Neasa had grown her hair out over the winter she trained under Nimlothel, it was now chin length; comparable to Elena's but wilder. She hadn't really cut it at all over the three months and then some.
The significance of that fact this morning was that Isaac found himself asked to hold it back away from her mouth as she was doubled over heaving. She tried to conceal her anxiety for the upcoming duel but anxiety has ways of coming out, one way or another.
She didn't have much to expel, the only thing she could stomach so far had been water. She'd need something. A life and death struggle was the most important time to have one's strength and there was no strength without energy.
"I could put a braid in your hair to keep it away from your face, Neasa." Chandrakanta peeked into the bathroom to Elena's home. "It will be helpful during your battle." Neasa wiped her mouth off the back of her hand and then went to the sink without acknowledging the Megami's offer. "Also, if you would like a gentle breakfast I could provide you with some milk, it will help to calm your stomach."
Neasa turned open the sink tap to wash her hands and mouth before she responded. "Your milk won't make me lactate, right?"
Chandrakanta smiled slightly. "No, consuming my milk does not have that effect on women." Neasa dried her face on a hand towel and then nodded to the Megami. "I'll have a glass waiting for you downstairs."
Neasa looked into Isaac's eyes as if she was calculating something. She shared after a minute. "Nimlothel says she takes a lover before she goes into battle. She finds peace in their arms."
"To calm down, that'd be oxytocin." Neasa's brows scrunched together in confusion. "It's a chemical your body releases and it's linked to social bonds, particularly strong family bonds."
"Your knowledge of things makes the world seem less magical." Neasa said with a pout. "I don't think sex would be wise right now. I don't want to vomit in bed."
"Well, it's also released by cuddling. Let's go try breakfast and then we can sit on the couch together." Downstairs Chandrakanta had a tall glass of milk poured and Elena had a great grape to offer. The small fruit's magical nourishment proved to be just the trick.
Isaac sat reclined on the couch with Neasa laying on top of him, stomach to stomach. The tiny Elfqueen had her head resting on his chest listening to his heart and breath, Isaac doing his best to keep both even and steady. "If I die-" Neasa started to say.
"Don't think about that." Isaac said.
"No, if I do, then no one will know my mother's story. She only told her closest advisors, and then me, the full details. Luljeta and Golloriel are being kept feral by Samodiva."
"Well, I'd like to hear Queen Vershnyk's story," Isaac said. Neasa nodded while also nuzzling his collar bone.
"My mother was a Bimbo named Kalyna in the beginning of her life. She didn't remember much but she said she was happy, even though she wound up in long term storage once she became a pokewoman. When she was acquired by the league she says she was just glad to be wanted for something again. They evolved her to an Elf and sent her to Kamianske with some settlers.
"They hadn't been there for a week when the first killing happened. There was a feral, a dragon type that couldn't fly. She had a broken wing that healed lame. She would pull settlers out of their tents in the middle of the night. The guards couldn't stop her, most of the time they wouldn't even know she was there until the screaming started. At first the league sent more rangers but when their leader and his alpha were both found dead one morning the order came to abandon the settlement."
Neasa's body tensed. "It's why I hated the league, humans. They threw my mother away, over and over again. Part of their orders were to leave my mother and the rest of the pokegirls they had gathered for farming behind. The rangers and guards stayed with the humans but the farmers were deemed acceptable losses to cover the retreat of the humans. Mother, even years later I could tell how terrified she was to have been left behind. She was the oldest there, with a few other Elves, Deryn was there before she evolved to an Avariel, and a Ponytaur named Eter who pulled the plow. That was it, and they were supposed to fight this monster who had killed the rangers.
"Mother never told me much about how the fight went. It came twice, the first time it fled when Mother evolved. The second time it came, Mother and Eter fought together. The rest of the Elves all remember Mother slaying the beast but Mother remembered Eter. Eter died that night too and when Mother agreed to become queen of the survivors she renamed herself to Queen Vershnyk to honor Eter's sacrifice. 'Vershnyk' is Ukrainian for 'horse rider.'
