Chapter 339: Taking the Stage
Beneath the arena, Heila settled her hat in place and gave the rest of her tools a cursory examination while she waited for the match before hers to conclude.
The hat itself had been a project that she could never have completed without help from Jacques. Her ’War Hat’ had been made from the leathery hide of the Giant Thornback Alligator that she and Ashlynn hunted for their ’graduation assignment.’ Not only did the alligator skin give it an imposing look, but Jacques had also used a bit of his own thorny magic to empower a ring of bony thorns around the center cone of the hat, giving the hat’s protective aura a sharp edge.
At her hip, she wore a long, coiled willow whip on one side, balanced by her wand, and a slender small sword on the other. The sword, named Snow Fang, had been carved from the horn of Elder Paulus, the traitorous Frost Walker who schemed against young lord Hauke, Lady Ashlynn, and everyone else in their group.
Heila hadn’t had long to practice with the small sword. She’d explained to Artificer Erkembalt when they commissioned the weapon that she didn’t know how to fight with a sword. The eclectic artificer, however, had never intended for the blade’s edge to be its most deadly feature. Instead, he’d preserved as much of Elder Paulus’ sorcery as possible within the horn-blade in the hopes that Heila could eventually learn to challenge it.
At the time, perhaps only Zedya had expected that Heila would one day become a witch, capable of using it to even greater effect, but she doubted anyone expected that she would be more attuned with water and therefore snow than even Ashlynn was. Because of that, the Snow Fang in her hands was far more dangerous than it would have been in the hands of anyone else in Nyrielle’s household, including the highly skilled Zedya.
After yesterday’s harrowing battle, Heila wished that Captain Lennart and his men had already arrived so she could borrow an appropriate set of armor from one of the Horned soldiers in his troop. Since she couldn’t, High Lady Erna had indulged her with a tunic made of fine steel scales that made her feel as though she’d temporarily joined the Scaled Clan. The armor protected her every bit as well as a coat of mail from the Vale of Mist would have, and for that, she was deeply thankful. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t representing the Vale well while wearing borrowed armor.
Suddenly, the crowd began to roar as the ’warm up’ match came to a close. From where she stood behind a massive iron gate, Heila couldn’t see who had won or lost but it hardly mattered. After four days in the arena, she’d become accustomed to the spectacle.
"If Jacques had come with us, what would he say about me now?" Heila wondered. After the way she’d teased him for using a staged battle in a smaller arena to demonstrate that he was capable of defending Ashlynn, even from the men who were already guarding her... Heila’s opinion of bloodsport had been very low at the time.
"He’d probably cheer for me," she said with a faint smile on her lips. Jacques wouldn’t hold the old grudge against her. He’d let go of far worse. Perhaps, one day, she’d learn from his example, but right now, as chains began to clank and strain and the iron gates rose, her blood couldn’t help but boil as she recalled the smug face of the rotund merchant who provoked this mess.