The Vampire & Her Witch

It had been decades since Nyrielle’s last visit to Tausau’s ramshackle fortress but the underground levels had changed very little since the last time she visited. The tapestries hanging on the walls had changed and the number of oil lamps had increased but Nyrielle noticed none of these things in her haste to reach the underground chamber that had been prepared to receive her and Zedya.

”Mistress,” the unremarkable-looking vampire said as she dropped into a curtsey when Nyrielle swept into the room. ”You didn’t spend much time with our host... did it fail?”

”The sorcery didn’t fail,” Nyrielle said bluntly. Her midnight eyes swept the room, ignoring the opulent suede-covered chairs and elaborately carved furnishings until she spotted the lacquered screens that gave an additional element of privacy to the place where her coffin-like daybed had been placed.

”Something is happening to Ashlynn,” Nyrielle said, placing a hand on her chest. The echo of Ashlynn’s heartbeat within her chest was calmer than it had been, with a strong, steady beat that contained fierce determination. The tendrils of foreign energy probing and pulling at their bond had ceased their efforts to separate the two women but they still clung stubbornly to the mystical tie that bound Ashlynn’s life to hers.

”Do we need to return to the Briar, Mistress?” Zedya asked, pausing in her preparations. To Zedya, who had served in the manor of a baron before taking her place at Nyrielle’s side, Tausau’s manor felt like a poor imitation of opulence. She understood that the aging vampire wanted to give his ragtag progeny a life that felt luxurious after a lifetime of persecution, but the effect was more gaudy than extravagant.

The only thing she felt was worthy of her Mistress’ stature in the rooms they’d been provided was the collection of fine wines. She was preparing to pour a glass of a local vintage with a strong, oaky flavor that she felt would remind Nyrielle of the scent of growing things that often accompanied Lady Ashlynn until Nyrielle’s words left her wondering if they should depart immediately to rescue their Seneschal.

”I wouldn’t think that the Mother of Thorns would do anything to harm Ashlynn, but perhaps her teaching methods are a bit... extreme,” Zedya said, recalling her own days under the powerful witch’s tutelage.

While Amahle could present a gentle and motherly guise to the world, only a fool would forget her title as the Mother of Thorns. When the time came, anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of her protective thorns would discover just how sharp the woman wielding them could be.

”This doesn’t feel like something the Mother of Thorns is doing directly,” Nyrielle said. Working quickly, she released the locks on her darksteel lined daybed before turning back to Zedya.

”There are still a few hours before dawn,” Nyrielle said, her words crisp and quick as she delivered instructions. ”Mingle with Uncle’s progeny. There are more than sixty of them. Tomorrow night, I’ll want your impressions of them.”

”Someone has given Tausau orders to withhold assistance from the Vale of Mists,” she added bluntly. ”You don’t need to learn who, but expect that things may be more delicate than we thought they’d be when we left the Vale. I’m not to be disturbed unless I fail to emerge for more than three days.”

”Yes, Mistress,” Zedya said, dropping into another curtsey and holding it until her Mistress had retreated to the safety of her daybed. In the past two decades, there had been very few things that could bring out her Mistress’s impatience and worry, but now that Lady Ashlynn had entered the picture, things were changing rapidly.

After several weeks of experiments with Nyrielle, Zedya found herself changing as well. She’d claimed her vengeance against the nobles who wronged her long ago and for years, the only emotions she’d protected against the millstone of time were her dedication and reverence for Nyrielle. So long as she could serve well, she was content.

Now that Nyrielle had begun to help her rekindle her heart, those emotions had become more nuanced and complex. There wasn’t just a deep satisfaction in performing her own duties well or pride in the knowledge that her Mistress had come to rely on her. Seeing her Mistress’s happiness had begun to manifest as a happiness of her own.

At the same time, seeing her Mistress pained with anxiety for Lady Ashlynn, at a time like this, left Zedya feeling something else that was distinctly unpleasant. Helplessness. There was nothing she could do to aid Nyrielle in this, so before she left the underground room to carry out the orders she’d been given she gave Nyrielle’s coffin-like daybed a very long look.

