The Vampire & Her Witch

”The Vale of Mists was once like the High Fen,” Beilan began. ”It was valuable because of its location. The river flows all the way to the sea and goods from across the lowlands flowed through the Vale to reach customers west of the mountains. But the Vale of Mists itself produced very little of value. Now that it is no longer a path for the flow of treasures from afar, it has little to offer the rest of the Eldritch world.”

”In the short term,” he continued. ”It’s possible that you could profit off the refining and shipment of goods from Airgead Mountain. I have already proposed a trade in jewels through the Vale of Mists that should be sustainable even if Lady Ashlynn’s plan for an ore canal doesn’t work out.”

”It’s much easier for a courier to slip through the wilderness with a bag of jewels than it is to transport tons of ore,” Nyrielle acknowledged. ”Marcell has proposed doing so in the past, but the results haven’t been spectacular.”

In fact, the Vale of Mists regularly received a trickle of gemstones from Airgead Mountain as part of the agreement Nyrielle had forged to help defend the valuable mountain from Lothian raids. Those gemstones paid for everything from Darksteel weapons to shipments of cotton or salt from the lands west of the mountains. But the prices the jewels fetched were only enough to fill the gaps in the Vale’s needs, and treasures that could finance widespread reconstruction were once a decade rarities.

”This problem is likely because you lack artisans who can turn raw jewels into rare treasures,” Beilan said confidently. ”I am connected with a few masters who may be willing to send an apprentice to do rough cutting work that could significantly increase the value of anything you can retrieve from Airgead Mountain. But in my opinion, relying on the wealth you can extract from Airgead Mountain is only a short term solution to the lack of trade that keeps the Vale from returning to its former glory.”

Before he could elaborate further, a roar from the crowd drew their attention to the arena below. People leapt to their feet, many pointing and shouting as the battle between the vampires and champions began with an explosive display of power and cunning. Facing off against six veteran champions, Savis and Tausau displayed cold, ruthless efficiency in eliminating their opponents. Shackled together at the wrists or ankles, it should have been impossible for the vampires to move with their usual speed.

The gladiators clearly planned to utilize that handicap as they slowly advanced under the cover of the Muckin archer. They never expected, however, that the Vampires would refuse to let their chains constrain their movements. Rather than taking slow, hobbled steps around the arena, Savis pounced directly on Tausau’s back, riding upon his shoulders while the Clanless vampire hunkered behind his shield and charged the archer like a maddened battering ram!

Arrow after poisoned arrow slammed into Tausau’s shield but it did nothing to stop the charge that directly bypassed the remaining gladiators in order to slam into the Muckin archer with enough force to send the man sailing through the air like a broken doll, crashing limply into the sand of the arena more than thirty feet away.

”Yes, Little Brother!” Savis snarled as he hopped down from the towering vampire’s broad shoulders. The skin of the Muckin was far too toxic to risk attacking with his claws, but now that the only warrior he couldn’t shred had been crushed by Tausau’s claws, he felt truly free to tear into the remaining warriors. ”Stay close to me now and watch my back as I tear them limb from limb!”

”Just like the old days, Big Brother,” Tausau said, grinning as the years of distance between them fell away and they returned to an earlier era when they had been called Hamdi’s Claws. If only their brother Torbin and sister Birsu were here to fight with them, that would have been even better.

It wasn’t perfect, but after Torbin’s death at Lothian hands, and with Birsu taking up the mantle of ruling the Tangled Wood until their master was free from his punishment, it was the best that Tausau could hope for in terms of a reunion. Now, as he charged across the sands, side by side with Savis, he only hoped the remaining champions could last longer than the Muckin archer had, to give him even more time to relish in fighting beside his brother once again.

”Then what do you see as a long term solution?” Nyrielle asked Master Beilan. The sight of her great-uncles fighting together brought a smile on her lips and made it easier to keep her tone light with the serpentine merchant, but her gaze was still sharp as she pressed him for solutions to the problems he presented. ”We are unlikely to have many trading partners, even if we are able to extend a secure trade channel all the way down to the Southern Steppe,” she added.

