.Elementals.

-43-

"Forth trial is upon us competitor." Leo announced this one. "We've tested your agility, teamwork and observation skills with a few others in the previous trials. This one will be accuracy with archery! Those that cannot shot a bow are instantly disqualified as of now. There will be targets set up and you will participate in groups four, the one with the least amount of points gets disqualified, each group will shoot three times five arrows, at 150 meter, at 200 and a moving target at 150, all bows have been tested to shoot further then those distances in experienced hands so faulty equipment cannot be at fault of your failure. After each round of five arrows you will be able to change bows and finally, if any visible tricks to cheat are caught you are out. You have all been given a necklace with a crystal pendant with a number engraved in it, head to the shooting rage with the same number."

I walked over to my number, it being nineteen.

I was with an orc, a skin-taker and a Lazar.

The orc I didn't worry about him, I don't even know how he got passed the dance, but the two others worried me far more.... They are a different story.

Two very barbaric races, living in small communities and blood thirsty hunters, being good with a bow isn't a question for them.

I only knew the skin taker was one because they mixed and matched animal and other species features to most fit his wishes, this one's arms burly like those of orcs, eyes of lynx and whiskers of a cat to feel the wind.

It was said no one knew the true face of a skin taker unless they reveal it to you by themselves, few of them keeping their old appearance the moment they can consume to blood of others to change it.

The Lazars were a hunter race, built on the law of the strongest, want something? Are you stronger? Take it. This man insulted you? Are you stronger? Kill him. You want to be king? You are stronger? Behead him. Always.... The strongest always wins and they have little to no comradery  flowing through their veins.

If for nothing else, I need to win to keep those people away from Audrey and the right to be the consort, they would bring the queendom to its knees.

I brushed my hand over the bows, stopping over one.

The wood was light brown with a light blue leather grip in the middle, string just a bit too loose feeling as I picked it up.

"A practice arrow mage Mystery?" A servant held out a black feathered arrow to me.

"No." I took stance behind a line of pebbles set up as I let my magic creep into the bow, awakening a long dormant soul of the tree this once was part of.

I could do the same to a table, awaken it's soul but it usually was silent, bows are something people get attached too and take great care of and the plant feels that, the soul persisting in it even if the whole tree it came from dies out, it has a purpose and will stay for that purpose but arrows' soul were like tables, why? Even I can't answer that question.

The whispers of a time long gone rang from the bow as I nock one of the five white feathered arrows on the string and pulled the string back with three fingers, fingers next to my ear, letting the whispers adjust my aim before the start of the trial was blown in a horn and let the arrow fly.

I reached for the next and nocked that one too before shooting, repeating this until none were left, letting the bow finish its story before the soul faded into sleep again.

All my arrows hit the middle, one next to the other, the bow's song was about a father cutting the branch off and working day and night to make a bow for his hunter son as a gift to him on his wedding day, a beautiful song of love and devotion.

I set it down and went to look for another bow.

The next one was one from birch with the ends chard black, a light green grip of thin cotton, the string was just right on this one and it had marks of use, the owner's fingers having left slight dent though the years where the fabric was.

The wood sang without my help, a young soul of a tree standing in the forest, the hunter that used it had grown the tree himself and made this bow from a fallen branch, unfortunately he got old and passed away, buried between the roots of the tree he grew, a melancholic song of nurturing and the cycle of life emanated from the bow.

"A practice arrow mage Mystery?"

"No."

I grabbed the white feather arrows again and nocked one, the soul young but wise enough to guide my hands so my arrow could fly true. 

I never looked at the score my opponents got I only eyed my target and mine only.

My arrows flew and I knew I had my middle points before the last had hit.

I set down the bow and brushed it once more with the back of my hand, my staff might be from the elm but it sang no new stories I didn't know of as the soul had split so I wonder how much longer the story was if I found the tree this bow came from.

I stopped by the last bow everyone avoided and for a good reason, the second I touched the string it was pulled too taunt, it would cut anyone that wanted to pull on it enough to shoot a decent distance.

A sad look flashed through my eyes as I grabbed the old leather grip of the dark wooded bow, I brushed my finger delicately over the surface as if afraid to hurt it.

The song of misery and pain emanated from it, having seen the death of many that used it, the string too taunt to even be changed, having witnessed the pain many suffered from the string and the soul was old with one song left to sing before the soul would forever lay to rest and become a dead piece of wood like a table but no one would let it sing its sorrowful song.

"A practice arrow mage Mys--" "No." I cut him off, hard grip on the bow and nocking the arrow, firing without wait, the soul of the bow ringing out loud and clear as my fingers got lacerated by the string.

It was short and painful song but also one with a tint of hope finally shining through, that all would be alright, that despite the death and pain that followed it, the soul had hoped for a final dance.

I shot out the arrows, cutting my fingers each time I drew the string back, each time I did the song rang louder, almost deafeningly loud, the soul giving its last and.
As the last arrow flew, the soul faded into nothingness, becoming an inert piece of wood in my hands as the recurve of the bow snapped and whipped my face, leaving a bloody cut but the soul finally at peace.

I set down the broken bow with a solemn look on my face, caressing the the surface once more before walking away.

"I'm going to see a healer." I said while passing Em who had come to find me, walking passed him without slowing.

I didn't need to look to know each arrow shattered the one previously in the middle, leaving only the last arrow intact.

I knew what I did and that I passed.

The fading soul of the oak bow told me.