Chapter 1940: Cultural Collision (Part One)

The sound of the crowd grew louder and louder with each passing heartbeat.

On the hillsides where the common folk sat, one shock after another rippled through the crowd, drawing exclamations, curses, and even moments of reverence from the people there.

"I thought Lord Erling was winning," a young boy said. "What, what happened to him, Mama? Did he die?"

"I don’t know," Sainy said, holding her son close as she watched the witches descend from the stone platform, walking across thin air as though it were solid ground. "Maybe, maybe they can still save him."

"We should pray," she said, shifting on her blanket to kneel and bowing her head, then showing her son to do the same. "Pray that Lord Erling makes it through..."

Elsewhere in the crowd, a combination of cursing and gloating filled the air.

"Pay up, Derwen!" a gap-toothed fisherman said, holding his calloused hand out to his neighbor. "Six snips."

"Ye’ll get yer winnings at tha’ end o’ tha’ night, Hedd," the sour-faced sailmaker sitting next to Derwen said. "Lord Erling looked like a good bet an’ he were winnin’ at tha’ half. I’ll make me snips back an’ more on Lord Reynold’s match, ye’ll see..."

"We ain’t seen Lord Reynold’s opponent yet," Hedd reminded him. "Don’t be so sure he’ll win. Lord Erling couldn’t even win against a demon-lass," he pointed out.

"Fool I were fer bettin’ on tha’ Coward Baron," Derwen acknowledged. "But Lord Reynold ain’t tha’ same, ye’ll see. His brother were undefeated wit’ tha’ lance three years runnin’ an’ I won’t bet ’gainst him."

The commentary among the noblemen and women at the opposite end of the field was slightly more restrained, but only slightly, and some of it was distinctly barbed.

"How luxurious," Brighde said as she watched Ashlynn and Heila rush to Erling’s side. "The Evergreen Empress herself acts like a nurse for the victor and her handmaiden tends to the coward," she said, looking down her nose at the people on the field.

"Can you imagine my cousin rushing off to bandage the wounded after a duel?" Brighde asked her husband.

"Can you imagine your cousin walking on air?" Telent retorted. "Or summoning a lethal forest of ice? I think your cousin and the Evergreen Empress are in different worlds," he reminded her.

"The Saint then," Brighde said, unwilling to concede the point. "Since people seem so intent on calling her a Saintess. Can you imagine the Saint in the Holy City descending from his throne just to tend to the victor of a duel?"

"Can you imagine the Saint descending from his throne to visit the frontier?" Telent said. "Different worlds, Brighde. But the Saint has the whole of the Church at his disposal. He can raise a finger and send a hundred healers if he wishes to. The Evergreen Empress has only her few witches," he reminded Brighde.

"No matter how powerful she is," Telent said. "She can only be in so many places at once, and you see it now. She hasn’t even addressed the crowd or proclaimed a victor because she’s too busy healing the wounded..."

Other people had an entirely different reaction to what they were witnessing.

"What was she shouting when she carried him out?" Maela asked, looking to Eira for an answer.

"I don’t know, my Lady," Eira said honestly. "I haven’t spent much time among the Eldritch yet the way Lord Liam has, so..."

"She was calling for a healer," Nyrielle said as she took a seat next to her mother-in-law. "She seems very concerned for Erling’s well-being. It seems like their time in the Frozen Forest was well spent."

"Well spent?" Maela asked, raising an eyebrow at the vampire who meant so much to her daughter. "You mean Ashlynn planned for this?"

"An arrow only strikes one target," Nyrielle said with a slight smile. "An orchard fills many bellies. Just because this was a contest of archery to help resolve a grudge doesn’t mean that it only had a single purpose. Your daughter knew Erling’s character well. All that remained was to examine Khorijin’s."

"And from her, build a foundation?" Dirar asked as he clopped over to join the conversation. "Or test the depths of our herds’ animosity?"

"All of those things, and more," Nyrielle said. "Would you have done differently, Dirar?"

"With the City Lords?" Dirar said, shaking his head lightly. "Perhaps I’d have been much the same. The herds are more... straightforward," he said delicately. "Your greater meanings may have been lost on them."

"You should treat Khorijin as an exception rather than the rule," Dirar said. "You will find far more people like Taghai among the herds than women like Khorijin. Few in the herds master the stars of the First Scholar the way she has. Few of them make the time for books and carry them on their long journeys."

"You did," Nyrielle pointed out.

"I’m different too," Dirar said with a light chuckle. "Claiming the throne of the Southern Steppe with pure strength is one thing, but ruling it without mastering the scholar’s art would have quickly seen me become a puppet of the City Lords."

"Khorijin has never once shown a desire to become a Herd Master," Dirar said, gazing out the frozen window at the scene unfolding below. "She studied the grasses, wind and rain. The patterns of weather and the movement of herds of beasts. She helped guide her people when they wandered, warned of droughts before they occurred..."

"She hunts for the same reason she studies," Dirar concluded. "Because it allows her to help her family and her herd."

"It sounds like she’s a very admirable woman," Maela said, though her eyes were focused on Ashlynn rather than the woman being healed. "I hope that Ashlynn can help her recover. Those wounds," she said, finally returning her focus to Khorijin and Erling. "Those wounds don’t look light."

"Have faith in your daughter," Nyrielle said as her smile grew wider. "She isn’t one to give up easily. If anything can be done, she’ll see that it is."

Outside, however, Khorijin’s outburst had interrupted Ashlynn’s healing efforts. Cries of pain wouldn’t have distracted her, but a sudden announcement that Khorijin would marry Erling was something else entirely!