The Vampire & Her Witch

While parents shielded the eyes of their children from the gruesome display that bore no resemblance to honorable combat, a deeper horror rippled through those members of the audience who had enough training in sorcery to understand what was going on.

Ropati hadn’t suddenly become twice as strong, though he had gained at least half of the fallen Uksel’s power. Like burning embers, that power would fade over time until Ropati was left little different than he was now. Any gains he harvested from his companion’s death would only last for a single battle.

Captain Lennart and others from the Vale of Mists could see a familiar, fatalistic honor in such a sacrifice. In war against the Lothians, many of the Vale’s soldiers felt that they could use such desparate magic if it allowed them to protect their homes and loved ones. But to see it used by people intent on capturing one of the newest protectors of the home they loved...

Words couldn’t describe the palpable wave of anger and hatred that radiated from Lennart, Virve and any of their companions watching from outside of High Lady Erna’s private box, but anyone standing within a few feet of them quickly moved aside lest they find themselves an accidental target of that explosive rage.

On the first floor of the arena, several guards stepped forward, tugging at the sleeves of their patrons and encouraging them to pull back from the rail and take seets towards the back of the venue if they insisted on staying to watch.

”I don’t know what they’re doing, master,” one loyal servant wearing ornate but highly functional armor told the visiting lord mayor of a nearby town. ”But if it’s like the fireball from the beginning, there’s a chance the people here could be badly wounded.”

”I’m not a coward, Vestil,” the mayor snapped, raising up on his serpentine tail and turning his dark, unblinking eyes on his bearish guardian. ”I won’t be seen cowering from these animals who profane the arena with their fanaticism!”

”Not cowering, master,” his guard pleaded. ”But remembering to preserve your own life so that you may continue to fight for your town and protect your people. Look, Lord Mayor Teague has already withdrawn to the refreshment tables. Perhaps you could join him there?”

”You’re serious, aren’t you Vestil?” The serpentine mayor said with a dark frown. ”Very well, since Mayor Teague has already stepped aside, then I can join him for a cup of wine...”

Heila also recognized the nature of the cultist’s sacrifice, but unlike the sorcerers in the audience, she knew what someone like the Mother of Thorns, Ashlynn or even Jacques and Talauia could do with the amount of magical energy Ropati would have at his command if all nine of his companions succeeded in their suicidal madness.

”Don’t think I’ll let you,” Heila muttered as she tucked her wand away and drew the coiled whip at her hip. While flames engulfed the second cultist, Heila prepared to deal with the rest.

”By power bound in willow’s heart,

Let supple branches weave and dart.

Nine tongues of wood to strike and bind,

Hurl rituals of ash far behind!”

A brilliant silvery-green light surrounded her whip as she lashed out at the remaining cultists. That energy twisted and grew until the single willow whip now sported nine distinct branches, each twisting and writhing with the grace of a striking adder.

In the stands, members of the scaled clan roared with pride, their tails thumping excitedly against the ground.

”Look, look,” an enthusiastic man on one of the upper levels, holding his son up high so he could see over the crowd. ”It looks just like High Lady Erna’s spell when she bound those wicked men! The Willow Witch sees the strength of the Scaled Clan!”

The tendrils of Heila’s nine tailed whip shot unerringly at the staves held by the seven remaining cultists while two others attempted to bind Ropati before he could do anything further.

-SNAP- -CRACK-

The sound of Heila’s striking whip rolled across the arena like thunder and of the seven tails aimed at the staves of the cultists, six wrapped themselves around the dark, twisted weapons, wrenching them out of the hands of the cultists and hurling them over the arena wall, into the stands among the spectators who reached out with eager hands, catching them as if they were prizes offered by the Willow Witch herself.

Only Ropati and the final man from Uksel’s trio escaped with their weapons in hand, lashing out with gouts of flame that seared away three of the whip’s nine tails.

”Niave,” Ropati spat. ”Merciful, weak and naive.”

”Into the mountain’s hungering maw,

Your bodies fall, your spirits raw.

Through flame and ash you’ll serve my need,

As power flows from those who bleed!”

Flames erupted around the leader of the cultists forming a ring of fire that resembled the gaping maw of an apocalyptic beast, poised to swallow his fellow cultists whole. The earth cracked, belching forth noxious, sulferous clouds that coiled around the remaining cultists, leeching their life and power from their bodies with every breath they took. And at the center of it all, Ropati stood, his arms held wide open while his eyes began to smolder with a hunted, infernal blaze.

In her private box, High Lady Erna slid off of her gilded throne, gathering iridescent energy to her hands as she prepared to intervene. Already, this battle had violated several traditions of the arena and only Heila’s calm, capable handling of the situation along with Ashlynn and Nyrielle’s reassuring presences had given her reason to allow this to play out.

But now, seeing the dark, gaping maw formed by a ring of noxious flames and feeling the power flowing toward the leader of these madmen, she felt that if she did not act, she would loose the only chance she had.

”Wait, please,” Ashlynn said, leaving her own gilded seat to join High Lady Erna at the railing. ”This moment is important for Heila,” she said, looking down at her diminutive friend with a complicated gaze.

Thus far, Heila had won all of her victories without killing any of her opponents, and while she had been forced to kill many times in the corrupted trial she faced from the Ancient Willow and her predecessor Cecile, there was a difference between killing a person in a vision and taking a life in reality.

It was a cruel lesson, but one that Ashlynn had been forced to learn herself when she confronted Sir Kaefin at Owain’s summer villa. Now, it was Heila’s turn to face this dark right of passage, but at least she had made preparations to take this step. Ashlynn didn’t know how it would affect Heila if they swooped in now to resolve matters on her behalf, but she was afraid that it would form a scar that could haunt Heila for years to come.

”Mistress Nyrielle and I will help safeguard the people if it is necessary,” Ashlynn promised. ”But right now, this is Heila’s fight and I still believe that she can resolve it.”

”You’ve already healed my people once tonight,” Erna said, lowering her hands and dismissing the iridescent energy. ”But she had better resolve this soon... I don’t know how much longer we can give her before that man becomes an uncontrollable calamity.”