Honor Bound
A drowner dangled limply from a wooden beam, pinned by an arrow through the center of its grotesque skull. Another lay in a pile of sewer filth, innards spilling from the fatal slash to its gut.
Iorveth curled his lip at the scent, wiping his blade clean before pulling the aevon beanna from where he had propped her against the sewer wall. With every step that he carried her, his regret over taking on this quest increased.
Infiltrating Novigrad was simple enough when one was alone. But when an Aen Seidhe comes anywhere near one of those bastards of the Fire, particularly with an unconscious human woman slung over his shoulder, more than a few swords would be raised.
Another time perhaps.
Until then the path through the sewers would have to do until he could hand over the dying woman to Merigold and be on his way.
The weight on his shoulder unbalanced him when she groaned and began to struggle.
"Oh God-" She whispered and began to push against his lower back. After dodging a foot to the chin he slid her down till she fell to her knees and stepped back, looking away as she retched. When she finished, he managed to grab hold of the back of her jacket before she collapsed face first into the filth.
Again, he hauled her up, this time into his arms. If it were possible, the shadows under eyes and cheeks had deepened and there was a blue tinge to her cracked lips. Her breath had become erratic and her body was constantly shuddering, despite her clothing having long ago dried.
Iorveth picked up his pace, having no wish for Aevon to die after all the work he'd put into her rescue. Her head rolled limply with every step that he took, causing him to pause to shift her high enough for her head to rest against his neck. The heat emanating from the contact nearly had him wincing and he could no longer deny the unexpected worry that twisted in his chest.
"Hold there Fox! What have you-" Dandelion paused with a dramatic wave of the finger he had pointed at Iorveth. "Is this a Scoia'tael thing? I know we're friends but please-"
"Where's Merigold?" Iorveth said in a deadly tone.
Dandelion blinked then turned his finger to point upwards.
Iorveth pushed passed the bard and through the night's crowd of drunken tavern patrons.
The ragged breath that had been hitting his neck had slowed.
His eye narrowed and he took the stairs two at a time.
"Room at the end!" Dandelion called, hot on his heels.
"Open the door." He ordered, hardly waiting for the bard to move out of the way before he entered the room, his gaze immediately swept pass Triss Merigold and found the bed.
"Iorveth! What is the meaning of this?" Triss asked with a voice full of steel.
Iorveth ignored her for a moment as he placed the dying woman on the pile of blankets and pillows. Once his arms were empty he was nearly startled at how high her body temperature must be for he now shivered at the loss of her body's heat. He straightened and sent Triss a glance.
"You're a healer no? Well she happens to need healing. And unless I'm mistaken she doesn't have long. Might want to get started." He noticed the dropped jaws of both the sorceress and bard, and an Aen Elle watching with interest.
"It would help if I had more information." Triss finally said, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing Aevon's limp hair from her face.
"Found her in the river early this morning, she nearly drowned. Was already showing signs of illness. As you can see, she's a foreigner and the few words she spoke were a language unfamiliar to me."
"Someone said Iorveth kidnapped a human woman and paid Dandelion a hearty sum for- Ah hello there Iorveth." Zoltan greeted the room after bursting in.
Triss threw her hands into the air and began to herd everyone out.
"Alright, there are four men too many in here. Incase everyone has forgotten, we have a war to prepare for and now I have a very sick woman to try and save."
"I would also insist in keeping this woman's existence… quite." The sage added.
"Do you know her Avallac'h?" Triss asked.
He shook his head, but his gaze remained on Aevon.
"No. However if my assumption turns to be correct… she is quite unique."
"This isn't another child of elder blood thing is it?" Zoltan asked.
"No. I will wait until she is healed and can confirm. Please…" Avallac'h gestured for the door.
"So, is it true?" Zoltan asked over his shoulder.
"I'll tell you down stairs." Dandelion said out of the corner of his mouth.
"I would like to assist you." The sage spoke, already examining Merigold's collection of potions and ingredients.