”Good luck, Mistress. Lady Ashlynn,” she said, offering a final, unwitnessed curtsey before she left the underground room.

Within her daybed, Nyrielle closed her midnight eyes and allowed herself to sink fully into the darkness. Without distractions, she could focus entirely on the flow of energy between herself and Ashlynn.

Distance made it more difficult to notice subtle differentiations flowing across the bond of blood. Part of why Nyrielle felt such great distress over the sensations emanating from the echo of Ashlynn’s heartbeat within her chest is because they were distinct, uncomfortable, and even painful. If she could feel these changes when she was more than a hundred leagues away, how fierce would it have felt to stand next to Ashlynn during this assault?

But in the darkness, when she focused on Ashlynn’s presence she felt not only the echo of her lover’s heartbeat, she could hear the rustling of wind in the leaves of trees, smell the rich and sharp scent of pitch and sap... All of the subtle things that defined Ashlynn’s energy in her mind were still there, pure and strong despite the distance.

Her brows furrowed as she focused more closely on the energy she felt from Ashlynn. Her lover’s presence was so strong in her heart that it was difficult to notice the tendrils of something similar, something that almost blended with Ashlynn’s energy of the forest.

”An Ancient Oak?” Nyrielle muttered, finding the presence to be similar to the Ancient Oaks in the Vale of Mists. And yet, there were differences as well. The energy of an Ancient Oak was strong, unyielding, and withstood the test of time through might alone. This felt much softer, and every time she thought she’d gotten her hands around the entangling roots of this energy, it gave ground, yielding to her approach only to return when she turned her attention to another tendril.

”Frustrating,” she said, her hands flexing like talons at her side. She wished to rip and tear at this thing that tried to come between her and Ashlynn, that dared to attempt to pull them apart, but several of its roots had already sunk deep into Ashlynn’s heart. If she tore at it violently, she might destroy it, but she would harm her lover in the process.

Hours slipped by and Nyrielle found herself no closer to a solution. The more energy she expended on forceful attempts, the more entangled she became. Worse, the approach of dawn seemed to grant this interloper even more strength while Nyrielle felt herself flagging and faltering as light spilled across the sky.

”Endure my darling,” Nyrielle breathed as she felt the first rays of light fall upon the earth above her. Without the shrouding mists of the vale, persisting after the sun rose above the horizon, even when she was beneath the earth, was incredibly difficult and she’d exhausted much of her strength in the struggle.

”I will return to you...” she started to say, only to be pulled forcefully from the waking world into the distant memories that took the place of dreams.

This time, however, the place where Nyrielle found herself was nowhere she remembered. The city around her was crowded with throngs of people, and thousands of candles had been lit in lanterns all over the city. The sounds of waves crashing could be heard in the distance and the smell of salt filled the air.

”Nyrielle,” Ashlynn’s voice called from behind her. ”I thought the visions and tests were over,” she said, looking around at the familiar city in confusion before looking at the woman who shouldn’t, couldn’t possibly be here.

For Ashlynn, her trial at the hands of Cecile and the Ancient Willow had only just ended. They were supposed to be releasing her so that she could return to Amahle and bring the completed seed of witchcraft to Heila. Why then had she entered another vision?

The vision of Nyrielle before her was unlike any she had seen before. Rather than her usual dark and lacy garb, the vampire had dressed in a pale seafoam blue dress adorned with strands of pearls and a seashell bracelet that looked like something Ashlynn had once given Jocelynn.

All around them, the lights of a festival glowed, reminding Ashlynn of one of the rare occasions that she and Jocelynn had been free to enjoy an evening of revels among the common folk while the city celebrated the Holy Festival of Light. It was as if they had returned to one of Ashlynn’s most precious memories of her home in the years before she left for Lothian March, but Nyrielle had taken Jocelynn’s place at her side.

After days of enduring the visions and trials of the Ancient Willow, Ashlynn only wanted to return to her small hut to rest, but now she was presented with yet another vision of Nyrielle. Only this one looked far more real than any facsimile conjured by the Ancient Willow... and she looked deeply concerned as her midnight eyes gazed at Ashlynn.