The Truth Over The Wall

Chapter 40 (Part 2)

*So, I sat down once to count all the ways you're awesome. But I haven't come up with anything beyond a...million reasons. I think I might have missed a few :)*

And that, that is exactly where Fate comes in. True, it is Fate's job to come up with a dragon, a sword and a plausible reason for you to be there in the first place...

Archaneo turned his head back to Hanalea and smiled at her with all his teeth. "Well, Hanalea," his raspy voice startled everyone but Fiona, and not just because they did not know he was capable of speech. "What's it to be?"

You do however get to decide what happens when you are placed before a fire breathing dragon, chanting your name, all while you are holding an enchanted sword...

Hanalea adjusted her mother's shield and removed her father's sword from her back, both items had been imbued with Alistair's magic. She grit her teeth, took her stance and said,

"Alright, feather-face, bring it!"

Archaneo dived towards Hanalea and she charged at him with her sword.

* * *

The fire that surrounded her on all sides blocked Amara's vision as it flared up just as Hanalea had raised her sword to attack.

"I thought it would be best if you focused on your own problems." Fiona smiled at her helpfully as she indicated the barrier of fire all around them and brought her finger back to point at herself.

Alistair fought a group of Fiona's elite all by himself on the other side of the room while Fobos fought the remaining witches up on the gallery. And Hanalea battled Fiona's former familiar Archaneo.

So that in the end it was just the two of them: Fiona and Amara. Two Grand Witches facing off to the death. The words had not been said but they were understood, seeing as both were bent on finishing the other, once and for all.

"You shouldn't have come." Fiona told her somberly, "You shouldn't have challenged me. You shouldn't have turned my witches on me and you should've accepted my offer of friendship."

"You shouldn't have declared war on Leopold." Amara replied, "You shouldn't have taken the lives of all those witches that might have been good. You shouldn't have killed Hanalea's parents or mine or Alistair's mother. And you should've died five hundred years ago."

With a wave of her arm Fiona created a large yellow sphere that she hurled at Amara. Ice formed across Amara's arms as she threw them up over her body and took the hit.

The sphere was a very powerful spell which would have brought Amara down to her knees if she had not acted when she had. Though she was still on her feet, she felt winded and her chest hurt having taken most of the impact.

Fiona snorted, "What did you expect? I've been doing this since before your grand-sire was even born."

"I don't know as many spells as you," Amara wheezed as she pressed a hand to her upper abdomen, "and I'm not as experienced at combat. But I know this, that an ancient rule says that a Grand Witch might fight a Grand Witch. And it seems that on some level – however basic it may be – we are matched in power."

Fiona's eyes narrowed as Amara's hands froze into deathly sharp spears. Raising her eyes to Fiona she continued, "And that seems to suggest there's every chance you might lose this fight."

Fiona was visibly rattled. Not because of what Amara had said but because it was similar to the words of a prophesy Stella had made,

The Witch Queen will lose and The Witch Queen will win. And then there was that word if. Fiona reassured herself. Because there was still that if. There was always that if.