"I just want to make sure someone knows about Kalyna and Eter. I want… I want…"
Neasa pushed herself up off of Isaac. "I want to stop seeing her taking Mother's head. I want to take Luljeta and Golloriel and Deryn down from where she hung them in Mother's tree. I want to stop seeing myself killing my friends after she turned them to her madness. I want the nightmares where she comes and kills you, and Elena, and everyone else and I can only helplessly watch again to stop! I want-!"
She was standing now, her body trembling, fists clenched, eyes hard with hate. "I want this to be over. I'm ready."
-
There were three foreign Elfqueens in Samodiva’s court. Brethilbereth had been here the longest, the older Elfqueen from the Vesna Queendom having been Samodiva’s ‘guest’ over the entire winter. To be honest, Samodiva appreciated her presence after a while. Brethilbereth was willing to answer Samodiva’s questions honestly. She told Samodiva about her home, her court, how things were done where Elves ruled and humans served.
It wasn’t what Samodiva thought.
The Vesna Elfqueen had become something of a role model for Samodiva although Samodiva wouldn’t admit it, even to herself. Samodiva had changed her style of dress, the way she wore her hair, the words she used when speaking. All to resemble Brethilbereth. All superficial things in an attempt to embody something she knew she lacked without knowing what it was. All Samodiva had was fear and hate, and power.
Then there was Nimlothel. She was another Vesna Elfqueen. The one who had trained Queen Vershnyk’s princess. Samodiva was much less pleased by her presence and the last Elfqueen even less. Captain Endzela Elefkveen Vorona. She was here with reluctant permission on the advice of Brethilbereth. The Elfqueen who had assumed command of the Vorona Corps in Dnipro respected the ways of the Vesna High Queendom and so she would respect the outcome of this trial by combat. This did not mean Samodiva’s court would be spared the wrath of the leagues if she triumphed, only that Captain Elefkveeen would no longer be lobbying for the extermination.
All three Elfqueens were stronger than Samodiva. She could just tell, a primal intuition informed her. All three also disapproved of her, her attitudes and methods, to varying degrees. Brethilbereth had stated understanding but treated Samodiva like a child. Someone else’s unruly child. Nimlothel was even more cold towards her having learned of Samodiva mostly through Neasa and Elena’s accounts and the Vorona…
The Vorona Elfqueen hated Samodiva as much as Samodiva hated the humans. Doubtless she wished it was herself fighting against Samodiva in the upcoming duel.
They all had brought their own entourages as well. Older, stronger, wiser, more disciplined subjects. More reflections on Samodiva and her court that made her and hers seem deficient. She could accept that from the Vesna but to be nothing but a pale reflection of slave soldiers to the humans, it grated to an agonizing degree. Samodiva wanted this to be over with and for these outsiders to leave her court. “What happens if the princess doesn’t come? Do I win?”
“She will come,” Nimlothel said with a confident smirk.
Brethilbereth saw fit to answer the question. “If the challenger doesn’t present herself then she will have failed the trial and we will hunt her down to deliver judgement.” Samodiva began to feel a glimmer of satisfaction at that idea, one that was soon snuffed out. “However, I’ve already received word from Erethueth that they are on their way.”
In the span of minutes Virag, the Elf serving as Samodiva’s captain, came to announce what Brethilbereth had already shared. Queen Vershnyk’s princess, now an Elfqueen, had arrived. She had her own entourage but one with only one other Elf type. The Grandelf Elena, the Deaf One. Also with her was a young human man and his three slaves, a Witch and a rabbit breed. Samodiva thought she was a Bunnygirl at first but the attentiveness of the pokegirl with creamy orange rabbit ears caused her to look again and notice the strange details. The curious mechanical seems around her wrists. Samodiva did not know what breed that made her. Also there was a very tall, elegantly dressed Bimbo, Samodiva estimated; from the East.
Then a fearful murmur went through all of Samodiva’s court with Virag blanching and staggering back as a towering blue skinned infernal pokegirl appeared from nothing and swept gleaming, golden eyes over all who were gathered.
