The Vampire & Her Witch

”Against the Long Horns of the Southern Steppe, it will get you killed.”

”I don’t understand,” Reynold said, frowning at the vampire-knight. ”If I don’t commit, if I don’t put every bit of myself into the strike, I’m just going to unseat myself. How am I supposed to land a decisive blow if I don’t come forward as I strike?”

”This is the difference between fighting mounted knights and fighting Eldritch men with four legs and a body that weighs more than a bull,” Thane said. ”Your instinct is to aim for advantage in unhorsing a man because once an armored knight is on the ground and not astride his horse, he’s easier to ride down,” Thane explained.

”You get away with it against the Swift Hooves because they’re lightly armored,” Thane said. ”Your commitment is the advantage that’s let you survive years of fighting Lord Dirar’s raiders.”

”You only get one chance against them,” Reynold replied, nodding in understanding. ”Fail to land a killing or crippling blow, and they’ll be gone before you can come around to charge again. But if they were as heavily armored as a knight,” he said, sucking in a breath of cold air between his teeth.

”I see what you mean,” Reynold said. ”A technique meant to unhorse a knight will work about as well as tilting against a boulder. I’ll just break my lance on them and leave myself vulnerable. That’s why you’ve been having me work from a collected canter, isn’t it, Lord Thane?” Reynold said as understanding dawned. ”To prepare for the follow-up melee after the charge.”

”To see if you can,” Thane said bluntly. ”If we had a year, I could reforge you into a knight who could fight among the Eldritch, and I’d have no fear of you against most foes, whether they were Long Horns or Tuscan giants. In two nights.... The best I can do is to help you survive.”

”Survival isn’t enough,” Reynold said, clenching his fist and straightening in the saddle. ”If I fall, my father dies. I have to win.”

”There are two other champions to protect your father’s life,” Thane reminded him. ”You only need one victory to ensure he lives, and Empress Ashlynn has loaned you one of the greatest sorcerers in the Eldritch world. Beyond a single victory lay your family lands and your personal freedom, and even if you lose the last of those, it isn’t a bad thing to become Lord Dirar’s apprentice,” Thane pointed out.

”I can’t rely on a man I’ve only just met in a contest I don’t understand to save my father’s life,” Reynold said. ”I appreciate the support that the Evergreen Empress has given me, and I have faith in Erling’s skill with a bow,” he said, remembering the incredible feats of archery he’d seen Erling demonstrate while they confronted an Imperial Bull Elk during Lord Owain’s hunt.

”You understand, don’t you?” Reynold asked. ”Sometimes, survival isn’t enough.”

”He’s a stubborn one, ain’t he, Sir Thane,” Dame Sybyll said, emerging from the stables to join the two men at the center of the training yard. ”I weren’t much different when ye were forgin’ me inta’ a knight.”

While Reynold had been tilting at the swinging target, Dame Sybyll had donned a crimson gambeson, belted tightly at her trim waist, though she carried neither sword nor riding crop. Her long crimson hair had been arranged into a halo-braid that would sit neatly under the arming cap and helm the blond woman trailing behind her carried, while a dark-haired handmaiden led her horse over at a slow walk.

It wasn’t the first time Reynold had seen the horse. He’d watched from the city walls when Dame Sybyll arrived in Lothian City, but it was his first time seeing the horse up close, and the more he looked, the more... wrong the horse felt.

The mare was shorter than Star Chaser by a good two hands, and she lacked the powerful build of his prized stallion, but there was a fierceness in those eyes unlike any Reynold had ever seen, and the torchlight reflected in the mare’s eyes looked lurid and red.

”She bites,” Dame Sybyll warned. ”An’ she likes men tha’ way a cat likes mice,” she added. ”I’d leave her in Roseen’s hands,” she said, revealing her wickedly sharp fangs as she smiled at Reynold.

”I know well enough when to leave a horse to her handler, my Lady,” Reynold said, bowing his head in greeting. ”She’s beautiful though,” he said, setting aside the uncanny way the mare looked at him and focusing on the horse’s sturdy build and glossy, black coat. ”And I don’t think she knows what fear is,” he added as he assessed the horse’s temperament.

”Poppy’ll come at ye straight an’ true,” Sybyll promised. ”Fierce enough an’ fast enough ta’ give ye’ an idea of what ye’ll face a few nights from now.”

”So I’ll be riding against you?” Reynold said, keeping his voice as even as he could as he watched a predatory grin form on Sybyll’s lush red lips.

”In a manner o’ speakin’,” Sybyll said with a light, almost musical laugh.

”You can give the lance back to Liam,” Thane said. ”Take a few minutes to rest, then it’s time to don your plate for the first real lesson of the night. You need to survive a hit from a heavier foe than you’ve ever fought before. Sybyll might not look that intimidating without her armor, but Poppy’s a mount like no other, and with Sybyll astride her, they’ll hit hard enough to give you an idea what you’re up against.”

”Tonight, you’re only riding with a shield,” Thane said, gesturing to the shed nearby where Cossot had set out more than a dozen lances as if they expected to break several before the night was done. ”The secret to survival is the angle of deflection. I don’t want you distracted by a lance in your hand; that’s tomorrow’s lesson,” Thane said.

”Tonight,” Thane said with a smile that looked entirely too similar to Sybyll’s. ”You just need to learn to survive the hit.”