Amaya watched from the same place she had watched all the challenges, where Tristan had placed her on the first day. She watched as the archers shot their arrows to the targets, some being dreadfully poor and others questionably decent. The only one who hit the target dead centre every time was Tristan, Bors not far behind though sometimes his arrow went astray.
Demon slept at her feet, snoring loudly as the hawk perched on Amaya's shoulder, watching her master shoot whilst cocking her head to the side. She gave a soft call and the scout's head turned slightly to listen. "Hush now, we must not distract him." Amaya whispered, stroking the bird's feathers gently as she kept her eyes on the targets. The first round removed five participants and the other five moved aside for the next group to have their shots.
Bors came lumbering over, grinning from ear to ear. "Easy as eating pie."
"Hmm, pride comes before a fall, my dear Bors." Amaya said to him then smiled. "Just be careful of the wind, you time your shots very disgracefully from time to time." He shrugged, grabbing some wine from a squire then downed half of it in one gulp.
"Don't expect to win, why bother trying? I'm better than most of these fools without even trying but Tristan is better than I, so there is not much point in battling against him. I'll set those pups in their places then be content." Bors explained and Amaya chuckled.
"My word Bors, I'm impressed." She smiled to him as he took another drink. "How long did it take you to think all of those long words?" He chortled with laughter, spitting out some of his wine before he turned and called to Tristan.
"Oi! You sorry sod, come drink and stop being a loner!" Tristan scowled at Bors but when his hawk called to him he growled then strode over, shooting Bors a look.
"What?" He spat sharply and Bors laughed, clapping him heavily on the shoulder, so much so that Tristan jerked forwards and grabbed onto the fence to steady himself. When his hand brushed against Amaya's he whipped his own back as Amaya gave a slight jump of surprise, lifting her hand away then cleared her throat.
"You are both doing well." She complimented softly, looking at Tristan who refused to meet her gaze. Bors glanced between them and he saw the look Amaya was giving the scout, which he refused to meet still. The look was brief and Amaya turned to face Bors with a smile, meaning that he did not have time to really think about that look and where he had seen a similar expression before.
"What do you think of the knight over there?" She nodded her head to an archer who sat alone, his broad body taking command of a bench as he sat in silence, wearing a low hood over his face. "Rather secretive, don't you think?" She smirked at Tristan. "Perhaps he finds you inspiring?" A small smile tugged at his lips but Tristan did not allow it to last.
"Who is he?" Bors asked, frowning. "I don't know him."
"His name is Rodrick Marshall." Tristan answered in his usual calm, low voice. "He comes from the far north. A Scot." Amaya tilted her head to the side, regarding him with narrowed eyes but Bors chuckled at her blatant attention to the archer.
"Caught your fancy has he? If you like the shadowy, silent types then we'd feel better if you went for someone like Tristan." The scout shot a sharp look to Bors who ignored the sudden glare but Amaya had not even heard him.
"I do not trust him." Amaya murmured. "Something is wrong." Suddenly her body was filled with dread and a wracking sensation of fear pounded through her chest, causing her knees to buckle as she dropped slightly but Tristan's quick reflexes caught her, his hand slipping through the fence to keep her upright as Bors suddenly became concerned.
"Maya? What's wrong?" She whimpered slightly, shaking her head as she tried to banish the images that flickered through her mind. The only one that remained prominent in her thoughts was that of an arrow shooting towards Arthur, who was standing from his seat on the stands.
When her vision returned Amaya stood bolt upright, taking her weight again as Tristan's eyes burned before her, frowning down with a hint of worry. "You must watch him." She whispered, glancing to the hooded archer. "Something is not right."
"You're just tired from standing, Maya, tired and probably hungry. Why don't you go and sit down?" Bors suggested tenderly but Amaya turned to Tristan and gripped his jerkin tightly, pleading with him.
"I've never been wrong before, have I?" She gushed, staring upwards. "I think Arthur is in danger. Someone is going to try and shoot him!"
