The forest spread around her, ancient and vast, bearing a life more complicated than its constituent parts. She could sense the life all around her, a fox scampering into the undergrowth, a flock of birds breaking the silence as a boar moved towards them. Ahead of her, piercing the canopy was a tower, a single spike of ancient stone, smooth stone in the manner of her people. The top was open to the elements, guarding the treasure she sought, four guardians surrounding it, bows at the ready.

In this place, it was easy to sense the heart of the ancient wood, to tap into the power and awareness it had, or at least that the individual elements had. As she relaxed her senses, a mist seemed to spring up around her, ancient magic thick in the air. Thin lines spiralled around certain trees, magical wards to warn of her approach. A few of the trees even rustled and shifted, their spirits awakened, all to try and block her.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, she began to move. With light steps, not even the grass was disturbed as she moved, branches bending out of her way, silent as a leaf on the wind. The outer perimeter was easy to get through – too few guards, spread over a wide area, and too much forest blocking their sight. She took the opportunity to help herself to a few arrows, just in case she needed them – and some were human-forged, the tips gleaming and fresh steel, rather than of ancient elven craft that had been endlessly forged and re-forged, razor-sharp but miscoloured from repeated use.

Up ahead, the grass rustled, and Parth pressed herself against a tree, crouching and blending into the dappled shade, relying on her cloak to conceal herself from sight. A figure ran from a patch grass, crouching low, golden-blonde hair trailing behind them like sunlight. They ran past Parth, not noticing her, before rolling into another area of cover. Parth drew an arrow, slowly drawing back and then firing, aiming it near them.

As soon as it parted the long grass, they reacted, bolting from cover, running away. Hopefully drawing attention to themselves, and away from her. A few seconds later, there was a shout, followed by the snapping thwip of another shot and the sounds of running. Parth smiled to herself. That should keep one of her competitors, and several of the guards, busy.

With greater speed now, she moved forward, keeping out of the heaviest terrain. Something moved ahead of her; a gnarled arm with fingers like raking twigs, lazily trailed through the air, a dryad half-out of its home tree. A face, a strangely-shaped thing of wood and bark, slowly turned around, amber eyes gleaming. Parth threw herself to the side, rolling behind a bush. Had it seen her? Going around would take precious minutes. But no alarm was raised. She peered through the greenery, to see the face looking away. She wriggled forward on her belly, rising to a crouch, and then running along in an awkward squatting run, trying to stay low and out of sight.

She reached a low stone tower, not high enough to breach the canopy, the stones soft with moss. As she pushed herself against it, she heard movement above, the shifting of a foot, the gentle skittering of a kicked pebble. Her heart hammered in her chest, as someone tunelessly whistled above her, scattered notes of a crude human tune, far too choppy and fast-paced to be proper music. Gweledydd, then. Parth grinned – this should be easy.

She ducked, picking up a stone, and tossing it upwards. Before it landed she darted around to the next side, running up the old, ruined staircase as fast as she could, drawing one of her shortswords as she moved. As she reached the top, Gweledydd was where she had been, bent over and looking down. Parth resisted the urge to simply kick him off, but he was more fun to tease. Before he could turn, she put the tip of her blade against his neck, hard enough to draw a touch of blood.

He spread his arms slowly, not wanting to risk any sudden reactions or further pain. ‘That was a cheap trick.’

Parth withdrew the blade. ‘But effective.’ He stood and turned. ‘You’re my prisoner now, heard anything interesting?’

He shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m just here for the party, not like any of the elders trust me, they keep complaining that I’m “corrupted by human ways” and the like. But no winner’s been announced yet. I’ve got money riding on you though, so it might be wise to ask me about the eastern defences. Although don’t tell the elders that I’m gambling on the coronation, I’m in enough trouble with them already.’

‘What’s on the eastern side?’

‘As a captured prisoner, I, of course, have no choice but to answer you. There’s a whole mass of the Royal Guard there. I think your repeated, and loud, mentioning of that being the easiest approach may have been effective. Your cousin didn’t start there though, so keep an eye out.’

‘Thanks.’ She ran a finger along his throat, and he collapsed with a theatrical groan, mimicking a death, before yelping in pain and rolling over as he fell onto his sword hilt. She crouched over him, taking a glowing gem from his pocket as her prize, to show her conquest. ‘Thanks for betting on me!’ He gave her a grin, before flailing in some more faked death-spasms.

