The Vampire & Her Witch

”A serpent made of fire?” Baron Hanrahan said, momentarily shaken to the core as he wondered if the trumpet blast had come from the singular, impossibly long throat of a serpent so large that it could be seen from the castle. Eventually, however, his mind caught up with him, and he snorted disdainfully both at the young knight for saying something so ludicrous and himself for believing it in his moment of panic.

”Preposterous,” Ian snorted. ”There are no beasts that large, and there haven’t been since ancient times. You,” he said sharply, rounding on a nearby page and pointing a thick finger at the startled boy. ”Run to my study and fetch my perspective glass! And someone, open up a window. I want to see this ’Fire Serpent’ for myself.”

”My lord,” Sir Dollin said, looking at the baron with haunted eyes that struggled to keep from getting lost in a sea of memories conjured by the sounds echoing across the valley. ”I know those drums. The cat demons grow twice as strong when their demon drummers play...”

The hardest, hottest fighting of the War of Inches had always been accompanied by the sound of those terrible drums. It was like the sound of it drove the demons mad, turning them into red-eyed fiends that didn’t feel pain, didn’t know fear, and didn’t hesitate to trade their lives for the chance to pull down just one more human soldier or knight.

In one pitched battle, the fighting had grown so fierce that Marquis Bors ordered Baron Leufroy to take five knights and fifteen men on horses to circle around and assault the demon’s drummers, and the tide of battle hadn’t turned until the last drum had been smashed to kindling. If the demons had brought out their drums...

”We were wrong,” Inquisitor Diarmuid said in a tone that was disturbingly grim. ”Or we were right that the foreign demons didn’t join the Demon Lady of the Vale, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t find shelter with one of the other demon lords...”

Everyone in the hall was processing the news their own way. At one table, the women who had been gossiping earlier had huddled together, whispering fiercely to each other.

”We should run now,” Roseen said as her eyes darted from the western windows to the entrance of the great hall. ”If we go now, we can be the first ones into the cellars to hide. That way...”

”Don’t be silly, Roseen,” the besotted Cossot said. ”Lord Loman will protect us from the demons, you just have to have faith in him. Remember what he said earlier?” she asked, turning to look at her friend at the table with eyes that sparkled with dreams and hopes. ”He may need us to help him if there are wounded to care for,” she said as she turned her eyes back to Loman’s handsome figure at the front of the great hall.

”Cossot, are you mad?” Roseen hissed, staring at the young woman who seemed more interested in chasing after the shining young lord than saving her own life. ”You heard the bell! Demons are coming!”

”Oh, hush,” Cossot said, waving a hand at her flustered friend. ”No demons have ever scaled the walls of Hanrahan town, even without Lord Loman to protect us. We’ll be fine. But if we run now, then he’ll never look our way again...”

Meanwhile, near the high table, Head Priest Germot had walked over to one of the hall’s narrow, glass-filled windows, gazing out at the ruddy glow at the edge of the valley as he muttered prayers under his breath.

”Lord of Light, most holy source of life in the heavens,” he said softly as he clasped his hands together. ”Giver of this life and guide to the next, please hear my prayers. In this life, I have been an imperfect servant of your will and I have failed in the struggle against temptations, but I have always strived to make amends for my failings...”

Not far from him, Loman shook his head slightly as he turned away from the priest, who seemed to feel that his death was so close at hand that he needed to plead with the Holy Lord of Light to forgive his failings in this life before it ended. The sound of the demon’s drumming might be terrifying, but it was hardly a reason to give up hope, and there was still much they could do. The struggle to survive and defeat the demons hadn’t even begun yet, and Loman wasn’t about to give up now and join the aging Head Priest in praying for a merciful end.

”Forgive me, Father,” Loman said softly as he made up his mind to face the demons. ”I know this isn’t how you wanted me to face this challenge, but I can’t do this your way,” he admitted to himself as he turned to one of the pages and gave orders for the man to fetch an item from his luggage.

Other pages were also rushing about the hall, leaving the platters that had carried pitchers of wine and ale reserved for the high table in a discarded, dripping heap on the floor as they carried out the orders of Sir Dollin and the other knights to fetch their armor and weapons as they began stripping off their elaborately embroidered tunics and prepared themselves for the battle that was sure to come.

”Take it one step at a time, lad,” Sir Dollin told the young Sir Niall. ”It’s fine if there are butterflies in your gut and your knees feel a bit weak. You can empty your stomach in a bucket before the battle if you have to, better to do it now than once the fighting starts.”

”Sir Dollin’s right,” Sir Thorryn chimed in. ”The minutes before battle are the worst. Once the fighting begins, you won’t have enough time to be afraid, but I nearly pissed myself with nerves the first time I had to ride out to face a raid. Every man’s first time comes for him eventually,” he added as he clapped a hand on the young knight’s shoulder.

”Just remember what you’re fighting for,” he added in a much quieter voice as he nodded in the direction of his own young daughter, who clutched the hand of the young woman that Niall was courting. ”We both have something to come back to, don’t we? So stay at my side and we’ll help each other make it through...”

”Th-thank you, Sir Thorryn,” the young man said, swallowing heavily as his complexion faded from slightly green to simply pale. ”I, I won’t let you down,” he promised.

Beside him, Sir Dollin turned to face Bastian Hanrahan, wondering if the young lord might need similar words of encouragement as they prepared to face whatever horror the demons had unleashed. Surprisingly, however, once Sir Dollin and the knights had given orders to have their weapons and armor brought to the great hall, Bastian had begun issuing orders of his own.

”Take down Dawn’s Edge from the walls,” Bastian said, pointing to an ax hanging on the wall with an extra-long shaft that had been carved from one of the demon’s sacred trees before it was presented to Baron Brighton Hanrahan by Bors Lothian’s father. ”My father will want to meet the demons in battle with our most glorious weapon,” Bastian insisted, even though Ian Hanrahan had never once taken the heavy weapon to battle during the War of Inches.

”And fetch our best banners with soldiers to carry them,” Bastian continued. ”We will not hide from the demons when we fight them!”

Seeing the young man’s enthusiasm, Sir Dollin wasn’t sure whether he should admire the young lord for his courage and faith in the face of the demons, or pity him for his naive impression of his father and what would happen in the battle to come.

For a moment, he considered suggesting that Baron Hanrahan wouldn’t need his weapons or armor to direct the battle from the keep and that Bastian should take up the storied weapon to represent his family on the field, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he couldn’t find the will to say the words.

If Baron Hanrahan wanted to take this moment to cover himself in glory on a field of battle where he would be protected by Templars and the Inquisition, it would only embarrass him if one of his knights suggested that he do otherwise, and Sir Dollin wasn’t willing to risk the consequences of upsetting Lord Ian at such a delicate moment.

Moments later, a page returned with a long wooden tube held reverently in his hands, as if he was afraid of dropping something so precious. One end of the tube was wider than the other, and both ends were fitted with polished brass caps that held smooth pieces of glass.

The perspective glass was one of the most expensive treasures Baron Hanrahan owned, but he had never once begrudged the cost of the powerful tool that let him see across the entire valley without leaving his fortified keep.

As soon as the baron lifted the perspective glass to his eye, looking out through a recently opened window that let in a draft of frigid air, the hall went quiet again as they waited for the baron’s news...