The Vampire & Her Witch

”...I’ll rescue Lady Ashlynn...”

Ignatious’s promise gave Heila the strength she needed to keep her eyes open, even as she clung to the vampire for warmth. Her body felt as cold as the mountain winds after giving him most of her magic energy and more of her blood than someone her size had any business offering. But nestled in the fallen Inquisitor’s strong embrace, Heila didn’t feel the slightest trace of regret.

Rescuing Ashlynn was more important than anything but after touching his heart and helping to wash away the years of guilt and self-loathing that smothered his flames, she found herself almost as happy to have helped him heal as she was certain she’d feel when her closest friend escaped the icy prison that held her captive.

Walking with a gentle, flowing grace that no ordinary human could match on the rough, icy terrain, Ignatious took several steps away from the tomb of ice before kneeling in the snow where the Holy Flame Blade had fallen.

”Sir Ignatious, no!” Kurtz called, rushing over to block the vampire before he could lay a hand on the weapon that had nearly consumed him with it’s flames. Already, the veteran gladiator could tell that Heila had pushed herself far too close to the brink of death to snatch the vampire back from the wounds he’d suffered for trying to control the weapon.

If anything happened now, it was impossible for Heila to save him again. Worse, the way the vampire held her close to his chest, if the sword unleashed its flames again, it was likely to burn Heila along with the foolish, stubborn vampire.

”It’s fine,” Ignatious said, raising a hand to block the horned guardian before he could come close enough to touch the blade. ”I know why I failed, thanks to Lady Heila,” he said with a soft smile as he looked at the diminutive beauty in his arms. ”I won’t waste her gift and I won’t put her in any danger, I swear it.”

The vampire didn’t wait for Kurtz to respond before shifting Heila in his arms, holding her tightly with his left arm while his right hand reached out for the ruby and gold hilt of the Holy Flame Blade.

”There’s no time for foolishness,” he told his companion of many decades. ”I don’t need your flames to punish anyone, but a good woman might die if we can’t burn through her prison. Just this once, even if it’s the last time you ever submit to me, help me to help her.”

This time, when he reached for the blade and let the warmth of his magic flow into the hilt, he felt none of the searing hostility that greeted him the first time he touched the blade. Instead, he felt a familiar heat pushing back against him, refusing to submit to him without being forced to, but when he pushed back harder with the heat of the gentle, warming flames that Heila had stoked within him, the resistance melted away like snow brought before the hearth.

Brilliant red and gold flames enveloped the blade, dancing along its length casting a soft golden glow that lit the surrounding area more than dozens of torches would have.

”So warm,” Heila whispered as she snuggled closer to Ignatious’s chest, close enough to hear the slow, steady beat of his heart that pulsed with her blood in his veins.

”Stand aside, soldier,” Ignatious said, standing up to his full height turning to face the cracking ice prison. Now, for the first time in decades, with a flaming sword in his hand and a ’horned demon’ in his arms, Ignatious felt like he’d finally returned to the man he’d once been. Or rather, he felt like he’d become the man he always wished to be.

It didn’t matter that he was a vampire or that Heila was from the Horned Clan. She reached out a hand to save him from himself when his refusal to address the burdens and scars in his heart nearly cost him his life. Now, she was counting on him to rescue someone she treasured, and once again, it didn’t matter that the person he needed to rescue was a witch.

The Church was wrong about who deserved to be hunted and who was worthy of salvation but it was very, very right about the duties of a person like him with the power to help those in need. That faith burned within his chest like a guiding star, giving him the strength he needed to put words to his needs.

”Flame that cleanses and holy light that saves,

Let fire free what ice enslaves!”

The prayer was simple and direct but it contained every ounce of Ignatious burning need to prove himself worthy, not of salvation from the Holy Lord of Light but of the trust that the diminutive horned witch had placed in his bloodstained, sinner’s hands.

With a swing of his swords, a wave of flames leaped through the night, slamming into the walls of ice with the force of a charging bull. Cracks spread across the walls of ice and a cloud of steam drifted away on the icy mountain wind, but the still, the wall stood stubbornly in his path.

A second swing of the sword launched another wave of flames, but this time, the action was accompanied by a stabbing, icy pain that raced up his recently healed arms and neck. Gritting his teeth against the sudden pain, Ignatious’s dark eyes remained fixed on the walls of the ice prison, waiting for them to collapse and crumble under their own weight as layer after layer of ice melted under his assault.

When the flames flickered out, however, the walls still stood, as though they were mocking the strength of the fallen Inquisitor’s faith.

”What’s wrong?” Heila asked, her brow creasing with worry as she watched the expression of pain and frustration flicker across the vampire’s face. ”I can feel it,” she said, turning to look at the wall of ice. ”It’s thin and brittle, almost broken,” she said as she struggled to lift her head away from Ignatious’s chest. At the moment, her horns felt impossibly heavy but Ashlynn was so very close that if she could do anything, she had to try...

”I’m still weak,” Ignatious sighed. ”There are limits, my Lady, to how much even you can restore me in a single feeding. But one more,” he added, pulling her back against his chest. ”I have one more in me, at least. You’ve done enough,” he reminded her as he strode across the frozen ground. ”Let me finish what you started.”

Stepping up to the ice wall, Ignatious fell into a posture that his teachers at the temple would have laughed at him for, but his long departed father would have praised. Swinging a sword like an axe in battle would have been the height of foolishness most times, but right now, when he wanted nothing more than to cleave through the wall before him, nothing felt more... right.

”Break!” Ignatious shouted as he brought the flaming blade down using every ounce of vampiric strength he possessed, combined with the power of the flaming blade and Heila’s rich, powerful blood flowing through his veins.

The moment the blade struck the ice, the barrier exploded in a rain of frozen shards, dispersing the blizzard that had raged within the frozen prison and revealing a furious-looking Hauke holding a glowing sword made of ice and covered with cryptic runes.

More importantly, standing just a few dozen paces away, Ashlynn stood defiantly, her Severing Blade clutched tightly in one hand while blood spilled from half a dozen wounds.

”Ashlynn,” Heila said, stretching a feeble hand toward the woman she’d fought so hard to reach. They’d made it. It wasn’t too late to save her...

It was the last thought Heila had before the exhaustion of everything she’d done finally caught up with her, drawing her into a deep, darkness filled with the warmth of Ignatious’s strong embrace and the soft, steady beat of the heart within his chest.