Astoreth was in a poor mood having to leave her mansion and her charges in order to witness this battle. She was still in the process of tracking down the false prophet who was responsible for Augusta’s incursion on her home. Still, the Fallen Angel, Honorata, and Yevfrosiniya were all there today. It was more secure than it had been before.
The five Elfqueens were soon standing congregated in the middle of Samodiva’s court, Samodiva in front of the throne, Neasa facing Samodiva, and the other three standing to the side so as to not appear to be backing either Elfqueen involved in the coming contest.
Samodiva wanted to spit when she saw what Neasa was wearing. Human clothes, the training uniform of the Vorona corps academy. The princess was still small and therefore weak by Samodiva’s estimation. She was an Elfqueen who favored close ranged combat over the bow, so in that regard she was correct about Neasa’s stature being detrimental. Neasa was carrying a living weapon though, a bow. Samodiva was the only Elfqueen present to not have the hallmark of the Elf breed in her possession. When Samodiva had last seen Neasa, the princess’ hair was elegantly long. An indication of her privileged position. Although it’d been hacked even shorter than now, the bob-length cut with the crown pulled into a braid to keep out of her face gave Neasa a fierce look which was only amplified by the defiance shining in her eyes. The worst offense though was the collar she was wearing.
Samodiva gloated, “You come here to challenge me for the throne wearing the mark of a slave?”
Neasa looked confused for a moment and then touched her neck. “This? This is a necklace, a sign of favor from my man. It’s fashion.” She held up the bronze chain that’d been strung through loops incorporated in the collar’s design. She’d asked Isaac to order another one for her. Honestly she just enjoyed wearing it, and this one was made to prominently feature the leaf charm that had been gifted to her by Gabi and the rest of the Vorona pokekits. “You’re the slave here, Samodiva. Bound by invisible chains wrapped around your black heart.”
Samodiva made to stalk forward but Brethilbereth moved as if to place herself between the two Elfqueens. “That is enough. This contest is to be conducted according to our traditions. Now that you are both here it is time to begin. First, I must explain how things will proceed.”
Brethilbereth touched her throat for a second and anyone sensitive to magic could feel something suddenly hanging in the air above them. The overseeing Elfqueen’s voice came from the trees all around them. “Elves of the court of the Elfqueen Samodiva, we are gathered here today to witness the ancient rites of challenge as dictated by the Law of High Queen Vesna. The High Queen’s Law is not normally applied this far to the east, but the matter was brought to our attention and a council of queens has decided to make an exception this day.
"Although the Elfqueen Samodiva is held in contempt for her treachery, a counsel of her peers does not agree with the accusation of slaughter under trust put forward by Erethueth and Neasa. Her killing occurred in a duel or after she had assumed the throne.
"The Elfqueen Neasa does have a legitimate claim for vengeance, however, so Samodiva's crimes will be judged in a trial by combat, and who among these two will have the right to rule will be judged according to our ancient customs.
"The first trial will be a trial of hearts and ears. A queen must command and inspire her people with only her words. Both queens will make their cases to you, those who will become her people. Should they move your hearts to side with them you may lend the strength of your spirits to the upcoming battle. Your prayers and your will is the only way in which you may involve yourselves in the fight. You may not aid either queen in any other way, on pain of death.” To an outsider this didn’t seem like much but it was the belief of the Vesna Elves, and not entirely without evidence, that an Elfqueen’s magical power came from the vastness and vibrancy of the lands under her rule as well as the loyalty of any lesser Elf breeds sworn to her. A battle for hearts and minds could have a tangible effect on single combat. If they were correct.
"The second trial will be of the land. A queen must protect her realm against foreign threats, and must be capable of attuning herself with her land, the source of her power and authority, to do so. Both queens will be tasked with tracking myself and Elfqueen Nimlothel to the grounds our seers have determined shall be the location for the duel. An Elfqueen may move undetected through the forest, but the forest that belongs to an Elfqueen will betray the presence of the foreigner.
