Triss stood impatiently in the middle of Crookback Bog. She struggled to maintain her composure as she looked around at the few buildings that the crones had made home for their altar and servant. The chill in the air sent shivers up her spine for reasons other than temperature. At least she was not alone. Eskel stood silently with her. Triss had searched desperately for him and near begged his help, although begging proved unnecessary. Lambert and Keira had been much easier to find and had readily consented to assist her but because of them, here she stood in the swamps of Velen, tapping her foot like a spoiled child. She felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder and looked up to see Eskel gazing down at her with a raised brow.
"Relax. They'll be here. Lambert complains a lot but if Geralt is in need, he'll be here. I think he understands him better, especially now," Eskel said, referring to Lambert's new found fascination with Keira. Triss gave him a wry smile. Good ol' Eskel, she thought. A steady and true Witcher and friend.
Eskel removed his hand as Triss' gaze returned to her feet. He wanted to remain on alert. This place haunted him with its eerily silent surroundings. The cold dulled the smells of an environment like this for other people, but not for witchers. He could smell death on the breeze, in the water, everywhere. He knew why Triss asked him to join her, why she stood here waiting, and he feared for her. For what he knew was.
The sound of horses slogging through the muck drew their attention. Turning they saw the eagerly anticipated Lambert and Keira. The pair came to a halt and Lambert swung down giving Eskel a pointed look. Behind the destressed sorceress Eskel was anything but relaxed and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Keira also picked up on Eskel's slight signals and hopped down from her horse to look around.
"Well, I certainly thought I was done with Velen."
"I said you could stay in Vengerberg."
"And let you out of my sight? Think again, Witcher." Keira turned to Triss and embraced her. "Triss, how are you?"
"I'll be better once we find Geralt."
"Wasn't Pretty Boy supposed to go to Kovir?"
"That's just it. It's long past when he said he'd arrive. I managed to trace him back to Velen. I realized he might have come back after the last crone. I thought we could start here." Triss swallowed hard and Keira reached out to grip her trembling hands. No one said what they were all thinking.
"Well," Eskel broke the silence, "why don't you two check those buildings there. See if anything turns up. Lambert and I will start with the house." Keira put her arm around Triss and led her across the make shift yard to the smaller house while Lambert came to stand close to Eskel.
"You smell it, too, don't you?" Lambert said in hushed tones.
"The minute we got here." The two witchers looked at the door.
"So…you wanna…?" Lambert hesitated.
"No. But since I'm older than you…" Eskel reached out and placed his hand against the rough wood and gave a gentle push. The door swung open slowly, creaking on the rusty hinges. The pair entered the dark, dusty interior to discover its ghastly secret. Lambert lowered his head and looked away as Eskel sagged where he stood. Before an altar of bone, blood and candles lay the body of their friend and brother, Geralt of Rivia. He did indeed come after the Weavess, and from the amulet he held in his hand he succeeded but he must have been overwhelmed afterward. Eskel had heard of the Ladies of Velen and that they were not to be trifled with, even in death.
The pair moved further into the building and stood staring hopelessly and absorbing what this moment meant for them. They were now the last of the Witchers of the Wolf and just a handful of their kind. When Vesemir was alive, it was easier to ignore the reality of the world around them and go on as they always had. Then the Wild Hunt came and took their cornerstone, then Ciri disappeared and now Geralt followed them to the grave.
A sharp intake of breath behind them broke through their thoughts. Turning they found Triss pale and trembling in the doorway, Keira helpless at her side.
"No…" her voice was barely above a whisper as Triss gazed at the body of her beloved; the Witcher whose affection came hard won. A high pitch keening wail broke the silence as Triss fell to her knees beside the man she loved. The others stood transfixed at her grief as it pierced each of them. The Witchers flinched as her pain hurt their sensitive ears and Keira wiped away her own tears. The candles burst into flame, threatening to burn the tapestry. Triss covered Geralt's corpse with her body, her fingers entwined in his amulet as if she were trying to hold on to some piece of their broken future. Eskel lowered himself beside Triss and pulled her up and out of the cottage.
