Chapter Two: Hunting a Red Herring!
Creeping through the chilling mist, Clementine couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. A constant stream of information from her sister's thoughts joined with her own, two shadows lurked in the mist to her right. Foglets, it always had to be foglets. She detested foglets as much as she did meditation, something she still couldn't master. In fact, she felt like breaking Sweetpea's current session out of an innocent mischievous jealousy. Shaking her sister's shoulder to gently rouse her from her serene state, she withdrew her sword and readied a defensive stance. Her skin prickled as an amber shield projected itself, closely hugging her skin, as a foglet rose up from the mud to grab at her ankle.
''Thanks for the shield sis, don't worry. Soon as we bag these overgrown tadpoles, the sooner I can retire for the night and swindle Lambert out of some cards and coin!''
Ignoring her sister's urge to focus, she thrusted a blade dripping with necrophage oil through the eye of a foglet, only to have it disappear in a translucent wisp. Another illusion, she thrust again. Another apparition! Bringing her blade up she turned back, swinging her blade into her twist to lop off the head of the real foglet. Another couple of crowns for an easy job that was a waste of her talent. Adjusting her footwork naturally, she let out a hearty belch watching as her sister failed to follow through on her pirouette, instead opting to haemorrhage the brains of the surrounding foglets. Her fingers quickly flipped out to curl into a fist as she spoke strongly in elvish. Clementine jeered her mockingly pulling out a second sword to spin into the aggressive florentine style, taking out two drowners in tandem.
"Vesemir would flip if he caught you casting on our hunt. You're supposed to be relying on your swordsmanship!"
Sweetpea sighed climbing nimbly up a tree to rain silver tipped flaming arrows down the monster's nest, following through with a bomb of Dragon's Dream. While it was true she wasn't as adept with a sword, she did possess alternative methods for dealing with monsters. Even if they went against Witcher tradition. A few of the remaining creatures fled the fiery burrow too fast for them to give chase.
"And I'm Sure Vesemir would have you digging out a new latrine if he were informed that you dearest sister were persisting in using that risky sword style. I wont always be here to shield you Clementine, you don't have mutations, you leave yourself to open for a counterattack. But you know what Lambert always says; 'Snitches get stitches', and my mouth is sealed as long as yours is."
"Just once I'd love to take down a ravenous Archgriffin or a handsome Incubus. Even a Siren in the middle of a thunderous ocean swell! Instead, Eskel has us taking down Drowners and Foglets. Although if we clean up the lake that means we're closer to going out onto the path."
Before long a large pile of the corpses were messily stacked atop one another heads stuffed unceremoniously in a hessian sack for they needed trophies to prove their work was complete. Sweetpea took a torch to the bodies whilst the other juggled three heads in an attempt to lighten the mood. Tossing two in the bag before wiggling the jaw up and down on the grotesque third to dramatically recite one of Dandelions love poems with macabre impish delight.
"If our bodies could a song compose...
My heart would inquire of your hands pale and fine, if they'd grasp it gently, to hold like a rose...
Or treat it as a morsel upon which to dine?"
Sweetpea smiled sliding down a tree trunk to rest upon some leaves, wrapping herself in a thick bear fur coat. She could always count on her sister to lighten the mood, though she didn't want to confess her body was weary from the magic use. Outstretching a shaking hand, she took a flask from her sister and began gulping the herbal tea, greedily enjoying the momentary warmth as it settled in her stomach. As they wobbled up the path together, she nibbled on a honeyed seedcake, a welcome reprieve from the mushrooms and moss from their youth.
"I swear as long as I live I'll never touch another mushroom again…"
The crowded tavern stunk of sweat, earthy smoke and fatty meats rotating over a fire. Sweetpea could sense her sister's apprehension, her anxiety and heart rate rising being so close to strangers. Climbing the stairs with the sack dragging behind them they unceremoniously flung Eskel's door open to dump the heads on his floor.
"All Right cough it up old man. We worked most of the night flushing out the drowner nest and dealing with all the foglets. I need play money, need something to contribute to the pot for tonight's gwent tourney. I'll be damned if Lambert is going to win again."
Eskel looked them both over for wounds, apart from a few scrapes and cuts they were fine. He had steeled himself long ago to the concept of them being wounded, it came naturally with the job after all. Still, he found a small part deep down within relieved that his teenage wards came to no harm. He tossed them both a coin purse of fifty crowns each, pouring them a glass of mulled wine. It was hard to believe they grew into fine young women from such small mischievous children. It seemed as if yesterday they were climbing atop the castle's parapets, stealing shiny things like harpies and propping them up in impossible nooks and crannies.
Thanks to the trial of choice, they stood slender tall and muscular, taking more after their elven side in looks. He often chastised them to keep their hair cropped short, although they defied him in this respect letting their golden copper coloured tresses hang wildly and tangled, all the way down to their hips. Their pale angular faces stared back at him in annoyance after counting their crowns. His own brown eyes stared back into their stormy grey ones. The twins were unnaturally still, so much so that he could count every golden freckle splotched upon their chubby cheeks and button noses.