"You're worrying for nothing. Arthur is well protected." Bors gestured and Amaya looked to the guards standing at Arthur and Guinevere's sides, their broad shields shining in the sunlight. "Why don't you sit down with Dag over there?" Amaya shook her head and looked at Tristan again who had not moved and her fingers remained at his chest, gripping onto his jerkin until her knuckles burned white.
Slowly he lifted his hands and unlocked them from him and she flinched slightly with hurt at the motion, making Tristan pause before he dropped her hands. "I will watch." He stated simply then turned and walked away. Amaya inhaled deeply then sought Demon's thick fur, stroking his warm head as he nuzzled her face.
"You alright Maya?"
"I am fine. Perhaps you are right and I am just imagining things." Amaya replied evenly. "Don't worry about me." Bors stayed with her regardless, keeping a trained eye on her as she stroked Demon's fur, crouching beside him and only rose when Bors and Tristan returned to shoot for the next round.
Amaya did not pay much attention after that point, watching very carefully whilst her body remained tense, ready to spring into action should something happen. She moved off briefly to stand closer to the lounging archers should she need to arm herself at any given moment.
At the final round, Amaya could taste the tension in the air from the crowds as they whispered. Tristan faced the hooded archer before making his shots, shooting one arrow after the other at the various targets planted before them as well as those that the squires tossed up into the air.
When he had let his last arrow fly, the hooded figure turned and drew back the arrow. A terrible scream erupted from Amaya's throat as the arrow was pointed to Tristan who whirled around to seek out Amaya, whose scream he had heard over all the others.
He caught the terrified look in her eyes as she leaped forwards, grabbing a bow from someone standing close by then dragged the quiver with her, slinging it clumsily over her shoulder as she ran towards him but the fire in his chest was already burning.
His hawk screeched in rage as Tristan looked down at the arrow which had passed straight through him. The commoners shouted and screamed in terror as the archer drew back his hood with a hideous snarl, notching back another arrow as the guards left Arthur's side to run at Sir Gromer. He shot into the crowd as Amaya closed the distance, seeking an arrow with her hand as his volleys struck the people. "No!" Amaya bellowed and drew back her own arrow as Sir Gromer turned to aim at Arthur, who was now defenceless and had leaped to his feet, shock and terror blinding him as Tristan dropped to the ground.
Amaya let the arrow fly, feathers brushing against her cheek as, at one pace away from Arthur's neck, her arrow struck through Sir Gromer's. An inferno of anger burst through Sir Gromer as he stared at Arthur, who was unharmed then turned on the woman with a howl of rage. He swore at her but Amaya notched another arrow and struck him down with an enraged cry, not caring about honour or fair combat at that moment as Tristan lay bleeding and dying on the ground.
"Tristan!" Amaya called and she dropped her bow the moment Sir Gromer had fallen to the sand, the arrow having shot through his eye and stuck out the other end. "Tristan!" Everyone froze in place, all except Amaya who dropped down beside Tristan who coughed, rasping for breath. "Tristan…" She whispered, tears in her eyes as blood filled his mouth. He said nothing but his eyes fixed on hers, slightly wide but not from fear. It was more shock than anything else.
Swallowing Amaya pulled her hands back from caressing his face and began to rub them together, coaxing her magic to flow but he reached up with one hand and gripped hers tightly. "Don't…expose…" He spluttered but she pulled her hands free from his.
"Lay still." She whispered, trembling like a leaf as a light began to grow in her hands. "Just hold on. Hold on for me. I can't lose you, Tristan. I do not want to lose you again." He listened to her words and they spoke a thousand others. So she really did care for him. He had suspected that she still had feelings for him but being the stubborn man he was, he had ignored his instincts and left her alone. Now all he could see was all the time he had wasted trying to hate her, trying to ignore her and trying to let her go when he should have held her close to him and used every spare moment to show her how he felt. Now he was dying.
