The Vampire & Her Witch

Suddenly, all eyes fell on the man in the apron as Ashlynn issued her challenge, eager to see how he’d respond. For a moment, his mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to string his words together before he finally took his stand.

”I won’t bully a weak woman!” the man shouted. ”Send a real man to fight! Lord Loghlan or the knights behind you. Anyone who isn’t so scared that they have to hide behind their mother’s skirts like spoiled, spineless children!”

”My lady, let me,” Sir Elgon said, stepping forward and drawing his sword. ”This man is a waste of your time...”

”A waste of yours too,” Devlin said, dipping his hands into the pockets of his long coat as he stepped forward. When he pulled his hands out again, each was adorned with a set of heavy brass rings, fused together to protect a fist. ”This won’t be harder than handlin’ an unruly crew after a cask or two too many.”

”No,” Ashlynn said, holding her stance with her sword pointed at the man in the apron. ”I rule the Verdant Hills. If he wants to challenge my rule, I’ll grant him the right,” she said in a voice that carried across the entire plaza.

”Name yourself challenger,” Ashlynn commanded. ”Or are you too much of a coward to step away from the crowd and have your name known?” she asked, throwing the man’s words back at him.

”I’m called Petrok! And I’m not afraid of you,” the man said as he stepped forward. From his waist, he drew a long, curved knife, the sort used by butchers to slide between the bones of a carcass as they broke it down into smaller cuts to be sold.

”Petrok, good,” Ashlynn said as a small smile formed on her lips, not dissimilar from one that her lover had so often worn. ”Clear a space for us,” she said, gesturing with her sword for the people to move further back. ”Sir Elgon, lend him your sword,” Ashlynn added. ”He needs a real weapon to fight.”

”I don’t need a sword to deal with you and that pretty thing,” Petrok said, sneering at the polished, decorative blade in Ashlynn’s hand with its elaborate, wave-shaped guard and brightly polished blade.

After half a lifetime spent with a knife on his hands, he’d long ago learned that pretty blades were all but useless when it came to carving flesh or separating it from bone and he had no fear at all for a nobleman who carried such an ostentatious, decorative blade, much less a woman who likely picked it out of a shop because she thought it matched her eyes or some other foolishness.

”This will be a lesson for you then,” Ashlynn said, waving for Elgon to stand back as she assumed a basic, beginner’s fighting stance. ”Come, let’s get this over with,” Ashlynn said. ”I have guests to prepare for.”

”Aaarrg!” Petrok shouted, rushing forward with his knife held chest high, as though he intended to stab her in the heart.

-THUNK!- -ting, ting, ting.-

”YEOW!”

Ashlynn’s move was fast enough that few in the crowd even saw her move. One moment, Petrok was charging straight at her, his knife aimed to deliver a killing blow. The next, his knife had fallen from his hand, clattering across the flagstones as he clutched his hand and howled in pain.

”First lesson,” Ashlynn said, stepping away from the wounded man and holding out her free hand to Elgon, who quickly handed over his sword. ”Knives for butchering, skinning, scaling, or any of these things aren’t weapons of war,” she said, tapping the blade of Elgon’s sword against her own curved guard.

”A weapon of war protects your hand,” she said, pointing to the back of Petrok’s hand where a thin, dark bruise had already started to form. ”A soldier learns these things. A knight masters them. If you think you’re going to take the weapons from my manor without even knowing that much, you’re doomed to lead these people to their deaths,” she said, tossing Elgon’s sword at his feet.

”Still want a fight, or have you learned enough?” Ashlynn asked.

”Petrok,” a smaller man in the crowd said. ”Maybe, maybe that’s enough. It’s not a fair fight; you can just stop now...”

”No!” Petrok fumed, snatching the sword up from the ground and holding it awkwardly in both hands. ”I won’t stop. I won’t let her give us to the demons,” he shouted as he charged, swinging the sword down at her in an overhand chop as though he were swinging an ax.

-CLANG!-

This time, steel rang against steel, but only for an instant before Ashlynn slid to the side, allowing the force of Petrok’s blow to flow past her while Water’s edge twirled in her hand, repositioning for a thrust.

-PLUQISH!-

The sound of Ashlynn’s blade sliding between Petrok’s ribs felt unnaturally loud in a plaza that had gone suddenly silent. It was followed a heartbeat later by the clang of a sword falling to the flagstones as the strength suddenly left the burly man’s hands.

”Second lesson,” Ashlynn said, pitching her voice to carry. ”Death on the battlefield isn’t glorious. It’s pointless, slow and painful,” she said as she grabbed hold of Petrok’s tunic, holding him upright as she pulled her blade from his body.

”A wound like this will take minutes to kill a man,” she said as she lowered the wide-eyed butcher to the ground. ”Minutes of pain and fear while death comes to carry you away. And for what? What did you accomplish, Petrok? What would your death today even mean?”

”It would... -COUGH- would mean... You’re a monster... and you...”

”No, it wouldn’t,” Ashlynn said as her hands began to glow with a brilliant, emerald light. ”A monster would kill you as a lesson, to warn others not to defy them,” Ashlynn said as Petrok’s eyes went wide in astonishment.

”I never wanted to kill you, Petrok,” Ashlynn said as she smoothly tore his tunic open, pressing her hands directly to the wound. ”I just wanted you to understand... Becoming an ally of the Eldritch isn’t an act of weakness,” she explained as the wounded man’s flesh began to visibly knit back together.

”Putting down the fear and the hate you’ve held all your life takes more strength than picking up a knife or swinging a sword,” Ashlynn said as she pulled her hands back, revealing pinkish, perfectly healed flesh.

”But if you’re strong enough,” Ashlynn said with a smile as she extended a hand to the wide-eyed man she’d just defeated. ”If you can welcome the Eldritch with an open heart, then you might just be lucky enough to witness something magical...”