The forest conveyed information to her, motions faster and more frantic, as everyone tried to get towards the prize as quickly as possible. To the east she got the impression of metal clanking, armour and weapons in use. That would hopefully be taking out most of the competition. But if Farinithia wasn’t there, then she would be the biggest competitor.

More speed now, as she ran faster, trading stealth for speed, hoping that most of the guardians were behind her, or otherwise distracted. Green tendrils of energy wafted through the air, a warding and binding spell, an angry weasel struggling against the thorny tendrils trapping it. Parth grinned, carefully reaching out and stroking the beast, calming it down, easing it out of the bindings and whispering to it, letting it run along her shoulders, taking refuge in her hood, where it squeaked at her in thanks.

Two figures burst out of the bushes, weapons flashing and clashing, the sounds of violence loud amidst the forest. It wasn’t a fair fight, one of the figures far smaller, and not fast enough to make up for their lack of strength. They were backed up against a tree, trying to defend themselves, before an arrow cut through the air, shooting into their shoulder. They dropped down in surrender, weapon falling from their hands, as Parth slipped by in the commotion.

Her goal came into the sight - a tower, kept reverently clean despite its vast age, the white stone gleaming in the bright sunlight. The entrance was locked and barred, and would take far too long to break through. There must be more guards on top, but they seemed to be keeping out of sight. She started to climb up the wall, as quickly as she could, hoping no-one looked down.

As she climbed, an arrow clattered against the wall next to her, a narrow miss. She climbed faster, whispering as she did so, encouraging the tiny weeds and grasses that nestled in the cracks to grow, giving her better handholds. The tower seemed far taller than it needed to be though, without any cover on the way up. Although there was a tiny ledge, less than a hand wide, giving her somewhere to stand halfway up. Pushing herself back against the wall, she fumbled an arrow into place, looking downwards, where a member of the Forest Guard was drawing for another shot. She fired back, trying to not to push herself off the wall as she did so. Her own shot went wide, but was close enough to make them flinch, giving her time for another. This one hit, rattling off the helm. Less of a sport than Gweledydd, he walked backwards, leaning on a tree now he had been defeated. But he hadn’t called for help, and it seemed she might be the first here.

As she neared the top, a hand reached down, a familiar bracer reaching towards her, removing any thoughts she had of being the first. Still, she grabbed it, glad of the boost upwards as she moved onto the top of the tower.

‘Well, you took your time. Nice touch on getting everyone to start from the east. Made my life easier.’

Parth glanced around – the four compass guards were already out of action, all doing their job and pretending to be dead. Her competition looked at her, loose and ready for action, brassy-red hair catching the wind for a moment. Her longsword was ready in her other hand, blade shining in the light. A faint gleam of magic shone around her weapon, a rune of accuracy shining on the cross-guard.

‘Very fast of you.’ Annoyingly fast, in fact – Parth had been hoping to win without having to fight anyone, close combat not being her strength, although it was Gweledydd’s.

‘Well, I had to beat you up here, didn’t I? You stole TelQesar from my clan, I’m not going to let that slide.’ Behind her, in the centre of the tower, floated a metal chest, crafted centuries ago, and within it, their mutual goal, although it was still locked shut. ‘So let’s go. Doubt we’ll have much other company, not like anyone else can keep up with us. Now draw, and lets settle this. Especially as last time you slipped away before we could properly fight, and left me to fight that minotaur!’

Parth drew her own weapons, matched shortswords – shorter than Cyentanne’s own, and the size of the roof wasn’t amenable to much movement. Cyentanne had already taken a step back, settling into a duellist’s stance, clearly planning on utilising her reach to advantage.

‘We could dice for it?’

‘Don’t be foolish. My clan has only three domains now, we’re slipping in power and influence. Although it is foolish to keep squabbling over places that were abandoned centuries ago, but we didn’t change when the Black Triad killed most of our race, why would we change now?’

She lunged, lightning-fast, a skewering thrust. Parth blocked, managing to deflect most of the force of the attack but still feeling the jolt through her wrists, as Cyentanne tried to force her backwards, off the tower. With two blades, Parth could fend her off, but each blow was strong enough to jar her arms and wrists, and eventually, one would slip through, if her stamina didn’t fail her first. She deflected and twisted, stepping to the side, Cyentanne quick enough to pull back without letting herself be drawn forward, into close quarters with Parth. Before Cyentanne could attack again, Parth drew back a hand and threw a sword.

Cyentanne blocked it, the clash of the blades loud enough to startle up a flock of birds, but giving Parth an opening. She moved forward, away from the edge of the tower. As the sword fell to the ground, Cyentanne kicked it, punting it off the edge.

