Chapter 397: Weapons and Symbols
"Mistress Nyrielle might be right about me," Ashlynn said softly. Slowly, she stood up from her chair and walked around the table until she came to stand before the gleaming blade. "Heila’s gifts are almost exclusively related to wood and water, but I’m strongest in wood, earth, and fire. It’s just that Jacques is the only witch in Big Sister Amahle’s coven who has much strength in fire so I haven’t learned very much."
As she spoke, her hand drifted forward, almost unconsciously hovering over the hilt of the blade. This close, she could feel the heat trapped within the blade, aching to be let free. To her senses, the blade resembled a wild stallion, demanding to be conquered before it could be ridden.
"I can teach you how," Ignatious offered, stepping up beside Ashlynn. "From what Mistress Nyrielle has said of you, I believe you’re the kind of person blades like this were meant for. You may not be devout, but your heart is pure and that matters far more than blind devotion to the scriptures. So long as you would wield this blade in the service of those who struggle, aiding them in their quest to reach the heavenly shores rather than oppressing them and forcing them to fail in their struggle, I see no reason you shouldn’t bear this blade."
"If she wishes it, and she can bend the blade to her will," Nyrielle said protectively. "Nothing else matters. Don’t wrap your faith around this needlessly after Artificer Erkembalt has revealed that this weapon places no restrictions of faith on its wielder."
"Forgive me, Mistress," Ignatious said, bowing deeply to the powerful vampire before returning his gaze to the witch who seemed so well suited to the weapon that he was certain she would have found a high place within the Church if not for their blindness, both to the strength of women and the truth of witches.
"My Lady," he said gently. "Would you like me to guide you in igniting the blade?"
For several moments, a tense silence filled the air as Ashlynn stared at the gleaming blade. It wasn’t as long or as heavy as her darksteel falchion but the more she looked at it, the less she thought of it as a sword at all. Rather, it resembled a witch’s wand in her eyes, something that could gather the power of flame and channel it to devastating effect.
With a blade like this in her hands, she could break down the gates of Lothian City and lay waste to the Lothian Fortress, but in the process, countless innocent soldiers would lose their lives to a raging inferno. Soldiers, servants... cooks like Ollie who had nothing to do with her conflict.