The Vampire & Her Witch
Chapter 377: Icy Retaliation

Chapter 377: Icy Retaliation

"It’s not that easy, little hayseed," her father said, gently ruffling her hair while his eyes remained fixed on the battle below. "These men are strangers here, but look how well they know her. They covered the arena in dark ash so her white snow would instantly give away her position and stop her from hiding. They’re attacking the trees she could rely on as allies and they haven’t taken one step toward her, forcing her to leave the protection of her trees to come to them."

On the arena floor, there was no sign of Heila at all, leaving the audience craning their necks and peering through the smoke as they searched for a sign of the missing witch. Her opponents, however, seemed like they were in no hurry to approach the trees and search for her.

Instead, wave after wave of obsidian shards swept across the arena, shredding the bark of willow trees and snapping several of their branches that hung limply in the air, awaiting commands that never came.

Several new cracks split the earth, belching forth sooty, sulfurous flames until the air on the floor of the arena became difficult to breathe.

"Calamities are inevitable, Willow Witch," Ropati snarled after destroying a second willow tree with a burst of flames. "We will burn everything in our path until you have no place left to hide, so why drag things out? Take the sniveling merchant’s advice," he said, pulling a fresh cigar from his robes and tearing off one end with his teeth. "Surrender while you still can."

For a moment, his men paused in their relentless assault, watching as their leader lit his cigar and took a deep breath of pungent smoke while he glared into the ash-filled air, looking for any sign of the Willow Witch.

That sign came a moment later when Heila’s voice echoed out, not just from one place, but from six different willow trees as she wove her witchcraft through the delicate network of roots that had formed when Ashlynn guided the growth of every tree in the grove.

"Through morning mist and willow leaf,

Let water gather swift and brief,

Till every branch bears winter’s crown,

Of crystal ice now weighted down."

Even in the scorching heat of the arena under the assault of the Cauldron of Flame, the rich, moist soil that Ashlynn had prepared still had plenty of water to offer up to Heila’s command. In mere moments, a layer of dew collected on each of the six trees that seemed to speak with Heila’s voice before freezing in an instant as the dew grew into long, wicked icicles.

"Now willow branches crack and sway,

Let frozen shards take wing and flay,

Through flesh and bone let winter bite,

As ice and wood bring death tonight!"

"No!" Ropati shouted as he realized too late what the insidious witch intended to do. "Shield us, now!"

"Through burning air and molten stone,

Let flames rise up to ..."

Too late, the trio of sorcerers charged with protecting the group realized they’d become complacent while the other trios hurled their flames and obsidian shards in a futile search for the cunning witch. Now that they tried to raise a curtain of flame that could melt the flying icicles, it was too late.

Blood spilled from dozens of wounds as the hail of deadly icicles tore through all three trios, but not a single drop of blood fell from those wounds. The ice summoned by Heila was no ordinary ice, rather, it contained a cold so intense that it penetrated their bodies all the way to the bones, freezing their flesh along with any blood that spilled from the wounds.

That same torrent of icy shards would have torn into Ropati as well if not for his quick thinking. With a sharp slashing gesture, he used his cigar like a wand, leaving a glowing arc of fire in the air before him as he unleashed even greater flames to burn away the few icicles that slipped past the trio standing between him and the attacking trees.

It wasn’t a perfect defense, two icicles still tore through his robes, embedding themselves in his shoulder and thigh, but compared to his companions his wounds were much, much lighter. Still, the attack had achieved its purpose and then some.

The coordinated formations of his followers lay broken, their precise triangular positions scattered as each man struggled with wounds that burned with cold that felt like it had been borrowed from the peaks of the tallest mountains around their home. Worse, the bindings of energy that tied them together flickered and faded as each man fought his own private battle against the wounds, transforming them from three mighty triads into nine struggling individuals.

For several long moments, silence fell across the arena. The cultists’ flames still crackled, consuming what remained of the willow trees they’d lit ablaze, but the relentless barrage of obsidian shards had ceased. Even the sulfurous wind died down as the wounded men struggled to maintain their sorcery through their pain. Ropati’s eyes darted from tree to tree, trying to guess which one truly concealed his opponent.

"Didn’t you hear," Heila’s voice echoed from every remaining tree in the small willow grove. "The Vale of Mists does not surrender. We have no need of the word, especially not for people like you who can only bully children and the elderly."

Soft footfalls crunched over grass that had grown stiff with frost as Heila emerged from behind one of the towering willow trees. Blood flowed from several small wounds on her arms and legs, and she looked like she’d been forced to heal at least one serious injury along her ribs, but she moved with the same spry grace that she always had when she stepped out into the open.

"I return your words to you, Ropati of the Cauldron of Flame," she said, pointing her willow wand at the injured sorcerers. "Surrender, while you still can!"