"Thank you Acallac'h. Soon as we get her stable, we can continue trying to contact the lodge." She began to examine the jacket Aevon was wearing, and the odd way it was closed without buttons or ties. "Iorveth, I meant for you to leave as well. Unless you know how much drowner brain to add and how long to boil it…"
Iorveth gave Aevon one last glance before taking his exit, closing the door firmly behind him. He immediately felt the stares of Dandelion and Zoltan as he descended the stairs to the bottom floor of the tavern but he ignored their attempts to gain his attention.
His horse, supplies and the mysterious woman's pack still awaited in the trees outside of the city and much longer, all of it would be gone.
"Pop, it's the middle of July… why on Earth do you have the fireplace going?" Wendy stumbled downstairs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
No reply.
She glanced around, squinting.
"Where are my glasses? Pop?"
No reply. She fought a twinge of panic.
"Coffee, I need some coffee… Pop is just out with the sheep. Nothing is wrong- everything is fine." She whispered and stumbled to the kitchen. Luckily she had done this exact same routine, with glasses and without. Within moments she had a pot of coffee brewing. After preparing a mixture of more sugar and creamer than coffee in her favorite mug with the slogan, 'I heart Mr. Knightly'.
Taking a careful sip she stepped out onto the front porch.
'For so early in the morning, it certainly was hot already.' She thought and glanced down at her sweatpants and sweatshirt. "Well that could be part of the trouble. Coffee was a terrible choice."
A cool breeze rolled through just then, brushing against her face and bringing relief.
"Much better… Pop? You out here?" She called from the porch. Again, no reply.
Wendy frowned and made her way to the sheep pens, wishing she had slipped on something more durable than her fuzzy slippers.
The pens were empty. Not a fluffy sheep nor her Pop could be found.
That twinge of panic returned full blown. She turned in circles calling for her Pop, her pitiful sight offering nothing but blurred shapes and colors.
As tears began to stream down her cheeks she tried to make her way back to the house. Pop was just sleeping. Maybe he sold all the sheep and he was just taking a lazy morning.
The cool wind began to come in strong gusts, pushing her towards a copse of trees instead.
"No stop! I have to find Pop! I have to get home!" She cried out against the wind, but she lost more ground than she gained. A sound lifted above the rush of wind, a lilting tune coming from the trees. She turned her gaze to the swaying of browns and greens.
As awareness slowly came to her, Wendy fought to remember the music and the familiar way it had floated around her. But the ache in her body was too much and she curled into a ball, groaning into a pillow. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to fall back into sleep, terrible dream or not.
"What happened to me?" She asked herself, her voice muffled by the pillow. The last she remembered… Getting lost… falling… Relief spread through her chest, briefly alleviating her various body aches. "I was rescued…" she snuggled deeper into the pillow, a little smile curling her lips, enjoying the quiet.
Then the sound of whispers reached her, raising her head as she tried to find the source. Perhaps it was Snope… she blinked her eyes when she made out five blurry faces.
"Oh- hello… did you rescue me? Did you find my glasses? They were in my pack…" She glanced around, her heart leaping when she recognized the black lump on the floor near the bed. With careful movements she fumbled her way closer to it. "Thanks." She said with a little grunt when someone pushed it closer with their foot. When glasses were in hand she slid them on then collapsed weakly onto her back, closing her tired eyes and waited for strength to come back.
When she felt as if the Earth had stopped spinning she opened her eyes and looked for her rescuers.
"Oh…" She whispered at the sight of the strangers.
Wendy almost, for the briefest of moments, thought she were in another dream. A woman with red hair, a brightly dressed man, and a bearded man with dwarfism were all normal, without the out of time clothing. But the other two men…
Wendy settled back against the pillows, ready to see where the dream was going. Then she remembered the throb in her leg and shoulder, the angry twist of hunger. The rawness in her throat and really her entire body. One would think there would be less pain in one's dreams.
As realization finally dug its way through her fuzzy mind, she sat up with a gasp. She stared at what could only be described as elves. High cheek bones- check, obviously pointed ears- check, really- like really attractive- check.
