Chapter 569: Deadly Adversary (Part Two)
"Of course I know you, Lord Owain," Ollie said as the sound of his own thundering heartbeat filled his ears. Milo had fallen, Harrod had fallen, and even though they’d clearly tried to bring down the powerful Inquisitors, slaying a knight in the process, they had been chopped down like saplings by Owain’s ruthless blade.
"I grew up in your manor," Ollie said, silently calling on the strength of the cypress grove to aid him as he stalled for time. "I spent years in your kitchens. I even cooked your meals in the Summer Villa. But do you know who I am, Lord Owain?"
"You’re the kitchen boy! The boy who fled with the murderous witch who killed Kaefin!" Owain shouted, recognizing Ollie from the descriptions of the young man who likely set the kitchens on fire to help the witch escape the Summer Villa after Sir Kaefin’s murder. "So you really were conspiring with demons this whole time! Who are you really?" Owain shouted. "Tell me, boy!"
"Sir Ollie, the Cypress Witch, at your service," Ollie said, raising his blades and giving a mocking salute before assuming a fighting posture. As he did, a faint jade-green aura formed around him, adding a layer of protection like the knees of the cypress trees while the strength of their mighty trunks flowed through his every muscle and sinew, giving him the power to stand toe-to-toe with vampires like Savis and Tausau.
At the moment, he felt strong enough to cleave through Owain’s gleaming armor with his darksteel knife while the aura around him felt like his skin had grown a thick layer of bark that could resist even the ax blades of Eldritch woodsman. It was a power fueled by his singular, focused desire to put an end to Owain Lothian and avenge his fallen friends.
Behind Owain, the Inquisitors shared a startled look when they heard the young man call himself the Cypress Witch. Though his title was unfamiliar, when they combined the young man’s declaration that he was a witch with the faint demonic aura that began to glow a clear jade-green around him, it was obvious that he wasn’t lying about his identity.
Silently, the two men exchanged a look built on years of understanding before the older of the two gave up on healing his injured companion. If they were in the presence of a witch, then there was no time to waste on healing... Unless the Holy Lord of Light himself descended, they were certain that they had entered the final moments of this life.
"Ollie the Heretic Witch," Owain said as he slid effortlessly into a fighting stance with his sword in a two handed grip before him, "I’ll have it carved on the statue of your headless corpse under my boot when this is over," he taunted.
"I shouldn’t fight you," Ollie said as he narrowed his eyes, searching for an opening in the armored lord’s guard. "Lady Ashlynn wants that right. But you killed my friends," he said. "So I’ll have to apologize when I present her your head!"