The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 569: Deadly Adversary (Part Two)

"Of course I know you, Lord Owain," Ollie said as the sound of his own thundering heartbeat filled his ears. Milo had fallen, Harrod had fallen, and even though they’d clearly tried to bring down the powerful Inquisitors, slaying a knight in the process, they had been chopped down like saplings by Owain’s ruthless blade.

"I grew up in your manor," Ollie said, silently calling on the strength of the cypress grove to aid him as he stalled for time. "I spent years in your kitchens. I even cooked your meals in the Summer Villa. But do you know who I am, Lord Owain?"

"You’re the kitchen boy! The boy who fled with the murderous witch who killed Kaefin!" Owain shouted, recognizing Ollie from the descriptions of the young man who likely set the kitchens on fire to help the witch escape the Summer Villa after Sir Kaefin’s murder. "So you really were conspiring with demons this whole time! Who are you really?" Owain shouted. "Tell me, boy!"

"Sir Ollie, the Cypress Witch, at your service," Ollie said, raising his blades and giving a mocking salute before assuming a fighting posture. As he did, a faint jade-green aura formed around him, adding a layer of protection like the knees of the cypress trees while the strength of their mighty trunks flowed through his every muscle and sinew, giving him the power to stand toe-to-toe with vampires like Savis and Tausau.

At the moment, he felt strong enough to cleave through Owain’s gleaming armor with his darksteel knife while the aura around him felt like his skin had grown a thick layer of bark that could resist even the ax blades of Eldritch woodsman. It was a power fueled by his singular, focused desire to put an end to Owain Lothian and avenge his fallen friends.

Behind Owain, the Inquisitors shared a startled look when they heard the young man call himself the Cypress Witch. Though his title was unfamiliar, when they combined the young man’s declaration that he was a witch with the faint demonic aura that began to glow a clear jade-green around him, it was obvious that he wasn’t lying about his identity.

Silently, the two men exchanged a look built on years of understanding before the older of the two gave up on healing his injured companion. If they were in the presence of a witch, then there was no time to waste on healing... Unless the Holy Lord of Light himself descended, they were certain that they had entered the final moments of this life.

"Ollie the Heretic Witch," Owain said as he slid effortlessly into a fighting stance with his sword in a two handed grip before him, "I’ll have it carved on the statue of your headless corpse under my boot when this is over," he taunted.

"I shouldn’t fight you," Ollie said as he narrowed his eyes, searching for an opening in the armored lord’s guard. "Lady Ashlynn wants that right. But you killed my friends," he said. "So I’ll have to apologize when I present her your head!"

Dirt and fallen cypress needles exploded from the ground with the force of Ollie’s charge as he surrendered to the red tide that clouded his vision. All thoughts of his mission fell away as he rushed the man responsible for countless acts of cruelty.

It had been Owain who nearly killed Lady Ashlynn on what should have been the happiest night of her life. It had been Owain who burned Old Nan’s village to the ground and murdered her youngest son, and now it was Owain again who had taken Milo and Harrod away from Ollie, Old Nan, and everyone in the Vale who loved them.

Again and again and again, it was this man who brought endless pain and suffering. Now that he was here, within reach of Ollie’s blades and surrounded by a grove of cypress trees, Ollie would stop at nothing to see the man dead.

Sparks flew as Ollie’s fighting knife collided with Owain’s polished blade, but the veteran knight seemed to float across the forest floor despite the weight of his armor, turning effortlessly to deflect the strength of Ollie’s charge and striking out with a powerful thrust of his own.

Were it not for the flickering jade-green energy that covered Ollie’s body like a second suit of armor, that thrust would have pierced his shoulder before Ollie could pivot, awkwardly knocking Owain’s blade away with the spine of his darksteel cleaver.

The first clash was followed half a heartbeat later by a second one, then a third as Ollie drew deeply on the strength of the cypress trees to batter at Owain’s strong defense. Yet no matter how powerful Ollie’s blows were or how many times he tried to rush in after battering Owain’s blade aside, the veteran warrior always managed to deflect Ollie’s blows at the perfect angle to minimize the impact.

