Chapter 1939: The True Victor Emerges (Part Two)

Dozens of broken branches lay between Khorijin and Erling’s unmoving body. The path that had once led from where she stood to where he lay had vanished entirely beneath the glittering, barbed mass of icy spikes.

Here and there, trees still cracked, and the faint sound of falling fragments of ice filled the air. Some branches looked cracked and damaged, and a few might still break, dropping yet another bundle of explosive Ice Fruit on the ground and triggering a whole new wave of devastation.

Nothing about this place was safe.

If Khorijin cared about her life at all, to say nothing of claiming victory, she should turn and run. Escaping this deadly forest with her life was an honor she could sing about for years. The Frozen Forest of the Mother of Trees... No one could call her a coward for fleeing from it.

"Erling!" Khorijin called, hoping to see some sign of life from the fallen lord. "Lord Erling!"

Nothing.

No movement.

No sounds.

Not even a groan of pain.

Just... Nothing.

"Then we just race," he’d said. "Neither of us has to die today."

"Neither of us had to die today..." Khorijin said, staring at Erling’s unmoving body and fighting back the mist that threatened to overwhelm her vision.

"Wait," she said, clopping forward a full three steps before a painful prick to her left foreleg stopped her.

There, drifting above Erling’s head, she saw a faint puff of white, steamy breath.

Khorijin froze, not daring to move or even breathe as she watched. Two heartbeats, three, and there, another puff of warm, white breath!

"Thank the Heavens," she whispered. "You’re alive."

Alive, but bleeding, lying on the cold, frozen ground, and close enough to death that he didn’t hear her cry out... Perhaps he’d just struck his head, or perhaps he was on the verge of death even now.

She didn’t know.

"You’re injured," he’d said. "I can help to bind your wounds. I still want to be your friend."

"I still want to be your friend," Khorijin repeated softly. "I do. I do want to be your friend," she said as she shouldered her bow. "But first, you have to live."

Khorijin reared up on her hind legs, gritting her teeth against the pain that flared in her wounded flanks as she pushed her body to its limits. Her forelegs lashed out, one after the other, shattering the barbed, icy branches between herself and Erling.

She gained less than half a length before she had to drop back to the ground, and there were fresh, long scratches on her forelegs, but she didn’t care. Pushing herself forward, she reared again, kicking out with her hooves as she advanced, step by agonizing step.

The second time, she made it two full lengths before she had to come back down to all fours, and the third time she made it almost twice that. It felt agonizingly slow and she dyed her forelegs red with fresh blood, but she didn’t care. The puffs of breath she saw from Erling looked thin and feeble in the cold, and she dared not waste time reaching him.

A few moments later, she finally reached his side. He was small for a human, but he looked even smaller and younger like this. A shard of ice had embedded itself in his right forearm, but from the way he fell, it was clear that he’d been covering his head and face with his arms when the ice struck him...

It was a deep, punishing wound, one that might stop him from ever drawing a bow again, but sacrificing his arm had likely saved his life. But his lips were blue, his face was pale, and his breathing was ragged and shallow. He was alive, but how much longer he could cling to that life, she couldn’t say.

"Come, Lord Erling," she said, reaching down to grab hold of his cloak and using that to pull him up enough that she could get a better grip on him. "It won’t be dignified," she apologized to the unconscious man as she pulled him up onto her back, draping him across her back like a sack of grain.

"But I will take you back with me," she said, turning around as carefully as she could before navigating back along the path she’d broken through the ice.

"It may hurt," she told the unconscious man, once she’d reached a more open area. "You’ll have to endure a bit of bouncing for the sake of speed," she said as she broke into a trot.

Behind her, Khorijin heard a faint moan of discomfort or pain, but she took it as a sign that Erling still lived and pushed herself even harder toward the exit.

Outside the Frozen Forest, Ashlynn did her best to maintain a calm, dignified appearance as she awaited the results of the contest. She’d felt the violent explosion in the middle of the forest, and ever since then, she strained her senses for the slightest hint of what had transpired. Now, she heard the clopping of Khorijin’s hooves, but she’d heard no sound of Erling at all.

