Ashlynn snapped back to the present moment with a sudden jerk as time began to flow again.
"Rrrraaagh!" Owain grunted in a combination of pain and exertion as he curled his right arm, pulling his sword-hand to his chest and Ashlynn along with it.
Ashlynnâs mind was still caught between the visions sheâd been shown by the dismembered, tortured, captive Ancient Oak and the present fight, and Owain pulled her off balance easily.
-CLATTER!-
Armor plates and chain mail clattered against each other as Ashlynn fell atop Owain. The position, advantageous as it was, didnât last long, however, as Owain quickly dragged her into a roll across the stone floor before coming to a stop atop her, straddling her waist as his armored figure towered above her.
"Die, witch!" Owain cried as he spun Fallen Claw in his hands, reversing his grip and holding the sword by the blade with both hands. Then, as if he were driving a stake into the ground, he aimed the point of his sword at the slit in her visor and slammed downward with all of his strength.
"No!" Ashlynn spat as she twisted underneath him, writhing like a snake. With one foot flat on the ground, she pushed upward as hard as she could on that side of her body while the opposite hand snatched at his tabard, pulling downward sharply.
The move was sharp enough and powerful enough to throw Owain off balance, and the point of Fallen Claw slammed into the stone floor of the Great Hall with a resounding -TING!-
But Ashlynn wasnât done with her counter move. Thane had taught her well, and she never lost control of Waterâs Edge. Now, as Owain began to twist toward the ground, she followed up ruthlessly, punching at his helm with the downward-swept quillion of her falchionâs guard, pummeling the side of his helm again and again with the braided ropes of steel that protected her hand.
-CLANG!-
Just as Thane had taught her, Ashlynn didnât just batter Owainâs helm carelessly. She aimed for one of the small, steel pivots of Owainâs visor, hammering it with a force few humans could match as she gave vent to all the pent-up emotions in her heart held for Owain.
-CLANG!-
Owain, who stood atop a mountain of cruelty across generations of Lothian lords.
-CLANG!-
Owain, who beat, battered, and abused every woman he no longer had a use for.
-CLANG!-
Owain, who had destroyed her life, traumatised her sister, and caused the death of her cousin.
-CLANG!- -CLANG!-
Owain, whose entire existence had been shaped into a weapon aimed at the life of the woman she loved!
-CLANG!-
The people of the march only knew her as the Demon Lady of the Vale, but to Ashlynn, she would always be her Nyri, and the echo of her loverâs heart within her chest filled her ears as a protective fury erupted from her chest.
-CLANG!-
For a normal sword that looked as delicate and decorative as Waterâs Edge, the guard would have deformed in two to three blows under the kind of abuse that Ashlynn subjected it to. But this was one of the finest blades that Master Erkembalt had ever produced, and it had been designed from the very beginning to survive the extreme strength of a witch with the powers of a vampire.
Ashlynnâs punches were fueled with white-hot fury, and her emerald eyes blazed within her helm as she pummelled the hinge of Owainâs visor again and again and again until the metal finally gave way with a high-pitched, tearing sound.
-CLANG!- -CLANG!- -SKREEEEET!-
Ashlynnâs victory was short-lived, however, and the very next moment, she cried out as sharp pain momentarily overwhelmed her fury.
"Aaaaa!"
Owain managed to recover enough to slam one of Fallen Clawâs quillions into Ashlynnâs wounded shoulder, spilling more blood and deepening the wound as he knocked Ashlynn half a pace away, winning himself enough space to scramble backwards until he could try to regain his feet.
His visor hung askew, gaping wider than it should, but Owain barely noticed as he watched his furious wife coming back to her feet.
On Ashlynnâs side of the Great Hall, Reynold Aleese stared at the duel with open-mouthed shock.
Heâd seen Lady, or rather, Saintess Ashlynn, when she struck down Abbot Recared, but that had been a miracle of the Holy Lord of Light. It was true that heâd been shaken by the sight of a woman so coldly capable of killing that she could run a helpless man through while Sir Beathan and High Inquisitor Ignatious held him between them, but that had been an execution, and it was far from the first that heâd witnessed.
Executing a helpless man and ending his life with an outpouring of Holy Fire was something that filled his heart with both respect and a small bit of pious reverence, but what he felt seeing her then was nothing compared to what he felt seeing her now!
"Wes," Reynold said softly as he watched Lord Owainâs visor failing under Saintess Ashlynnâs relentless assault. "Youâre the best swordsman among us. Could you... Could you fight a woman like Saintess Ashlynn?"
"Not for a moment," Wes Iriso said without taking his eyes off the duel. "In a tournament, Iâd yield the instant she broke my visor," he said as he watched both husband and wife climbing to their feet.
"And a duel to the death?" Wes added, shuddering as he thought about what it must have been like for Lord Owain to endure blows to the helmet that were heavy enough to break his visorâs hinge. "Better to beg for a clean one than suffer like that."
"But does she have the upper hand?" Erling Fayle asked without taking his eyes off the fight. "Sheâs bleeding, and heâs torn through the chain of her arm. If he can land a deep thrust there, or repeat it somewhere else, sheâll bleed out in minutes..."
"Will a Saintess bleed out, son?" Lady Ragna asked from her seat at Erlingâs side. "Can she call down a Miracle of Healing on herself?"
"I donât know," Erling said, pointing in the direction of Sir Ollie, Lady Jocelynn, Isabell and Samira. "But the people who likely know her best look worried," he said. "And at least one person in Lady Ashlynnâs party looks like they see something we donât," he said, pointing at the silver-haired woman who was watching the duel intensely from behind her spectacles.
"So right now," Erling said as his fingers curled and uncurled unconsciously, as though they were looking for a weapon to hold. "Right now, Iâd say the outcome is anything but decided..."