Chapter 2: The Lioness
The smell of a hundred incense floating in every crevice of the room. He looked around eyeing the room for any indication of candles or incense, there was none. All he could see was fog. Or perhaps a mist. Regardless of what it was it blocked his sense of sight in an unpleasant and invasive manner. His heightened sense of smell was contrasted by his dulled sight. A single waft and he could extract at least 20 different herbs mixed with the scent. He had little time to analyze each smell for in front of him appeared a figure.
There was nothing else to see in the room –or at least he couldn't see anything-
huge figures which he deduced to be in the form of beds and cabinets and anything else was a silhouette hidden behind a curtain of smoke- and the figure. The figure stood before her, unmoving and devoid of any warmth. She was dressed in very fanciful clothing that it took him a second to realize who she was. He did not see any distinguishable features but he knew who this was, it was her ward, Ciri. He moved closer, the image got clearer. Her face in silent agony, of loneliness and uncertainty. She was certain this was her, Ciri the young Witcheress-in-training and soon to be empress, not of appearance but of gut-feeling. That was all he had because the figure in front of her was a stranger. This was not the little girl he trained. This was her majesty, Cirilla Fiona Elen Rianon, queen of Cintra and empress of nilfgaard.
He wanted to speak but his chest tightened the more he tried. The fog acting as a net of chain constricting his whole body. It had crept up to him and embraced him in its musky curse. He was weak. Weak and powerless he thought to himself. And as he began to wallow in self-pity and curse his inability. A slight blue flicker, then a huge orange ember. Ciri burned before his very eyes. Without a sign of struggle or suffering she disappeared into the flames. He stood and watch still weak, still powerless.
The nightmare caused the Witcher to flail about and shout as if resuming the actions he could not initially complete. "Ciri!" He shouted. The stillness of the night absorbed his words, quickly replaced by the howling of trees.
It has been three days since he left the village in Verden where he met Letho with a proposal he couldn't turn down. Convinced that the contract was indeed Vesemirs will, he agreed with it despite his previous reservations. A lot of things still in his mind and a lot of questions still left unanswered. He sighed as he lay back down to his travelling bed.
He thought about what Letho told him. About how powerful and well-connected his employer was to actually be able to absolve Letho of his warrant. He didn't want to think about it anymore than he already had. There were a lot more things he should look forward
to. His last days in the path shouldn't be spoiled by one contract. He has done dozens of contracts in his many years as a Witcher, how should this one be any different, he thought to himself. This naivety will soon cost him dearly.
The roads were mostly quiet from the time he rode until now, which was around noon. Too quiet even but he had no more worries in his mind. The serene and quiet road enveloped him like a cocoon rejuvenating his memories. The road south reminded him of his past travels with his companions Dandelion, Milva the huntress the great vampire Regis, the Vicovarian Cahir and the Cintran Angouleme who looked very much like Ciri. Their rag tag hansa composed of different characters with a common goal but not all of them met a fitting conclusion.
The Witcher had hoped that they would meet again in a different road and in different circumstances. Perhaps have a toast of Regis' extraordinary moonshine. But there was no way for that to happen anytime soon. The thought made him remember their sacrifice to help save Ciri. There was no way for him to ever repay them for their sacrifices. They were his companions and all that he has of them were memories. Memories that he was glad he regained.
Geralt was so lost in his thoughts that he barely realized the sun was setting. The serene and quiet road became a dark melancholic serpent which went on for miles. He had been riding all day and roach's pace has been greatly hindered. He looked around searching for a place to set up a fire and spend the night. Another night under the stars, he grudgingly thought.
He successfully set up an ample fire, enough to keep him warm for the night. He had a few more bread and a piece of meat from a rabbit he caught the night before. Travelling alone made him more weary than usual but he liked the solitude. It made him realize that although he does not admit it, he loves being on the path. Sure it may be hard but this was the life he knew for the past century. The thought of this being his last time on the path affected him more than he would like to admit.
Letho's words distracted Geralt's mind. Professional curiosity as he might call it. He could not help but wonder what contract awaits him. The only option now is to find this man with no name in his destination. He continued with his dinner and afterwards laid still in the bed forgetting the nightmares he was enduring for the past few days.
He awoke. At almost the same manner as he had the few nights he was visited by the same nightmare. Each ending with a burning Ciri and him standing there powerless and weak. The vision forced his body into action. It was always like this, every time he was violently awoken by the dream and in a few minutes he would forget. The Witcher tried very hard to remember the dream. The nightmares weren't simple dreams, he knew this as much.
