Free Arrival by Charlotte McConaghy Page A

ground. Fern looked around, and the sight gladdened his heart. There were a hundred Elves on the back of horses, shooting arrows into the throng. They looked a vision, dressed in silver armour shaped to fit the contours of their bodies. Small metal wings on their backs made them seem almost like angels. The metal had seams of gold running through it, and the helmets they wore also had small wings at the back. A piece of metal connected to the helmets ran between their eyes, and ended on the tips of their noses. Unlike Eben and Silven on the day of their return to the ice castle, the Elves were dressed in proper war garb. They held tall shields of the same astonishing metal as their armour, and long curved swords that they had not needed to remove from the scabbards on their backs.
    Elves were an ancient race. They knew the ancient arts of warfare. The remaining sabre-tooths did not stand a chance, and were slaughtered in a matter of minutes. The Elves did not even have to leave their line around the outside of the fray.
    A hoarse victory cry went up from the last surviving men, but as they looked around at the suffering and anguish, the cry died on their lips. Hundreds were killed, and every survivor injured. There was more than one thousand dead sabre-tooths, and many dead horses scattered on the ground.
    One of Fern’s arms hung limply at his side. A deep slash across his chest was seeping blood, and his body was covered in small cuts and bruises. A cut on his forehead trickled blood into his eyes, so that he was constantly forced to wipe them clear.
    He turned to greet his father, who was sporting a broken arm and a gash on his cheek.
    “Father. Nice day for a reunion,” he said grimly.
    “My son. It has been too long. You saved us, and you have my gratitude.”
    “It’s not me you need to thank, but the Elves.”
    The Elves had formed a line in front of the men, and they stood quietly awaiting orders. Fern greeted Eben with a warm embrace, and then did the same to his cousin, Silven.
    “How did you reach us in time?” Fern asked the two princes.
    Silven smiled sadly. “Still underestimating us, are you cousin?”
    Fern smiled in return and then said formally, “I would like to show my gratitude properly, by doing something for you in return. What would you ask of me?”
    “Only that you would go and fetch the particularly fair friend we rode past on our way here, and bring her and your father to dine with us tonight to celebrate the new season. We would love the pleasure of your company, and it has been a long time since you’ve visited.”
    “Ah, Jane!” Fern cried. He was already halfway up the hill before the Elf had finished his sentence. With a wave of guilt, he realised that he had forgotten her. Jane was sitting against a tree with her eyes shut. Fern’s footsteps faltered as he was struck by her radiance. He knelt at her side and said gently, “Jane, it’s over.”
    Jane looked at him and gasped. “God, look at you! Oh, I’m so glad you’re not dead,” she said shakily, as though she was about to cry. “I don’t know what I would have done if...” Then she realised what she’d said, and looked away embarrassed.
    “I am not. Definitely not dead.” he said quickly. An awkward silence followed. Fern remembered the invitation to the Elf festival and pounced on it quickly.
    “We’ve been invited to join the Elves tonight for the new season festival. I think you would enjoy it.”
    “But Fern, I have to find my friends. I’m getting worried.”
    “I know. We will stay only one night, and then I’ll take you to find them. I promise.”
    “I want you to teach me to fight,” she said suddenly, and Fern looked at her sharply.
    “All right,” he said after a moment, “...right now?”
    Her gaze was withering as she looked at him. “Obviously not.”
    She followed him back to the battlefield where the search was on for survivors.
    Jane had a sudden urge to throw up, but she mastered it