The Vampire & Her Witch

Beneath the arena, Heila settled her hat in place and gave the rest of her tools a cursory examination while she waited for the match before hers to conclude.

The hat itself had been a project that she could never have completed without help from Jacques. Her ’War Hat’ had been made from the leathery hide of the Giant Thornback Alligator that she and Ashlynn hunted for their ’graduation assignment.’ Not only did the alligator skin give it an imposing look, but Jacques had also used a bit of his own thorny magic to empower a ring of bony thorns around the center cone of the hat, giving the hat’s protective aura a sharp edge.

At her hip, she wore a long, coiled willow whip on one side, balanced by her wand, and a slender small sword on the other. The sword, named Snow Fang, had been carved from the horn of Elder Paulus, the traitorous Frost Walker who schemed against young lord Hauke, Lady Ashlynn, and everyone else in their group.

Heila hadn’t had long to practice with the small sword. She’d explained to Artificer Erkembalt when they commissioned the weapon that she didn’t know how to fight with a sword. The eclectic artificer, however, had never intended for the blade’s edge to be its most deadly feature. Instead, he’d preserved as much of Elder Paulus’ sorcery as possible within the horn-blade in the hopes that Heila could eventually learn to challenge it.

At the time, perhaps only Zedya had expected that Heila would one day become a witch, capable of using it to even greater effect, but she doubted anyone expected that she would be more attuned with water and therefore snow than even Ashlynn was. Because of that, the Snow Fang in her hands was far more dangerous than it would have been in the hands of anyone else in Nyrielle’s household, including the highly skilled Zedya.

After yesterday’s harrowing battle, Heila wished that Captain Lennart and his men had already arrived so she could borrow an appropriate set of armor from one of the Horned soldiers in his troop. Since she couldn’t, High Lady Erna had indulged her with a tunic made of fine steel scales that made her feel as though she’d temporarily joined the Scaled Clan. The armor protected her every bit as well as a coat of mail from the Vale of Mist would have, and for that, she was deeply thankful. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t representing the Vale well while wearing borrowed armor.

Suddenly, the crowd began to roar as the ’warm up’ match came to a close. From where she stood behind a massive iron gate, Heila couldn’t see who had won or lost but it hardly mattered. After four days in the arena, she’d become accustomed to the spectacle.

”If Jacques had come with us, what would he say about me now?” Heila wondered. After the way she’d teased him for using a staged battle in a smaller arena to demonstrate that he was capable of defending Ashlynn, even from the men who were already guarding her... Heila’s opinion of bloodsport had been very low at the time.

”He’d probably cheer for me,” she said with a faint smile on her lips. Jacques wouldn’t hold the old grudge against her. He’d let go of far worse. Perhaps, one day, she’d learn from his example, but right now, as chains began to clank and strain and the iron gates rose, her blood couldn’t help but boil as she recalled the smug face of the rotund merchant who provoked this mess.

When they arrived in High Fen City, they didn’t resemble important dignitaries at all. After weeks on horseback with nothing more than a pair of pack horses to accompany the mares they rode, they resembled common peddlers more than powerful witches. At the time, after spending the entire summer under the relentless training of the Mother of Thorns, neither Ashlynn nor Heila cared much for appearances.

When they announced themselves at the gates and requested an escort to the palace, only the presence of Talauia managed to convince the guards they really were the witches they claimed to be. By the time High Lady Erna held a welcoming banquet for them two days later, rumors had already flown across half the city that the Mother of Trees and the Willow Witch were poor beggars from the Vale of Mists, clinging to the fame of the Blood Princess in the hopes of finding some charity in High Fen City.

Ashlynn ignored it. Her lady was always better at rising above, as if no insult could reach the lofty hearts where her heart dwelled. Heila tried to do her best to do the same until she encountered the detestable Yotsun, praising his great-grandfather’s foresight for abandoning the Vale of Mists when High Lord Torbin fell and Nyrielle was forced to retreat across the mountains to gather allies to retake the Vale. He even boasted that, were it not for Nyrielle’s status as the Blood Princess, he would brave the squalor of the Vale of Mists to bring his distant cousins home to civilized lands.