"That's a generous amount you know, back in my day you'd get a crown thirty per head! You young ones have it easy these days."
Sweetpea, good natured as ever, seemed to display some shame in her greed though it was Clementine's eager acceptance that was oddly suspicious.
"Sorry, sometimes we get ahead of ourselves and let greed dictate our actions, do forgive us. We will go and dispose of these post haste. Thank you for the wine."
Hurrying down the stairs with the bloody, stinking bag trailing behind them, Clementine had a huge sheepish grin plastered upon her face. Sweetpea tried to talk her out of it, but they both soon found themselves at the gwent table propping up the sack next to Lambert's goblet.
"All right old man, cough it up. We finished the task and we don't want to disturb Eskel so hand over the coin."
"A crown thirty a head, that's the going rate. Now scram and leave daddy to his gambling. You two have your own room upstairs, don't trash it. There's vodka on the table."
They both caught the meagre coin purse. Clementine could already feel the pangs of guilt practically seeping through their bond from her sister. She had planned to join the night's games but the tourney was half way through by the time they finished their hunt. No matter, she'd attempt to fleece him tomorrow night. They spoke in the privacy of each other's minds, it was efficient and comfortable this way. Clementine had the tendency to ramble on even the smallest detail however.
"Hey think of it as our dinner fund, you said you didn't want to eat mushrooms any longer so go order a strawberry tart, some mulled wine, curl up by the fire, and rest upstairs. You've exerted yourself too much today. I'll not hear any objections. You need to listen to Triss and Vesemir, I don't really understand this magic stuff but from what I gather it can take a real toll on you, well the both of us. I understand how you feel though, it's like how I feel empty if I'm not running the gauntlet with a pair of swords in my hand or how I feel naked without my armour. It's surreal, but you need to try. I'll not say anything to them if you promise to lose the magic on our next practice run. Tomorrow we'll train together and I'll have you nail that pirouette combination, and you can help me try to meditate. You know, settle all those jumbled, racing thoughts in my brain. So, it's a deal?"
"Deal!" Sweetpea's short sentences were a stark contrast to her twins. She'd already planned to slip the extra pilfered coins back in Lambert's pocket once he had passed out. However, the warm supportive hand of Clementine soon banished those thoughts as she was led upstairs and guided into a warm feather down bed layered with many various furs. Her eyes lidded with sleep, and soon she was dreaming of Touissant and the Errant knights, feasts, tourneys, and grand adventure. For it was when Sweetpea dreamt that she could let loose her wilder, bold side. Leaving the reserved persona behind to face the waking world. In her dreams, she was a grand witcher saving princesses from beasts, and laying with buxom women down on beds of fragrant flowers to caress, sleep, and roll in the merriment of their love. Free of bigoted persecution, and the restraints of the cold north.
Clementine awoke, her senses picking up somebody looming over her bedside. Footsteps echoed then settled as weight was shifted on a nearby chair. She had always slept with a dagger in hand, especially when in public venues. It had soothed the raging paranoia in her brain. That, and some minor anger issues were a side effect of the trial of choice. Opening an eye, confusion overcame weariness as she saw Eskel peering back, an arm resting across him on the table.
"I wasn't expecting any night-guests, what the fuck Eskel!? if this is about the hunt, I performed perfectly. Don't tell me we're waking up for some impromptu drills, I'm not a kid anymore! That basic training is behind me."
He looked tense, and to her, a little more emotionally constipated than usual. Something was bothering him. Agilely standing up with dagger in hand, she reached beside her bed for the sword Vesemir had lent her for the hunt.
"Let me guess, Lambert's stuck down a well?"
"No. Lambert is fine, and I agree. You are far above the basics now. The time has come for you to take the trial of the mountain. Pass this, and Vesemir will recognise that you are ready for the mutations and your silver sword. Though there is a catch. You, and your sister are to do this trial separately, alone. You need to demonstrate you can survive independently when the need arises. Now as per tradition, you will meditate in silence till dawn. Steel yourself and prepare."
Clementine crossed her arms and looked at him in disbelief when he expected her to meditate for the rest of the night. Judging by the position of the moon, they still had at least four hours before dawn. She paced the room impatiently tapping her feet, before kneeling on the floor in defeat. Eskel had ways of influencing her to comply without ever needing to threaten punishment.
"Why can't Lambert take me on the trial, I'd much prefer his company! We'd jest, drink, and well, I wouldn't have to deal with a stoic, unyielding, mountain of a man trying to get me to accomplish the impossible. I'm capable, it's Sweetpea you should worry about! My weapon skills, footwork, and forms are perfect. I lack magic capability, but you don't need spells to stab someone in the face."