She glanced toward the other one, the same checklist applying. He seemed different than the other one, at least going beyond his obvious lack of eye and scarring. He startled her when he suddenly moved further away to lean against the far wall.
"This cannot be real… I hit my head when I fell. Or some sort of hazing by those students. You can take off the…" Wendy paused and glanced at the attire…and the weapons the strangers were wearing. "Highly authentic costumes."
The woman shared a glance with the first elf and spoke to him.
Wendy's eyes widened as they began to speak in a language she didn't recognize. All at once everyone except the scarred man began to talk. Normally she would have been fascinated by the new language, but she began to take in the room, with it's abundance of candles, crystals, vials and various herbs drying from racks.
The lack of modern lighting and maybe even the lack of a television was startling but maybe she hadn't been found by her traveling group. Maybe some eccentric anachronistic people found her. She turned her attention back to the strangers, finally listening to them.
They were not speaking German, she was sure of it. Her stomach twisted and fear for her safety began to set it. As slowly as possible she began to push herself up, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. The window was just on the other side of the bed…
The talking stopped, drawing a quick glance from Wendy. She followed the gazes of everyone in the room to her chest. The covers had slipped, revealing she wore a black sports bra. With a yelp she snatched the blankets back to her chin and glared at everyone in the room
"Who did this? Who undressed me? Who are you people and where am I?" She bit out in a burst of embarrassed anger. "I want answers, or-or I'll call the police!"
The gray-haired elf stepped forward and met her gaze with eyes that almost seemed to glow. He spoke directly to her, she knew, but she could not understand him. When she could only stare up at him he tried again, only this time the language was different, and it dawned on her that he was searching for a language they had in common.
A small part of her anger and panic turned into excitement and she sat up straighter, considering what languages she knew. English, of course but that was already marked off as a possibility. She knew a good portion of Spanish and had taken a class of French once. She had read countless books about languages and the death and birth of them but had never learned a language specifically.
But then he spoke in a language that sounded… familiar. Her eyes widened, and she gestured for him to repeat. When he did, she forgot her embarrassment and dropped the blanket to heave her pack onto the bed beside her. She was tired, hungry, more than a little scared and hurt all over but all that was put on hold for she felt she was onto something.
With shaking hands, she opened her pack and began to pull out items, her extra clothing and toiletries, fire starting kit, first aid. She paused long enough to rip open the package of a granola bar and bit off a massive bite. Several journals and pens joined the pile until finally she found what she was looking for.
A German translation book. Alternating between flipping through pages and taking bites off the crunchy bar, she waved a hand through the air. The elf seemed to understand her wish and repeated what he had said. It wasn't a perfect translation but from what she could put together she had a promising idea.
"Wendy. My name is Wendy." She answered, smiling in excitement when he seemed to understand her stilted chopped up version of the language.
He returned her smile with a small one of his own and after some more translating she learned his name was Avallac'h. With a gesture at each of the other strangers she learned the names of Triss Merigold, Dandelion- whose name rose an eyebrow when she translated 'maskros', Zoltan, and Iorveth. All except the last greeted her with smiles and nods.
"Where am I?" She asked Avallac'h.
"Presently, Novigrad."
Wendy nodded, trying to place it.
"The date?"
"1272."
Wendy felt nothing but shock.
"I- I traveled through time? But this is bad." She whispered in her native language. Unable to stay still, she started to stand, only to find herself too weak and falling back to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to be sick. I can't go back in time… what if I spread some virus all of you have no immunity to?" She closed her eyes and tried to breath.
Avallac'h was speaking to her but she couldn't find the strength to translate, her mind had turned to mush.
"This isn't real. I'm in a coma. Oh god- I'm still in that old ruin, in a coma. I slipped on the stone and-" She opened her eyes and frowned as the memory of falling into the water of the pool came back to her. She slowly took the translation book from Avallac'h when he handed it back to her and he began to speak.
"You are in a place called the Continent. There are… portals that connect many different worlds and I believe you traveled from your world into this one through one of these portals."
