The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 433: Standoff

For a single frozen moment, it seemed like nobody moved.

Ashlynn’s eyes darted about, growing wider and wider as she took in everything that had unfolded in the short amount of time she’d been locked in battle with the spirits possessing Hauke.

Her heart trembled at the sight of Heila’s bloodstained figure lying slumped in Ignatious’s arms, but the soft, protective way the fallen Inquisitor held her held very little anxiety for the diminutive witch. The vampire himself looked ragged, and the sleeves of his crimson and gold robes had been burned away, perhaps by the sword he held in one hand, but it was clear that whatever had happened had taken its toll on both of them.

Seeing Heila safe and sound, unfortunately, was the only bright spot in a snow filled world that contained far too much red.

Nyrielle’s army was still obscured by the blizzard Ines had summoned before they were trapped in the icy prison. When Ashlynn looked closely at it, the magic sustaining the snowstorm seemed to be feeding off of a deep reservoir of magical energy, trapped under layers and layers of ice and snow on the mountainside, as if it had been prepared in advance for just such a use.

In the other direction, a different cloud of fat, fluffy snowflakes was swept aside by the explosion of the ice tomb, revealing half a dozen corpses soaked in purplish-red blood that were all that remained of Lord Ritchel’s honor guard. The lord himself knelt in the snow, bleeding from dozens of small wounds. His hands were bound behind him, and Talauia hovered at his side with a long, glowing needle pressed into Ritchel’s neck.

On the walls of the Frost Walker fortress, the men of the Black Wolf Brigade fought side by side with the Mongrel Horde, staining the icy battlements with blood and littering the ground below with bodies. Atop the gatehouse, Savis and Tausau stood back to back, surrounded by more than a dozen Frost Walker sorcerers who seemed to be doing everything in their power to prevent the powerful vampires from reinforcing their soldiers.

It hadn’t been long since the ancestors seized control of Hauke, and Ritchel trapped her in the ice with the possessed young lord. Ten minutes, perhaps fifteen? But already things had progressed to this extent...

"You’ve chosen wisely, vampire," Ines’s cold voice said, breaking the silent stillness that surrounded them. "Bring the defiler to us, and we can put an end to this," she said, turning all of her attention to Ignatious and the sleeping figure in his arms.

"My Lady," Ignatious said, moving with a quickness that few eyes could follow to arrive at Ashlynn’s side. The instant he moved, the flames wreathing the sword in his hand flickered and guttered out like a candle flame in the wind. He’d consumed virtually all of the strength that Heila had given him, but he had just enough left to make a final move if Ashlynn required it.

"Hold on to me if you can," he said quietly. "I can take you to safety until Mistress Nyrielle returns."

"Fool!" Ansgar’s deep voice rumbled across the mountainside. "We’ve offered you a chance to escape destruction for the witch’s crime. Give her to us now or suffer her fate alongside her!"

"Don’t do it, don’t even think about doing it!" Talauia shouted from her position near the bridge. Her wings fluttered rapidly as she raised herself up, putting even more pressure on the needle pressed into Lord Ritchel’s neck.

"I didn’t kill him, didn’t kill your father," she yelled. "But I’ve poisoned him deeply! Give up now, or he’ll die, I swear, he’ll die!" Her words were sharp, rapid, and pitched high enough that some would find them comical, but her hands were as steady as the mountainside, and the energy that flowed from her hand to the needle didn’t flicker in the slightest as she made her threat.

"Please," Ritchel said, too softly for anyone but Talauia to hear. "That’s not Hauke. Not -CAUGH- not my son," he said, coughing up a glob of thick purplish blood as tears filled his eyes. "The horns. The ancestors have seized him... please," he begged, casting aside what little remained of his dignity to beg, not for his own life, but for Hauke’s. "Please, save my son.