"This pursuit will bring the two queens to the last trial. The trial by combat. It is to begin at noon. You, the Elves and friends of the court, will be permitted to witness the battle from here by our magic. The two queens will be allowed to prepare in any way they see fit so long as they do not leave their starting point which their quarry, Nimlothel or I, will lead them to. To leave the starting point before it is time will be punished by death. To flee from the grounds of the battle will be punished by death. To fail to present herself before the battle is tantamount to fleeing. All else is permissible."
Brethilbereth turned her attention away from those gathered and focused on the two Elfqueens. "Knowing this, Elfqueen Samodiva. Do you hold to your claim of rulership and innocence in the face of the accusations leveled against you?"
"I do."
"Elfqueen Neasa, do you hold to your claim of rulership and vengeance against Samodiva?"
Neasa nodded grimly. "I do."
"Then let the trial begin. Elfqueen Samodiva, as you currently hold the throne, you may begin."
Samodiva only knew one way to move hearts and minds. “Weak Elves follow weak Elfqueens,” she began. “The humans will prey on weakness. The humans want nothing but power, want nothing more than to rule, to enslave. They only understand strength, only respect strength, only can be kept at bay by strength. Whether you lived here, or followed me here, or came here in response to my call after I took the throne you know, I am strong. Stronger than the Dumb Queen. Stronger than her daughter, who wears a slave’s collar and a soldier’s uniform. She’ll make slaves and soldiers of all of you. She will give you to the humans.”
Chandrakanta sighed sadly as she listened to the Elfqueen rant. There was one chance, a small chance, that this could have ended without bloodshed but it depended on Samodiva. With these words it became clear that chance would be missed. Samodiva was in the grip of the sunk cost fallacy. She’d committed her treachery and violence after convincing herself it was for good and if she let go of that lie she would have to face the evil she enacted openly and honestly. The ends did not justify the means, the means defined the end. Chandrakanta looked away from the ugly swirling black that was consuming the Elfqueen’s heart and that of many of the Elves witnessing. They too could not accept their part in what had unfolded, their actions and losses, without the promise of a perfect, all-redeeming future.
“I will protect you. I will lead you to honor and glory, she will lead you to desolation and servitude. This land is ours!” The assembled Elves applauded. Most automatically, like trained dogs. Some with fervent enthusiasm. Few withheld out of principle, and they were only emboldened by the presence of the other Elfqueens. They knew that, if Samodiva were to win, it was likely they’d suffer for their reluctance and that the cheering Elves to their left and right would turn them in for the chance of gaining favor with the tyrant they celebrated.
Neasa looked over the assembled Elves, reading their expressions. She felt intimidated by them, the eagerness they held in their eyes. The unspoken demand for more fire and fury, more triumphant rousing, more… lies.
That’s what Samodiva’s words were. More lies. A hollow promise of a better future. A promise of glory. Safety. She didn’t bring them any of those things. Her plans wouldn’t bring them any of those things.
How could she show them the truth?
Her audience was starting to stir, shift, murmur. Their attention was drifting away. If she didn’t say something now, then Samodiva would have won this challenge. It seemed meaningless but if they really believed that their favor and agreement would aid their chosen queen in the battle to come, well… That was how the magic worked, wasn’t it?
She had to speak now and she had no idea how to get them to the truth. She didn’t know what the truth was.
She didn’t need to.
She could simply show them the lie. “Do you,” Neasa’s words were too quiet and her voice cracked. Still, the fact that she started to speak drew everyone’s attention right back to her and it felt overwhelming. Everyone’s eyes turned on her. Judging her. She couldn’t address them like this. Her focus drifted as her thoughts drifted.
She knew many of these faces. She couldn’t tell who was missing because she wasn’t that familiar with them but her mother’s court had been small. Smaller than the village of Slov’Yanka. It wasn’t that many to familiarize oneself with. She could remember them, even some of those brought by Samodiva. She would not be speaking to them, however.
