The Vampire & Her Witch

High above the thatched rooftops of Hanrahan Town, Loman Lothian stood atop the westernmost tower of Hanrahan keep, lowering the glittering Bow of Stars before he collapsed to one knee, taking shelter behind the stone parapets before the demons could retaliate against him and trembling with exertion from unleashing his Arrow of Judgment.

”Disciple Loman!”

”Disciple!”

Two of the twelve acolytes who had joined Loman atop the tower to serve as ’arrows’ in his ’quiver’ rushed forward to support the black-robed Disciple before he completely collapsed from the exertion of unleashing such a powerful manifestation of the Holy Lord of Light’s judgment on the demons below.

”Thank you,” Loman said as he took the hands of one of the acolytes and leaned against him for support without trying to stand. His heart hammered in his chest, and his arms felt like they were towels that had been thoroughly wrung out after washing, squeezed of every last drop of strength they held when he unleashed the Arrow of Judgment.

When he looked at the faces of the two men who had come to his aid, however, he realized that the toll the arrow had taken on him paled in comparison to what it demanded of the men who filled his quiver. Both of them were among the youngest acolytes to answer the call, little more than boys who had yet to enter their twenties.

Now, however, in the dancing light of the bonfire burning at the center of the flat-topped tower, both men looked like they had been weathered by the years. The softness of youth had vanished from their faces, leaving behind skin that was slightly sunken and faces that looked gaunt enough to suggest they hadn’t eaten well in some time, even though Acolytes of the Church enjoyed richer diets than almost any common man in Hanrahan town.

”Thank you,” Loman repeated more solemnly as he realized what these men of faith had sacrificed in order to help him strike down one of the great Demon Lords that plagued the Frontier.

For generations, his family had struggled to unseat any of the powerful lords that ruled the demon kingdoms that bordered Lothian March, but now, finally, one of them had fallen. It should have been a moment filled with cheers and jubilation, but instead, a ball of ice seemed to have formed in Loman’s chest where his stomach should be as he panned his gaze around the tower, looking at the rest of the acolytes who had given their prayers and their faith to support him in this hour of peril.

”Call out for me,” Loman said when he realized that only eight of the twelve men, including the two who were supporting him, were still standing. ”The battle isn’t over yet. Are you able to stand with me again?”

”I can stand,” one of the standing acolytes said quickly, stepping forward into the light of the bonfire and bowing deeply to the Holy Disciple of the Ascended Archer. ”Speak the words, your Worship, and I will lend my voice.”

”I can stand...”

”I can stand...”

More and more voices spoke up, including two men who had been sitting on the stone floor, leaning up against the parapet wall for support until Loman called on them to call out. Two other voices, however, said nothing at all.

”Brother Usic and Brother Neso have passed on from this life, your Worship,” an acolyte named Matthias said in a voice that trembled with weakness that hadn’t been there when he climbed the stairs of the tower. The old acolyte had served the temple for nearly thirty years, and Loman could see the profound grief in his weathered face as he gestured toward the pair of unmoving figures, wrapped in their white robes as though they were funeral shrouds.

Acolyte Usic had been even older, beginning his life in the Temple as a young boy and serving faithfully for longer than Matthias had been alive. When Head Priest Germot asked for volunteers, Usic was the first to step forward, claiming that at his age, he was grateful that he could finally offer something more to the Church than sweeping its floors and polishing its icons.

Now, the old man lay crumpled against the stone parapet, his aged features looking incomparably ancient and weathered. At the same time, the expression on his face was one of peace, as if he had found contentment in the final moments of his life before Loman’s Arrow of Judgment burned up the last of his life.

Beside him, Acolyte Neso, who had been boasting just the other day that he would be visiting his brother’s family to see the latest baby in a long line of nieces and nephews, stared sightlessly at the town beyond the walls.

At the end, the old uncle didn’t die facing east in the direction of the rising sun or facing west in the direction of the setting sun and the Heavenly Shores. Instead, he gazed longingly toward the cramped family home he had left behind more than twenty years ago, when there were too many mouths to feed and he was old enough to lessen his parents’ burden by entering the Church.

”I see,” Loman said, lowering his head and closing his eyes for a moment of silent prayer. He knew that he would be asking a great deal of these men, but he never imagined that his prayers would claim their lives so soon in the battle, and the sacrifice the Holy Lord of Light demanded for giving them the strength to fight the demons was only going to grow from here.

”We will have to thank them for their sacrifice when we meet them on the Heavenly Shores,” Loman said, drawing a deep breath as he opened his eyes to look at the Acolytes who were supporting him. Exemplar Domas had warned him this day may come, and that men with weak faith and poor resolve may not survive the tests of the Holy Lord of Light when they joined their hearts in prayer to one of the paragons of the Church.

Now, two of his ’arrows’ lay broken like brittle twigs, and the rest of the men gathered around him already felt like they were teetering on the brink. Even Loman’s faith wavered as he second-guessed his decision to strike at the Cat Lord rather than the Crimson Knight.

Silently, he castigated himself for doubting whether or not the arrow from his Bow of Stars could truly penetrate the Crimson Knight’s demonic armor to threaten the creature of darkness within. In his moment of uncertainty, he had shifted his aim to a lesser target, and he consumed two lives in order to take his shot. Now, with only ten arrows remaining in his quiver, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough to put a stop to the demon’s assault.

”The battle isn’t won yet,” Loman said, clenching his fist tightly as he firmed up his resolve to do what must be done. ”Even though we’ve struck a heavy blow for the Light, we still have more to do. Help me stand,” he commanded. ”I need to see what’s happening.”

Most men wouldn’t be able to see much detail at such a great distance without using a tool like Baron Hanrahan’s perspective glass. Loman’s eyes, however, glittered with the starlight of the Ascended Archer’s blessing. There wasn’t a single place within all of Hanrahan Town that he couldn’t see clearly enough to pick out his targets, nor was there anywhere within the town’s walls that he couldn’t reach with the arrows of his Bow of Stars.

When he looked down upon the west gate plaza, however, his blood ran cold as he realized the carnage that his attack had provoked. But once an arrow was fired from a bow, there was no time for second thoughts or regrets; a man could never snatch the arrow back, no matter how much he might wish to.

And even if he could have made the decision again, Loman would still have loosed his Arrow of Judgment. A price had to be paid in order to stop the demons here and now, and no matter how high that price was, even if it required the lives of every soldier and priest in Hanrahan town and more... He was willing to pay it.