Even from the further distance, the second arrow also landed dead center.

Mairwen watched with her father from the shade of the canopy. "Well, he is a good shot. I will give him that." Her voice was calm even though her body was tense. She was glad she had not watched him practice up until this point, or her nerves might have gotten the better of her.

Orhan gave a pained smile. "Timur has enjoyed archery since he was young. He is the best shot among the Dunesmen."

The scientist crossed his arms defiantly "He is not as good as the princess," he said without hesitation.

"When she is at her best, I agree," Devrim responded.

"Which I most certainly am not today," Mairwen added with a wry chuckle, finishing her father's unspoken thought.

Timur walked over with an outstretched arm to welcome the princess to the field. His bow was slung across his back. "It is your turn, Your Highness."

The girl gave a brief nod. "So it is." Mairwen took the man's hand, and he helped her from her seat.

While the crowd had applauded Timur's skill, they cheered wildly as the princess took the stage. It was clear that the girl was the favorite among her mother's troops, but even most of the Dunespeople seemed to be on her side. Onlookers pressed in to see until they were forced back for safety reasons.

The first mark was the easiest. It was a mere twenty paces from the target and the girl could do it in her sleep now even with her injury. She pulled back the bow only a quarter of the way and released the shaft with one smooth motion. The arrow pierced through the same hole in the target as Timur's, drawing an impressed awe from those close enough to see the wonder.

The second shot was twice the distance as the first. Mairwen shook her injured left arm to release the tension. Pulling back the bowstring, she steadied her breathing and let her years of training do the work for her. Again her shot dead center in Timur's second hole, putting them even in the competition.

The princess ambled back toward the royal canopy with with a nearly expressionless face. Only the small twinkle in her eye gave any hint to the pleasure she felt.

Timur's jaw hung part-way open. "Did you mimic my shots on purpose?" he asked when the girl was close enough to hear him.

"Perhaps," she answered with a disinterested shrug.

"Then you are better than even the stories say," Timur mused. "But you will still lose."

"Perhaps…" Mairwen said a second time, unwilling to lose her composure. "We will know better after your next two shots."

Timur could not help but chuckle. The woman was exceptionally calm under pressure.

The third and fourth shots of Timur were nearly flawless. His fourth shot was only a hair away from the very center of the target, giving Mairwen an opening. "The wind caught it," Timur complained as he passed his opponent in the arena.

"I am sure it did," the princess sympathized. Over the past hour, the sun had disappeared behind dark clouds, bringing with it a break from the sun, but also a slight southerly breeze.

"We may want to hurry." Timur looked at the clouds warily. "I think a storm is brewing."

Mairwen inclined her head with a wink. "Then I will be quick."

The third and fourth shots were three and four times the distance of the first. And Timur was right; the wind had changed. Fortunately, the princess had trained in such conditions. Her mind quickly did the calculations as she moved her aim slightly left and up. The arrow flew at a speed that was nearly impossible to follow. It landed in the center of the target. "Just two more shots like that…" she said to herself.

The princess backed up for shot four. This one would require a her to fully draw back her bowstring. Mairwen gritted her teeth as the pain in her wrist, which had been increasing, threatened to stop her entirely. Holding her breath and closing her eyes, the girl focused and let the world melt away.

Her blue eyes snapped open. She drew the bow up, pulled back and released. A warlike yell came from the Mairwen's lips, but Renat recognized it for what it was: a cry of pain. Because he was concerned, the scientist nearly missed the perfect shot that had been made.

Mairwen was now in the lead.

As the princess walked back to the canopy, drops of rain fell onto her dark hair and pink cheeks. It was as if the sky was crying for her pain.

Even Timur could see that the girl had reached her limit. "We do not need to finish," he said gently so only she could hear. "The weather is a great excuse to declare you the winner and be finished."

"We said five shots, and five we will do. But we should hurry." Mairwen's voice was strained.

Timur could see she would not back down. "Then you may go first."

Mairwen did not argue. She simply stepped out of the canopy determined to finish the job she had started. Tears streamed down her cheeks and mixed with the rain. Her wrist and arm felt on fire as she lifted her arms for the final shot. The target was so far that Mairwen needed to squint to see it.

It would take most of her strength on a normal day, but she would have been able to hit it. However the day was not normal. The rain was gracious enough to pause as she took her stance. Mairwen wiped the water from her forehead with a fabric offered by a servant, careful not to disturb the cut above her eye. She had not been wearing a wrap on her head, so she wrung out her braided hair and flung it behind her back.

'Enough stalling,' the princess scolded herself. She took the bow from the servant, who had been holding is patiently. Mairwen lifted the bow and her wrist immediately protested. She pulled back and the pain of the cut felt like her skin was being stretched beyond it's capacity. It was too much and Mairwen released prematurely.

The shot flew wildly, but somehow still managed to hit the outermost ring of the target. The crowd gasped knowing that the shot would cost the princess the match. Even the thunder rumbled its disapproval.

Holding her head high, Mairwen returned to the canopy where Eira waited with a dry, warm blanket. A healer rushed over to check the girl's wounds and tend to them. Sure enough, the cut across the girl's wrist had broken open.

"You did your best," Renat wiped water from the girl's cheek.

"That is all anyone could ask," Devrim echoed.

"Too bad it wasn't enough." The princess heaved a heavy sigh. "Finish what you started, Timur. You are too good a shot to miss. I will know if you cheat."

Timur stood from his seat with a heavy heart. This is not how he felt victory should taste, yet surely victory would be his. It was not far from the canopy to the final mark. Timur contemplated throwing away his shot, but he knew that would not go well for him.

Instead, he lined up his body and his hips, and after a deep breath, he drew back and released the perfect shot. Only a split second stood between himself and his goal.

Except…

From the sky, a bolt of lightning streamed down from the angry clouds through the arrow and into the sand below. The crack was so loud and sudden that those present temporarily lost their hearing and vision. The people were too stunned to run.

When his senses cleared, Timur ran toward the target to see what became of his arrow. The hot sand from the strike sent steam from the rain in all directions, but at last the result was visible. The shaft of the arrow was gone. But ten paces from the target, a piece of solidified glass held the arrowhead in its grip. The lightning had melted the sand and reformed around the small piece of metal it received.

Timur did the only thing he could: he laughed. He laughed so long and hard that some began to thing he had gone crazy

"What happened?!" Orhan squinted at the sky and then at his son. He was very concerned by his son's odd behavior.

The younger man carefully dug out the glass from the surrounding sand and brought it for the others under the canopy to see. Somehow the glass was already cool to the touch.

"That's not fair," Mairwen said when veiwed the glass's contents. "You must shoot again!"

"And risk the lightning striking me next?" Timur gasped. "No thank you. I requested a Fate's Dilemma and The Maker himself answered instead." He turned to those who remained in the crowd and held up the glass trophy. "Princess Mairwen is the winner!"

Almost instantly the weather cleared as if the storm had never come. The crowd cheered nearly as loud as the lightning strike.

Timur knealt before the sitting Emperor and princess. "I concede. I will never be Chieftain."

"Nonsense," Mairwen disagreed. "In fact, I plan to recommend that a Dunesman be added to the Council. Then perhaps you will feel your voice it heard."

"You are wise beyond your years!" Orhan praised the princess. It only proved he had the right royal to support.

With a depreciating grin, Timur gave the princess the arrowhead. "A memento of my folly." Turning back to the crown he began the chant. "Long live Princess Mairwen. Long live the Warrior Princess!"