The Vampire & Her Witch

Commander Jannik stood defiantly on the icy floor of the Great Hall, his dark blue horn blazing with determination as he stood his ground between Nyrielle and the assembled Frost Walkers behind him. Inwardly, his heart pounded in his chest filling his limbs with power and fury that he’d thought he’d left behind along with the tempestuious days of his youth when he contended with Ritchel for the title of Lord of the High Pass.

Ever since that bitter defeat, Jannik honed himself into the best weapon he could, growing from a powerful warrior and fearless hunter into a steady commander who could both lead his men and stand back to see the larger picture. With each year that passed, though his body softened ever so slightly, his mind sharpened by twice as much, turning him into a spear that Ritchel could rely on to vanquish their enemies and protect their people.

It hadn’t happened over night, but the years of rivalry between the two men had slowly melted before refreezing in the shape of an unshakable friendship. Seeing the bodies of Ritchel’s Honor Guard was hard enough, but the visit he’d paid his friend and the sight of his wounded, powerless body was even worse. He’d promised then that, whatever it took, he would fight for his friend and more importantly, fight to protect their people now that the mighty Ritchel no longer could.

At first, Jannik’s heart shuddered in relief when the Mother of Trees said there might be a chance, but when she explained her plan, everything that had been joyous in that moment twisted like a snake, sinking its fangs into the hand that dared to hold it.

”You have already crippled Lord Ritchel,” Jannik said, glaring from the Mother of Trees to the Thistle Witch. ”Six of our greatest sorcerers have fallen and five more of our young warriors lay not far from them. Our Young Lord lays broken and mindless in the cells below and there is no one else who can practice the fearsome sorcery he learned from the ancestors. Our greatest strengths have all been broken like ice hurled upon the stones,” he said.

”But even this isn’t enough for you!” Jannik shouted, clenching his fists until the tips of his claws pierced the thick flesh of his palms, spilling a trace of blood into his dark fur. ”Now you would feed on our people, draining away our literal lifeblood and for what? A chance that you might restore Lord Ritchel? A hope that you can hold over us for as long as you like?”

”We are not sheep like the Horned Clan to be grazed upon like livestock!” he roared, his voice growing louder with every sentence. ”We will not stand for this!”

”Childish,” Nyrielle said, shaking her head at his outburst and raising a hand shrouded in dark, shadowy energy as she prepared to ’defeat’ the disruptive commander before he could further derail the proceedings.

She was willing to invest as long as it took to create however many Blood Vitality Crystals were necessary to save Ritchel’s life. Even if the Frost Walkers didn’t supply her with blood, she would seek offerings from within the Vale of Mists or prey on human villages if she needed to in order to save the grandson of the man who had sheltered so many of her people when the Vale of Mists fell to Cellach Lothian.

All those years ago, it had been Ritchel’s grandfather who led Frost Walker hunters into the low lands to gather lost refugees fleeing across the mountains. Even though he did nothing to fight the humans, the safety he provided to her people had earned him generations of thanks from Nyrielle. Thanks that had, over the past several decades, turned into an enduring friendship with his descendants. A friendship that meant even more to her now, after Ashlynn reawakened her slumbering heart, than it had just a few years ago. She wasn’t about to throw away one of her few friendships over this, but why did this fool have to make things so difficult?

”My love,” Ashlynn said, placing a hand over Nyrielle’s before she could strike the defiant commander down. Her emerald eyes were soft and pleading as she looked at her lover but her voice was firm and confident. ”Let me speak a little more. They need to understand or we will stumble and fall later.”

”I blame my recent impatience on you, my darling,” Nyrielle said, withdrawing the shadowy energy, lowering her hand, and giving Ashlynn a brief smile. ”But see that they do not test what patience remains. I know that you don’t want to see more blood spilled,” she said, turning her midnight gaze on the dark-furred Frost Walker commander. ”But I do not share your commitment to non-violence here.”

”This won’t take long,” Ashlynn said, returning Nyrielle’s smile before turning back to Commander Jannik. ”You speak of feeding vampires as though it makes us less than you. As though the act of giving something of ourselves so that another might continue to live is something to be ashamed of, afraid of or run from.”

”The people of the Vale of Mists do not see it this way,” she said, pulling down the collar of her dress to reveal two very faint scars on her neck from the very first time Nyrielle fed on her. Within another few months, those scars would be gone entirely, but in the chill air of the Great Hall, her flushed skin revealed the marks clearly.

”Generations of people in the vale have grown up knowing peace and comfort in their lives because of the vampires who protected them,” Ashlynn said, gesturing at the people assembled on Nyrielle’s side of the Great Hall. ”Since coming to the Vale of Mists, I have offered up my blood to Mistress Nyrielle many times. She has never once taken it from me when it wasn’t a gift freely and lovingly given,” she said. As she spoke, she reached out a hand and quietly gripped Nyrielle’s, interlacing their fingers and holding tightly.

”People of the Vale, who among you have offered up blood and life to sustain our guardians and protectors?”

”I have,” Heila said instantly, stepping forward and raising a wrist bearing two fresh pink bite marks. ”I have learned so much from Madame Zedya and I offered myself up in thanks during our journey to the briar. Later, during the battle, I offered myself to Sir Ignatious so that he might heal from his wounds and help to rescue Mother Ashlynn from the prison of ice.”

”I have never been harmed by a vampire who fed on me and, and if they asked,” she said as her face began to grow warm. ”If they asked, then I would offer myself up again,” she said in a quieter voice as she carefully avoided meeting Ignatious’s warm, gentle gaze.

”I have offered blood and my life, more than once on this journey,” Lennart said, stepping forward from the crowd with several soldiers around him stepping forward as well. ”Lady Nyrielle will only feed on her own people just enough to slake her hunger but when she was injured in the battle for the Tangled Tower, I would have given all of my life’s blood to heal her wounds. She has done far more for us than the sacrifice of one life.”

”I have given my blood...”

”I fought to be the best in my unit to earn the right to offer myself to Sir Thane last year...”

”Madame Zedya once asked for my help...”

The stories flowed like water, spilling from the lips of the people from the Vale of Mists in an unending flow that left the audience on both sides of the hall stunned. Those who had joined Nyrielle’s army in High Fen City had yet to experience the traditions of the Vale and a few of them wondered if they had joined an army of madmen or worse... fanatics.

Others, however, saw the genuine compassion and even concern that came with the stories that Lady Nyrielle’s people told. Some spoke of times when the vampires in their midst were injured, while others were proud that they’d earned the privilege of offering themselves up but not one of them sounded unwilling.

”You see, Commander Jannik?” Ashlynn said after everyone from the Vale of Mists had a chance to tell their tale. ”In the Vale of Mists, we know that there is more than one way to offer your life to help another. You do not need to take up arms and fight to your dying breath to do something noble that sustains a life.”

”My coven and I are offering to use our witchcraft and Mistress Nyrielle’s blood sorcery to save Ritchel’s life if it can be saved,” Ashlynn said. ”But the Vale of Mists is still small and every person that Nyrielle must gorge herself on will take at least a month of rest to recover afterward. If we must, we will bear this burden ourselves to save Ritchel’s life and help the fallen members of his Honor Guard to know peace in death...”

”But it would mean much to both the living and the dead if some of your own people would share in this burden,” Ashlynn said, turning away from Jannik to address Odette and the other family members of the fallen men directly. ”No one will compel you, but the dead demand justice. You can fight for vengeance, or you can bleed to save a life. The choice is yours.”