‘That seemed pointless. I guess it bought you some time, but do you think you can do much with just one weapon?’ She changed stances, taking a two-handed grip on her sword, smashing at Parth with a heavy strike that would cleave straight through any defence.

She sidestepped, stepping forward and trying to get into Cyentanne’s reach, but was too slow, the blade flicking up, catching Parth along her hip cutting her clothing and her skin, as Cyentanne stepped backwards, retreating to her preferred range. She could feel an injury on her hip, warm and wet with blood, but there was no time to check how bad it was. A soft, metallic creaking interrupted them, the chest starting to glow, a light coming from inside it as the magical lock released.

‘Time to be finishing this, then. You think you can pull off some tricksy bullshit again?’ Cyentanne kept up the attacks, blade slicing the air, Parth barely able to dodge and avoid more injuries. This close, it was too risky to attempt any spells, and going for her bow would guarantee her loss. Something soft squirmed against the back of her head, a wet nose sniffing the top of her neck.

Parth jumped back, raising her empty hand in a dramatic shape, fingers splayed into an arcane gesture. As expected, Cyentanne rushed towards her, aiming to strike Parth down before she could cast a spell. Mid-stride, Parth threw her other sword, forcing Cyentanne to block. Before she could recover, Parth threw herself to the side in a dive, hand reaching into her hood, pulling out and throwing the weasel. It landed next to Cyentanne, then scampered up her leg and body, running around her neck, biting and squeaking at her, and sending her staggering around in confusion.

Parth pushed her hand against her side, feeling the blood of the wound wet and hot on her hand, as the chest clicked open, revealing a head-sized orb, bright with a green radiance. As Cyentanne yelled, trying to grab at the weasel while also keeping hold of her weapon, Parth scrabbled to her feet, covering the few steps to the chest, slapping her hand against the orb, smearing her blood onto it. The light changed colour, green shifting to cold blue, as a scent of ice and fresh snow filled the air.

Behind her, Cyentanne managed to pull the weasel off, holding it by the scruff of the neck, as it chittered and wriggled.

‘Goddamit. A weasel? Not even a magical creature, or a spell or anything, but a weasel? See, this is why no-one likes you.’ She sighed, but smiled, still holding the weasel at arm’s length, not wanting to let it go in case it attacked again. It writhed in her grasp, clearly unhappy with the situation.

Parth pointed at herself. ‘Hey, I’m a charismatic twice-Queen. Thrice-Queen, now, actually. And you need to practice more, if all it takes to defeat you is a weasel.’

‘Challenge me to a duel, see what happens. Winter’s bite, you’re buying all the drinks tonight!’ She looked around at the four downed guards, now slowly standing up again, stretching their limbs. ‘And if any of you mention this, Law of Preservation or not, I’m chopping your balls off. And can you take this thing, it seems pretty angry!’

She threw the weasel back at Parth, who caught it and began soothing the creature. ‘Where did I win this time?’

‘You didn’t even know? At least pretend to take this seriously! It’s the Everfrost Mountains. Mostly dwarfholds I think, but you now own a lot of broken, shattered palaces, mostly filled with ice, rubble and humans. The Black Trinity killed virtually everyone there, although it used to be a major kingdom. I think there’s a few holds sealed beyond time or sent to other planes and that sort of thing, if you can get a group together to try and get to them.’

Parth squinted towards the setting sun, where something was moving towards them. Cyentanne followed her look and groaned. ‘Well, looks like the elders are here. Remember, if they ask, it was an epic duel, that you only narrowly won. No mention of bloody weasels!’

A flying platform skimmed towards them, lightly ruffling the leaves of the trees beneath as it moved. The six figures it bore were all dressed in full, formal robes, stiff and ancient, layer upon layer of clothing, all bearing ancient and potent magics. Parth took a moment to brush herself down, trying to make herself more presentable before they arrived, as the disc hovered next to the tower.

One of the elders stepped forth, striking their staff of office against the disc with a loud chiming noise, the sound bringing any fights still going on to a stop.

‘And so the trial is concluded! The Crown of the Everfrost Mountains, of bountiful Terynas Ia, the gleaming ice caverns of Ogafu’ceynes, and the crystal woods of Coedwigoedd, I have the honour of declaring Parthenelle TalQasar Belphern to be the Queen of the Broken Ice, regent of the Everfrost Mountains, from this day forth, until she should pass forever from this realm.’

Parth held up the weasel. ‘I dub this humble follower my knight, of the White Tooth.’ It chittered appreciatively.

