The Vampire & Her Witch

”I think yer wrong, Loman,” Sybyll said as she stood, walking to stand over the broken, kneeling priest. ”I think ye’ve been played like a piece on the chess board this whole time, and ye’ve not once been a master of yer own fate.”

”I think that’s why yer so lost,” she said with a brief glance at Heila. ”Maybe my brother can sort ye out. Lady Heila didn’a lie. Ignatious crawled out of a deeper darkness and more anguish than even I suffered an’ still, he holds to his faith. There must be somethin’ of value there to guide him all tha’ way back from tha brink.”

”But yer dangerous, Loman,” she continued sternly. ”Yer dangerous an’ yer not in control of yerself or yer sorcery an I cannot allow ye to threaten my people again any more than I can forgive ye fer what ye’ve already done ta’ them.”

”I understand,” Loman said, holding his head up high and meeting Sybyll’s gaze directly. ”You may be a demon, but you’re a knight, aren’t you? You must uphold justice, no matter who has done wrong. I will not plead for mercy.”

”Heila,” Sybyll said, looking over her shoulder at the diminutive witch. ”I promised Her Dominion that I wouldn’a kill him, but I must punish him fer what he’s done. Is yer witchcraft strong enough ta’ preserve his life from a heavy wound?”

”I can,” Heila said hesitantly as she approached the crimson-haired vampire and the ragged priest. ”If it’s pain you’re after,” she said, dropping a hand to her whip. ”I can give him however many lashes you want...”

”It’s kind of ye ta’ offer, Lady Heila,” Sybyll interrupted. ”But Loman were right about somethin’. Stand up, Loman Lothian,” she said firmly. ”An’ receive the judgement fer yer crimes.”

Chains clanked and rattled as Loman stood, slowly drawing himself to his full height before Dame Sybyll. He was still shorter than the powerful vampire, and this close, he felt a palpable aura of bloodlust radiating from her as she stopped holding herself back. For a moment, she was perfectly still and inhumanly strong, and it was a struggle for Loman to simply draw breath in her presence.

A dark, predatory smile appeared on the vampire’s crimson lips as she reached out to the chains that bound Loman’s hands together and the sound of tearing metal filled the air as she pulled the links of the chain apart, holding on to his left hand while she looked him directly in the eyes.

”Ye were right tha’ its dangerous ta’ leave an enemy behind who can still harm ye,” she said. ”But unless everything I’ve learned from Jalal over the years is wrong, yer sorcery, yer ’holy rituals’ still require ye to do the work of an archer. Ye still have ta’ draw an arrow wit’ yer Bow of Stars, an ye still have ta see yer target ta aim at them.”

”Am I wrong, Lord Loman?” Sybyll asked in a tone much closer to what a lover would use to arouse their partner than the tone a lord would use to question the guilty, yet somehow, when the words spilled from the crimson lips of the alluring vampire, they sounded even more chilling.

”You aren’t wrong,” Loman said, holding up two fingers on his right hand. ”I’ve heard that in the old countries, they punish archers by severing two fingers on the right hand to stop them from ever drawing a bow again...”

He wasn’t certain if it was true or not. It sounded outlandish to punish a man who relied on his ability to shoot a bow to feed his family or defend his home by cutting off his only means to do either, but Loman had to remind himself when he heard the story that the old countries still warred upon each other. If you were afraid of your defeated foe coming back to face you again one day, severing the ability of an archer to take down an armored knight was certainly an efficient way to weaken your foe without resorting to slaughter.

”Ye killed seven men ta’ fuel yer sorcery t’night, Loman,” Sybyll said sharply. ”Only a corrupt and coddled lord would think that offering up two fingers is a fair price for the lives of seven men! An’ how many more died in tha’ plaza who were yer own brothers in faith an’ in arms? Am I supposed ta’ tell them tha’ their lives, an the pain an’ sufferin’ of all tha’ wounded only amounts ta takin’ two fingers from a lord’s hand?”

”Lady Heila,” Sybyll said, pausing to look at the diminutive witch. ”Ye said tha’ acolytes who survived had lost many years of their lives ta’ this sorcery. How many years did they lose?”

”It, it doesn’t quite work like that,” Heila said hesitantly as she felt the fury radiating off of Sybyll in response to Loman’s offer of two fingers. ”All of them are withered and frail. If they receive good care, plenty of rest and don’t need to do strenuous work, they may enjoy another five, even ten years of life. But if they try to return to the lives they lived before, they wouldn’t last a full year of labor.”

”Seven men dead as sacrifices,” Sybyll said. ”Five reduced ta’ invalids wit’ only a handful of years ta’ live. Ye know, I’m tempted ta’ offer them ta’ Tausau, ta’ join ’is Mongrel Horde, just ta’ give them a chance at living full lives again after what ye did ta them. Maybe then they can claim some justice wit’ their own hands if they can ever hunt ye down...”

”But fer now,” she said as she gave him a menacing look. ”I’ll make sure ye can never draw yer Bow of Stars again, nor take aim at any of me people!”

When she struck, Dame Sybyll’s movements were brutal, decisive, and faster than anyone could see. They were also precisely calculated to cripple the man before her without claiming his life, but she wanted to make certain that he suffered a fitting punishment.

Dame Sybyll understood archers well enough to know that they aimed with one eye more than the other, and that it was usually the opposite eye from the hand they used to draw back the bow, and so when she struck, her first swipe raked her razor sharp, elongated fingernails down the length of the left side of his face, leaving several deep, bloody wounds and slicing his eye open in the process.

Pain erupted in Loman’s head and his face felt like it had been dragged across a bed of hot coals, but Sybyll wasn’t done breaking the archer yet. Loman had offered two fingers, but that was far from enough to pay for the crimes he’d committed against her people tonight. So, once her hand had torn through the soft, tender flesh of his handsome features, it swept lower, clutching at his left arm and ripping it from its socket.

He had taken Jalal’s left arm from him and left the proud warrior weakened, able to carry only a single blade into a dance with death. Now, Sybyll smiled at the symmetry as she inflicted the very same wound on Loman Lothian. His right arm, she left him. He’d offered up the fingers of that hand and she wanted him to keep those fingers as a reminder that she’d rejected his pathetic offer that made a mockery of justice.

Instead, she took the arm that just hours ago had held aloft a glittering Bow of Stars, leaving nothing in its place but torn flesh and broken bone...