The Vampire & Her Witch

”I’m just glad they’re still letting my Ritchel’s banner fly, even if it is at the back of the hall,” Odette said, wilting slightly under the pointed gaze from Aspakos and trying to ignore the implication that came along with it. Instead, she pushed back as much as she dared, looking nervously in the direction of the white banner at the back of the hall that stood in stark contrast to either of the banners flown by their conquerors.

Ritchel’s glyph was simple, a few strokes to form a mountain and a final one to represent his horn sufficed. In ancient times, there had been more mountains on the banners of his predecessors, but now, simply holding on to one mountain at the highest point of the High Pass was an accomplishment for the dwindling clan.

How long that banner would continue to fly, however, remained to be seen. As the sun slid toward the horizon, the final preparations were set in place. Tonight was an assembly of the court. There would be no tables and no feast, only two thrones upon the dias where Nyrielle and Ashlynn would sit in judgment and two rows of chairs beneath the dias facing each other where the leaders from each side would sit.

The rest of the hall had begun to fill with with Frost Walkers on one side and Lady Nyrielle’s people on the other. All of the other tables and chairs had been cleared away, leaving a vast area that could hold more than five hundred people standing through the deliberation.

Some of those people were soldiers who had fought in the battle while others were common folk from either side of the conflict who had been given the opportunity to observe what would happen here tonight.

The dark furred Commander Jannik stood at the second of the Frost Walker seats, signifying that he intended to let Odette take the most senior of the seats to speak in her husband’s place. Next to him, the stooped figure of Old Svenja had already taken a seat, unwilling to waste her strength standing when the people in charge of their conquerors had yet to arrive. Two other elders stood beside her, leaving three remaining seats empty.

One would have belonged to whoever succeeded Paulus’s spot among the elders but two others belonged to elders who had stood as members of Lord Ritchel’s honor guard. Looking at the empty seats, Odette’s hands curled into tight fists and she lowered her horn in solemn respect. Without their courage and sacrifice, her husband might have fallen to the Thistle Witch before he could consume the Blood Vitality Crystal and defend himself. Each one of his honor guard who had died bought precious seconds for her husband and so she silently thanked each one of them even as she fought back tears for their loss.

She wanted to hate Talauia for slaughtering them and she wanted to hate Nyrielle and Ashlynn for bringing their army to the High Pass in the first place but no matter how much she wanted to hate them... she couldn’t. They hadn’t been the ones to attack first.

She didn’t understand why the Ancestors had possessed Hauke and forced him to attack the witches, but she was certain it hadn’t been her son who had done so. He was too excited to reunite with Lady Ashlynn and little Heila to have done anything to harm them but... if the Ancestors were the ones to attack, then in their considerable wisdom, they must have a good reason why.

So, as much as Odette wanted to hate the ancestors for what they had done, she couldn’t bring herself to hate them either. Yet still, her heart burned with hatred and it wouldn’t rest if she couldn’t direct that hatred somewhere... and so she directed it at the only place she could. At herself, her husband and the remainder of the council.

It was their fault that Hauke had been allowed to wear the iridescent horns of the ancestors. It had been Ritchel’s voice that swayed the divided council and she had supported it as well, hoping that Hauke could grow into a greater and stronger lord even sooner. One who could relieve his father of his burdens.

Only now... because they had allowed him to do something that should have been forbidden, everything had gone so badly wrong. Silently, Odette resolved herself to offer up her horn as a prize to be made into a blade for the Mother of Trees herself if that’s what it would take to secure her husband’s life... or Hauke’s.

She’s asked Master Aspakos more than once what he had concluded after he and the Artificer examined her son, but the sorcerer said nothing, keeping his beak sealed about whatever they had learned and telling her only that they would hear his report when he gave it to the Harbinger of Death.

The one time she’d visited him, his vacant eyes seemed filled with tears he couldn’t shed but no matter how many times she called out to her son, his body never moved a muscle and his horn refused to glow. If not for the healer’s assurances that his heart still beat and he still drew breath, she would have taken him for a corpse.

It took all her strength to sit calmly next to his bed, whispering in his ear that she was still here, that his father was still alive, and that they were waiting with open arms for him to come home. Of all the people in this disaster, as far as Odette was concerned, Hauke bore the least blame, but whether or not she could convince Lady Nyrielle or Lady Ashlynn of that...

”Master Aspakos,” she began, turning to look at the brooding sorcerer. ”Do you think that...”

Before she could finish her question, however, the sudden sound of approaching drumms filled the hall. The Tuscans at the corners of the hall began to pound the butts of their spears on the floor in time to the drum beat and the soldiers accompanying them quickly formed ranks, preparing to receive the people who would decide the fate of the High Pass.

”Never mind,” Odette said softly as she turned to take her place at the head of the Frost Walker delegation. The time was upon them. One way or another, her questions about their future were about to be answered.