"But you do need a calm, calculated head, like your Sister, to know exactly when to stab someone in the face. Your 'strike-while-the-iron-is-hot' method will only net you sparks. Sit down and focus little one, you may not be a child, but your training is far from over. Concentrate."
They were at it for two hours, him looming over her till she, futile in her attempt, began stacking pebbles from her coat pocket out of boredom. It seemed just as her memories and thoughts calmed themselves, serenity faded upon the ends of her consciousness. Replaced with a nagging, stabbing, thought, words brimming and expanding into overwhelming scenarios.
"If you can't learn how to sit still, I'll make you sit still like the wild little rabbit that you are!"
She barely had time to register his threats as her world faded to darkness, and her mouth filled with cloth. A sack had been forced over her entire body encasing her tightly like a sausage. Feeling herself be hoisted up off the ground, she felt herself rotating in the air. It appears she was being suspended from the ceiling. She could feel the knots bearing most of the load and the tightness of the ropes burning and pressing the folds of the cloth into her skin. Sweat broke from a furrowed brow as she began wriggling and shouting in annoyance. Objecting with all her might, in her mind she would bring the very beams of the roof down atop them if she could. That's it! She'd use her bond to call to Sweetpea. Then again, she couldn't run to her sister for help, that would prove his point on top of the added embarrassment. Her protests fell on deaf ears, with her stamina eventually waning, the bag stopped wiggling and she dropped backwards, resting her weight evenly. Eyes closing as she focused on their link. If she were forced to be here she might as well spend it watching Sweetpea and perhaps give her a warning of what was to come.
"Oh yeah of course, here I was expecting you to do something nice, staying up late going on a midnight stroll with all these lovely ladies. Instead, you're in bed asleep, and is that Vodka sitting there untouched? You know that was top shelf? Wake up Sweetpea, I'm not letting you spend such a nice night in bed!"
Sweetpea rose, slowly combing the knots out of her hair as she yawned and took in the situation. Then it dawned on her that she had dishonestly extorted extra coin from him with Clementine. Was this it, was he coming to collect under the pretences of a moonlit stroll in the woods? Focusing, she received Clementines warning, so they were really here for a trial. No doubt he was leading her astray from the inn to more easily deal with any magical outbursts that might occur in the struggle. Either that or he wouldn't give her the chance and slip her a sleeping draught. The vodka, it had to have been spiked, laced with a potent sleeping herb perhaps. Slipping on her wolf school leathers and her thick winter bear coat, she warmed up by the fire before shouldering her pack, silver and steel sword, whilst slipping the last of the herbal tea from her flask. Silently as they made their ways through twisted deep shrubbery, she wished for Eskel instead. Lamberts vulgarity and rude disposition embarrassed her on more than one occasion. She preferred the long thoughtful silences and meaningful conversation that came with Eskel. It was better to see glimpses of the fun Eskel after a night of drinking than to experience Lambert's already loose personality hyped up a hundred-fold.
"Hey, is that a succubus over there leaning over that scantily clad barmaid from last night?"
The hairs prickled on her neck as her skin broke out in goosebumps, her body was naturally alerting her to the shift in tension between the two. He was gearing himself up to strike she could see the extra weight he put on his foot perhaps preparing himself to lunge forward no doubt. Still, she thought using her sexuality against her was something he would do, yet it bothered her he would think she would fall for it.
"I don't want to have to do this Lambert, but you give me no choice."
Focusing and drawing on the strength around her, Sweetpea took control of the blood rushing through his veins and the water pumping through his body. Momentarily she was one with his bodily functions, he was holding a syringe in one hand and a sack in the other. Both their eyes met as he tried to say something witty. Heart beating and mind focusing, she forced his arm back struggling against his natural willpower. Slowly they both watched as the needle pierced his skin as he injected himself with it. Witchers had a natural defence to such things so she'd also have to knock him out.
"I'd find it more believable if you said there were a group of them dancing around a pretty blonde woman strapped to a maypole."
Knocking him sharply on the head and with great effort, she rolled him into the bushes taking care to keep him safe and warm. Checking his vitals, she let out a shriek as his hands wrapped around her wrists strapping a pair of dimeritium cuffs around her.
"Hah, I just had to get you close! You're smart, but I'm a different kind of smart. That was a real dick move though. You totally could have chosen not to stick the syringe in my neck. Now you're to survive here out in the wild. Pass, and Vesemir has agreed to send you to the Griffin school for extra training and mutations, including the grass trial. Now sleep."
