Smoke.
It drifted thickly on the air, filling the nostrils and choking the lungs. Underfoot, the ground was still uncomfortably warm, the thick peat having caught light and still smouldering deep beneath the surface. Piles of ash and embers glimmered here and there, in sheltered places where the heat still lingered. To one side, a hefty rafter splintered with a loud crack, exposing glowing orange splinters that cast faint light across the abandoned village as the day's light vanished.
The small village had once been called Boggevrieg, a little farming village, far from any town or city, remote enough to be no danger to anyone. It had barely possessed a central square, a simple well and meeting point between two rarely travelled roads around which perhaps a dozen or so homes had sprung up. No more, though. Now, the thatched cottages, the squat inn, the simple farrier's lean-to, all of it was gone, swept away in a tide of flame and devastation.
Through it all, a lone figure walked. Clad in a simple but well-made cream chemise and a complementing yellow overdress, brown leggings and long, well-worn boots, the slight figure stood out against the grey ash, a bright point of light in the overbearing haze of devastation. A black beret crowned her head, under which strands of raven-black hair could be seen emerging, a shimmering curtain that reached down to frame her jawline. On her back, a finely craved lute was fixed in place, the only possession she carried.
Valentina, for that is what she chose to call herself, her true name long hidden to all but a few souls in the world, walked through the devastated village in awe, her skin crawling as she sensed the stench of death on the air. She winced as she felt brittle wood crumble under her booted heel, looking down to see the remains of a child's toy underfoot, a roaring dragon's head scorched black by the inferno.
Slowly, timidly, she worked her way through the village, a sinking feeling growing in her stomach. From here on, she couldn't even begin to guess where to go. This was it. The last place where he had been. The only lead she had on the location of her beloved.
In her most recent journeys, she'd exhausted every one of their usual favoured haunts, not once finding him, only hearing whispers. Eventually, desperate for news, she'd followed rumours of a Witcher, tall, grim of eye, countenance twisted by the use of foul alchemical concoctions. Her search had led her deep into the Pontar valley, and finally to this village.
The first twinge of unease had filled her belly on the previous night, when the northern horizon had glowed with virulent crimson, the undersides of the clouds painted the colour of blood. In the morning, the pillars of smoke formed a beacon for her, leading her to this desolate place. Finally, as the merchant she had hitched a ride with declared that her coin would carry her no further, she alighted on the edge of the ruined village, concern for the man she sought spiking in her chest.
Now, she walked through the debris, a hollow feeling in her heart echoing the emptiness surrounding her.
The young woman rounded a corner, stumbling across the first signs of life she had seen within the village. A man, clad in soot-stained rags, sifted through the dirt and ash, his face unreadable under the grime. At his side sat a patient dog, little more than a mongrel with patchy fur and a stubby tail. As Valentina shuffled into view, trapped in a shocked daze, the dog turned, growling threateningly. The man lifted his gaze, eyes at first harsh, then softening as he spotted the new arrival.
"Shaddap, Hunter!" He growled at the dog, who quickly stilled. "She ain't no corpse-eater. Sit yer arse down an' behave!"
He stood, dusting off what few scraps remained of his trousers.
"You lost, lass?" He asked, snorting and spitting out a gobbet of plegm, stained black by the soot that coated his throat.
"What happened here?" Valentina managed, her voice distant.
"A fuckin' massacre, that's what." The man grumbled. "Damned Witcher."
"Witcher?" Valentina's eyes focused, latching onto the single word. Suddenly, all the chaos, the smoke, the death surrounding her, it all vanished in a blink, her sole thought being that single word.
"Aye. Bloody mutant was hired by the ealdorman to take on some kinda beast that were eatin' our goats. Hairy bugger with horns and teeth like knives. The beast, mind, not the Witcher." He paused, glancing around. "Although I 'ave me doubts about which one might be the worse monster."
"Please, tell me what happened!" Valentina said with more desperation in her voice than she intended. The man regarded her with renewed interest.
"Sounds t'me like that tale might 'ave some value to you." He waved a hand expansively at the village. "As the new ealdorman o' Boggevrieg, I gotta think o' meself an' ol' Hunter here." He grinned, showing a row of yellow teeth interspersed with black gaps. "What'll you give me, to hear the tale o' the Beast o' Boggevrieg?"
"I-" Valentina hesitated. She'd spent the last of her coin on the ride out to the Pontar. It had been weeks since she'd been able to find a place that would pay her to perform. Her next words were a quiet whisper. "I don't have anything."
