The thump of the arrow hitting the centre of the straw target had started to sound like a metronome to Loldirr as she reached for another arrow to find its new home beside the previous one.
Pulling the string back so her fingers brushed the side of her cold reddened face had become second nature to her during the hour she had been repeating this exercise.
As she exhaled, a cloud of condensation escaped her mouth. The bitterness of the breeze echoed the bitterness in her heart; this was the beginning of her nineteenth winter, and it was by far her most troublesome yet.
The arrow released, before thumping its way to the side of the previous arrow at the centre of the target.
Loldirr reached for another arrow but realised she had inadvertently fired her last one. Cursing under her breath, she pushed a strand of her fire-kissed hair away from her emerald green eyes. Placing the bow over her shoulder, she began the hundred-and-fifty-yard trek to retrieve the arrows embedded deep within the target.
If anyone had known that she was here, they would have instantly retrieved them for her, allowing the rightful heir to the throne to bask in her successful archery practice, but she was alone, desperate to untangle the many thoughts that plagued her mind, eager to find some form of peace in the decisions that lay ahead for her.
In the previous winter, her thoughts were focused on the boring winter and year ahead and how much she wanted to escape the monotony of her pointless existence. Now, she worried about Ravenscourt's repairs, the fragile Fæordic alliance, retaking her throne and today's main talking point, Kirken Merrithorpe's trial.
As she trudged through the beginnings of the settled snow, she stroked her left cheek along the large gash that extended almost to her ear. A reminder of how the Death Wraith known as the Shadow almost ended her life in the barren snow wasteland deep in Fæordic territory. The last cycle had been all about life and death, mostly hers, and now she could potentially hold someone else's life in her hand.
How should she treat the man that was mostly responsible for her good friend Ethelston's mother's death and her guardian, Edric's exile? He was also with the forces that attempted to retake Ravenscourt for the usurper and as a result of Loldirr's victory, had become her captive.
Kirken was not just a treacherous snake, but his punishment would be symbolic of the Aex-Igh dynasty under Loldirr.
If she was too lenient on him, Loldirr would be considered weak, and the lords of the Isovine Empire would not respect her. If she was too strong, then future alliances could be scuppered from fear of Loldirr's long-lasting memory of treasonous leeches.
If only she could turn back the clock and tell her younger self what a fool she was for wanting an adventure.
There was another crunch in the snow, louder than the quietened steps she was making, but quieter than anyone of significant size. As Loldirr turned, she spotted the warm welcoming small of Erdudvyl Ar Moal. Her short elven friend and mentor who had become immensely valuable since they met each other at Gryffinfall, some moon cycles ago. A woman of small stature but huge importance to Loldirr as her wisdom and sometimes selfless acts had kept them all on a difficult path of survival.
Watching Erdudvyl glide down the snow in her heavy wolf-furred coat was something remarkable. How she could remain so graceful while dressed in something that enveloped her almost entirely was something that Loldirr envied.
"I thought I would find you here." Erdudvyl commented with grace, her blue crystal eyes glancing towards the grouping of Loldirr's arrows on the unfortunate target.
Loldirr remained silent, looking towards her elven friend with little enthusiasm.
"You know why I have come?" Erdudvyl asked, seeing the misery in Loldirr's eyes.
Loldirr sighed, a puff of air escaping her lips. "I do."
Erdudvyl could see the apprehension and remorse Loldirr was currently experiencing. Walking down to her, she took hold of her hands and stroked them calmly. "Speak, for I see the pain in your heart, and keeping it within yourself would be of no benefit to anyone."
Loldirr looked directly at Erdudvyl's clear blue eyes and pale, almost white, skin underneath the hood that covered her head, before glancing towards a rock large enough for them both to sit. Herding Erdudvyl towards it, she sat down encouraging Erdudvyl to sit by her side. Looking towards the high walls of Ravenscourt in the distance, Loldirr sighed once more.
"Last winter I was a fool, and now I reap the benefits." Loldirr responded with frustration.
Erdudvyl held Loldirr's hand as they sat together, trying to give some comfort to the frustrated huntress. "When we are young, we all yearn for adventure in some form, this is not foolish. Foolish is to not answer the destiny that was thrown upon you."
Loldirr scoffed at the comment, "Destiny? Hmmph! The excuse of someone who wishes to believe they are more than they are."
Erdudvyl felt hurt by the comment but was determined not to show it, she took her time in determining the correct response. "You may not believe in destiny, you may not believe in your human gods, but no one else could do what you have done."
"How do you know? Perhaps there is another sorceress out there that could have defeated the Shadow, or controlled the Widow Maker. Who could have walked from the fire and from the frozen cave at Jorguldheim? Why does it have to be me?" Loldirr asked.
