no doubt that it would warm up later on – the massive cloud layer that had settled in the night before was rolling away, replaced by crystal-clear blue.

Thoughts of her dragon flitted in and out of Aspen-leaf’s mind, but tiredness clouded her thoughts, making her mind feel plodding whenever she ventured as far as thinking about getting out of bed. Soon, she fell back into sleep, returning to a dream state, but her sleep wasn’t a deep one. Restlessly, she fought to escape the dream but it was inevitable.

She saw Birch-whisperer in all his former glory, short brown hair clean of blood, green eyes slightly darker than hers rather than that lifeless grey, and chest free of that deadly arrow. His gaze fell upon her but when she tried to run into his arms he seemed to grow farther way. Suddenly, his expression warped into one of disgust, and his eyes became mean.

“What are you doing?” his demanding voice was not one Aspen-leaf recognised. Usually, he was so calm, so in control, so understanding, but now he was clearly disappointed in her. “What are you lying around for? There’s work to be done, Aspen-leaf! I expected better from you!” He spat at her, before turning to walk off into the endless forest behind him. In fact, it wasn’t just her brother who seemed to be slipping from her grasp – the whole dream seemed far away.

Waking with a start, Aspen-leaf sat up, thrust the covers away, and pressed the bottoms of her feet to the chilled floor. The cold wood sent a shiver rocketing up her spine, but she continued without hesitation, slipping into her training outfit, its waxy feel reminding her of previous training sessions. Although she was fully aware that the Birch-whisperer she’d seen was merely her conscience speaking, it had hit home and she was going stay strong – just as she had promised – for Birch-whisperer.

With plans to visit Fire-flight, she slipped out the door and as she did so she couldn’t help but stop and peer down at some of her teammates who had organised a detailed weapons practice. Targets hung on trees, white stuffed mannequins hung from branches so that their feet barely skimmed the ground. Some of the mannequins even wore old coats of armour. In various places, stacks of crate were positioned so that the elves could leap from them, slashing at dummies or firing arrows in midair. Off to one side were four punching bags, while a collection of weapons sat against a tree on the other side of the makeshift battleground. Two elves took part in a duel, their perfect elven blades glinting in the cold light, but Aspen-leaf’s trained eye caught the mistakes, the moments when one opponent held his weapon wrong, giving the other an opportunity to strike, but neither elf seemed to notice the chinks in their opponent’s armour and so the fight continued.

Nearby, Hawk-wing, Hidden-stream, Crow-talon, and Glacial-stone raced around the course they’d set up. One after another, they climbed the first stack of crates, which resembled a set of stairs. Glacial-stone in the lead, he propelled himself from the ledge, wide, warrior-suited sword slashing at the mannequin whose armour already bore the scratches of previous hits. The blade sliced against the chest plate in what would have been a perfect hit if the dummy hadn’t been coated in a protective layer of fine elven armour. Next it was hidden-streams turn. Launching himself form the crates, he made as if to block an attack, with was presumably a response to the close proximity of the dummy – if it were real it would be within striking distance. After his block, Hidden-stream drew an arrow from his quiver, pulling back a little less than Aspen-leaf would have. Once fired, the arrow headed straight for its target which hung directly ahead of Hidden-stream, planting itself within two centimeters of the center.

“Watch this!” Crow-talon’s smug expression was barely noticeable from atop Aspen-leaf’s tree, but none the less, it was there. Leaping into the air, he spun a full circle, slitting the throat of the closest mannequin before sending his sword strait for the nearby target. The second his feet hit the ground he raised both hands above his head, grabbing the hilt of his sword from behind his head and flicking his wrists forward in one smooth action that sent his sword through the air and into a dummy with no armour. Crow-talon’s sword planted itself in the stuffed enemy’s heart. That and the fact that a mark was left in the dead-center of the target from his sword only reinforced Crow-talon’s smugness.