The Vampire & Her Witch

Until the day when he could reveal the full truth of what happened this morning, Loghlan would have to settle for a different story. A lesser truth that would protect the greater one, and a narrative that would satisfy people’s curiosity without revealing anything that might put Sir Ollie or his companions in danger.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the quiet sounds of Ollie’s fading sobs. No one seemed willing to break the moment, to shatter the fragile peace that had settled over the clearing now that the crisis had passed. They all needed this time, Loghlan realized. They needed a few minutes to process what they had witnessed, to let their hearts settle and their thoughts clear before turning their attention to the practical matters that still remained.

So Loghlan waited, patient and still, while Ollie and Milo held each other by the fire and while Cynwrig clutched his son and sent up silent prayers of gratitude.

He gave them several minutes of quiet contemplation, of processing and accepting. And then, because someone had to, because there was still work to be done and decisions to be made, Baron Loghlan cleared his throat and stepped forward.

”Sir Bedwyr,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. ”We need to make a splint for Lady Cerys’s arm. Can you see what you can find among the fallen branches that might serve? Something straight and strong enough to stabilize the break until we can get her back to camp to use something better.”

”Yes, my lord,” Sir Bedwyr said after he blinked several times, seeming to shake himself out of his reverie. Lord Loghlan was right, he thought as he looked around at the fallen limbs of the old oak tree. There wasn’t much wood available that was good for a splint, but it only needed to last long enough to transport Lady Cerys back to camp.

”Right away,” the young knight added as he got to work sifting through the fallen branches for something that was both long enough and solid enough to be used as a splint.

”Sir Gavin,” Loghlan continued, turning to the other knight. ”Lady Cerys’s belongings are still with the fallen horse. Her travel bags, her supplies, personal effects she brought with her, and likely some things that belong to young Dalwyn as well. Can you retrieve them? It will help with keeping questions to a minimum if you can find a dry change of clothing for her among her things, but if not, we’ll make do.”

”Of course, my lord,” Gavin said, straightening up and moving immediately toward where the dead horse lay a short distance away. It was something he should have thought of several minutes ago, but he’d been too overwhelmed by everything that had happened to even consider what they were going to do about returning to camp.

Thankfully, his lord seemed to have spent the past several minutes more productively than he had.

Loghlan glanced at Cynwrig, but decided the man had enough to worry about with comforting his son. Instead, he turned his attention to Harrod, who was watching him with wary but respectful eyes.

”Master Harrod?” Loghlan asked carefully, ensuring that he had remembered the horned soldier’s name correctly. ”I imagine you were camped nearby. I don’t suppose you have any supplies that would be useful for us? We can cut clothing for binding if need be, but if you have a length of cord or anything else that might help, it would be welcome.”

”I can help, Lord Loghlan Dunn,” Harrod said cautiously. ”But we’re not carrying as many supplies as you might think. I, I do have a few things left,” he said, reaching into the pouches at his waist and pulling out a pair of small porcelain bottles and a few carefully folded packets sealed with wax and string.

”Medicine, for Lady Cerys,” he said, turning to Sir Cynwrig and offering them up freely. ”She wouldn’t take them from me, but if she doesn’t know that they’re coming from us, then she may accept them from you. The packets can be mixed with water or wine to ease pain and help her to rest. The bottles will break fevers and aid the body’s healing if she worsens.”

”These are treasures,” Cynwrig said as he carefully took the medicine from Harrod’s outstretched hands. ”Are, are you certain? Sir Ollie has already done so much for us, for her...”

”Something that you will come to learn about the Eldritch,” Harrod said as he pressed the medicine into Cynwrig’s hands. ”We respect the will of the strong ones we have chosen to follow. Ollie wants your wife to live, and he doesn’t want her to suffer. Since it is his will, I will honor it and work to see it done.”

”Ollie is the same,” he said, looking at the young knight who was finally relaxing his grip on Milo as the pair began to pull themselves together from the intensity of the moment. ”It is Lady Ashlynn’s will that we form an alliance with your people, Lord Loghlan Dunn,” Harrod said, turning back to face the baron. ”So Ollie will do everything in his power to see Lady Ashlynn’s will done, no matter what it costs him.”

”You would do well to learn from his example,” he added meaningfully.

”I take your point, Master Harrod,” Loghlan said, holding his hands up in a pacifying gesture. ”Sir Ollie and Lady Ashlynn have made their intentions very clear, and they’ve demonstrated exactly the sort of allies they’ll be. You won’t see us doing any less,” he promised.

”But, forgive me for saying this,” he said, turning to look at Ollie and Milo. ”While Sir Ollie has prevented a tragedy, Lady Cerys has still given us a difficult situation to explain. I believe I understand what happened this morning,” he said, giving Cerys’ unconscious figure a disapproving glance.

”The story we’ll need to tell about it when we return to camp, however,” Loghlan said with a deep sigh. ”It can’t contain more than a fraction of the truth. Thankfully, most people know very little about the Eldritch and their true capabilities, so I think we can explain away your purple smoke signal. I just need everyone’s cooperation on a few other details, and we should be able to put everyone’s mind at ease...”