CHAPTER 792: THE SUMMER VILLA FALLS

-CLANG!-

-SCREEECH-

-CLANG- -CLANG-

At first, Virve had charged Sir Cathal in a fierce rush to tear him limb from limb, but the old knight was far too experienced for blind rage and superior strength to overwhelm him. Now, wreathed in the flames of her fury, her attacks were precise, controlled, and intended to slowly tear apart her opponent’s defenses.

Virve tore long rents in Sir Cathal’s shield, destroying the proud sigil and ripping through his bracers and the chain beneath them, until her darksteel claws tore flesh and spilled blood. Half a heartbeat after ripping through his flesh, the sound of meat sizzling filled the air along with the pungent aroma of burned flesh.

"Rarrgghh!" Cathal shouted, swinging his arming sword low at Virve’s thighs, determined to extract some kind of price for the painful wound she’d inflicted on him. Once again, however, his arming sword only inflicted a shallow cut, made even less effective than his previous thrust because of the strange armor that seemed completely unaffected by the flames surrounding the witch.

The cold air of the winter morning did almost nothing to relieve the pressure of the heat emanating from the demon witch and sweat poured down his brow behind the visor of his helm as the temperature inside his armor rose like the inside of an oven.

-CLANK-

Cathal staggered backwards under the force of a heavy blow to his chest that caved in a portion of the breastplate like it had been struck by a blacksmith’s hammer. Underneath the layers of armor, his chest heaved, laboring for breath that refused to come until bright spots danced across his vision.

-SWISH- -WOOSH-

The aging knight swung wildly, hitting nothing as he fell back, intending only to present enough of a threat to prevent the demon from advancing on him again, buying time to regain his breath and find a way to press an attack.

Her skin was as solid as an oak tree and her body burned with the heat of a bonfire. He’d fought claw demons before but none of them, not a single one, had ever made him feel as weak and feeble as this witch did.

"So, it really does take a Templar or an Inquisitor to slay a Great Witch," Cathal said. His shield arm hung useless at his side and the pain of his burns throbbed all the way to his shoulder. Only the slender arming sword held out in front of him like a lance prevented the demon from reaching out and finishing him off.

"I’m no great witch," Virve said as she glared at the battered knight. "She would have cleaved you in half by now. But I’m more than witch enough to kill you," she said as she took a menacing step forward.

"Mercy!" Cathal called, dropping to one knee and reversing his grip on his sword to plunge the tip of the blade into the soft soil beneath the grass. "I am defeated! I surrender, we all surrender," he shouted.

"It doesn’t matter," Virve said as she took several steps toward him. "Whether you killed my father yourself or simply watched while Bors Lothian butchered him like a common animal, you will die for what you allowed to happen."

"Your father," he said numbly as he stared up into the blazing eyes of the burning witch. Perhaps, a distant corner of his mind thought, perhaps not even the Inquisitors or the Templars with Holy Flame Blades could dispatch such an unholy demon who wreathed herself in such a heretical flame. Perhaps, there really was nothing he could have done to win this day or even survive it.

"Then, then take my life," he said, releasing his sword and fumbling at the catches on his helm, stripping it off and baring his sweat soaked face to his enemy. "Take my life as payment for your father’s death. Call off your men. Let me be the only one to die for what happened then. Most of these lads were just boys then..."

-CRASH-

-HAAOOOOOO!-

"Don’t waste your breath on them," Virve said as she towered over the kneeling knight. "They’ll die because my lady ordered their deaths. Your death has nothing to do with them. But you told me where I can find my father’s body," she said as the flames wreathing her flared brighter. "For that, I’ll let you say your final words."

Behind her, the men of the Black Wolf Brigade charged through a breach in the gate, wielding wickedly long knives that were shaped like fangs and slaughtering any soldier they could lay their hands on.

"I, I see," Cathal said, lowering his head. "Then, if you won’t spare me, and you won’t spare the men, I beg you to spare Lady Ashlynn. She carries a child in her belly and she comes from a far off county. She has never done anything to your people and..."

"That woman isn’t Lady Ashlynn," Virve spat. "You’ve wasted your last words pleading for an imposter."

"Impost..." Cathal said, his eyes widening in surprise an instant before Virve’s fist came crashing down on his unarmored head, silencing him forever.

"I will find you, father," Virve said, clenching a fist as she allowed the flames she had summoned to fade away. "Every tooth and claw, every scrap of fur, I will find you and I will bring you home," she promised as tears spilled from her eyes.

All around her, the fighting continued for several minutes until the last defending soldier in the bailey fell to the knives of the Black Wolf Brigade. At the same time, the curtain wall began to tremble and shake as Ipiktok’s Tuscans used their battering ram to break open a breach in the wall that they could enter through.

Soon, the Villa itself would be destroyed, until there was nothing left on this hill but a smoldering ruin. But Virve had done all she needed to. Now, the rest of the work fell to Ollie inside the Villa and to Ashlynn outside. Virve already had what she had come for and far sooner than she had any right to expect.

The only question left in her heart was how much longer she would have to wait before she could bring her father home...