They settled Triss on a log with Keira caressing her fiery hair as she continued to sob uncontrollably and returned to the house. Eskel found the missing sword and returned it to the scabbard as Lambert cut down the tapestry of the beautiful trio to wrap Geralt's body; as it was in no condition to be moved alone.
Eskel used igni to light the pyre then stepped back beside his last remaining brother to watch the flames lick at Geralt's body. His chest felt heavy as the flames floated higher and Lambert let a slow sigh escape his lips. Life of late had taken its toll on them. All of them. Triss who had always fought valiantly for them, had suffered at their side and she now sat beside her sister sorceress, her sobs reduced to ragged breathing as the orange flames consumed the body of her lover.
The gentle sucking sound of hooves in the mud drew their attention. Eskel stilled Lambert when he reached for his sword. Through the swamp's mist a small figure emerged leading a horse. Geralt's horse. Eskel approached slowly and gave the small figure a curious look.
"A godling."
"Uh, hi. I'm Johnny," said the little figure with forced exuberance. His wide eyes reflected the light from the pyre and his shoulders slumped. "He did it, didn't he? He came back for her."
"He did." Eskel replied. Johnny lowered his gaze and shook his head.
"I told him not to. The Weavess was dangerous. IS dangerous. Those that serve her anyway. They are still watching…" Johnny whispered as he looked up at Eskel. "Here. I kept her safe, but when he never came back…" Eskel took Roach's reins and the mare stepped to his side.
"Thank you, Johnny." Johnny then joined the four forlorn friends and watched the fire until there was nothing left to watch.
The morning sun found two witchers standing vigil over a heap of ash, all that remained of the funeral pyre. Keira had cast a spell causing the fire to be all consuming so that there could be nothing left for anyone to loot. Johnny had returned to his den but Keira conjured a little comfort for herself and her grieving friend.
"I would say 'good morning' but it doesn't really fit, does it?" Keira said as she approached them. Lambert and Eskel nodded grimly. "We need to leave. There is an evil magic at work in this place."
"She's right," Lambert agreed. "My medallion hasn't stopped vibrating."
"I know." Eskel sighed. "I suppose someone needs to tell Yen, although that's not a conversation I relish having."
"I'll tell her. Lambert and I are returning to Vengerberg anyway. The question is what to do about Triss? She is in no condition to be on her own."
"I'll take her back to Kovir and take care of her."
"That's good of you." Keira said with true sincerity. "But no magic. Her heightened emotional state could make her spells unstable."
They parted ways later in the morning, Lambert and Keira headed northeast toward Vengerberg and Eskel and Triss northwest toward Novigrad. Before parting Lambert had given Eskel a small iron box. In it was an enchanted necklace with a dimeritium pendant. Once he put the necklace on Triss, only he would be able to remove it. It was with a heavy heart that he slipped the chain around her neck and fastened the clasp before assisting her onto Roach. She didn't complain. She merely said I understand.
Eskel and Triss rode into Lindenvale late in the evening. He wanted to press on but the storm rolling in from the north had other ideas. With the horses stabled, Eskel led his heart sick friend inside the warmth of the tavern. Triss sank onto the bench of the first available table, her hood pulled low. The innkeeper, a sturdy buxom woman, watched curiously as the witcher walked toward her.
"What can I get you?" She asked warmly.
"Could use a room for the night."
"Food and drink?"
"Of course," Eskel looked over his shoulder at Triss. "Something warm for her, please. She's not feeling well."
"Not sick, is she?"
"No. We recently lost someone very important to us."
"Ah. Broken heart. I know just the thing. Room is at the back." Eskel nodded his thanks and rejoined Triss. The pair said nothing. The serving girl set a tankard of ale in front of him and one of hot mead before Triss, but she merely sat and stared at the rising steam. Eskel reached for her hand and placed it around the warm mug. Slowly the other hand joined the first and she slid the hot drink toward her and took a sip. Feeling encouraged, Eskel turned to his stew and ate heartily. As he neared the bottom, he slid the bowl over and urged Triss to eat. She licked her lips and he handed her the spoon.