“Do you remember when I came back from my first hunt with Luljeta, Linza, Daireann, and Gerd? Do you remember how confident I was that I would return with a feast for all of us? A KATTLE, or maybe a hog that escaped from a human farm and had survived the ferals. I was so sure that I would be triumphant, that my success was predestined. Do you remember what I came back to the court with?”
Those in the audience seemed rather confused by her start. It was a great departure from Samodiva’s rhetorical style. Her question elicited some chuckles though. “It was a trout. One, tiny fish.” Neasa looked up at the canopy. “Luljeta even had to take me to her favored fishing hole on the river and spent so much time instructing me so I wouldn’t come back empty handed. Linza, Daireann, and Gerd all had to be sent away because they couldn’t stop laughing and I was so angry. So embarrassed. Queen Vershnyk… she ordered it be cooked into a soup, and it was the grains, greens, and mushrooms you all provided that made it a feast. That let me make good on my promise. Queen Vershnyk found a way to make it a celebration with Golloriel and Deryn. We ate and sang and played music and danced.” The Elves who had always been a part of Queen Vershnyk’s court and hadn’t fled or died since Samodiva took over were all back on that silly, happy day now. They were reminiscing and flickers of joy were spreading across their faces as memories of easier times flitted through their minds.
"The humans, they're not what Samodiva says. Not what I said. Queen Vershnyk was right about them. I have lived among them, learned from them. Celebrated with them during their harvest festival. They feast and sing and dance and play music as well. They didn't deserve what happened to them. The sergeants, the cadets and their pokegirls. The people of Slov'Yanka. So that's why I…"
Neasa’s shoulders tensed up and her voice hung as she spoke the next words. Somewhere in her eyes they could all see the pain she was carrying. “I killed Linza, and Daireaan, and Gerd.” The court was deathly silent. “It was when I evolved. Samodiva sent them out to hit the rear…” Neasa started to shake as she recalled what she’d done. Her words wavered and hung but continued to come to her. “I became so overwhelmed… I couldn't let them take... wouldn’t, couldn’t return here. No matter what. Not as her prisoner, not again. …"
The small Elfqueen stopped and did nothing but breath, evening her breath to fight down the oncoming panic. After a few seconds she was steady enough to continue. Her question held an almost accusatory tone. “Who else didn’t come back that day?” Every Elf present responded to that. Even Samodiva seemed to suffer a blow from the question. “Who else is missing now? Luljeta, Golloriel, Deryn, you all know where they are. Right behind you, where you all refuse to look.
“Samodiva claims she will bring you honor and glory, prosperity and safety. Over and over again, she promises it. What has she brought us?” Neasa stepped back and let the truth find them on its own.
The congregated Elves were not energized by Neasa’s words in the same way they were by Samodiva’s. Neasa hadn’t intended to rouse them in such a way. While she had been enchanted by the idea of being equal to the Elfqueens of the Vesna High Queendom earlier in her life, in the same sort of way Samodiva was enchanted, living among them had disillusioned Neasa. She had discovered that she didn’t value what they valued and that they were not as noble and virtuous as she’d believed based on Golloriel’s stories. She did not want to be an Elfqueen like them, nor did she want to be an Elfqueen like Samodiva. What she most wished was to be an Elfqueen like her mother had been, who hadn’t wanted to be an Elfqueen at all and had fallen into the role of one by chance and circumstance, and the desperate struggle to survive.
So she was feeling rather impatient with the procedure of doing things the Vesna way and did not care who she won over with her words. She came here to fight.
Brethilbereth stepped forward again. “Both queens have passed through the trial of hearts and ears. Now they will be tried by the land. As I have spent time within the court of Samodiva, granting her a certain familiarity with me, I will be pursued by Neasa as we have only encountered each other this very day. As Nimlothel has hosted Neasa, granting her a certain level of familiarity with her host, Nimlothel will be pursued by Samodiva as they have only encountered each other this very day. Nimlothel and I will depart, and our retinues will take the two queens to their starting points.” Brethibereth looked over to her contemporary and the two Vesna Elfqueens exchanged a nod before swiftly slipping into the trees grown up around the court, departing in opposite directions.
