The Vampire & Her Witch

”Come here, me old friend,” Sybyll said warmly, gesturing for the feline lord of Airgead Mountain to join her at the edge of the dais. ”I should be givin’ this back ta ye,” she said as her eyes tightened when they fell on the stump where Jalal’s left arm had been.

”You told me to stay with my drummers and watch from afar,” Jalal reminded her. ”I was the one who insisted on joining the dance tonight. I can’t complain when my partner is a little rough with me in the dance,” he said with a slow, languid smile, as if it didn’t bother him to have lost a limb.

But Sybyll knew the truth that lurked behind those sleepy, feline eyes. Without a knife in each hand, he could never defend his position as Eldritch Lord of Airgead Mountain. So long as the old ways were kept, he would lose his place as lord before the snows melted. But her friend had protected his people for too long, and he’d given Sybyll herself far too much for her to see him tumble from his throne to become nothing more than a forgotten, broken warrior.

”We’ll do this tha’ Vale’s way,” Sybyll said as she pulled her eyes away from the stump of his arm to look directly into his cat-like eyes. ”Kneel b’fore me, old friend, an’ make yer oath,” she commanded.

”The throne of Airgead Mountain belongs to the one with the might to protect its people,” Jalal said formally as he knelt before the woman he’d affectionately called his ’Crimson Dancer.’ This day, in his mind, was long overdue, but now that he found himself here, kneeling in her own ancestral hall, he felt like he finally understood why she could never accept his throne, even when she’d earned it a thousand times over. There was another throne waiting for her, and he couldn’t relinquish his until she was able to claim her own.

”For twenty years and more, you have been the strongest defender of Airgead Mountain, yet you’ve allowed me to sit upon the throne of my ancestors,” he continued in a clear and powerful voice that echoed off the walls of the stone hall. ”The stars have witnessed your strength and your courage, and I can no longer cling to the illusion that I am strong enough to hold my throne or defend my people.”

”My throne is yours for the taking,” he said as he puffed up his chest and placed the claws of his remaining hand over his heart. ”And my life as well if you wish it. Please, my friend. Take up the throne of Airgead Mountain and protect my people from the dangers that threaten them. Defend our sacred spaces and allow our nation to dance freely beneath the stars until the stars themselves tumble from the sky.”

It was the first time that anyone had ever seen a demon lord surrender or submit and for a moment, everyone shared the same glimpse of something that was both utterly alien and profoundly familiar. The words were strange, and no human lord would ever dream of caring for the people of a defeated demon if one were to surrender to them and yet...

Dame Sybyll and Lord Jalal addressed each other as friends. They had fought side by side, and when one of them was too badly wounded to continue to lead his people, he turned to his closest friend and surrendered his throne to her so that she could continue on in his stead.

It was strange, and foreign, and heartrendingly beautiful.

”I’ll take yer life,” Sybyll said with equal formality as she reached out with a sharp, blood red fingernail to trace a small crimson line down the center of Jalal’s forehead. ”But I will not end it. I have need of ye at me side, old friend, an’ I will not see yer life wasted.”

”Blood Pact: The Mark of Kinship,” she said as she sliced open the tip of her own finger and spilled a single drop of blood on the shallow wound on Jalal’s forehead. ”Ye are as me own kin, an’ no one may treat ye otherwise,” she continued formally. ”From t’day forward, ye will be known as Jalal Hanrahan, an’ ye will serve as me Lord Marshal until Her Dominion sees fit ta grant us both other titles.”

”I need yer help, old friend,” she said as she took his hand and helped him to his feet. ”There is much ta’ be done during the day when I sleep, an’ there’s no one I trust more ta’ watch over all our people than ye. Can I count on ye, Jalal Hanrahan?” Sybyll asked with a dazzling smile on her crimson lips.

”Of course you can count on me,” Jalal said as he stood, chuckling at the notion that his old friend had decided to hang a human surname on him. The mark she’d bestowed on him was more than enough to identify them as kin to anyone who knew how to look, but since these humans placed so much importance on names and the people who had inherited the right to carry them, he supposed it wasn’t a bad thing.

”I’ve even brought a gift,” he said with a grin that revealed his sharp, pointy teeth. With Sybyll’s help, Jalal opened the lid on the second chest, dipping his hand in to scoop out dozens of roughly cut gemstones that glittered in the shifting, colorful lights emanating from Hauke’s sorcery. ”These are for the rebuilding of Hanrahan Town, and for building roads between the mountain and the valleys. Take them as the first tithe from the villages of Airgead Mountain so together we may thrive.”

Toward the back of the dais, Hauke watched the ceremony unfold with a bittersweet, knowing smile that few present could truly understand. Just weeks ago, he had surrendered his claim to the throne of the High Pass, rejecting Ashlynn’s offer to relinquish it to him at the end of his exile and pleading for her to take up the defense of his people instead.

Now, Jalal became the second Eldritch Lord to cede territory to the Vale of Mists. The addition of those two territories alone, combined with the lands between them and Hanrahan Barony, would be enough to see Lady Nyrielle raised to the stature of a High Lady under Eldritch customs, but he knew that she and Mother Ashlynn had their sights set far beyond the conquest of a few Eldritch lands and a single human-held barony.

By the time they were done, Hauke wondered how many other lords would join him and Jalal in the circle of lords who had chosen the Vale of Mists to act as their shield against the expansion of the Kingdom of Gaal and the hatred of the Church of the Holy Lord of Light.

”There is a larger world fer ye ta find,” Sybyll said with a smile as she looked into the glittering eyes of the merchants, craftsmen, and leaders of Hanrahan who were finally starting to understand the real, tangible benefits that could come from cooperation with the Eldritch.

”After t’night, ye’ll find new partners ta’ trade wit’, not just on Airgead Mountain, but in tha’ Vale of Mists, tha’ Southern Steppe, an’ past tha’ mountains in tha’ High Fen an’ beyond.”

”If ye have an open heart,” she said, placing a hand over her bosom. ”An’ ye can keep yer minds open ta’ things that are different than what ye’ve known, than this is will be tha’ darkest night of yer lives, followed by tha’ dawn of somethin’ greater than ye can imagine.”