Wendy sat in silence when she finished translating. She wanted to stand and pace while she thought, while she absorbed this insanity but all she could do was sit and allow the pieces to fall into place. Avallac'h must have been impatient for her story because he nudged the book with a finger. She spared the other occupants a glance as they too seemed to be sharing impatient and excessively curious glances.
All except the one named Iorveth. He watched with a rigid expression, running a finger over the hilt of his sword.
Wendy blindly felt around for her clothing and pulled on one of her extra shirts with the face of Garfield in the center, before picking up the book again.
"I was hiking, got lost and fell through the roof of a buried structure… there was a statue." Wendy paused to show the sketch of the statue. "I eventually found a room with a pool of water… I slipped and fell in. Next thing I knew I awoke here."
Avallac'h nodded. "Iorveth found you in a river and brought you to Triss. You were ill, and she saved your life."
Wendy looked at Triss. "Thank you." Triss seemed to understand the intention and smiled kindly. "Thank you as well." She said to Iorveth who did nothing to acknowledge her. After a bout of silence, she turned her attention back to Avallac'h, pushing her glasses back up her nose. "How do I get home?"
"Zireael. She has the ability to open these portals at will."
Relief rushed through Wendy and she released a long breath. "Oh, thank whatever gods you have here. Allow me to finish dressing and I'll be on my way." She had slipped back into English, but he seemed to have understood the excitement in her voice.
"I must apologize… we are preparing for battle and she will need all of her strength and focus."
"But I need to get home! I- I don't belong here where people wear swords and- prepare for battle and I must get home to Pop. He has to be out of his mind right now."
Wendy wished she could blame her words on still recovering from nearly dying or maybe even interdimensional travel. But honestly, she was terrified.
"I'm sorry Wendy. Zireael has a destiny."
A tear slipped down her cheek as Avallac'h knelt before her.
"She is a child of destiny… much like you. I cannot pull her from her path to send you home just now. If she survives the coming challenges, she would see you returned to your home."
Wendy wiped at her tears and tried to think rationally. "What about the portal I came through? Can't I return that way?"
Avallac'h visibly hesitated before his answer. "I know where, but like Zireael, I cannot take you there."
"I can go myself." Wendy said with far more confidence than she knew she had.
He studied her face for a long moment before slowly nodding. "As you wish. I will mark a map, and when you have fully healed, if it is your wish to go on alone then you should."
"Thank you…" she whispered. The thought of traveling across an unknown land terrified her as much as it brought excitement.
The sage set a hand one Aevon's – no, Wendy's shoulder after he stood once more and moved toward one of Merigold's desks, rifling through its contents.
"Have you a map Triss?" Avallac'h asked.
"Yes… here." The sorceress handed one over. "What are you doing?"
"She wishes to return home. I am going to mark the path that will take her there."
"Home? Where is she from?" Dandelion asked, peeking around Avallac'h's shoulder.
"She is from another world, far from here. The portal she came through is… here."
Triss set a hand in the middle of the map, halting his progress. "Avallac'h, we don't have anyone to spare to take her there."
The sage looked up from the map and met her gaze. "She insists that when she has regained her strength, she can go alone."
Iorveth straightened from his place against the wall and looked over the woman watching him from the bed. Tears on her cheeks, wide terrified eyes, equipped with zero weapons and armor.
"She wouldn't last a day." He snapped at Avallac'h who sent him a calculating stare.
"That is her decision. As Triss has stated, we have a battle to prepare for. Zireael can get her there quickly but it will drain her strength, strength she needs entirely."
Iorveth cursed and crossed the room in long strides, ripping map from the desk and shoving it into Dandelion's hands. "You keep that away from her until Ciri is finished with her mission."
Dandelion looked from the map, to Wendy, back to Iorveth. "How am I supposed to keep her here?"
"Figure it out. Geralt and Ciri should be here soon and with luck this will be over quickly. Ciri can then get her out of here." He looked back at the small woman bundled in blankets with a ridiculous looking shirt on. "And find her something to wear, unless you want to give the witch-hunters a new target."
