The Vampire & Her Witch

”Come, come! Four of you, two of us!” Kurtz laughed, the sound unnaturally loud and wild as Sybyll’s potent blood surged through his veins like liquid fire. He could feel strength beyond anything he’d ever experienced, speed that made his arena victories seem sluggish by comparison. The watching soldiers felt like his audience again, and he was going to give them a show they’d never forget.

”Ten tails of gold if you can knock me down!” he taunted, spinning his short sword in a series of elaborate flourishes that would have brought cheers from the crowd in High Fen City. But as he showed off, Templar Ibar hurled the broken remains of his shield directly at Kurtz’s face, following right behind the broken scraps of wood and steel with a perfect thrust backed by the full weight and power of his body.

Kurtz barely managed to twist aside in time to avoid a lethal blow and the blessed blade sliced cleanly through his blue and green harlequin patterned gambeson, drawing a line of blood across his ribs. The wound should have been a light scratch that Kurtz would have laughed off even if his head wasn’t clouded by the power of Sybyll’s blood, but this time, something unexpected happened.

A vampire’s power was a double edged sword, and while Sybyll’s potent blood offered Kurtz tremendous power and speed, it also made him vulnerable to the sacred energy that flowed along the blades of the Templars. The cut that wasn’t deep enough to need a healer’s stitching suddenly burned as if he’d been struck with a white hot brand and for a moment, Kurtz entire world went blurry and turned upside down as the blood within his veins steamed as it spilled from his wound.

Two agonizing heartbeats later, Templar Aldric’s shield rim crashed into Kurtz’s horns, snapping his head back and sending him staggering several steps away before he was able to bring his buckler in line to deflect the veteran Templar’s follow up sword swing.

-CLANG-

The force of the blow sent shivers up Kurtz arm, shaking him free from the fog of pain and delivering the most important lesson of the evening. This was not the arena. The soldiers were not his audience and his opponents... no, his enemies, were not putting on a show.

And if he didn’t take the fight as seriously as a duel to the death... Then Emmie would lose a father, and it would be his fault for forgetting where he was.

”All right then,” Kurtz said as he began to hop from foot to foot as he eyed the templars. His blade cut lazy figure eights in the air in front of him as he prepared to make his move, but this time he wasn’t playing for the crowd, he was obscuring his intentions as he began to bait the pair of Templars, revealing openings he wanted them to see in order to draw them to positions he was preparing to attack.

”A dance with death, right Jalal?” Kurtz called without taking his eyes off the Templars. ”Then let’s dance!”

”To think I would dance with such a partner,” Jalal laughed, spinning artfully as he skillfully deflected one Templar blade toward the other man attacking him. Every time he moved, he kept forcing the men to get in each other’s way, only stepping forward when one of the two was at least partially behind the other and retreating any time they separated enough to threaten him from two sides at once.

The initial shock didn’t last long, however, and the Templars quickly changed their strategy, spreading out as much as they could and alternating between them, one to attack, the other to defend, putting constant pressure on the dancing lord and the prancing gladiator.

As the shock of facing off against such a legendary demon faded away, Sarbil advanced with growing confidence, swinging again and again as his longsword’s greater reach forced Jalal to remain well beyond the effective range of his curved knives. Each time he swung, the tip or edge of his blade drew closer to the demon’s dark fur and resplendent, gem encrusted tunic, until several shallow cuts decorated Jalal’s arms and legs as he barely managed to deflect what would have been killing blows toward less lethal targets.

More than simply struggling when he defended himself, however, every time the Eldritch Lord tried to close distance, the Templar’s shield would snap forward in a practiced shield bash while his sword swept in deadly arcs that kept Jalal dancing backward, leaving the Templar without so much as a single wound as the fight dragged on.

”You profane the glory of the Ascended Swordsman,” Sarbil roared as he pressed his advantage, his blade growing brighter with his zealous fury at seeing a sacred icon on the chest of the demon. ”You insult his honor with your... AAAAAAARRRRHHHH”

A fierce grin appeared on Jalal’s thin lips as the Templar finally fell into his trap, over-extending his sword thrust in his obsession to remove the image of the sacred constellation from Jalal’s chest.

The Star Metal blades in Jalal’s hands glittered as they danced, tinging lightly off the metal of Sarbil’s bracer as their points slid toward the gaps in the armor. The point of one blade slid between the mail of Sarbil’s hauberk and his gauntlet, slicing into his soft, vulnerable wrist and piercing deeply, sliding between the bones of the wrist as it cut before Jalal twisted fiercely, releasing a fountain of hot blood that splattered across the Templar’s gleaming white tabard and the snow at his feet.

The blade in Jalal’s other hand skittered across the polished metal of Sarbil’s vambrace, sliding point first along his extended arm until it found the gap at the armpit and splitting the links of chain mail with the force of his blow until he buried the curved weapon to the hilt in the other man’s chest.

”DEMON!” Godfrey shouted as he rushed forward with a heavy overhand swing, intending to split the Cat Lord’s head in two while its blades were caught in Sarbil’s body.

In a flicker of starlight, the Eldritch Lord danced away, narrowly avoiding the furious blow and leaving his treasured blades behind as the Templar staggered in the snow, falling to his knees as frothy, pinkish blood spilled from his lips and leaked from his helm.

For a moment, the soldiers watching stood numb and mute, unable to believe what they had just seen, but the shock of Sarbil’s death was nothing compared to what they felt moments later when an even greater tragedy unfolded...