After a few minutes had passed Neasa was led away from the court by the Grandelf who accompanied Brethilbereth and set loose. On the other side of the court Samodiva was setting out. They were assured their paths would not cross before the trial of blood began. Neasa communed with the plants of the forest as she’d begun to learn from Luljeta, her mother’s High Elf captain, and Golloriel, her mother’s constant advisor on traditional Elf magic. She completed her lessons under Nimlothel over the winter.
Plants were not intelligent, not in the way animals were. There was no active, considered problem solving though they did respond to their environment. A plant could react to the direction of sunlight. They detected physical contact and vibrations, even to the extent of recognizing the soundwaves produced by caterpillars chewing on leaf material. They had chemoreceptors that provided the flora with information about the world too. Therefore a plant was not oblivious and, with the mystical perceptions of an Elfqueen, were able to share this crude knowledge. The vegetation of the forest was reluctant to divulge for it had been under teh sway of Samodiva for many moons, but with only a little persistence and an even older familiarity Neasa ‘persuaded’ the undergrowth of the woods to betray Brethilbereth’s passing to her. The plants would lead her to her quarry.
Samodiva simply willed any plant that had acted to conceal Nimlothel’s passing to die, and being a willess plant they complied. Samodiva was only slowed by how long the undergrowth clung to life and then had a trail of wither to guide her.
At the end of her hunt Neasa came upon Brethilbereth waiting within a copse of young beeches. Their fallen progenitor stood in the middle of them, its trunk dry, stripped of bark, and branches discarded. Its death created an opening in the canopy for the seedlings that normally would have starved to grow up and compete to fill the vacated niche before the elder trees surrounding them spread their limbs to plug the hole.
This was an old part of the forest, perhaps the oldest. Its heart, in a manner of speaking. This was where the battle was to take place. Neasa was already lightly attuned with all of the plants around her, but the sun was not yet fully overhead. She could take this time to deepen that connection. She knelt, trusting Brethilbereth to fulfill her role in overseeing this ritual, closed her eyes, and let the life around her flood her senses.
Without being fully conscious of the passing of time, Neasa heard the sound of the horn blast from off in the distance and opened her eyes as she stopped meditating. There really wasn’t any way to describe the sound besides that of a horn blast, a steady and distant note reverberating through a carved out horn. An ancient tool used to signal during battle for untold millennia before history was recorded.
Brethilbereth nodded solemnly to the smaller, younger Elfqueen and melted into the shadows of the undergrowth leading out of the grounds for the duel. She was alone and yet not alone. Somewhere, on the other side of this ritual grounds, was Samodiva. She was here with her enemy and she was also among the trees and all that dwelt among them.
There was an energy of anticipation in the air like the forest was resonating with her own nerves. Birds and insects weren’t entirely silent, but their sounds were all sharp and swift. The wind was light but constant, rustling the leaves of the canopy above her with gentle persistence. It made the noontime sun dance and flicker as the shadows constantly shifted and swayed.
She knelt to touch the loam under her toes and vegetation swarmed up her body to form a protective barrier of armor. A much more subtle version of the Petal Armor technique. With one last steadying breath she let go of her doubts, her worries, her still planning mind, and let herself devolve. Most of what was the Elfqueen Neasa melted away as she let the spirit of war take her. Her entire perspective shifted, her vision was clear in a wider cone and her focus sharper further out into the distance. Her ears picked up ever softer sounds and her nostrils were filled with the scent of budding life and rotting death. Then she started to move in a slow creeping stalk. If she had to cross somewhere that was too open, erratic, darting bounds from shadow to shadow, brush to brush, trunk to trunk, cover to cover.
