The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 1275: Encounter In The Woods (Part Two)
"What I’m about to do," Ollie said, glancing back at his companions, "might look a bit strange, but I promise it won’t harm the trees. I’m only taking a little bit from each one, just enough to restore my strength. In winter, they’re dormant, so I have to be extra careful not to take too much."
Ollie only waited long enough for Sir Gavin and Lady Isolde to move a few paces away before he closed his eyes, allowing his focus to sink deep into the roots of the tree that he leaned against and spreading from there to every other tree in the copse.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a pale jade-green light began to emanate from his hands where they touched the tree’s gnarled roots. The glow spread upward along the trunk, seeping into the branches above, and soon the entire tree was bathed in the gentle, ethereal luminescence.
Lady Isolde gasped softly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she watched the light spread from tree to tree, each one lighting up in succession like candles being lit in a darkened room. The jade-green glow illuminated the copse with a soft radiance that seemed to come from within the trees themselves, turning the winter-bare branches into something magical and otherworldly.
But it was what happened next that truly took their breath away.
From each glowing tree, tiny motes of light began to emerge, drifting free from the bark and branches like fireflies rising from summer grass. Dozens of them, hundreds perhaps, each one no larger than a spark from a campfire. They floated through the cold night air, drawn to Ollie like moths to a flame, and as they touched his skin, his hair, or his clothing, they sank into him, absorbed into his body with each gentle contact.
The effect was mesmerizing, beautiful in a way that neither Gavin nor Isolde could have imagined. Ollie sat there in the center of it all, surrounded by drifting points of jade-green light, his face peaceful and serene as the trees shared their strength with him.
The pale glow suffused his features, making him look almost ethereal himself, like something out of a fairy tale, and for a moment, Isolde was certain that she could see faint patterns of woodgrain across his skin. There were only the faintest traces of loops and whorls of the thinnest glowing green lines, and when she blinked, they were gone, as if they’d never been there, but she was certain she’d seen them.
"My love," Isolde whispered, afraid that anything louder would interrupt Sir Ollie’s concentration. "You’ve seen the Church and the Inquisition perform more miracles than I ever have. Have you ever seen a priest do something so... wondrous?"
"Once," Gavin said softly. "The Head Priest in Dunn did something like this one Midwinter’s Night when we all thought the dem-, er, the Eldritch were going to attack. He needed every acolyte in the temple and hundreds of townsfolk to sing a hymn to conjure lights like this from the faithful, and then he bestowed a blessing on each knight who had pledged to defend the walls."
The blessing made Gavin feel like he’d grown ten feet tall and that he had the strength of an ox. At the time, it was the most beautiful and the most powerful miracle he’d ever seen performed, and it had only been done because several cattle had been slaughtered, covered with markings drawn in blood, and left to rot on the roads leading into town. Everyone had been convinced that dark witchcraft was at work and that the Eldritch were going to attack the very next night.
Nothing happened, and Gavin never learned how much stronger the Head Priest’s blessing had made him; it faded away when the sun rose in the morning. But looking at Sir Ollie now, he couldn’t help but compare it to what he’d seen back then... Only it had taken the Head Priest a full day to prepare the miracle, and the help of dozens of acolytes and hundreds of churchgoers.
Sir Ollie did this all by himself, with no preparation at all...
Gradually, the flow of light began to slow, the last few motes drifting lazily down to settle against Ollie’s outstretched hands before sinking into his skin. The glow from the trees faded as well, returning them to their natural winter darkness, and Ollie let out a long, slow breath as he opened his eyes.
When he stood, it was with the easy grace of a youth whose joints had yet to learn the aches and pains of age. The exhaustion and weakness that had plagued him earlier were completely gone. He turned to face Gavin and Isolde with a grateful smile, ready to thank them for their patience and companionship, when the sound of approaching footsteps made all three of them turn.
Two figures emerged from the darkness beyond the reach of their torchlight, moving with the easy confidence of those who knew the wilderness well. The firelight caught them as they drew closer, illuminating features that made both Sir Gavin and Lady Isolde freeze in place, their eyes going wide with shock.
The first figure was small, barely reaching four feet in height, with two curved horns that swept back from his forehead like those of a ram. Cloven hooves clicked softly against the stones near the stream’s edge, and his movements were accompanied by the faint creak of leather as the mace hanging from his waist tapped against the sheath of the long-bladed knife on his hip.
The second figure was taller, though still shorter than a grown man, with a rounded face adorned with long whiskers and prominent buck teeth that gleamed in the torchlight. Behind him, a wide, flat tail swayed gently with each step, and across his backhoe carried a bow of elegant design, along with a quiver of arrows hanging at his hip.
The cloak he wore seemed like a patchwork hand-me-down until Sir Gavin realized that the colors matched incredibly well with the fallen leaves and brush underfoot, and if the archer wanted to hide, even in full sun, it would have been difficult to spot him.
"Harrod! Milo!" Ollie called out, his voice filled with genuine warmth and relief. "I’m fine," he insisted before either of them could speak. "You didn’t need to come to check on me, but I’m glad to see you anyway," he said as he strode forward, bending down to throw his arms around each of them in turn, giving them a brief hug accompanied by a solid pat on the back.
"Sir Gavin, Lady Isolde," Ollie said, turning to look at the pale-faced aristocrats who had accompanied him on his walk into the woods. He hadn’t intended to meet with Milo or Harrod, or any of the scouts who had accompanied him, for that matter, so he hadn’t prepared them for this moment. But now that the moment was upon them, he could only do his best to use it as an example and hope that things turned out for the best.
"These are two of my closest friends, Milo and Harrod," Ollie said, gesturing at each man in turn. "Gentlemen, Sir Gavin is an old acquaintance whom I’ve just helped recover from a wound he suffered on the day we met, and Lady Isolde is his wife. They’re good people, and I hope that one day, they can be as good of friends as you’ve been..."