"C'mon." He drawled. "Everyone's got somethin' they can part with. How 'bout that there?" He pointed to the lute. "Looks fancy. Bound t' be worth a few orens, I reckon."
Valentina's hand darted to her back, reflexively clutching the neck of her instrument. Panic rose in her throat. Part with her lute? The thought... she could barely entertain it. She'd sooner be parted from an arm, or a leg. And yet... if this was the only way to find out what had become of him...
A gleam of light caught her eye. A flash of silver, decorating her slender wrist. She'd almost forgotten she had it, a gift from an admiring suitor at one of her prior performances. It was barely a trinket, a twist of low-quality silver, but still enough to buy a meal for the evening, perhaps even a pile of straw in a barn to curl up on. Quickly, she unfastened it, proferring it to the grinning peasant.
"Here. Now quickly, tell me everything you know!" She urged.
The man quickly snatched the chain from her palm, holding it up to his eye for a critical moment, although Valentina had her doubts he could determine real silver from some cheap imitation. Regardless, he appeared satisfied.
"A'right." He shrugged, pocketing his new prize. "I guess its good enough. Though I warn you, lass- 'tis not a pretty story."
"Just-" She struggled not to let her voice creak with frustration. "Just tell me what you know about the Witcher."
"Like I said, ealdorman hired him. Some lumberin' bugger was eatin' our goats, an' we 'ad no blades between us to fight it off. Offered a reward of fifty Orens for the monster's head. Was almost more coin 'n the whole village sees in a year, but we needed rid of the bastard. Witcher showed up to take the contract. Lanky bastard, taller 'n anyone I've ever seen. Dead eyes, yellow, glowin'.
"Any'ow, the Witcher went out 'n' fought the creature. Reckon 'e killed it, given the racket they made. Whole village was set a runnin' by the noise, the screams, the roarin'. Dunno if it were the Witcher or the monster makin' the noise. Afterwards, everythin' went quiet. From what I 'eard, 'e went to meet the ealdorman, collect 'is pay, then 'e left. We thought that were it.
"We was wrong. Later that night, we're woken by screamin'. Next thing we know, ol' Blennan's barn is in flames, an' soon after so is Menford's cottage. In minutes, the whole village is ablaze. We ain't 'ad a decent drop o' rain in 'bout three months, so the thatch was tinder-dry. Caught light in seconds. The children was screamin', the women was cryin', the men try to draw water from the well, get a bucket chain goin'."
"I don't understand." Valentina interrupted. "What does this have to do with the Witcher?"
"There's the thing!" The man leaned forward conspiratorially. "I saw 'im, walking outta the Blennans' place. 'is face were right horrific, all black veins and pale white flesh, eyes sunken into 'is face and burnin' somethin' fierce. I reckon whatever creature lurks inside o' him took charge at that point. Anyway, didn't take long for us to figure out it were 'im that set the fire. Pissed at us for not payin' 'im more fer the monster, I bet. Dannel charges at 'im, manages to get a good jab in with 'is pitchfork, right in the leg. Bastard growls, then uses that witchcraft his kind have the knowin' of, ensorcels Dannel to turn around and run away, hollerin' that 'e can see shadows comin' to eat us all or some sorcery. Next thing we know, the mutant bastard 'ad bolted. Vanished in the smoke. Probably bled out, or choked on the smoke. I 'ope however 'e went, it weren't quick. Bastard don't deserve an easy death for what 'e done 'ere."
The man spat on the ground again, features contorting angrily.
"There were some good folks in this place. Kind, generous souls. None of 'em deserved to die at the hands of a beast like that. A curse on his name, and on the rest of his mutant kin! I 'ope they all rot."
Valentina listened carefully, looking around at the devastation again. It couldn't be him, could it? The description sounded right, but she'd have never though him capable of such monstrosity.
"You're sure that the Witcher caused this?" She asked reluctantly.
"Sure as I am that day comes after night, lass." He reached down to scratch behind the ears of his dog comfortingly. "You know what Witchers are like, everyone does. We've all sang that song 'bout 'ow heartless they are, 'ow they chop an' slice an' eat up little kiddies. They're monsters, inhuman mutants designed to kill. Why wouldn't 'e attack someone 'e thought 'ad cheated 'im?"
Valentina had no answer for that, reluctant as she was to admit it. She chewed her lip silently for a moment, then summoned up the courage to ask the question that caused her the most fear.
"This Witcher, did he tell you his name?"
"Aye, and it's a name I'll spit on for the rest o' my days." The man growled. His next words caused a blossom of pain in Valentina's chest, followed by a chilling numbness. "He said 'is name was Vester. Vester of Oxenfurt."