The trance she had willed herself into kept her heart steady, breaths even, energy conserved. The fear and anger and excitement all melted away into a more primal readiness, the body’s physiology idling right on the threshold of becoming roused to extreme action. Neasa felt her heartbeat speed up and her skin tingle. She pressed herself further into the shadows and froze. The first thing she’d learned under Nimlothel’s tutelage, and the huntresses of her mother before that, was to listen to her senses. They detected far more than her consciousness picked up on, even more now that she was an Elfqueen with the breed’s innate precognition. Samodiva was near.
She could feel her enemy searching for her, trying to sense her out. Concealing herself as her own senses warned her that Neasa was close. It was a game of cat and mouse, but they were both cats and they were both mice. A successful ambush could decide the duel in an instant. The ambush would be awarded to whoever didn’t make the wrong move. One wrong move; whether detected by the eye or the ear. All it took was one wrong move. Neasa focused, extended her senses as far as she could, stretched that part of her mind so much it felt like agony.
Eyes in the shadows. The two Elfqueens saw each other at the same moment and both recognized that the other had seen them.
Two bowstrings snapped, two arrows sang as they soared through the air. The dead arrow fired by Samodiva flew slower and in a greater arc to make up for the shortcomings of the mundane nature of the bow plundered from Queen Vershnyk. Neasa had more time to dodge, but Samodiva had enough time to avoid Neasa’s living missile as well. Both Elfqueens vanished behind cover and undergrowth exploded upwards and out to further conceal them. Both Elfqueens were warded by living, vegetative armor that offered camouflage on top of protection.
Both predators had lost sight of their prey.
Now Neasa was in the grip of her surging adrenalin. The battle had begun and to return to calm would bring her down to a hazardous low. Her eyes darted to and fro, a desperation driving her to reacquire her enemy.
Neasa saw the dark eyes again and loosed another arrow. Samodiva didn’t return fire but instead grew a thick branch from the tree she was attempting to hide behind to absorb the shot on her behalf. A ripple coursed through the ground as roots sought out Neasa. The smaller Elfqueen had to break cover and run as wooden spines ruptured the forest floor all around her, growing to half a meter in height. Samodiva surged right behind her commanded plants to close the distance, seizing the chance to bring her greater strength and reach to bear in close quarters combat.
Samodiva had a curved blade, longer than Neasa was tall, that was sharpened on the inside edge. A falx made of steel in her main hand. She had claimed the sword from a trespassing tamer’s Slicer. Her bow, stolen from Queen Vershnyk, in her other. When she was sure she had gained enough ground she cast aside the bow and raised her sword in both hands.
In historic times the two handed falx was capable of cleaving partway through Roman legionary shields and possibly steel armor with an overhead strike. That was when wielded by an ordinary Dacian or Thrassian warrior with none of the enhanced strength and agility Samodiva possessed on account of her breed. It was not a practical weapon and the cultures that produced it were ground into the dust of history by Rome like so many others. It was inelegant but brutally devastating in its use.
Neasa dodged to the side to avoid the overhand strike. Samodiva followed through with a horizontal cleave that Neasa attempted to block with pillars from the Lance technique. The soft, green poles of grass were split without slowing the blade hardly any. Neasa’s head was saved by poor edge alignment on Samodiva’s part pushing the arc of her cut up as well as the upward growth. Neasa tried to fire point blank but had to pull her bow away as her opponent swung again. Samodiva was relentless in pressing her advantage. Neasa could grow a staff with the Lance technique but Samodiva’s falx would cut through it just like the others. A grass blade might withstand the devastating edge of the weapon, but Neasa would still be at an incredible disadvantage thanks to her shorter reach. She had to open up ground.
Neasa dodged back and dropped down to avoid another swing, jamming the arrow she had been hoping to shoot point first into the soil. She poured magic into it and the living arrow quickly grew into a yew sapling that stood between her and Samodiva. Neasa focused its growth into girth so that it couldn’t be cleaved through like the Lances. Samodiva in her frenzy swung to cut through the obstacle anyway. The young tree did not resist the blade, not entirely. It did stop the swing though.