"Pricilla will know what to get."
Iorveth left the room, frustrated and ready to be done with the situation. As he turned for the stairs, Geralt and Ciri were making their way up. "I hope you're both ready. I have important matters I left behind."
"Hello to you too." Geralt said, raising a brow.
"Imlerith is dead. We must gather a few more allies and then we will be ready." Ciri added.
"Where is Triss?"
Iorveth tipped his head to the room he just vacated. "I warn you… the situation has changed."
Less than twenty-four hours later, Wendy found herself alone save for Dandelion. After briefly meeting Geralt, a being with mutated genes- something she desperately wanted to know more about, and Ciri, everyone had left.
She didn't know where as Avallac'h hadn't divulged that information, only that they left her and Dandelion. She liked the flashy man who immediately retrieved multiple books for her and took up the task of teaching her their language.
As interested as she was in learning a new language, or delving into the history of new world, she had to give in to her body's urges and rest. She ate a hearty meal, pleasantly surprised that this world and her own had many foods in common.
Dandelion taught her the word for bath when she made the motion for scrubbing her arms. She tested the word out, working through the syllables, smiling when Dandelion gave a little clap of encouragement.
When she was left with just a pitcher of clean water, vial of scented oil and square of clean cloth, she wasn't surprised. It wasn't ideal, but she took what she could get and began to wipe away sweat and grime before collapsing against the pillows and falling into a deep dreamless sleep.
Over the course of the following week of her arrival, she was introduced to Priscilla who took the time to help Wendy dress in her new clothing, allowing her to fit in well enough to make her first journey out of the room, though she didn't get far. Walking was a painful experience that time didn't seem to be helping, though she could now move her bruised shoulder with very little pain.
Determined to become strong enough to leave as quickly as possible, she spent a good part of her days pacing the room. The one time that she had ventured out of the room, she had nearly fallen down the stairs. Dandelion and Priscilla had helped her back with admonishing tones.
Without Avallac'h there to translate their language into a common language, Wendy was left scribbling down her own translation book with the help of her new friends. Memorizing the alphabet had been simple enough, primarily thanks to a startling amount of similarities.
When she learned enough to inquire about the map, Dandelion charmingly ignored her and instead tried to entice her with a song. As much as it upset her, she knew she wouldn't get far with her injured leg, so she allowed the distractions to continue.
She hadn't understood the words at the time that Iorveth had spoken but she supposed he had said something along the lines that she was too injured and had entrusted the map to Dandelion until she could make it down the stairs without falling on her face.
Besides growing impatient with her slow healing, small bits of Continental language she was picking up, she watched the citizens of Novigrad pass by from the window. Everything was very much how she imagined life would have been in her own homeland, with peddlers selling wares, guards and their watchful eyes, muddy streets and a lack of anything modern.
No planes or helicopters grazing the sky, cars and pickup trucks honking their horns… just the voices of people. She watched a couple of brawlers have it out after Dandelion must have had the kicked out. A man hardly old enough to have hair on his chin sweeping one of the tavern ladies from her feet when he proposed to her after a night of excess. An old man sharpened blades before selling them to a woman in a long-hooded cloak.
Wendy sketched some scenes, having no eye for artistry but she wanted to have images when she returned home. She had her phone still but with no way to power it Wendy was hesitant to turn it on, to take countless pictures. She would need that when she returned to Earth, to hopefully find service and call Pop.
Wendy sighed and hobbled away from the window to a seat by the candles. The sun had set with the streets slowly emptying. She missed Pop. She missed the sheep and all the residents at the nursing home. Her favorite slippers and- the porch swing and listening to Pop hum while they sat on it just like they would on an evening such as this.
Was Pop doing just that, wondering if she were even still alive?
Quickly she brushed a tear from her cheek.
"Get it together Wendy… all these people with their big swords, bows and arrows and- and battle scars will think you're a weak nilly if you keep crying so much. You'll make it back to Pop…" Her pep talk did nothing to make her feel better.
Wendy slumped in the chair.