After finishing with their meal, Eskel led her to the room and brought in the gear from the horses. They would have to wait for the worst of the storm to blow over. He wouldn't drag her out in it. In the meantime, his purse was getting light.
"Know of any Witcher's work?"
"Well, we have been having problems with the corpse eaters. We can't make any headway in cleaning up the bodies because of them and the Black Ones aren't very helpful. Talk to the Alderman over there. He took up a collection not too long ago." Eskel approached the table of a grey bearded man arguing with the two young men that sat across from him.
"No and that's final," he was saying. "We need a professional."
"I might be able to help in that regard."
"Ah, see here boys? A professional. Alright, Witcher. We need to bury the dead but can't get near the fields. Plenty of men have already gone out to try to clear the buggers but never came back."
"I'll clear them out," and he said with surety and headed out into the dark and rain.
Just after midnight, Eskel returned to the room at the inn soaking wet. At least the deluge had washed away the filth of the fight and his pouch now weighed a little more. It should be enough to get them to Novigrad. He stripped to his shorts and hung his wet clothes to dry before settling down for what remained of the night. The room at the tavern was small, but left just enough room for his bedroll. Triss was sound asleep in the lone bed as he lay back and closed his eyes.
A few hours later, Eskel was abruptly awakened by a high-pitched cry. It was Triss, curled into a ball, wailing in her dreams for her lost love. He was on his feet in seconds beside her, his hand on her shoulder gently shaking her awake.
"Triss…" her eyes snapped open, her mouth frozen in a silent wail. She reached up and touched his face, feeling the rough scars beneath her fingers and began to cry anew. Eskel sat beside her and held her close letting her grieve. Feeling her shuddering body against his allowed his own grief for his brother to shake loose though he didn't shed any tears. Those had all been shed at Kaer Morhen in his private quarters after Vesemir's death. Death was part of a witcher's existence. They were professional dealers in it and frequently met it head on but Vesemir had been different. He had been around for so long he seemed impervious to it but death's cold hand had finally found him and Eskel's world had changed. He was the good witcher. Nothing more and nothing less. He wasn't angry like Lambert or famous like Geralt. He continued on as such even though now his mind was plagued by other thoughts. Other long dormant desires.
After a second night in Lindenvale, Eskel and Triss rode on. They traveled slowly. He stopped often plying the sorceress with food and drink and picking up a quick contract. Each night, he held her as she cried herself to sleep. He had taken to sharing her bed to soothe her while she dreamed.
Mulbrydale, Hindhold, a funny little inn called Cunny of the Goose. They made their slow trek northward. When they finally arrived at the Tretegor Gate into Novigrad, it was pouring rain. Eskel gave up his heavy cloak to Triss to shield her from the worst of the storm. The horses were stabled just inside the city walls and the weary pair made their way to the Rosemary and Thyme. It was one of the better buildings, fresh paint and a warm glow through the glass. Inside was clean and dry and patrons drank, laughed, and enjoyed the music and dancers. It would seem that Geralt's flighty friend had finally found something worth his time. Despite the merry making, his entrance did not go unnoticed.
"Welcome, laddie. What brings ya to Novigrad?" Eskel looked down into the bearded face of Zoltan Chivay and felt a brief pang of relief. It was short lived, giving what he had yet to divulge to the dwarf.
"Zoltan. Nothing good, I'm afraid. Is there somewhere we can talk privately? Is Dandelion here?"
"Aye. I'll take you upstairs. Dandelion is here abouts." Zoltan looked passed the witcher where Triss stood waiting. "Is that…" Eskel turned just as a drunk man leaned into her and tugged her hood back. He grabbed the front of the man's shirt and shoved him back and swept Triss up in his arms. She just leaned against his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Oh, lassie. This way, Eskel." Zoltan told one of the serving girls to fetch Dandelion as he led the way upstairs. On the third floor, Zoltan opened the door to a lavish suite with a large bed. Eskel removed her wet cloak and lay Triss on the crimson coverlet. Eskel was just straightening up when Dandelion entered the room followed by a pretty woman dressed just as garishly as he was.