This was a problem that had plagued the Vale of Mists ever since she retook it from the Lothians. For several decades, she hadn’t cared. As long as she was able to protect the people who acknowledged her rule and everyone was able to live a comfortable enough life, there was no reason to push for change.

In hindsight, she’d been wrong to accept the status quo for so long. She’d truly underestimated what generations of continued failure would do to the Lothians and their thirst for conquest, and she had never fully understood what it would mean for the Vale if the humans launched another one of their Crusades.

It had been her mistake for not learning more from Ignatious when she had the chance, but now that Ashlynn had helped to fill in the gaps in her understanding, she was eager to make up for lost time before it was too late.

On the arena sands below, both sides had come to feel that they’d overestimated themselves, or underestimated their opponents. Two powerful fighters from the Clan of the Great Claw bled from wounds so numerous that their fur had been dyed red with their own blood, but despite the severity of their injuries, they swung their two-handed swords with precision, battering Tausau’s shield aside to land blows of their own on the pair of vampires.

Tausau had already lost his net and the time it gained them allowed Savis to tear the throat from the spry member of the Horned Clan who seemed like the only threat who could approach his speed, but with two heavy warriors pinning Tausau down, he was left to square off against the spearman from the Scaled Clan and the Glass Eyed warrior wielding a halberd with deadly accuracy.

Both men held such a strong advantage in reach that by the time Savis had knocked aside one man’s defenses to strike, the other was able to land at least a glancing blow, covering Savis’s pristine white fur with nearly a dozen small injuries that stood out sharply against his pale body.

”Witchwood, your Eternity,” Beilan said, pulling his eyes away from the fight in the arena. He knew he couldn’t compare to the brave gladiators on the sands, but at the moment, he felt like he needed just as much courage to say the word ’Witchwood’ as those men must have needed to set foot in the arena with a pair of vampires. Holding himself as rigidly upright as he could and exchanging a brief look with Ashlynn to make sure she was still willing before he plunged ahead with his radical proposal.

”If her Dominion is willing to plant a stand of trees to be harvested as a trade good instead of receiving the worship reserved for Ancient trees,” the serpentine merchant explained. He said it like it was a simple thing, but the previous Mother of Trees had planted fewer than one hundred Witchwood trees her entire life, or at least, fewer than one hundred of them had ever been found. Privately, he expected that there must be a reason why such trees were both scattered and rare, but Ashlynn had assured him that she could manage this feat.

”With an entire forest of Witchwood trees,” he said, ”then the Vale of Mists would become the source of wood that is as valuable as its weight in gold.”

”No, absolutely not,” Nyrielle said, her wings fluttering protectively around Ashlynn as she cast a disapproving stare at the serpentine merchant. ”I trade in Blood Vitality Crystals when I need to make deals with other Eldritch Lords. No lesser demand could force me to trade in magic that’s so powerful.”

”That kind of sorcery carries a cost,” Nyrielle said, her eyes growing darker and her nails lengthening into claws as she imagined her Ashlynn turning into a withered husk to create trees that would be felled for something as common as lumber. ”I will not have my darling’s magic treated the way men treat lumps of precious stone, dug out of the earth and carved into pieces like ornaments that are only valuable when they’ve been shaped into what some hoarder of wealth desires.”

”I thought my Ashlynn had found the very best of those who dealt in the power of wealth instead of finding true strength,” Nyrielle said. The light around her dimmed and the people nearby were so startled that they looked away from the fight below to see who had provoked the ire of the Harbinger of death.

”But if you are an example of the people I have yet to meet,” Nyrielle said, her face becoming blank and expressionless as a mask as all the warmth that had filled her seemed to drain away. ”Then perhaps I should cleanse this floor of the vultures who would only pick at her flesh until there was nothing left of the woman I love!”