"I've got to get out of this room, out of this tavern." She sat up, her eyes on the door. "I'm sorry Dandelion, but I need that map."
Lightning flashed as Iorveth pushed opened the tavern door, travel weary and battle bruised. Zoltan followed him in, shaking rain from his beard.
"Dandelion! A round of finest along with whatever is ready to eat immediately. Been ages since I've had anything other than Iorveth's shite cooking. Priscilla! Lass how about a round of gwent?" Zoltan called out over the raucous laughter and talking of the tavern.
"Zoltan! You made it back alive- er did Iorveth- ah yes. There he is." Dandelion paused his steps when he caught sight of Iorveth shaking rain from his cloak. "Look Priscilla… Iorveth and Zoltan are back…"
Iorveth continued to shake a clump of mud from his boot.
"Why the both of you look paler than Geralt's arse?" Zoltan heaved his axe and blades onto the closest table. "How's Iorveth's lass?"
Iorveth shot Zoltan a quiet glare.
"Oh she's great! She's picked up some words, able to walk or more accurately hobble, curious as a little child and…" Iorveth caught the glance the bard sent to Priscilla. Priscilla twisted her hands and sent Iorveth a pleading look.
"And she's gone."
Iorveth took a step toward Dandelion, as anger flashed through him. But then he took a moment and considered the situation and shrugged.
"I believe Zoltan ordered food, drink, and was hopeful for some cards. It's been trying week."
He ignored the glances his three friends sent each other as he took to his seat.
"You- you don't care that she's out there in all of this-"
"I've done my duty- my honor is intact. Like a witcher being offered a job with no coin- not my problem."
"The bloody fuck it's not!" Zoltan shouted, slamming a hand down on the table. "You took on the responsibility of that girl when you rescued her."
Iorveth leveled a glare on the dwarf. "That is not how honor works. Traditionally speaking, I saved her life, therefore she should be bound to repaying me. Not I, chasing her around all of the North pulling her out of rivers." His piece said, he patted his hip, searching for his pipe.
Zoltan snorted and began strapping his weapons back on. "This time it won't be rivers that get the girl. It'll be monster or man. Did she take the map?"
Dandelion rubbed the back of his neck. "It was on my desk… She left a note. She thanked everyone."
"Tits on a hag…" Zoltan cursed. "How long has she been gone?"
Dandelion mumbled his response.
"Pankratz!" Zoltan snapped out his friends given name.
"A day at most."
"Shite." He shook his head, heading for the door. "You bastards keep sittin on yer arses. If the lass is alive, I'll see her to her homeland."
The door slammed closed against a gust of wind and rain, leaving Dandelion staring at Iorveth, Priscilla running a comforting hand on his shoulder, also staring at Iorveth while he stared at the door.
"She's not my responsibility." He said through clenched teeth. He glanced at the two bards when they didn't reply. "I expressly made it clear that you were to keep her here until Cirilla could send her home. Apparently she felt well enough-"
"She can hardly walk across the room." Priscilla snapped at him. "She nearly fell down the stairs the single time she tried."
Iorveth leaned forward, narrowing his gaze. "Then how did she manage to infiltrate Dandelion's room for the map and make her way down the stairs and into the street with neither of you noticing."
Priscilla blushed and looked away causing Iorveth the huff before lighting his pipe.
"She misses her grandfather. She is alone and hurt and felt trapped." Dandelion said quietly.
He held the smoke a moment, attempting to enjoy the taste of sweet tobacco before letting it out in a slow puff. He was left with a sour taste in his mouth. He recalled her blue eyes, expressing curious interest as she became aware of her situation. The excitement of being able to communicate with the sage. Her fear when learning just how far from home she was, how close she came to death.
"Your responsibility did not end with dropping her on Priscilla, Triss, or I. As eager as we are to help her in anyway possible. It ends with you getting her home. Ciri isn't here to clean this up, if she's even alive."