Even more frustrating, whenever Ollie did manage to close the distance, Owain slipped just out of reach, making it look effortless as he prevented Ollie’s blades from cutting so much as the edge of his cloak.

"You call yourself a knight, but you fight like a kitchen boy," Owain sneered even as he flexed his fingers to shake off the sting of their repeated collisions. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he’d tried receiving any of those blows directly instead of deflecting them. The young man clearly possessed physical strength that was far beyond human limits, but he was just as clearly inexperienced in using that strength in a real fight against a skilled opponent.

"Give up and the Inquisition may grant you a merciful death," Owain suggested, briefly glancing behind him at the pair of Inquisitors who were clutching tightly at each other and speaking softly as though saying their final prayers.

"You can join your companions here," he added, gesturing at the fallen bodies of Milo, Harrod, and the other soldiers, hunters, and woodsmen who had staked their lives to break the curse of the second sun.

A red haze of rage already clouded Ollie’s vision, but he refused to surrender to the urge to charge the skilled knight a second time without doing something to break down the other man’s advantages.

Thane said that enough strength could cleave through any amount of skill, but clearly there were limits, and Ollie had too little experience fighting with strength beyond human limits to use the gifts bestowed by the cypress grove to his greatest advantage. Since that was the case...

"Cypress roots beneath the ground,

Rise, capture and hold him bound!"

Ollie’s spell was brief, focused, and instantly called forth thick, writhing roots of the cypress trees, commanding them to envelop Owain’s legs and bind him to the ground. One of Owain’s clear strengths was in his ability to maneuver, dancing out of the way of Ollie’s powerful blows, and so the young witch didn’t hesitate to strip that advantage away from him.

As soon as the incantation was complete, Ollie rushed forward again, circling just wide enough to come at Owain from his offside. Nothing could have prepared him, however, for the young lord’s counterattack.

Rather than struggling against the roots that bound him, Owain used them, dropping his sword and crouching low at the last moment before springing upward, taking the charging witch by surprise as his armored shoulder collided with the young witch’s stomach.

"Raaaa!" Owain shouted as he used Ollie’s momentum against him, heaving him up and over his shoulder and throwing the young man like he was a sack of grain. In any other circumstance, the move would likely have resulted in toppling both men, but with his feet bound by the cypress roots, Owain was able to toss Ollie several paces away without tumbling with him.

"Burn the witch!" Owan shouted as he crouched down to tear at the roots binding his feet.

"In your great name," the two inquisitors shouted, having held their prayer for a moment when it wouldn’t consume Lord Owain in flames along with the witch, the Inquisitors finally unleashed the magic they’d prepared in order to defeat the terrifying young witch. "Burn both our lives to fuel our Holy Flames!"

Brilliant white light enveloped their figures as both men, previously looking as though they were in the prime of their lives, began to rapidly age. Their hair turned from lustrous brown to brittle shining white as their skin grew taunt and wrinkled, sagging over bones that had become brittle as their muscles melted away.

The transformation took only a pair of heartbeats before the Inquisitors released the fury of the Holy Lord of Light, calling down a pillar of Holy Fire brighter than the sun on the place where Ollie crashed into the ground.

Pain exploded in Ollie’s mind, first as his body slammed into the ground and then, a burning, searing heat that was thousands of times more agonizing. The amulet on his neck glowed brilliantly for two full heartbeats, resisting the power of the flames before it cracked and burned to ash, overwhelmed by the combined power of two Inquisitors who were willing to burn up their lives if it meant they could slay a witch.

Still, the protection it afforded was just enough that Ollie didn’t die. Though his armor and flesh had been burned until little was left but a mass burned and blackened ash and pale flecks of bone could be seen as he drew a ragged breath, some part of him still clung tenaciously to life, unwilling to succumb without killing the man who had caused so much suffering.

"Sir Ollie," Owain sneered, retrieving his sword and walking slowly across the scorched earth, grinding out flickering flames as he approached the fallen witch. "Nothing more than a kitchen boy," he said as he thrust his sword out, piercing Ollie’s heart and with it, the last flickering embers of the young man’s life...