The Vampire & Her Witch

In the arena above, iron gates thundered open all around the arena floor. Not just one or two of them, but every single entrance at once. The sound of dozens of rolling wagons and clanking chains filled the air as an army of workers poured onto the sands. Tuscans, their towering forms making even fully grown men look like children beside them, followed close behind while hauling massive carts piled high with rich, dark soil. Behind them came scores of arena servants pushing wheelbarrows laden with young trees and sacks of seed.

”Weren’t these men defeated by the Willow Whip days ago?” One person in the crowd asked. ”What are they doing here now?”

”Look, they’re acting like laborers,” another man said, pointing to the group of ferocious soldiers who had given up their weapons and armor in exchange for simple tunics and gardener’s tools. ”Is this because they were defeated in the battle against the Willow Witch?”

Under the wide eyes of the crowd, the arena began to undergo a rapid transformation into something entirely new. Some in the crowd wondered if this was intended as an odd sort of decoration for the final battle, but if that was the case, the scale of the work being done was grander than any ’decoration’ they’d ever seen for a single battle.

Whatever these servants were doing, it had clearly been planned with military precision. Each worker knew their exact role and duty. Some rushed about, scattering soil while others tamped it down, creating a foundation that would support what was to come. Arena staff who normally cleared away fallen fighters now carefully measured distances between saplings, calling out positions in voices that echoed off the arena walls.

Meanwhile, the Tuscan giants worked with surprising delicacy despite their massive size. Once they had finished digging deep holes in the sands with oversized shovels, their trunks carefully lifted precious young willows from their pots and settled them into the freshly dug holes with the precision of practiced gardeners.

What should have taken days of preparation was being accomplished in a matter of minutes through the coordinated efforts of nearly a hundred workers. The audience, who had been eagerly awaiting another bloody spectacle, found themselves watching an entirely different kind of performance as the arena was transformed before their eyes.

Seeing the scale of activity, many arena veterans were already anticipating that the scale of the final battle would be one unrivaled by any other fought in the arena this year if not this decade.

”For the final battle, ten tails, gold, on the Willow Whip!” one man shouted as his heart pounded in his chest. ”No, make that twenty!”

”Twenty,” his wife hissed next to him, her tail slapping nervously against the ground. ”At least wait until we see the opponents and the bookmen announce the odds! How can you be so confident when you don’t even know the odds?”

”Because,” the man said while rooting around in his purse for several pieces of gold. ”Those are willow trees down there,” he whispered in his wife’s ear. ”There’s no way the Willow Whip would lose when she has the strength of her own trees to call on!”

On the sands of the arena, Ipiktok supervised his men and dozens of servants employed by the arena as they rapidly changed the landscape before Heila’s final battle could begin. From time to time as he worked, his long, flexible trunk retrieved a roll of parchment and held it up for him to inspect as he shouted orders, ensuring that everything was placed exactly as Lady Ashlynn had specified.

Technically, Ipiktok’s agreement to serve Heila for two years following his defeat hadn’t come into effect yet. If Yotsun’s final champions defeated the Willow Witch today, then he and his Tuscan mercenaries would be free to go about their business. Ipiktok, however, believed in repaying his debts and the debt he owed Lady Heila for sparing not only his life but the lives of his men at the end of their battle was far more important to him than the debt he’d assume because of his agreement with the horned merchant.

When he’d presented himself at the palace to place his soldiers under Lady Heila’s command, the Mother of Trees herself had asked for his help in preparing for her final battle. Ever since then, while the work that he and his men did wasn’t glamorous, they all took a measure of pride in knowing that the days of back-breaking labor would allow the Willow Witch to stand on the greatest stage when she fought her final battle in the arena.

In High Lady Erna’s private box, Ashlynn smiled as she saw the horde of workers transforming the arena. The preparations for this moment extended far beyond what was taking place on the surface, and that applied to the audience within the private box as well as the actions of the small army of people preparing the arena for what was to come.

Just as when Ashlynn had attended, two gilded thrones dominated the box, but this time, Nyrielle occupied the throne next to High Lady Erna while Ashlynn had taken a smaller, though still grand seat to Nyrielle’s left. On High Lady Erna’s side, they’d been joined by Erna’s two surviving siblings, each occupying similarly grand chairs.

General Aleser looked like a larger version of his older sister, though some of that was due to his decision to attend tonight’s battle in grand, ceremonial armor befitting his place not only as the commander of both the palace guard and the city’s soldiers but as a champion of the arena as well. The long scar that passed through a milky white eye, however, made it abundantly clear that his sister had ended his days as a gladiator when she ended his participation in the competition for the throne.

Next to him, the delicate Nenet had looked vaguely uncomfortable for much of the evening as blood was shed in the arena, but now she seemed fascinated by the actions of the servants and laborers below. As the youngest of High Lady Erna’s siblings, she’d removed herself from the battle for succession early on and instead focused on her interests in agriculture, eventually taking a position as one of Erna’s chief ministers overseeing the farmers and ranchers of the High Fen.

”Why are they planting trees?” Nenet asked, turning to raise a brow at Ashlynn. ”If they’re worried about them being knocked over, they could just place them in heavy pots with iron rings. There’s no need to bury them now, is there?”

”You’ll see in a few moments, Minister Nenet,” Ashlynn said with a mysterious smile on her lips. She’d told Ipiktok that he would only be given at most thirty minutes to complete the work while the audience enjoyed an intermission before the final fight, and now, it looked like his men were close to completing their work.

”My love,” Ashlynn whispered, leaning close to Nyrielle. ”Do you remember the night you taught me sorcery? When you used a trace of my power to give life to the raven you conjured from the mist?”

”How could I forget?” Nyrielle said, licking the point of a fang as she remembered the evening they’d spent together. It had been shortly after Ashlynn arrived in the Vale of Mists and it hadn’t just been the first night she taught Ashlynn sorcery, it had been a night of many other firsts that defined the shape their relationship would take as their bond drew them closer together. ”It was the first time I had a true taste of you,” she added with a soft, affectionate smile.

”Yes, well,” Ashlynn said awkwardly, her face heating as she remembered the feeling of Nyrielle’s hands roving under her blouse, tracing along her skin as she helped Ashlynn to feel the flow of energy within her body. ”What I meant is that I’d like your help doing something similar now,” she said, forcing the memories of Nyrielle’s gentle touch to the back of her mind so she could focus on the moment.

”I need to borrow a trace of your power,” Ashlynn said, interlacing her fingers with Nyrielle’s. ”Will you help me?”

”Now?” Nyrielle asked in confusion. From the look of the work underway on the arena floor, what Ashlynn needed right now was a source of life, not death, so why would she turn to a vampire for help? ”What do you need of me?”

”Just stand beside me,” Ashlynn said with an eager smile and a twinkle forming in her emerald eyes. ”Our bond is already enough for what I need from you. I just need to keep you close,” she said, squeezing Nyrielle’s hand and pulling her toward the railing of the private box.

What she was about to attempt would be a spectacle on a grander scale than any she’d undertaken before. In principle, it was no different than a chore she’d done countless times in Amahle’s gardens when they were preparing another family meal. In practice, however, she would be stretching her hand across the entirety of High Fen City to complete her ritual tonight and she would need Nyrielle’s help to ensure that nothing was wasted in the process.

Now, she gave the arena one last glance, ensuring that the trees, soil, seeds, and even channels for water were all in the right places, forming a grand design that would serve as an anchor and a guide for the witchcraft that she was about to begin. Then, when she was confident that everything was in place, she drew a deep breath to address the crowd.