Iorveth clenched his jaw, holding back a curse. He was damned if he was going to say it out loud, but they were right. Deep down he knew it all along, but that stubborn streak his mother had always lamented about was rearing its head, shouting that playing nursemaid to lost human women was not his purpose.
He had duties and obligations to his own… but… her groan of pain, easing into a smile as he played his flute… he dragged a hand down the side of his face. "Damnit. Did she take anything other than the map?" He tipped his still lit tobacco into a half empty tankard.
"Er… books? Journals that she sketched in and had been using to translate our language… her own belongings."
Iorveth shook his head, attempting to comprehend a world where one steals books and journals instead of weapons. He stood and reached for his still wet cloak, quickly pulling it around his shoulders and opening the door.
The rain immediately stopped.
"Well look at that… rains stopped. That should make things easier. " Dandelion said cheerfully.
Iorveth squinted against the sudden brightness. "Indeed." He muttered, lifting the hood to his cloak before stepping into the muddy street and heading toward the stable.
The rain had driven most of the city folk, save Flame guard, into whatever shelter they had access to, so it came as slight surprise when he'd not even gone the three blocks over to where his horse was stabled and saw a cloaked figure, hunch backed and limping in the distance.
He paused a moment and watched the figure hobble in front of a Flame guard who, in a loud voice, praised Radovid. The creature continued for several moments, paused, turned, and hobbled back. Once again, the guard shouted praise for the King. The third time, Iorveth felt a twinge of amusement as the creature was clearly doing this with express intent of having the guard call out each time.
When the guard began to grow red in the face, Iorveth decided to end their fun. He had his suspicions but would wait to be sure before he allowed any feelings of relief. He quickly covered the distance between them, slipping a hand around the thin arm beneath the cloak, ignoring her gasp as he pulled her behind him. She struggled against his hand, but he held fast.
He kept his identifying scar hidden by his hood from the guard.
"I'm sorry ser, she lost her mind after a sewing incident. Hit her head and haven't been right since." He said in a placating tone.
The guard sneered at him but waved him away. "Keep her out of my sight."
Iorveth nodded graciously with clenched teeth, wondering when he'd become so soft. He spent too much time with d'hoines recently. Without another word he pulled her away from the guard's post and into the nearest alley where she truly began to struggle.
"Let me go you- you- mouth breather- oh…" Her insulting ended with a breath when he stopped and pulled both their hoods off. She looked up at him with wide blue eyes full of relief, and a smile began to light her face. "Iorveth… you terrified me! But I forgive you. I got lost and then it started raining so I took shelter near that guard and I noticed that anytime someone came by he started shouting about King Radovid and I was bored and decided to have a bit of fun and I'm speaking English which of course means you can't understand anything I'm saying."
Iorveth watched silently as she rambled on excitedly, realize she was speaking her own language and blush in embarrassment. She hobbled over to a crate and pulled her cloak and pack off before digging out a book and flipping through pages. He crossed his arms, knowing what she was likely going to say but allowing it anyways.
"Ah! I was lost. Thank you."
Exasperation. The only emotion he could recognize in that moment. "How does one get lost three streets over when they were right there by the gate to begin with!"
She repeated his words, listening for familiar ones and looking through the pages for the others, then answered with a shrug.
Iorveth shook his head and turned toward the stable. He could here her shuffling after him, calling out for him to wait. By the time she caught up he had the horse ready. When she saw the creature, she pointed at it and spoke her own word for it and waited for him to do the same. When he obliged in elder speech, she scribbled it down then frowned.
"Different language?" She asked.
He slipped the pack from her shoulder and tied it to the saddle, opposite from his own. Without replying he pulled himself into the saddle and reached down for her. When she failed to reach the stirrup after several tries he pulled her up and settled her in front of him. He didn't have time to teach her how to mount a horse, if they were to catch up to Zoltan by nightfall.
Iorveth nudged the horse into a trot, Hierarchs Gate within sight. Aevon yelped and nearly lost her balance until he freed a hand and pulled her back upright until she leaned back against him.
"Oh…" He heard her whisper as they sped past The Rosemary and Thyme, with the gate directly beside it.