The Vampire & Her Witch

Behind her, High Lady Erna sat up straighter on her gilded throne, eager to see the demonstration of the Mother of Trees’ power. If Ashlynn could do as she’d claimed, the value of maintaining an alliance with the Vale of Mists would become even more obvious to the ministers who constantly pressured her to either bring her teacher to the High Fen or limit the protections she extended to the few merchants who reached the High Fen from the Vale of Mists each year.

”People of the High Fen,” Ashlynn said, her voice rippling with the power of the wind to carry it to every corner of the arena as she spoke. ”Honored guests,” she added. ”Tonight, my child Heila, the Willow Witch, will take to the sands for a final time. To honor the Blood Princess of the Arena, she has fought for nine days and defeated ninety men. Tonight, she will face her greatest challenge!”

In response to Ashlynn’s words, several people broke out in cheers and a few scattered chants rippled across the crowd.

”For the Blood Princess!”

”Willow Whip! Willow Whip! Willow Whip!”

”But people,” Ashlynn added, holding her hands up high to still the crowd. ”You have not seen my Heila at her best. The arena sands are dry and dusty, soaked only in blood,” Ashlynn said, lowering her head as though she was apologizing for Heila’s poor showing. ”Tonight, with help from my love, the Blood Princess of the Arena herself, you will have a chance to see the true power of a witch!”

”Were you always this good at addressing crowds, my darling?” Nyrielle whispered as she watched the people surge to their feet, cheering for Ashlynn’s words.

”I’ve gained some practice here,” Ashlynn admitted. ”Mostly, I’m imitating my father. He was always good with crowds. Now, relax, and open yourself to me,” she instructed as she drew herself up to her full height and gathered emerald energy to her palms. ”I’ll do the rest.”

Drawing a deep breath, Ashlynn looked out across the arena floor, ensuring that all of the servants and even the Tuscans had left before she began to speak in a steady, even cadence that echoed across the arena.

”By autumn’s crown and winter’s night,

Through shadows deep and fading light,

In every fallen, withered reed,

In every scattered, broken seed,

I claim the strength of seasons past,

Until their power is mine at last.”

As she spoke, Ashlynn cast her senses as far as she could extend them, reaching out across the entirety of High Fen City and to the nearest edges of the farmland beyond.

The harvest had all but come to an end and all across the High Fen, countless fallen plants had been heaped in piles to rot away after stripping their fruits, vegetables, and seeds. Within the city, in every park and garden, blankets of scattered leaves lay in piles where the wind blew them, some even falling into the canals and forming drifting clumps of leaves and twigs that threatened to clog drains and flood streets.

All of these things were fallen and had served their purpose in life, but they had yet to surrender the last of the energy they held. Over the winter and the rainy months, most would rot away, but now, Ashlynn fed those withering, dying leaves husks a trace of Nyrielle’s dark, deadly energy, reaping what little life was left and gathering that energy to her hands.

At the moment, Ashlynn still lacked the strength to envelop the farmland surrounding the city, but that was precisely why she’d put Ipiktok and his men to work, gathering up the detritus of the harvest and storing it in the vast chambers under the arena for her use in this ritual. Now, as she gathered up the tiniest traces of energy from tens of thousands of fallen plants, brilliant emerald energy blazed around her like the flames of a torch, shining in the night and casting a green glow over the entire arena.

”Through mists of time and witch’s ways,

By ancient bonds of endless days,

Let willows rise from barren ground,

Let years flow swift in time unbound,

While death and life together dance,

To give these trees their swift advance.”

Nyrielle’s eyes glowed a deep, midnight blue as Ashlynn wove traces of her power through the much greater volume of lush, emerald energy that spilled from her hands, enveloping the trees and soil of the arena.

The crowd fell silent and some even knelt in awe as they watched the power of the Mother of Trees transform the arena from a dusty, barren land that held only a scattering of hastily placed saplings into something else entirely, right before their eyes.

The earth churned and shook and two of the tanks of water used to flood the arena for battles on shallow boats spilled their contents across the rippling soil. The willow trees sent their roots plunging into the earth, drinking deeply of the water and the energy of life that Ashlynn spilled across the arena like glowing rain.

Moments later, the trees shook before they stretched upwards. Dozens of branches formed on each tree as it stretched ever higher until they began to droop and sway in a breeze felt only by the leaves and branches of the trees. Across the ground, grass seeds scattered by servants sprouted, growing several inches tall in less time than it took for the stunned crowd to draw a breath.

From start to finish, Ashlynn’s witchcraft took less than fifteen minutes to completely transform the arena. Where there had once been only dusty, bloody sand, now stood a lush meadow dotted with nearly two dozen willow trees. Each of those willow trees stretched between twenty and thirty feet tall, some even reaching heights that allowed the people closest to the railing on the first floor of the arena to reach out and touch them!

”Now, Little Sister,” High Lady Erna said quietly, leaning across her brother to speak to her slack-jawed younger sister. ”You see why I insisted you leave the harvest to watch tonight? This is the power of the Mother of Trees.”

”This, this shouldn’t be possible!” Nenet exclaimed. ”No sorcery can grow a tree like that, and if it could, it would nearly kill the sorcerer who made the attempt. At the very least, a single tree would leave them withered and aged!”

”Now,” Erna said quietly. ”Think back on the drought seven years ago. We finally got rains late in the summer but it was far too late to salvage crops that had withered on the vine. Can you imagine what would have happened if we’d been able to call on Lady Ashlynn’s help at a time like that?”

”Sister,” Nenet gasped. ”You, are you saying that she can do this with things that aren’t even trees? She could do this with wheat and millet?”

”I don’t know,” Erna said, looking at the emerald energy swirling around Ashlynn with eyes that held a great deal of respect and the slightest trace of wonder. ”But think of all the things that are trees. The apple, pear, and plum orchards in the hills for one. When bellies are empty, anything that offers sustenance is worthy, even if we’d usually reserve it for cider, win,e and sweets.”

”And this is why you want me to prepare a contingent of soldiers to march with Lady Nyrielle when they leave for the Vale of Mists?” Alesar asked, never once taking his unblinking eye off the powerful witch and vampire standing at the railing. ”You want to call on her support in times of crisis?”

”I want to call on their support more than just in times of crisis, Little Brother,” Erna said, returning to her seat with a smile on her lips that fully revealed her venomous fangs. ”The Vale of Mists hasn’t looked like much for more than a hundred years, but its time of dormancy is coming to an end.”

”Before it can rise,” she continued, ”the Vale of Mists must survive a crisis of its own, and I for one don’t intend to stand idly by and hope that it does. The High Fen will stand with the Vale of Mists,” she said firmly. ”And tonight, those who have doubts will learn at least a portion of the reason why.”

”Look! In the center of the arena!” A member of the audience shouted, snapping out of their dazed sense of awe when they noticed that the arena was no longer empty of people. The startled cry quickly gathered the attention of others who turned away from the wondrous trees to look at what could have drawn such a reaction after the miracle they’d just witnessed.

There, in the center of the arena, a single diminutive figure stood, looking like the guardian of a sacred grove. Her horns were hidden by her well-worn War Hat, but everyone recognized her for who she was as soon as they saw her on the floor of the arena.

This time, however, she had abandoned her borrowed coat of scale armor and replaced it with the signature midnight blue padded gambeson and chainmail of the Vale of Mists. On one hip she wore both her willow wand and glittering Snow Fang while the other held a coiled willow whip that had quickly become her signature weapon.

”Heila, my child,” Ashlynn said in a voice that resounded off the walls of the arena. ”Tonight, the stage is truly yours. Show them the real power of the Willow Witch!”