He wrapped his hands gingerly around Sweetpea's neck stopping the blood flowing to her brain just enough to send her to sleep. Sweetpea struggled under his superhuman grip, the blood pounded under the skin, throbbing in her ears as innumerable pressure built up behind her eyes. Colourful splotches appeared in her vision, a hand clawed at the dirt weakly tossing leaves in his direction. A hacking cough and dribble of spit trickled down her chin soaking into her fur collar as dizziness and lack of blood supply claimed her, sending her into deep unconscious rest. Lambert checked her vitals and when all was well, took her deeper into the forest and up the mountain ranges, setting her down in a safe alcove of rocks and leaving just before she would wake. Eskel should be finished with the other sister on the opposite side of the mountain. Then they would wait for them to survive and cope with the stress off truly being alone. He hoped they could handle it, though they decided to watch the pair on Triss' megascope.
Clementine awoke to wolves howling, snarling and prowling in the distant cover of trees. She was aware of a note tucked into her cloak, a small message scrawled hastily: "Survive and you'll earn your silver sword." Releasing a long sling of expletives, she immediately scaled a tree just as gnashing canines snapped at her feet. Climbing the tall pine to the furthermost branch, she began throwing down pinecones, pelting the wolves in desperation. When she ran out of pinecones, she tore off an adjoining branch, whittling it with the dagger Eskel had so generously left tucked by her side. He didn't allow her to keep her coat. Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she dissected her current dire situation. Angrily, her fist met the trunk of the tree next to her, she had to clutch onto it and sit still to prevent herself falling out.
"What a Humbling experience. Am I to die of exposure with the sound of howls as my death knell? No, think calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean. Count to ten, then calmly assess the situation. Anger leads to irrational decision making."
Opening her eyes once more she still felt anger still, as the winds chilled her skin, fuck it. If she was going to die she'd go out fighting, not of the chills. She remembered being taught that wolves often fear man and only generally hunted them for food or picked them off if they were weak. Wolves also feared loud noises and fire.
Whittling into the branch in intervals, she created a sort of kindling stick. Focusing and attempting to clear her mind she made the sign of Igni. A few sputters of fire leaked out only to extinguish themselves on the wind.
"Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate… Igni, Igni, Igni… IGNI. Fuck."
After numerous, frustrating attempts she managed to spark an ember which caught onto a frayed part of her makeshift kindling torch. Climbing down the tree, she jumped down screaming deeply at the top of her lungs whilst making direct eye contact with the wolves, brandishing her torch when they drew too near. Eventually they broke contact and she hollered and threatened them until they slunk off back into the darkness.
"I am the fire Queen!"
Turning her attention to her lowering body temperature, she spent the next hour constructing a fire, repeating the same process over, and over again to produce a small ember to catch the tinder alight. The rising flames soon engulfed the fallen branches and debris she had gathered and soon she was warming herself by a cosy fire. She began cutting and hacking away at branches, putting half aside for her later plan, and feeding the other half into the fire. The very next day she spent her time digging out a trench with a crudely constructed shovel, setting up a pitfall trap and covering it up along with her scent. Ignoring the rumbling in her stomach for food and her throat's dry clenching thirst for water.
Soon the wolves returned, she feigned weakness baiting them near with the promise of an easy meal. Her dagger was tucked into her side in case things went south, but she made a visible effort to hide it alerting them to the fact she was defenceless. Backing up against a rockface she watched as they leapt forward with the first three landing in the trap. Their whining howls and whimpers filled the air as they bled out in the pit.
Standing tall again and with all the bravery and defiance she could muster, she threw her arms up high shouting once more, making as much noise to scare them off. She made sure to skin and process the meat and bones on site, away from the location she would set up her new camp. For one, she didn't want to attract bears or monsters into her camp and secondly, it would prevent the risk of disease spreading in the campsite.
It had been another day until she settled into her new site, an empty cave with a stream three-hundred metre north. She had the wolf skins clean and curing, and the meat cut into lean thin strips of jerky smoking on a self-made rack propped up over the fire. After the bones were clean she began a lengthy process to turn them into weapons, making a spear and arrowheads to match with a bow she had carved from Yew. Her determination to prove herself overcame the void of loneliness that threatened her sanity over not having her twin by her side. She was mentally stronger than this, she could do this. She thought such things to herself though, eventually she curled up by the fire wrapped in a wolf skin. Habit had caused her to set aside an extra cup of tea she boiled from roots and mint leaves. When she realised this, she threw it against the cave wall in anger and rest her head against the soft lupine furs. She'd spent her time at Kaer Morhen for as long as she could remember, training and learning. Though she was never truly alone. When Eskel and Lambert took to the path, she had Vesemir and when he retired for the night and she was left to nurse her aches, pains, bruises, and worries, Sweetpea was there. If anything, Clementine thought this would push her closer make her appreciate the other's company more. Perhaps that was it, that's what this whole thing was about. Humbling and breaking her down, stripping away everything so she'd realise the value of comradery, or some other fanciful ideal Vesemir prattled on about.