Amaya took a deep breath and closed her eyes, placing her glowing hands against Tristan's chest then began to will her powers to obey her command, begging them at the same time to save the man she knew she could not survive without.
A collective gasp shot through the crowd as they saw the magic begin to grow, burning brightly against the scout's chest as Amaya fought to save his life. Her strength began to weaken but she powered on, drawing from the strength of her mind, her inner armour to keep going. When Tristan began to close his eyes, Amaya screamed wordlessly.
Without warning a beacon of light shot from her, bursting forwards in a swift arc that engulfed her and Tristan before spreading outwards, touching everyone in the stadium and filling them with a warmth. The arrow in Tristan's chest dissolved and his wounds healed, Amaya allowing her magic to take control and guide her. She latched onto the feelings she had for Tristan, allowing their strength to keep her going until finally, after what felt like forever, his chest rose deeply from beneath her hands and her eyes flew open.
The pure white light slowly faded, either draining back into her body or dispersing when it reached too far from Amaya, who instantly rose up over Tristan to look down into his eyes as they slowly opened. "Tristan?" She breathed, daring to hope as for a moment they flickered around before his sight returned and they fixed on her.
"Gods you're beautiful." He whispered and Amaya choked on her sob, her body trembling as power still electrified every nerve in her whilst her limbs began to grow heavy with weariness, exhaustion swamping her. He lifted a hand and began to caress her cheek, lifting himself up but he too felt completely drained of strength, struggling to even sit upright as Amaya collapsed beside him.
He completely forgot they were not alone but when he looked up, he instantly became defensive and positioned himself protectively over Amaya as several guards strode over, a couple of Arthur's advisors behind them. "Seize the witch!"
"No!" Tristan snarled, trying to get up but his arm could not support his weight. Thankfully the knights swarmed to their comrades' side. Galahad picked Amaya up and held her close to him, drawing back as the guards all drew their swords. Dagonet grabbed Tristan and hauled him to his feet, helping him steady himself before letting the scout find his own balance.
"She must be imprisoned and burned for sorcery!" One of the advisors screamed, the fat one, whilst pointed to Amaya who was completely limp in her brother's arms.
"You dare touch her and I shall kill you all!" Galahad thundered but the noble turned to Arthur who had made his way down into the arena.
"It is in the law. You cannot save her this time, Arthur. The witch must die!" Arthur swallowed, glancing to Amaya and then to his people. As their king, he could not show that he favoured Amaya despite her being Galahad's sister and his friend. He would lose their respect.
"Take her away." He commanded and several shocked faces turned to him. "But do not harm her." The guards all put their swords away and one stepped forwards, holding up his arms.
"Let me take the Wolf Maiden." He spoke gently to Galahad who drew back with a snarl. "We shall not harm the woman who saved our lives. We swear it."
"Galahad." Arthur said in a warning tone but he shook his head.
"No, you cannot! I only just found her, Arthur, do not take her away from me!"
"Galahad, hold your tongue!" Arthur commanded in a raised voice then lowered it. "You will have to trust me." Galahad drew in a furious breath then carefully stepped forwards.
"I shall carry her then." Stepping back the guard nodding his head then together, they formed a box around the knight before marching away to the dungeons. Tristan made to follow, determined to keep Amaya safe but the moment he shifted his weight to step forwards, his body gave out beneath him and Dagonet lunged forwards, grabbing him under his arms.
"Bring me the wounded!" Dagonet ordered but Bors shook his head.
"Dag, there aren't any wounded. Only those who are dead." Dagonet frowned in meaning then looked to where he knew a woman had been shot through the stomach. She stood, completely stunned whilst looking down to her unharmed torso, not an arrow or wound in sight. Utterly stunned, Dagonet had to shake his head to wake himself up and remember that Tristan needed to rest. Though with the scout seemingly hell bent on following after Amaya, it looked as though he would be wrestling with him all the way.