Despite his pleading, Talauia did nothing. Whatever excuses he wanted to make didn’t matter. Hauke had attacked her friend, and then he seemed to have done everything he could to kill her Auntie, Ashlynn. Whether he was possessed or not, harming her family left only one ending, and if no one else was going to do it, then Talauia would kill Hauke herself to stop him from hurting any more of her loved ones.

Her father had taught her long ago that a careless assassin planted the seeds of their own undoing when they left survivors behind with a motive to seek revenge. If she couldn’t accomplish her mission without exposing her identity, then anyone who might transform from survivor to avenger needed to die before they could become a danger to her and her clan.

Hauke might be possessed at the moment, but his people had died to her hands tonight, and his father might still join the pile of corpses at her feet. Perhaps he wouldn’t blame her in the immediate aftermath, but a year from now? Two? A man’s heart could grow twisted and dark over the years following a tragedy, and Talauia had no intention to see Hauke stew in his resentment until he gained enough power to harm her or her coven.

Everything crashed over Ashlynn in a wave, from Ignatious and Heila’s exhaustion and the obvious signs that they’d only recently healed their wounds to the battle on the walls, to Talauia’s captive and the increasingly aggressive posture. Everything felt like it was balanced on the edge of a knife, and the slightest push in any direction would send them all tumbling into the abyss.

"Enough," Ashlynn said softly, shaking her head at Ignatious. Moving slowly with stiff, frozen hands, Ashlynn transferred her Severing Knife to her left hand before holding out her right hand toward Ignatious.

A few dozen paces away, a cruel, victorious grin appeared on Hauke’s lips as the ancestors tasted victory at hand. Perhaps the vampire had no choice but to submit to a higher power, but now that the Mother of Trees was standing down, it seemed like she would be delivering the defiler to them with her own hands.

"Give me the sword," Ashlynn said quietly. "It’s time for me to put an end to this."

She never expected to reach for the Holy Flame Blade in the middle of a battle, and she’d been hesitant about asking to see it again until she made up her mind about how she should use it in the coming battle against the Lothians. Now, however, after losing her darksteel falchion against the runic blade of eternal ice, she felt half naked and under-equipped to face off against the ancestors if they chose to press their attack again.

More importantly, however, the blade could still be a powerful symbol, even here among the Eldritch. They didn’t need to revere the blade, its wielder, or the Holy Lord of Light in order to respect the power it represented. If she could put on a sufficient show of force, perhaps she could bring things to an end without anyone else losing their lives in this tragedy.

"My lady," Ignatious said, pulling the sword back reflexively before Ashlynn’s hand could reach it’s gold and ruby encrusted hilt. "You’ve never tried to master the sword. I, I don’t know if it will accept a witch. You’re already badly wounded," he said, giving the numerous frozen wounds on her body a pointed stare. "If the blade harms you..."

"Give me the sword, Inquisitor," Ashlynn repeated more formally and with a cold, steely strength underlying her words. She wanted to argue, she wanted to tell him why she was convinced that she could do this but... There wasn’t time for more words. Energy was already gathering around the runic blade in Hauke’s hands, and any second, the ancestors might make their move.

"Lives are being lost, Ignatious," she added. "I have to put a stop to it. Please, give me the sword."

Glancing up at the fortress walls, Ignatious realized that Ashlynn was right. While everything on the ground between the bridge and Nyrielle’s army had turned into a tense standoff, the battle on the fortress walls above them raged on as vampires and the Golden Eyed Clan tore at Frost Walkers and Frost Walkers unleashed a relentless counterattack of ice and snow.

Lives were being lost... and they were running out of options. If the sight of Lord Ritchel falling to the Thistle Witch hadn’t stopped the Frost Walker’s resistance, it was likely nothing short of overwhelming force would.

"It may not mean much from me," Ignatious said as he changed his grip on the hilt and presented the powerful blade to Ashlynn. "But I pray that the Holy Lord of Light stands with you tonight. Good luck, Lady Ashlynn."