No that was paranoia speaking. Things were always straight forward at the castle, it was full of early mornings, moss and mushrooms, warm ups, cardio, training, monster knowledge, herbalism, bomb crafting, archery, alchemy and so forth. This was simply to test their knowledge and she'd be damned if she was going to let her existentialist crisis ruin things. It was time to rest, she'd spend most of the next day making water skins and preparing for her climb down the mountain. There was no way she'd be staying here. She counted every second when they began moving, she'd factor in various allowances and use that time frame to find her way back to the inn. Shaking her head, she chastised herself from making things overly complicated again. The Inn was idealistically perched by the river next to a forest. So, she'd follow the river downstream all the way to the inn. If not the inn then another villager or village, and she would prise some local geographical information out of the locals.
That was it when she returned she'd find some way to exact revenge on the witchers, probably various pranks, and end it all by mockingly placing a pitchfork with a ribbon tied around it in Geralt's bed. Exactly in the same manner they used to do as a gift for him when she were but a child. In fact, a hunch overcame her, perhaps they were watching now on one of Triss' megascope contraptions. Raising both arms and middle fingers, she spun around looking up at the sky shouting erratically with a voice bellowing with conviction and self-confidence.
"Hah! Not much of a challenge, I know you're watching old man! I'll have my swords by the week's end! Better cough em up! I am the Wolf Queen!"
Readjusting the wolf's head hood that slipped over her eyes, Clementine picked up a branch rambling, whistling and shouting at any scoia'tael who, in her mind, may be lurking in the woods, to back off. Eventually, she ran out of gusto and focused on the trek ahead, climbing until the sun had drifted down the mountain peak. An enchanting singing caught her attention, it was elvish. She didn't know her people's language but had heard her sister practicing enough to recognise it. A lithe elven man with a crop of short braided brown hair and green eyes had busied himself over a catch of large salmon, throwing back breeding females and the underdeveloped.
She approached him speaking with all the tact she could muster which was very little, as her excitement overcame polite speech. Peppering him with numerous asinine questions and attempting to greet him in butchered and coarse elder speech.
"Ooooh, you're an elf, you a scoia'tael? What's your name, is it something cool like Iorveth or Aen Blathanna? Have you met Francesca Findabair? You know her Elven name means 'Daisy of the Valley'. So, um seeing as we're both elves, you mind sharing some of those fish, and um, I need directions to the nearest inn. I'm a Witcher you see and I'm on the trial of the mountain! I'll trade you for the fish, I have this spear I whittled out! Probably worth that big juicy salmon you have, you know, the big one!?"
"Firstly, not all elves are scoia'tael how dare you. Secondly, you're only half, and thirdly no I will not give you this salmon! I will sell this to get me through the Winter. That crudely made pointed stick of yours will fetch you an off bag of small meal fish. Here, mash it into something, you'll draw out some nutrition. A witcher in this part of the mountain, I thought they stopped that trial a near century ago. Don't tell me they're making more, is there more? I come here for the peace and solitude of the river, good fishing. Now kindly go away, you're scaring the prime salmon, not to mention your stench alone would attract bears. Be gone! My name is none of your business it's Eeder for 'Be Gone you're annoying me."
He threw the bag at her shooing the teen away with his hands, returning to his catch and pushing her away with one hand in disgust as she tried to snatch a prize salmon. He detested half breeds as it was, but this encounter left a lingering bitter prejudice that would sting for decades to come. This is precisely why the two shouldn't mix, human barbarism diluted and destroyed most of the inherited competence and grace from his people. He wasn't even surprised when she rode off on his prized thoroughbred stallion. Thievery, he'd write a sternly scathing letter to Kaer Morhen though he wouldn't bother wasting the ink.
Clementine enjoyed the feel of wind flowing through her wildly tangled hair, the feel of her newly liberated powerful steed's muscles working overtime. At this pace she felt invincible, one with the horse, and woe befall anyone who try to impede the girl! She never intended to keep the horse after all, it was merely tactical requisitioning. She'd send it back up the river to its owner with her spear as an apology, she wasn't a bandit nor a thief. Suckling and chewing at the small fish, she hoped she wouldn't get sick despite the funny smell. They were slimy and tasted slightly off though. The girl's fears where interrupted however, as the horse reared up whinnying and kicking its legs wildly as a stout, hard-looking, balding man rushed out from the bushes. She attempted an axii sign to soothe its fears, but it only made things worse. In fact, the butchered attempt saw the horse bucking the teen, sending her tumbling off the saddle.
"Give us your horse and money, scoia'tael scum!"
Rolling back up into a standing position, dagger in hand, she spat at the bandit before she realised, thankfully due to his words, she was outnumbered. The little witcher didn't need to focus on their location as they soon stumbled out, breaking sticks underfoot behind. Of course, they'd go for a typical flank. Already, she had an idea and would play to their idiocy.
"Firstly, I'm not scoia'tael, and my horse is vital to my mission. If you guarantee me safe passage, I will lead you to my stash of coins at the inn, buried in a place only known to myself. As you can see, you have no choice but to comply!"
