The Vampire & Her Witch

Now that she was cutting away at the bonds that had formed between the vampire and the blade, she realized that Ignatious possessed far more energy than any simple sorcerer she’d ever encountered. Even Mistress Zedya, her first mentor in matters of mysticism and sorcery, hadn’t possessed even a quarter of the deep well of magic energy that seethed within Ignatious.

But that well of energy was rapidly running dry as the sword poured even more heat into his body, fighting back harder and harder as Heila pried each additional finger loose. By the time she’d freed all the fingers of his right hand, the flames had broken through the vampire’s defenses, consuming his left arm all the way to the shoulder in brilliant crimson flames that cast dark, dancing shadows across the snow.

On the ground beneath her, Ignatious had ceased his protests, focusing instead on stopping the flames from spreading even further. He’d given up on conquering the blade or gaining any ground. Instead, he placed his face in the diminutive witch who had come to rescue him, fighting back only to buy her the time she needed to free his remaining hand.

The blade seemed to resent his decision, growing even hotter in his hand as his faith turned further away from the Holy Lord of Light, but pain had long ceased to matter to the former inquisitor. Instead, the deepest desire in his heart was to escape this moment so that he could find a way to atone for his failure when Heila, Lady Ashlynn, Mistress Nyrielle, and everyone else was depending on him.

Guilt wracked him, and the flames fed off his guilt like lamp oil thrown on a hearth, searing the flesh of his chest, neck, and jaw. The intense eruption of flames ended an instant later as Heila’s frantic prying finally pulled the blade free of his charred and blackened hand, sending it clattering to the cold, frozen ground. Deprived of Ignatious’s deep well of power, the blade fell utterly lifeless, looking as cold as ordinary steel lying in the snow.

”Ignatious, Sir Ignatious,” Heila called, clutching at the charred robes that covered the vampire’s chest as his eyes drifted closed. ”Don’t go, you can’t go now,” she cried, afraid that his wounds were so severe that even one of Nyrielle’s progeny couldn’t endure them. More than anything, she wanted to use what little healing energy she could manifest in this barren place to tend to his wounds or at least ease his pai,n but the magic of the living was unable to do anything for those who were already dead.

”I won’t die,” Ignatious said in a voice that had grown strained and raspy. ”Not from these wounds,” he added, weakly lifting the burned husk of his right hand. ”Go now. Save Lady Ashlynn.”

”I can’t,” Heila said. ”I can’t break the ice, and I can’t get to the Tuscan,s and I can’t do anything to help her,” Heila said, balling her fists in frustration and clutching her Severing Knife so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

”But you can, can’t you?” the Willow Witch said, looking at the fallen Inquisitor with watery eyes. ”You’re strong like Sir Thane and Madame Zedya. You, you can break through the ice, can’t you? Even, even without the sword, you’re still one of Lady Nyrielle’s progeny so...”

”It doesn’t work that way,” Ignatious said, turning away from Heila and staring at the shaking, cracking ice prison. Despite the tremendous forces being unleashed within the tomb of ice, the walls held firm, losing only a few shards of ice from the outer layers at seemingly random intervals when something inside the prison struck one of the walls.

”Sir Thane was always strong, that’s why, even when Lady Nyrielle gave him the Voice of Command, he still grew stronger as a vampire,” Ignatious explained. ”And Madame Zedya trained her body in the ways of the Clan of the Great Claw when Lady Nyrielle took her in. I, I poured all of my energy into my rage when I found out what I became,” he admitted as the shame of the ways he’d squandered Nyrielle’s gift burned him with shame that was every bit as hot as the flames of the blade he’d just been freed from.

”So what can you do?” Heila asked. ”What strength do you have?”

”Lady Nyrielle gave me the Well of Power,” Ignatious said with a bitter laugh. ”It’s the vast reserve of power for sorcery that the Holy Flame Blade fed on to do this to me,” he said, gesturing at his burned face and neck. ”But now, the well is all but dry.”

”But, but what if it wasn’t?” Heila said hesitantly as an idea began to occur to her. ”Could you save her then, even if you didn’t have the sword? Is your sorcery strong enough?”

”I don’t know,” Ignatious admitted. ”But it’s impossible to know. I’d have to feast on a dozen Frost Walkers to regain my strength and heal my wounds, I...”

”Just me, just feed on me,” Heila said, rolling back the sleeve of her dress to bare her left wrist to the vampire. ”They, they say that the blood of a witch is powerful so, so, feed on me,” she said. ”And use that strength to save Ashlynn.”

”My lady, no!” Kurtz shouted, stepping in at last to snatch the young Willow Witch away from the vampire before he could even think of accepting her offer. Kurtz wasn’t that much bigger than Heila, but he was much, much stronger, and even though she struggled, he wasn’t about to let a vampire as injured as Ignatious sink his fangs into her.

”Lady Heila, you can’t,” the former gladiator insisted, trying to reason with her as she fought to free herself from his grasp. ”You’re too small. He’s too injured. He’ll drain you dry. You’ll die!”

”But he won’t,” Heila insisted, staring deeply into the vampire’s dark, haunted eyes. ”He could never hurt me because he’d never forgive himself for it.”

”Don’t you mean because Lady Nyrielle and Lady Ashlynn would never forgive me?” Ignatious said with a dark laugh. ”I’ve failed them enough already, I wouldn’t dare to take this risk.”

”No,” Heila said, her voice suddenly as cold as the mountain air around them. For a heartbeat, she stared over her shoulder at Kurtz, seeing the genuine fear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for her, and perhaps a little bit for his daughter, who would never forgive him if anything happened to Heila while he could have protected her. In any other moment, his concern would have touched her, but now it was just another obstacle between her and saving Ashlynn.

”I’m sorry,” she whispered just before slamming the hilt of her Severing Knife into Kurtz’s ribs. The impact was precise, she had learned enough as a healer to know where to hit him in order to send a shock through his body that would allow her to escape without hurting him enough to truly injure the seasoned gladiator. As his arms slackened, she twisted free and darted across the frozen ground to the injured vampire’s side, feeling a twinge of guilt from hurting the man who was only trying to keep her safe, but Ashlynn’s need outweighed everything else.

”It’s not failing others you’re afraid of,” Heila said when she arrived at Ignatious’s side, staring at him with her soft, grass-green eyes that were surprisingly gentle for someone who had been so fierce when prying him free of the blade. ”Or maybe it is, if your Holy Lord of Light is real,” she added. ”Then he’s the one you won’t ever let down.”

”So don’t,” Heila said, kneeling down at the vampire’s side and extending her wrist again. ”If that’s what it takes for you to do this, then do it for him. Do it for your Holy Lord of Light. Save her because she’s a good person who needs your help. Save her because no one else can. Save her without killing anyone because you don’t want to hurt anyone else anymore... but you can do this... can’t you?”