"At any time, there can only be thirty-six Sorcerer's of the Elements, six of fire, six of water, six of air, six of earth, six of life and six of death. In all the scrolls that I have read at the tower of mages, only once has there been an Elemental Sorcerer; one that controls all six spheres. Not only that, but for you to be of the one of the highest dynasties in human society is nothing short of a miracle. Only a Sorcerer of Fire could walk from the flames at Lionmane, only a Sorcerer of the Elements could have fought and survived a dragon and another Sorcerer, to gain the tools to defeat a Death Wraith. Only an Aex-Igh could unite the Fæordic tribes and bring them to defeat the forces of Lionmane that stood at the gates of Ravenscourt. Only a Sorcerer of death could have the power to control the second Death Wraith who was sent to kill you. That's not just a miracle, that has to be destiny." Erdudvyl spoke with conviction.
Another sigh parted from Loldirr's lips.
"Yet it's not destiny that troubles you," continued Erdudvyl, "what is it?"
"Life and death and how the choices I make effect one thousand or just one." Loldirr responded.
"You speak of Kirken Merrithorpe?"
Loldirr nodded. "I hope the decision rests with Ethelston,"
"Yet you know it won't?" Erdudvyl interjected.
Loldirr nodded.
"Another reason why you are chosen, you are wise beyond your years. Ethelston wishes to have the decision for himself, yet he too know's that the nobles will demand the choice falls at your feet."
"And how is that fair?" Loldirr asked. "Kirken has harmed his family far greater than mine, I do not share the same trauma that he faces when determining Kirken's fate."
"No, you do not. Yet you understand his trauma, possibly more than most. This decision is not about how he arranged the death of Ethelston's mother, or how he assisted in the attempt to kill Edric. This decision has nothing to do with how your parents were murdered or how Ravenscourt was treated so poorly for many winters. This is about you, and your character. What type of woman will end up sitting on the throne of Lionmane when the civil war comes to an end."
Loldirr grunted in frustration at the realisation of the task. Kirken's sentence was nothing more than politics. One incorrect choice and the people around her could turn their back on her in an instant.
One winter ago, she complained of life without adventure, yet the adventure had exposed something else that Loldirr had not anticipated.
Renown.
Now she was known from Ravenscourt to Bleufontaine as Loldirr of House Aex-Igh, the true empress of the Isovine throne. Stories of her, not only surviving an encounter with a Death Wraith three times but killing one, meant the name Loldirr Wraithslayer was starting to be whispered with fragility across the plains. While her failed execution at Lionmane, walking out of the burning pyre, meant she had been kissed by fire untouched by the scorching flames.
Loldirr was a walking miracle, revered by many, yet one wrong decision could cause the fragile foundation she had established to crumble hopelessly.
Edric Darke, her guardian and Ethelston's father had trained her well for a life of nobility and politics, but the reality was something different from the lessons that she so often dismissed as irrelevant.
Erdudvyl unexpectedly embraced Loldirr causing the redhead to shudder slightly. "Do not doubt yourself Wraithslayer, you have the blood of royalty and the wisdom of the ages deep in you. You will make the right decision."
Loldirr nuzzled into Erdudvyl's embrace. "Don't you start calling me that too!" Loldirr chuckled nervously.
"What? Wraithslayer? I would embrace that Moniker if I were you. Even Ethelston, the Manticore Hunter, envies such a name!" Erdudvyl responded with a cheeky glint in her blue eyes.
"You have still some time," Erdudvyl continued, "collect your thoughts and commit to them. Do not let the nobles see the doubt and fear in your mind, for that will cause the divide that you fear most."
Erdudvyl stood to her feet before unnaturally curtseying towards Loldirr, the action leaving Loldirr unnerved.
"What would you do?" Loldirr asked just as Erduvdyl was to walk away.
Erdudvyl turned and faced Loldirr, her eyes appeared darker than normal, "I am an Elf. It is unthinkable for an Elf to attempt the form of treason that Kirken is known for. To arrange the death of his liege and family to place a puppet at the head of the city would be frowned upon by even the outcasts of Elven society. Human's lust for power is something we can not comprehend and as a result I can not advise on such things."
Loldirr nodded before her glum face looked towards the snow by her feet, "I understand."
Another sigh came from her elven companion, one born of deep frustration. "There is one that could help. One that understands life and death in giving and receiving in equal measure. One that is likely impartial as well."
"Who?" Loldirr asked, her eyes brightening at Erdudvyl's suggestion.
Erdudvyl, turned away, regretting the words exiting her mouth, "Forget I said, the risk to speak to him is perhaps far to great."
"Who?" Loldirr insisted.
Another sigh came from Erdudvyl before she looked once more at Loldirr. "The one that you are bound to in life and death. The Death Wraith that you procured, Sir Gervais Vanderbilt. The Widow Maker."