The leader, whom had a moustache and a thick purplish scar over one eye, bellowed out with hearty laughter. Ample stomach jiggled along as a hand rested on her shoulder. Clementine stood back, still slightly wary, trying to manoeuvre herself towards the river. If anything, she could make a dive for it and let the current sweep her body towards the inn with minimal effort.
"Har har har, nice try girlie, you got guts! Shame we're going to spill those guts. One of me lads saw you with that fisherman. If you were truly desperate for food, you'd bargain your non-existent stash on that nice thick salmon. But you've caught me in a generous mood, how about this, we just take yer horse and ditch you by that tree?"
Her biased assumptions of them would have shamed her if she weren't distracted by a searing pressure towards her lower stomach. In fact, now that she focused, some sweat built up to slide down the back of her neck and brow. Clutching her stomach, the girl dropped her pants and unapologetically allowied a stream of filth to spurt out and mix with the moist soil. The smell was acrid, oily and unholy in nature. The bandits capitalised on this and began leading her horse away. Clementine, filled with a desperation, tossed a handful of her wretched filth square in the glistening head of the leader. He cursed but hadn't fallen for her taunt instead, they walked off. The horse's haunches, the last thing she saw before sinking down into the bushes to feel sorry for herself.
"Okay, so perhaps this is meant to be a humbling experience. There's still a lot I need to learn. Well, a lot about humans and others. I need to cast aside my prejudices and work on well stilling myself."
"I thought I smelt something familiar, I take it my horse isn't with you is it? I saw how you handled those bandits earlier. No wonder why the witcher school is on its last legs!"
Clementine could feel the rage welling up inside of her. Perhaps his words struck closer than she thought. In return however, she gave him the same treatment as the bandits and lobbed a great handful of waste over his nice silken doublet. He looked at her with all the disgust an elf could muster. He felt it useless to waste words on the filthy monkey though, he'd soon rather dust his hands of her, and this ordeal.
"A d'yaebl aép arse! Perhaps at my scoia'tael campsite, I might have a few dwarves handy, ready to ply you with rubies the size of your fist, and intricate pots of gold?"
Ashamedly an apologetic smile was flashed towards him as she pulled up her trousers stinking slightly of sulphur, bad odour, and a few days' worth of exploration.
"I know you aren't Scoia'tael, I was just excited to meet someone of my culture! There aren't any elves at Kaer Morhen. I've only met a handful, and they didn't really have the time of day for me. But there's nothing wrong with wanting to get in touch with who you are! I've tried to read books, but the words don't soak into my head, and the letters are all jumbled. It took me years just to nail down the basics, and the bestiary. I usually absorb most of the knowledge I can off of my sister, everything comes naturally to her even magic, sometimes I think jealous thoughts. I work harder than anyone else and still can't match the others. I think that's why I act the way I do. Bold, brash, and in the moment. Because… because, when I think truly about our circumstances, I become overwhelmed with the possibilities and I feel tired. So very tired that sleep can't ever help it."
"Well as tragically comedic as your interpersonal, existentialist crisis is, you must come with me to set up camp. Though I accept your apology, it's understood that your inferior upbringing would come with such rude disposition."
Climbing up on the merchant's fish cart, now pulled by one less steed, an awkward silence overcame them. She would defend her family to the end, but she felt she was wasting breath with this one. Looking back, she could see the stream disappear and be swallowed by tangled overgrowth. Beautiful flowers and twisting gnarled trees, whom overhung menacingly, with thick branches weighed down heavily by foliage.
"Well, for what it's worth, you should try to trust your instincts more often. I am scoia'tael."
"Heh, very funny! Next thing I know, you'll be pinning squirrel tails to your clothes!"
Her mocking mirth fell to movement, as the girl lunged forward and pressed a dagger blade up to the naked nape of his neck. Piercing into the tanned flesh ever so slightly as armed scoia'tael militia stalked silently forwards from the shadows. She could smell the scent of firewood and smoke clinging to their clothes, no doubt they came from a nearby encampment. This was a bad situation, furthermore perilous as two archers notched arrows pointing in her direction. They were skilled, this much she knew, they could shoot her through the pupil before her weapon blade made quick work of his jugular.
"I mean you no harm, I am of your kind and I merely wish to make it to the Riverside Inn. There is no need for violence."
"Then you would remove that blade from my neck, wouldn't you? There's no going to the inn for you half-breed! You may be a clumsy witcher, but a witcher none the less, and you will fetch a high price from Kaer Morhen. A fresh young witcher on the mountain trial, I'm sure they'd want you back in one piece."
Sometimes it was better to give one's self up than die in the struggle, and she was not going to perish in this forsaken, dreary mountain. Better to save her strength and think of an escape later, than be irreparably injured. Inhaling deeply, she dropped the knife, dismounting the horse, and placed her hands in the air as an ultimate form of co-operation.