With the core of the tree severed Neasa had to let the top half die and prompted it to focus its growth into a branch that coiled and twisted to go skyward. Samodiva poured her own magic into the rapidly expanding yew to foil Neasa’s attempt to entrap her blade. Having partial control of the tree, Samodiva grew out another scaffold branch and aimed its rapid growth at Neasa’s head. Neasa released command of the branch she’d been growing, seeing that she would not be able to catch the falx and instead twisted Samodiva’s limb back around.
Around and around the yew tree twisted in a tortured visual representation of the two Elfqueen’s struggle, all the while it grew at a maddened rate from both of their unfettered plant magic being channeled into it. It was now a third participant in the duel, a treacherous mercenary that would turn on either of them if they let their will falter. It served Neasa more in its neutrality though. As it grew, it impeded Samodiva more. Recognizing this Samodiva made one last wild thrust with her falx, stretching to the limits of holding it in one arm. Neasa ducked away from the vicious stab and started to draw her bow but the hooked point of the weapon grazed her shoulder, tearing through her floral armor and upper trapezius muscle.
Neasa had her opening but had been robbed of the strength she needed to take the shot. The flexing of her trapezius had held the muscle strands tight for the cut to go deep. She had learned some healing magic but nothing to mend a wound of this level. She would need time to concentrate to even hope to repair the damage herself. Time Samodiva was not giving her. The taller, dark haired Elfqueen was stalking around the yew tree grown from Neasa’s arrow now that there was no threat from Neasa firing its kin her way.
Neasa’s mind raced as it attempted to both keep itself in the fight while also projecting into the possible futures to give her a chance to win. So it seized on a shortcut and guided her to continue doing what had worked, put the yew tree between her and Samodiva. Neasa’s hated foe felt enough brevity in the life or death struggle to laugh wickedly. “Give up! You can’t shoot and you can’t win up close. You can’t run or your own haughty friends will kill you!” Samodiva raised an Elemental Ward to absorb a flurry of Razor Leaves. “You can’t win that way either,” she said with a sneer.
Samodiva was right. Besides the options her enemy had already pointed out as invalid, Neasa couldn’t win by commanding plants. Samodiva could wrest control away before a lethal blow was struck. What other options did she have? She didn’t have the reach for an Energy Blade, she didn’t have the time for a Solar Beam. Her living bow was her greatest chance of victory but she didn’t have the strength she needed to draw.
Her living bow. Strength. Neasa pulled an arrow to knock and made as if to draw, right up until the point she could feel her wound starting to split more and then allowed herself to cry out in pain before ducking into the branches of the yew tree they’d been circling and weaving through to lean against the trunk. Samodiva gave a feral grin and pursued.
Only to take an arrow to the chest. She looked down at the shaft burrowed just slightly left of center in her chest and then raised eyes pleading for understanding to where her prey had been waiting to be slain. Neasa was still weak, still panting, still leaning against the trunk of the tree.
No, leaning into it.
A new branch from the yew had grown to envelope and brace the smaller Elfqueen’s arm. She’d drawn against its strength, not her own.
The common yew, sometimes called the European yew, was lethally poisonous with its most potent toxin working to shut down the muscles of the heart. The poison worked whether it was ingested or absorbed through the skin.
Neasa had imbued her arrow with the Poison element to boost its potency and delivered the dose straight to Samodiva’s heart. It wouldn’t be capable of beating any longer even without the arrowhead that had torn through its walls. Samodiva’s eyes became wide with animal panic, her falx dropped from her hand, she stumbled half a step more forward and then her knees buckled under her. She fell onto her back.
Her death was swift as fresh blood stopped flowing everywhere and the shock of the body overwhelmed the rest of her physiology. As her vision rapidly faded she saw a handsome young Elf standing over her. One she could recognize in the time her ruined heart used to pause between beats, even through the dark fog enveloping her. She reached up towards the face. “Lele…” The last thing Samodiva perceived was her hand being taken in both of those of her blood sister. She could feel Lele’s gentle grip holding her hand up, preventing it from falling when her strength melted away.
Then Samodiva the Elfqueen was gone, passed on into death.
(-[|]-) End 14.1 (-[|]-)