The Vampire & Her Witch

”Where are tha men I asked ye’ ta’ bring fer tonight’s dance?”

Hearing Dame Sybyll’s question, the gathered captains exchanged confused and slightly worried glances. They had already formed their plans for the assault on the town and each person knew their role in the coming battle... but Dame Sybyll had called on Lord Jalal for reinforcements? And she hadn’t told them?

”Patience, my darling dancer, patience,” Jalal purred as he leaned into Sybyll’s friendly, welcoming touch. The gesture might look intimate to outsiders who misunderstood, but to those who knew the Soft Paw Clan, seeing Dame Sybyll scritching the ears of Eldritch Lord of Airgead Mountain was a sign of just how much he trusted and relied on her, and a sign of her willingness to protect the feline lord and ensure his safety.

”It isn’t easy to carry our drums so far from home,” the Eldritch Lord continued when Sybyll withdrew her hand. ”I rushed ahead to say hello and to make my own request,” he said as he plucked at the laces that held his dark, shadowy cloak closed to reveal a gem-studded tunic beneath. ”I wish to join the dance tonight, Dame Sybyll,” he said with a twinkle in his dark eyes. ”Will you let me spill blood with you and your... army?”

”Ye know I won’t,” Sybyll said tersely with a shake of her head. ”I know tha’ men ye want ta’ hunt, an’ I don’t mind lettin’ ’em loose in tha’ wilderness wit’ a blade fer ye or yer men ta’ chase and dance wit’ ta’ yer heart’s content,” she added with a warning look. ”But tonight, we only kill soldiers, an’ tha’ men ye’ want dead aren’t among ’em.”

”Not soldiers?” Jalal spat. ”They come with swords and spears, picks and axes. They wear armor and carry bows for hunting people. They invade our home every year to carry away as many stones as they can steal, and yet they aren’t soldiers?”

The wealth of Airgead mountain was too tempting for some men to resist, and even without the cover of a war against the Eldritch, there were always men with more greed than sense who were willing to fund a venture into the wilderness to pillage what they could in smash-and-grab raids.

Most who were greedy enough and foolish enough to spend a night on the slopes of Airgead mountain died to Sybyll’s ax before the sun rose, but not before they’d killed any members of Jalal’s clan that they encountered and shoved their bags full of precious stones.

But for every five raiding parties that Sybyll crushed, at least one made it off the mountain, sometimes without even encountering Jalal’s people, and their success was enough to ensure that more bands of raiders would try their luck again.

Baron Hanrahan might be too cowardly to call up his men to organize a real war against the nation of Airgead Mountain, but he supported enough of these raids to create a constant series of tragic losses and shattered families, leaving a festering, never-healing wound in Lord Jalal’s heart that cried out for the soothing balm of vengeance.

”They aren’t,” Sybyll insisted. ”Not tha’ way that matters t’night. Thieves, robbers, brigands, raiders, call ’em what ye wish, but tonight, if they don’t take ta tha’ streets ta’ fight then we let ’em live.”

”Then at least let me come with you to kill a few ’soldiers,’” the Eldritch lord pleaded, stepping up close enough to Dame Sybyll to rub up against her as he whispered in her ear. ”I’ll guard your flank and leave you free to kill your kinsmen, but let me at least bathe my blades in blood tonight. I even dressed for the dance,” he added as he stepped back and gestured to the gem-studded tunic he wore.

At a distance, the tunic caught and reflected enough of the pale light reflecting off the snow that it might be mistaken for armor. It was only when a person drew closer that they would realize that the entire tunic was covered in dark amethysts and sapphires, carefully placed in dark metal settings before being stitched in place like a tapestry of the night sky that caught the light and twinkled like stars in the dark.

Most striking of all, however, were the large diamonds, each the size of a cherry pit, that had been arranged in the pattern of a familiar constellation of stars.

”Ye promise ta’ kill only soldiers who stand against us?” Sybyll asked, fixing the feline lord in place with a crimson stare so intense that his tail stopped twitching.

”If that’s the price to be paid to join the dance and spill blood tonight, then that’s a price I’ll pay,” Jalal said, refusing to back down from her stare. He’d danced with Dame Sybyll often enough to know that he wasn’t her match.

She could have taken Airgead Mountain from him at any point she wanted, and none of his people would have protested so long as their duel was fought before witnesses, under the stars, and in full view of the people. She could have done it any number of times over the many years she had spent living among them, but she never had. Instead, she’d learned their ways and become almost as much a member of his own nation as she was a part of the Vale of Mists, though there was never any doubt about where her ultimate loyalties lay.

But just because she could defeat him didn’t mean that Jalal was willing to set aside his dignity as the Eldritch Lord of Airgead Mountain. That was the real reason he’d told his men to advance slowly while he rushed ahead. He needed to have this conversation with Dame Sybylll before his men arrived because the shame of backing down to the powerful vampire in front his people might cause him considerable problems in the days to come.

Jalal had ruled Airgead Mountain for several decades already but he knew that his dancing years were approaching their end. When the time came, he intended to summon the drummers for a whole season of dancing with bared blades until the next Lord of Airgead Mountain emerged from the bloody ritual of succession... but he wasn’t ready yet and the last thing he wanted to see was a challenge that came on the heels of rumors about his weakness because he gave way to one of Nyrielle’s progeny.

”Cousin Hugo,” Sybyll called, looking over her shoulder and waving for the bastard son of her cousin, Ian Hanrahan, to join her. ”Have ye’ considered me offer? Will ye’ stay at me side t’night and spill blood if it comes ta’ that?”

”I’ve made up my mind about whose side I’m on,” Hugo said as he walked forward to join his imposing cousin and the alternately fierce and playful Eldritch Lord. ”But you know I’m not much good with a sword. I don’t want to get in your way,” he said truthfully. He’d gotten better at fighting, or at least at taking a blow, in the months he spent receiving ’tutoring’ from Sir Rain and Lord Owain, but he was still a long way from calling himself skilled enough to set foot on a battlefield.

”Good enough, if ye’ve made up yer mind,” Sybyll said with an approving grin as she placed an armored hand on Hugo’s shoulder. ”Jalal, this is me cousin, Hugo. He’s Ian Hanrahan’s abandoned git an’ the only family I won’t kill t’night. If ye want ta’ come dance wit’ us, fine enough, but I don’ need ye at me side.”

”Give tha’ lad a blade,” she said, since any weapons Hugo had owned when he was captured were taken away from him and left behind in the Vale of Mists. ”I know ye have a spare or two, so toss ’im one, an’ keep him safe till we reach his father. Ye can kill anyone what tries ta’ harm him or dumb enough ta’ try ta kill you. Fair enough, kittin’?”

”Fair enough,” Jalal said as his tail began to swish back and forth in obvious relief as he reached around his back to retrieve a curved knife that was as long as his forearm and shaped like a cat’s hooked claw.

”You’re in luck boy,” the feline lord said as he presented the hilt of the blade to the boy. ”We have a few minutes yet before my men arrive. Time enough for you to make an offering to the First Warrior and receive his guidance for the battle ahead. Come,” he said as he turned toward a clearing not far from where the army had gathered. ”Let me show you the way...”