"You're making a mistake! I'm the problem child, and I doubt they'd cough up a single crown for my return. Hell, Lambert would probably drink in celebration, all too eager to pour one out for me!"
Taking zero chances, they shackled her in dimeritium, leading her into a cage, and locking it tightly to ensure there would be no escape. The 'fisherman' turned to the others, commanding them to return to their menial tasks and tend to the camp. She watched in disdain as even smaller dwarves were tending anvils and crassly conversing to one another. Of what however, she could not hear.
There was nothing she could do to escape except maybe remove the shackles. Reaching down between her pale thighs, slender fingers inserted themselves into the warmth between her loins. After a few moments of discomfort, she produced a slender lock pick, still warm to the touch. Crouching down away from the militia and slumping in a corner, she began to awkwardly slide it in the lock, attempting to jimmy it open with anxious desperation. The pick was slick with bodily fluids though, and slipped from her hands, falling out of the cage. She'd have to be free of them another way, perhaps using her stomach discomfort to have them release her from the cage.
Moaning in discomfort she looked out to a sentry allowing her voice to take on a feigned pleading and sickly weariness.
"Please! I am suffering from dysentery, I must relieve myself and to do so in the camp would be unsanitary! It could spread it, and you'll have to deal with disease. Allow me a visit to a bush or river to cleanse myself of this shit, literally!"
"You are right, that is why we have a designated pit for your bowel problems. Lower the cage into the pit so she can shit through the cage's grates."
Kicking out at the gate's bars, she spat at the elf with surprising animosity. If they aimed to demoralise her, they'd have to try harder than that. She herself had been in worse situations. Still, this was now dire. She'd have to hold it for real. She instead focused to try and meditate, to conserve her energy. Assuming the position Eskel had shown her, Clementine tried to drown out the present dangers. A mind abuzz with stirring thoughts settling into calm, she focused on piercing through the tide of erratic chaos to settle instead, on her sister. It seemed whatever connection they had was stronger perhaps, than even the dimeritium could subdue. Biting her pride, she spoke to the other, softly allowing a stream of images to slip naturally between the two including all the landmarks ingrained within her mind.
"Sweetpea, I know we're meant to be doing this by the book without magic or absent of each other's aid but seriously, they've locked me in a cage! I have about two hours before I need to shit again! They aim to ransom me off to Vesemir for gold, but I'll be damned if I'm to be sold off like a plot of land. There's a small militia of them no more than twenty. I know you can lockpick, I taught you how. Remove those shackles and come free me. Use as much magic as you can, this is one of those times where you shouldn't hold back."
Sweetpea received her sister's distress signal just as she was adding in a handful of chopped wild mushrooms, and herbs, into her rabbit stew.
"Vesemir did say when the time came, that our greatest asset would be our bond. Passing this trial to attend the Griffin school means the world to me but losing you Clementine would be inconceivable. I will come for you, conserve as much energy as you can. I think if one of us dies it would defeat the purpose of this trial. Besides, have you ever really thought why they've withheld us from the trial of grasses? Don't you think it odd they put us through this before we've taken the mutations and not after? It's because they want to ensure we're ready, Vesemir's seen countless pupils succumb to an early death. Let's spare the old man from another heartache so hold on and try not to annoy them into giving you an early execution."
Climbing dextrously down the branch of a towering tree, she looked up at the result of her month's handiwork in the woods. A large tree cabin sat atop it, safe from roaming beasts below, defensive spikes surrounding the perimeter. She had in turn, made a small fortress with wooden tree bridges connecting into a walkway, with buckets that could be lowered into the accompanying small dam of water. However, all this had been achieved without magic and her physique showed it, adding muscle to her already enhanced figure. Descending the fortress with a bag of packed supplies hoarded during her month of survival, she stood outside. The sound of her wolfish howls echoed eerily through the mountain as she called for her friend.
A towering albino direwolf, the size of a bear, bounded through the forest. Sweetpea took a moment to pet its muzzle and connect with it on a primal, natural level.
"Princess, it's been awhile since I rescued you from those 'Squirrels'. It seems they're causing trouble for everyone these days. It's been awhile since we last hunted together however, I need your help to rescue my sister. I ask this favour of you, I must borrow your speed, strength and power. Let us hunt scoia'tael, you may feast on the flesh of the dead this day, you may sup upon revenge!"
It allowed her to mount its back as she held out an old scoia'tael bandanna and squirrel tail for her to track. Soon, they bound over rockfaces, rivers, bandit camps, and all matter of natural ruins. They rode for three days straight, stopping only for water, food breaks, and sleep on the fourth.
When the wolf's hair bristled and Princesses' snarls reverberated through her body, Sweetpea's heartbeat rose. She momentarily took time to follow Eskel's example and calm herself before the battle. Her mind connected with the ebbing fresh energy pressing around her body, the sounds of trees, anvils, and the encampment, all dulled away into a soft faded hum, akin to the waves of a coastal beach lapping the shoreline.