He was a skilled hunter. When he’d moved through the forest, he’d moved quietly. But there was a difference between quiet and silent and...

Ashlynn’s train of thought stopped as abruptly as a ship ran aground when she spotted Khorijin trotting out of the forest with Erling draped across her back.

"Help," Khorijin called as soon as she emerged from the forest. "He needs help! He needs a healer!"

"Heila, go," Ashlynn said, though it was hardly necessary. Heila didn’t bother with the stairs leading down from the stone platform where they’d awaited the results of the contest. She placed one hand on Snow Fang at her hip and launched herself into the air, summoning a gust of wind and flurry of snow as she raced through the air.

Ashlynn wasn’t far behind her. It was harder to use Mistwalker Dance in the frigid cold than it was for Heila to use her Snow Flurry Steps, but it was still faster than stumbling or sliding on the icy ground as she rushed to Khorijin’s side.

"Let me help with him," Ashlynn said calmly as soon as she arrived. Heila had already knelt on the ground, pulling herbs and potions from the pouch at her waist as she prepared to treat both champions.

"It’s not that bad," Ashlynn said, intending to reassure Khorijin as she took Erling from her back. "His body is battered, but his heart is strong," she said as she set Erling on the ground. "You did well to bring him here so quickly," Ashlynn said.

"He would have done the same for me," Khorijin said, biting her lip as she watched the witches work. "He offered. In the forest, he offered to bind my wounds. He said that, that he wanted to be friends..."

"Erling is a good man," Ashlynn said, leaving Erling in Heila’s capable hands as she turned to his opponent. "I have a salve for your wounds," Ashlynn said, holding up a small earthenware crock and gesturing at Khorijin’s lacerated flanks. "This is just to take the pain away. Healing will come after, but I can start here..."

"Is he suffering?" Khorijin asked, looking down at the small, fragile-looking human with his gentle features and soft brown hair. "Is he in pain?"

"He won’t be," Heila said as her hands began to glow with a silvery-green energy. "But this healing will be difficult. His recovery..." she said, allowing her voice to trail off before giving her head a firm shake. "I’ll do my best."

"Then I, I should go to his wife," Khorijin said, looking up the hill to a small group of people racing toward them from the Imperial Box. "If he has to spend weeks recovering or months, then I’ll help her tend to him. I owe him that much and more. If I hadn’t rejected his offer, then this..."

"You both fought your hardest," Ashlynn said, gently working a numbing salve into the flesh around Khorijin’s wounds. Her hands glowed with a faint emerald energy, applying just enough healing energy to stop the bleeding as she pulled shards of half-melted ice from some of Khorijin’s wounds.

"You earned your victory, Khorijin," Ashlynn said. "And he risked what he did in the hopes of claiming victory himself. Neither of you owes a debt for this."

"You may see it that way, Your Dominion," Khorijin said, remembering her manners as the pain and tension began to fade. "But will his woman? When she hears the story of how he offered to bind my wounds and finish the contest with a foot race, and that I forced him to fight until he was hurt like this... Will she be so forgiving?"

"Erling isn’t married," Heila said, glancing up at the rapidly approaching group of Ragna, Reynold, and Liam. "His mother is coming; you can speak to her."

"Not married?" Khorijin said, looking down at the kind-hearted human lord. "Then it’s even more important that I help tend to him! I should help," she said, watching Heila wrap a bandage tightly around the wound in his forearm after smearing the wound with a thick, brownish-green paste.

The wound that meant he might never draw a bow again. What kind of life would a hunter lead if he lost his ability to draw his bow? As a lord who couldn’t defend his people, who would follow him? This fate... it was far too cruel.

"I should help Lord Erling every way that I can," Khorijin said firmly as Lady Ragna rushed to her son’s side. "This is my fault, and I, I’ll make it right," she said. "And if no woman wants to marry Lord Erling after tonight," she added. "Then I swear to be his bride!"