Chapter 1929: The Rules of the Contest

In the Imperial Box, Maela had to resist the urge to get up from her plush seat on the cushions and press her nose to the icy window to get a better view of the Frozen Forest that Ashlynn had conjured. Several of the younger people in the gathering saw no reason to hold back, and they eagerly stood as close to the ice as they could to get even a slightly better view.

"So this is what her witchcraft looks like," Maela whispered. "It’s beautiful."

"I’m told it was every bit as spectacular when she destroyed the Lothian Throne," Eira said helpfully from her place at Maela’s elbow. "She summoned a giant oak tree made of golden light to root out the darkness of the cursed throne. Some people have called her Saintess ever since."

"Saintess," Maela repeated, her heart hammering in her chest. She could see it. After witnessing a miracle like the one that Ashlynn and her coven had just wrought, she could understand why people would come to that conclusion. There was nothing wicked here, only transcendent, icy beauty, catching and throwing back the multi-hued light from above.

"What does my daughter say when people call her Saintess?" Maela asked, turning away from the view outside to get a better read of Eira’s response. The way she said ’some people’ called Ashlynn a Saintess implied that Eira didn’t count herself among that group, but faith was a delicate thing in the simplest of times.

"She rejects the title," Eira said directly. "But she hasn’t gone so far as to ban its use. When she seized Lothian Manor, she asked only to be recognized as the Marchioness because the title was hers by right of marriage to Owain."

"I think that’s only half the reason she made that decision though," Eira added. "If she’d declared herself the Evergreen Empress before Empress Nyrielle arrived, there might have been an uprising that night. I think she was trying to make herself a little bit smaller so we could understand her and accept her before she revealed her powers and her plans."

"Did it work?" Maela asked. "Has there been much trouble?"

"Not much," Eira said truthfully. "Lady Ashlynn has been very careful to mind her limits. She commanded Lord Loghlan to secure the city and even after her armies arrived, she hasn’t set any Eldritch soldiers to patrol the streets. Only the Tuscan giants at the gates to discourage any trouble from would-be demon hunters."

"She’s sensitive to the people’s fears, and she gives them news in small, digestible bites instead of forcing them to confront everything at once," Eira said. "Very few people have been imprisoned, and most of them were known to be cutthroats and curs. When she announced tonight’s event, well, you can see how many of the common folk were interested."

"She must be driving herself hard for things to go so well," Maela said as worry gripped her heart. Outside, she could see Ashlynn checking on both Heila and Hauke, and all three of them looked like they’d just sprinted all the way around the track while pulling a cart.

Moments later, however, Ashlynn straightened up and began to address the crowd once again.

"This Frozen Forest is a beautiful thing," Ashlynn said, quieting the crowd and drawing their attention back to her. "But it’s also a deadly, dangerous thing. In the days following the end of the Age of Ice, the Mother of Forests would conjure orchards like these to defend villages from savage beasts."

"Tonight, this forest will host two archers in a challenge that will push their skills to the absolute limit," Ashlynn promised. "Erling of Fayle, Khorijin of the Jade Basin, step forward and prepare yourselves," she called.

Each champion emerged from a small, stone building at opposite sides of the stone platform.

Erling had dressed like a hunter in winter, wearing a long, fur-trimmed cloak over a thickly padded gambeson. At his hip, a quiver bristled with goose-fletched arrows, and in his hand he carried a horn bow in the style of the archers from the Southern Steppe.

Khorijin had changed little when she prepared for this challenge. A thick, padded coat hung over her back and her flanks and she wore a quiver of arrows on one side in much the same way Erling did. Normally, she’d have carried more; there was no reason for an archer of the Swift Hooves to limit themselves to what an ordinary man could carry. In this case, however, in the name of fairness, her quiver held the same number of arrows as Erling’s.

"Erling, Khorijin," Ashlynn said, addressing herself directly to the champions. "Your challenge is simple. At the far end of the field, there are two posts, each of which holds a silk scarf. Fetch it and bring it back to me. The first one to do so wins."

"During this contest, you may not take aim at each other," Ashlynn said, gesturing to the trees swaying in the wind. "The Ice Fruit of the Frozen Forest are your only targets. You may use them to hinder your opponent from reaching their objective," she said before turning to a nondescript figure who had been waiting at the side ever since her ritual began.

"Milo," Ashlynn called to the Heartwood archer. "Can you demonstrate for us what will happen if someone shoots one of the Ice Fruits with an arrow?"

"Yes, Your Dominion," Milo said as he made his way forward. Unlike the champions who would face the challenge of the Frozen Forest, Milo’s bow was a single, long stave of stout wood that required considerable strength to draw. The bow gave him no trouble, however, as he whispered quietly to his trusted weapon before fitting an arrow to the nock.

-TWANG-

-PFFFEEEEEEET-

The arrow whistled through the air, carried by a wind all its own as it flew unerringly toward one of the larger Ice Fruits. At the last moment, a gust of wind seemed to catch the fruit and it looked like the arrow might miss entirely. In less than a blink of an eye, however, the arrow twisted in its path, striking the fruit directly in the center.

-CRACK! POOOFT!-

As soon as the arrow shattered the globe of ice, a flurry of snow more than two dozen paces across filled the air, obscuring everything around the shattered fruit for seven very long heartbeats.

"The larger fruits are filled with snow," Ashlynn explained. "The smaller ones are packed with sharp shards of ice, and they’ll explode with just as much force as the snow fruit did. The smaller the fruit, the more lethal it is."

"Beware the branches too," Ashlynn added. "The tips of those branches are as sharp as knives, and if you strike the right fruit, a whole branch may fall," she cautioned.

When she finished giving her warnings, the entire crowd of commoners and most of the knights behind her had gone deathly quiet. The Frozen Forest was still a thing of beauty, but only now did they fully understand its true nature.

Enchanting, but deadly.

All around the arena, countless conversations had sprung up, speculating about how the contest would end, and the Dunn seating area was no exception.

"Can you imagine attacking a fortress surrounded by a forest like that?" Sir Gavin Ashford said, leaning over to prod Sir Cynwrig Stormbrook.

"Stop, you’ll give me nightmares," Cynwrig said, shuddering at the thought. "I’m perfectly content to know that Empress Ashlynn can summon things like that to defend our villages," he said. "I don’t envy Lord Erling having to wade into a trap like that."

"I don’t either," Gavin agreed. "Especially not with one of Lord Dirar’s archers after me. Do you think he’ll make it?"

"I don’t know," Cynwrig said as he watched Erling checking his quiver and making his final preparations. "But it looks like he’s determined to try..."