This cut off his excessively-wordy speech. ‘No. We’ve been over this. Just because it doesn’t explicitly state anywhere in the ancient and sacred laws that only those of true birth into an enlightened race can be given titles, doesn’t mean that woodland animals are acceptable to be knighted.’

‘Show me.’

The elder looked to the others for support, another of them stepping forward, holding out a delicate circlet of gold, thing loops spiralling around four brilliantly blue crystals, each shaped like a shard of ice. ‘Parthenelle TalQasar Belphern, queen now thrice over, take your crown, with all the power and responsibilities that it conveys.’

Parth and Cyentanne looked at each other, resisting the urge to roll their eyes at the pomposity. Nevertheless, Parth stepped forward and knelt, accepting the crown being placed on her head, the points of the crystals pricking her scalp. She stroked and soothed the weasel, gently tapping it on the head and whispering. ‘Knight of the Everfrost.’ There was a spark from her finger, a streak of fur suddenly turning white, before she put him on the floor, where he chittered at her before scampering off.

‘If you are quite done playing with the wildlife?’ His tone was irritated, before he switched back to a slower, more dignified, tone. ‘You will bear a heavy burden, Parthenelle TalQasar Belphern. Our people are much diminished, and it will be your generation that must bear the torch of our glory and power into the future. But, as Loremaster of this community, it falls to me to inform you of a task, levied upon the bearer of the title.’ He spoke a magic word, the orb flying towards him. He caught it, fastidiously avoiding the blood stain. Something appeared from the top of the orb, magical light fading to reveal an oversized ring.

‘This is the ring of Afarania Castle, sealed beyond time by most ancient magic. Darkness sleeps there, the Black Songstress, a vile servant of the Black Triad, the ancient and accursed slayers of our race. By ancient pact, you are now bound to Afarania – pledged in honour and glory to the ruler of that place, bound by ancient pacts. Should they be released, then it will be your duty to marry them, to unite your bloodline with theirs.’

Parth looked at the ring – a chunky band of gold, topped with a gemstone. She tried it on, the thing immediately slipping off. ‘Bit big. So what would happen if a man were to win it? I bet they wouldn’t have to get married, would they?’

‘It is an ancient and sacred treasure, Queen Parthenelle, and an oath of utmost power. Don’t lose it! Were you male, then you would be bound by the oaths of fealty, in a connection as deep and sacred as any marriage.’

Parth reached into her tunic, pulling out a necklace and snapping the catch, stringing it on the chain. ‘Does it do anything, or have any magical powers?’

‘It has none, beyond the august responsibility it bestows upon the wearer.’

‘That’s a bit disappointing. Not even a minor spell?’

‘No, the only magic it bears is from your devotion to the oath it signifies.’

‘So if I complete the quest, then it becomes magical?’ Parth twisted it around, checking for any magical runes or other signs of power.

‘No! It is not magical in any way! But Afarania Keep was once a jewel of our people, a sacred place of soothing and healing. Now it lies sealed beyond time, binding an ancient monster – if she were to be defeated, then it would be a mighty blow for the light, as well as adding to our dwindling numbers.’

Parth looked at the ring again – heavy, overly gaudy, but at least it was well made, tough enough to resist when she tried to gouge the metal with a nail. ‘I guess if I’m ever nearby, then I can go and have a look.’ The elder’s mask of aloofness was starting to slip, the one in front of her getting increasingly red-faced as she refused to rise to the formality of the occasion. ‘Can we get a ride back? It’s quicker than walking.’

‘The Disc of the Sky is an ancient artefact of utmost power, and not to be used for such trivialities!’

Parth stepped forward, onto the floating platform. Looking down and seeing the drop below, with nothing but a swirling magical light to support her, was a bit strange, but the thing had survived millennia, so was unlikely to break now. Beneath them, the other contestants gathered, along with the Guard, many nursing injuries, druids tending to their wounds.

‘You’re heading that way anyway though. And I’m the first thrice-Queen in how many centuries? So showing me off a little might do you all some good. And you’re going to be telling me about what an honour this is, so you may as well start now. Cyentanne, you want to come with?’

Cyentanne took the chance to hop onto the platform as well, looking a little nervous as the elders glared at the both of them, before relenting. The disc began to move again, skimming bare inches over the tops of the trees, animal life scattering at their approach. Feeling the breeze through her hair was nice, although being able to see everything rushing past just below her was discomforting, although she tried to look more awed, not wanting to annoy the elders anymore then she already had.