The Vampire & Her Witch

”Come, Hemlock Witch!” Rastlan shouted from the back of his chariot as he gripped the shining Bow of Stars in his hand. ”Protect your pathetic gate if you can!”

The soldiers galloping in circles at the bases of the towering pillars of swirling snow and crackling lightning ran even faster, and the pillars transformed into funnels pointing toward the ground. The edges of the funnels crackled with brilliant golden lightning even brighter than the fading light of the sun, casting momentary shadows across the people sitting atop the wall.

Isabell furrowed her brows, briefly wishing that Erkembalt had finished the spectacles he’d promised her that would help her to see the flow of power around Rastlan. At the moment, she barely had time to act if she was going to protect the people on the wall...

Or did she have time?

Rastlan was in no hurry. He was posturing and shouting his challenge... But he was also waiting. Waiting, she realized, for her to make a move of her own.

”So it’s true,” she whispered as she began to organize her thoughts, arriving at the only conclusion that made any sense in the face of the herald’s rapid escalation. ”He’s testing me,” she concluded as a smile formed on her lips. ”If I’d known that was the sort of man he was, I’d have brought calipers to measure,” she snorted before she began an incantation of her own.

”O Hemlock tree of ancient grace,

Cast down your heavy, sweeping shield.

Wrap us within your boughs’ embrace,

Grant us shelter that never yields.”

On the ground immediately before the gate, a small, ethereal evergreen tree formed, made entirely of glittering, green light. It looked like a small, trivial thing, the sort of young tree a family might bring into their home to decorate for Midwinter revels, and had Isabell stood next to it, it wouldn’t even have reached her chest. But then, a heartbeat later, it doubled in size, swelling not only in height but in breadth and girth, instantly growing taller than most men.

Another heartbeat produced another doubling, then another and another, until a mighty tree of glittering light towered before the gate, sheltering the people on the wall beneath its sweeping boughs and bathing the gatehouse in a pale green radiance.

”Few have ever breached my defenses, Captain Rastlan,” Isabell said, her voice booming from the battlements. ”Most have regretted trying. It isn’t too late to change your mind...”

”Words are like arrows, Master Isabell,” the herald said as he drew back his bow. ”Once they’ve been said, they can’t be taken back, and your words demand an answer!”

–THRUUUM–

The shining string of his bow vibrated with power as Rastlan drew it all the way back to his ear, taking aim at the base of Isabell’s glowing hemlock tree.

–CRACKLE CRACK! –

The lightning rippled and surged along the swirling tornadoes of snow at either side of the gate. Stray bolts of golden, electric energy leaped across the gap, crashing into the boughs of the luminous tree in a shower of angry sparks that rained down harmlessly on the people below.

– THWUMP –

When Rastlan let go of the bowstring, nothing flew from the bow itself. Instead, a dozen bolts of lightning stabbed out from each of the swirling tornadoes of snow, striking with the unerring accuracy of a master archer as twenty bolts of lightning converged at a single point.

–BOOM CRACK –

Thunder shook the battlements, and a fountain of broken pavers, scorched earth, and bright white snow erupted from the ground at the base of the hemlock tree. A few small stones rained down on the battlements above where Charlotte held the heavy blanket up over Adala, who seemed insistent on watching what was going on.

For a moment, it looked like the Hemlock tree stood impervious to the furious assault, and Master Isabell stood resolute even as dirt and debris rained down around her. A heartbeat later, however, the Hemlock Witch swayed visibly on her feet, clutching the curtain wall in front of her for support as she struggled to remain on her feet.

Meanwhile, before the city gate, hundreds of tiny green motes of light drifted down from the ethereal hemlock tree, like fallen needles shaken from a mighty tree that melted into the snow as soon as they reached the earth.

”Oh no,” Adala whispered, pointing at the ethereal tree. ”Look!”

The tree hadn’t just lost a few needles. There were patches between the branches that now looked shabby and bare, as if some beast had gnawed on the tree, stripping even its bark away and creating gaps in the shield that protected them.

”I return your words to you, Master Isabell!” Rastlan said from the back of his chariot as he drew his bow back again. ”It’s not too late to change your mind. Open your gates! Allow my lord free entry, and we can still meet with your Mother of Trees as friends!”

”What fool surrenders when the first boulder wastes itself against the stones of her walls?” Isabell said as she removed her spectacles, wiping them clean on a corner of her tunic before placing them back on her nose.

”Do you think I’m a child to fear the thunder and lightning while I’m safe within my home? I’d shame the whole of Blackwell if I cowered before a tempest that would struggle to escape a teapot!” Isabell shouted.

– BOOM CRACK! –

This time, Rastlan didn’t waste words on Isabell as he drew his bow back and fired again. Once again, twenty bolts of lightning stabbed out from the tornadoes of snow, striking a point higher up the hemlock’s trunk. This time, the tree took the blow directly, shielding the ironbound wooden gates from harm.

But once again, the tree shook with the force of the impact and more than a thousand glittering needles rained down from its boughs. Atop the battlements, Isabell felt her knees grow weak as the charge of the lightning seemed to ripple across her skin...

”Curse the Lothians,” Isabell spat as she extended her senses as far as she could, hoping against hope that the Lothians had thought to leave parks in their city large enough to hold a few stands of trees.

Unfortunately, she found next to nothing between the southern walls and the riverbank to the north. A few spindly things still stood here and there, but nothing as old or deeply rooted as the mighty hemlocks in the Vale of Mists.

Against the Herald of Dirar, Isabell stood all but alone, and after two shots from his Bow of Stars, she could already feel the limits of her powers drawing near. Her hopes of simply outlasting him fell away like the dropping needles of her ethereal tree as Isabell realized she’d have to find a way to strike back... Or suffer humiliating defeat when Rastlan battered down the gates.