"Eskel! This is Pricilla," he said brightly indicating the woman at his side. "Martha said Zoltan was bringing a guest upstairs. Is that…Triss? By the gods! Is she alright?" Eskel held his hands up to stop the rushing troubadour then gestured to the table and chairs across the room.
"Why don't you sit down. You too, Zoltan." Noting the serious look, they did as they were bid. Priscilla took a gentle seat on the bed beside Triss after covering her with a blanket. Eskel walked to the window and watched the rain come down, each drop splashing on the railing just outside and the roof tops in the distance. He watched the grey clouds become darker as the night descended, occasionally illuminated by streaks of lightening. The weather outside and the cheerful sounds emanating from downstairs were in stark contrast of one another and in between it all he felt trapped, unable to move, unable to speak. He stood this way for some time before Zoltan broke the silence.
"What is it, laddie? What have you got to tell us?" Eskel closed his eyes and a vision of Geralt's broken body swam before him.
"I wish there was a better way to do this, but…Geralt is dead."
"What?! No! That can't…can't be true!" Dandelion was on his feet. "You must be mistaken! You have to be!" Eskel turned and faced two of Geralt's closest friends wearing his own grief openly. He had only met them a handful of times over the years but in this moment, he felt as if he had known them his whole life.
"I wish I were, but I saw his body myself. We…burned him in the swamps of Velen. The crone…" Dandelion collapsed back into his chair weeping as soft sounds of sadness echoed from the bed.
"You needn't say more. Thank you for telling us." Zoltan said from his seat as tears wetted his heavy brown beard. Eskel nodded and turned back to the window. After a time, Dandelion regained some measure of composure and asked about Triss. Eskel kept his back to the room as he answered.
"I'm taking her back to Kovir. I'll stay the winter with her, make sure she is alright before heading back out on the Path. She's done so much for us, it's the least I can do to return the favor. If we could just stay here a couple of days. I have a few things to sell and I'll need to find a ship."
"Don't worry about the ship. There is a certain captain that comes in and he's run up quite the tab. He'll take you. I'll make sure of it." Zoltan said.
"And stay as long as you need to," Dandelion added, his voice wavering. "You will always be welcome here."
Yen stood flipping through a treatise on magical anomalies when a gentle knock sounded. Snapping the book shut she went to the door and opened it to Keira and Lambert. She pushed the door wide and walked back into the room.
"Come in, Keira. You as well, I suppose. What brings you all the way across the city to my humble abode?" Yen was in a bad mood and stood with her arms crossed as her visitors entered her home and closed the door. Keira decided to ignore her rudeness and Lambert grudgingly followed her lead. "I mean, you have been here for some months and only now…"
"I've been busy with my research. I'm sure you understand."
"Yes," she said with a slightly menacing look toward Lambert. "And ferreting around with him. You know what they say, Keira, lay down with…"
"Yen," Keira interrupted harshly.
"What? You finally come to see me and you just have drag your little pet with you? How long do you think he'll keep with you? A witcher's attention is fickle and I doubt you'll hold his interest for too much longer." Lambert had enough.
"Geralt is dead." He said hard and plain.
"What?" Yen replied as shock spread across her face, her posture going slack.
"You heard me. He's dead." Lambert very nearly yelled.
"That's what we came to tell you." Keira said trying to soften the blow. "Triss…"
"Don't say that name around me."
"We're done here. We just thought you ought to know," Lambert said over his shoulder as he lay a soft touch to Keira's arm and they turned and left. Outside, Lambert swung up into the saddle.
"You needn't have been so hard, Lambert."
"Yeah, well, I can put up with her shit but not you. She had no reason to talk to you that way. She got no less than what she deserved." Keira knew it was useless to argue so she mounted up and joined him. The clop of their horse's hooves echoed off the walls as they silently rode to the rooms they had taken on the other side of the city. Lambert glanced in her direction and watched her blonde hair as the breeze blew through it.
"And my attentions are not fickle." He said before facing forward and returning to silence. Keira smiled to herself but said nothing.
Inside the luxurious house, Yen was not nearly so happy. She sat before the ornate fireplace with her hands covering her face and sobbed. She sobbed for the witcher she had loved. Third time was the charm and this time he was gone for good.