Both her and the wolf struck hard and fast, and soon they had drawn first blood. A scout's neck crunched meatily under Princess' powerful jaws, sending blood to spray over a bushel of peonies. Charging forward, she could see Clementine's cage yet a host of scoia'tael were blocking it. Digging deep into her own source of magic, she began gesturing with her hands and raised them out, feeling herself connect with the Aether. She burst the cage's lock and watched as her sister jumped upon the nearest elf, choking the life out of him and apprehending his sword. However, she didn't have time to admire her sister's deadly precision in action, for the squirrely scum had decided to gang up on her. Princess was busy dealing with the leader, locked in combat with his deadly halberd. No, she would have to resort to magic. There was absolutely no way she could take on an armed militia, especially not with her woeful swordsmanship.
Opening herself up, she allowed herself to connect to the group, feeling the ebb and flow of their lifeblood. She could end this now, end it all at once, she was a powerful source after all, why shouldn't she put to use the force within her? There wouldn't need to be a tragic injury or circumstance to push her, she would give in to this naturally. Slowly, the air began to prickle and flow unnaturally around the source, Sweetpea rose into the air, it felt heavy and chaotic.
The commander screamed to take her down, but the soldiers could not loosen their arrows for they were in her control now. The soldiers rose in the air, blood trickling from every orifice, as their weapons clattered to the ground. They bent in unnatural shapes, bones cracking, splintering. through flesh. Their minds ruptured, their brains boiled, and their very lifeforce had stopped at the source. Princess had fled the scene out of fear and when all was said and done, the whole encampment laden with catastrophically ruined, lifeless, mannequins whose faces twisted in agony.
Sweetpea fell to the ground, hands clutching her face as blood poured from her ears, mouth, and nose. Clementine's still body lay cast by the cage, half staggering and half running, she turned her sister over fearing the worst. Blood coated her face, the lifeforce had been drained from her. She wasn't hit from the spell though! Listening to the girl's heart, she could hear palpitations and feel a weak pulse, her sister laid there, pallid, gaunt, and limp.
Screaming, she tried one of the healing spells Triss had taught her but it was no use. Nothing but illuminated sparks emerged, petering out and disappearing. The world seemed to stop before her, was this what Vesemir had meant, what Vesemir had warned her about? This was why he was against her using magic, for it would come at the cost of her sister's life.
A great impact hit the side of her right shoulder, shock, then searing, prickling, hot, sharp pain followed. Whirling and staggering to view her aggressors, another group of scoia'tael emerged from the bushes, a thin battle hardened ranger notched another dimeritium arrow and let it loose to embed itself deep in Sweetpea's arm. The agonizing sting of dimeritium against her flesh sent throbbing, clenching pain to stifle any magic she may have retaliated with. A firm aggressive hand had pulled her back by the strands of her blood slicked hair, exposing her neck to a surly looking dwarf whom roughly clapped a tight collar around the inexperienced spell-flinger's neck. Deep spikes of dimeritium had also been fastened onto the inside, digging deeper into the flesh if she moved out of place.
"Behave girly or I'll tighten it so hard you'll have those embedded in your spine! You've done enough damage."
Clenching her fist, she prevented herself from lashing out in anger. Instead, she spat at a slender, golden-eyed, elven mage, whom sported a thick ornate hairstyle of ashen coloured braids. Sweetpea watched helplessly as his crystalline, sea-green, golden embellished staff began pumping her with a strange humming light, unidentifiable by her limited arcane experience. Clementine raised a hand only to have it fall limply to her side as she was taken away to what looked like a makeshift medical tent.
Listening intently, Sweetpea tried to gleam the intent they had in store for her twin, though was crestfallen when the green-hooded ranger escorted her into a containment cell. She memorised the details of the golden snake, cloak-pin he sported, of its emerald eyes and intricately carved scales. He would be the first to go and she would pay him in kind for the arrows still sharply overwhelming her senses.
"Our original plan was to ransom you back to Kaer Morhen for some profit, although seeing the power you harness, the power to control and snuff out the life of many so quickly, well, that's invaluable. Plans have changed, we have such grand ideas for you little wolf, grand ideas indeed!"
His gleaming smile cut through the sparse room's gloom, as she rose to her feet stumbling forwards slowly. Heaving and sweating with the effort, digging deep for any remaining courage, she tenaciously flung herself forward trying to attack him physically. A normal man, and a ranger at that, would not be able to match her dietary altered strength, though she was drained, spent, and weakened beyond description. Sharp canines dug into the flesh of his cheek as she tore deeply, heated blood and tasteless gristle seeped over her tongue. The last thing she heard was his pained shouts as his fist slammed heavily against the side of her head. A sharp nauseating ringing erupted in Sweetpea's head as she fell against him unconscious.