One thing led to another, and the next thing Heila knew, she was shouting that she would show the people of High Fen City that Lady Nyrielle wasn’t the only one who could fight for ten days in the arena to find champions to fight against the Vale’s enemies. Perhaps, after this, she would follow Lady Ashlynn’s example and avoid drinking anything that the serpentine High Lady served at her parties unless it was fruit juice. The wine had clearly been a mistake!

”High Lady Erna baited me into this,” Heila muttered, lowering the brim of her War Hat and striding out onto the bright sands of the arena. A sound like thunder rose as she walked calmly towards the center of the arena, the sounds of thousands of feet stomping and tails slapping the ground in excitement.

”Willow Whip!”

”Willow Whip!”

”Willow Whip!”

The moniker the people had chosen for her wasn’t as grand or fearsome as ’Blood Princess’ but that suited Heila just fine. If anyone had a grand title in this place, it should be the Eldritch Lady of the Vale, and after her, only Ashlynn was deserving of a grand title. For Heila, it was enough to know that people knew she was different from her predecessor.

Cecile had been a staunch pacifist who believed that the gifts of the Willow Tree were only to be used to treat the sick and heal the wounded. But Heila knew all too well that it took people with the courage to stand up and fight to prevent innocent families from being injured in the first place.

In the stands, some people whispered and pointed, many of them amazed to see Heila moving so easily and standing so tall and proud at the center of the arena.

”They carried her out on a stretcher yesterday,” one man said to his companion. ”I thought it was a hollow victory. You know those thugs nearly crushed her chest yesterday!”

”She coughed so much blood,” a young woman nearby said. Her eyes glittered as she looked down on Heila’s shining figure, resplendent in her scale armor and looking cool and composed in the shade of her wide-brimmed hat. ”They must have broken half her ribs, but still...”

”They say there is no injury that the Mother of Thorns can’t heal, and the Mother of Trees is supposed to be an even greater healer,” a third man interjected. ”People say she hadn’t awakened to her powers yet when she visited in the spring, but look at her Willow Witch, standing there as good as new...”

”Do you think that the Mother of Trees would heal my wounds?” A fourth man said, only to draw an immediate punch from his muscular companion.

”Stop complaining about your ’wounded heart’, it’s dangerous talk,” he added, his eyes darting around to make sure they hadn’t drawn the ire of anyone working for the arena. ”Just stay away from folk so far above you if you know what’s good for you!”

Suddenly, as Heila stood in the center of the arena, letting the chants and cheers of the crowd envelop her like the waters of the sea, the gates on the opposite side of the arena began to clank and move.

The crowd went quiet as the audience turned to stare at the towering figures who lumbered out of the iron gates. Long shaggy hair covered their bodies and gleaming ivory tusks had been studded with polished iron spikes that glittered in the midday sun like deadly jewels.

Deep rumbles echoed from the long, flexible trunks of the towering giants before all ten men pointed their trunks at the sky and unleashed a mighty trumpet blast.

-BRRRRUUUUUUMMMMMM-

The sound shook the arena and people looked on in horror as the shaggy giants arranged themselves into a loose formation. Ten men. Ten men, and each of them stood at least twelve feet tall, arrayed against a single woman standing alone in the center of the arena.

Angered shouts began to fill the air and some people began to throw food at a private box on the opposite side of the arena from the one where High Lady Erna and the Mother of Trees sat. Wasn’t this too much? Did Yotsun have no shame?

But suddenly, people noticed movement in the High Lady’s box. A hush fell over the crowd as a dazzling woman with blonde hair wearing an emerald green witch’s hat stood up from her throne and strode to the edge of the box. Everyone collectively leaned in her direction, waiting to hear what the Willow Witch’s master would say about the obviously unfair fight.

”Heila, my child,” Ashlynn said, her emerald eyes flashing with a pale glow as she called on the wind to carry her voice to every seat in the arena. ”I only have one question for you...”