This phenomenon has happened before. This was how he knew Ciri was alive after the events in Thanned and it proved to be true. He believed that this was their destinies being intertwined. This fact did not comfort him in any way.
The fluff of the bed was alluring, it invited a deep slumber. The invitation was even sweetened by the scent of incense enveloping the whole tent. It was useless, however, for the person it was intended to subdue was awake and about inside the tent.
The ashen-haired women kept pacing back and forth. She was wearing a nightgown that was made of silk and adorned with petite lace decorations. The dress was befitting of a princess however the wearer is in no way befitting of that title, at least by the way she walks. She walked with a manly stance and at the end of her pacing she would turn with a pirouette. This moment of pure grace was the only sign of elegance in her, the handmaiden thought. Sometimes she herself would doubt the validity of her claim to the throne but her subversive thoughts ended there. She was solely loyal to her royal highness.
The ashen-haired lady stopped and stared at the handmaiden with a scowl. The handmaiden regretted doubting her. One look from those emerald green eyes, Reassured her that this was the lion cub of Cintra.
"Is there nothing left to do here?" Spouted the ashen haired lady. "Shall I look for more books in the library, your majesty? Surely the scribes have." replied the handmaiden while avoiding eye-contact with the lady in the nightgown. "Regina." Interrupted the lady, "Please, drop the formality. I'm not some snot nosed brat from a noble family. I'm your friend and in the confines of this tent and anywhere where only the two of us can hear then you may call me by my name, Ciri."
The handmaiden was silent. Reluctantly, she said "but you're not just from any noble family, your Majesty. "Enough, you shall address me by Ciri and that will be that". Ciri said in a very commanding manner. She smiled when she remembered where she learned this. She was convinced that her rendition was still inferior to that of Yennefer.
Ciri noticing her pacing has stopped, continued. The hand maiden has thought of something. Perhaps it was too dangerous and she knew it was exactly what the princess was looking for. Regine approached her still unsure about her decision. She whispered her idea to the princess. After hearing the words, Ciri could not contain her smile. "Let's do it" she said with a grin.
The camp was absurdly large. Around a hundred soldiers that acted as personal guards were camping close by. A little farther was the convoy of the 7th regiment that will march further north.
It has been a few days since the full moon and the night was still not as dark. Most of the soldiers are asleep and only those assigned for patrols were awake and viciously drunk.
This situation proved advantageous for Ciri and Regine. They were able to quickly avoid the patrols and safely enter the woods from the east. The duo began to move quietly avoiding unnecessary commotion.
"Are you sure it's this way? I can't smell any damp from the air" asked Ciri. "Just a few more steps to go, then you shall see." Replied the handmaiden with a humble gesture.
After a few more minutes of walking they arrived at a clearing. It was beautiful and calm. The trees blended together almost forming a circle and in the circle flowers bloomed. The glow of the moon emphasized the color of each petal. The duo sat in the middle of the circle, still and silent. They took it in without saying a word for fear that speaking would unbalance the serenity of the place.
Ciri lied down and closed her eyes. She did this to strengthen her hearing and hear the bristle of the trees, the insects thriving in this gargantuan forest and the breathing of her friend. She opened her eyes to look at Regine. Still and heavy, like a marble painting. Her face not showing any emotion, only concentration and her eyes intently focused somewhere far. At first Ciri thought she fancied a flower or perhaps the scenery has absorbed her but another look confirmed her suspicion that what Regine was gazing at was something distant and intangible, a memory.
"We should get back. We still have an early ride tomorrow" Ciri said to distract her friend knowing the memories were starting to get unpleasant. "You could always ride the carriage" replied the maid. "The carriage? And be treated as a high nosed noble? No way. Tomorrow I will go back to my people and they shall see me ride from the gates with my head held up high. I'll let them know that the lion c… no the lioness of Cintra has come home."
The duo traced back their path and entered the tent undetected. They have avoided any form of security and was sure that no one knew of their midnight walk. Their assurance was dumbfounded.
Inside stood a woman slightly taller than Ciri, only because of her boots that rose 3 inches high. She had ashen-hair and emerald eyes. Her face was fair and flawless unlike Ciri's scarred face. Her age could not be gauged just by looking at her but it was undoubtedly ripe. She turned around and with her turn came a scent strangely familiar to ciri. The woman walked closer and stood in front of the princess.
She stared at her with contempt. Ciri, for some reason, looked away.
"I was very worried. When I came here, not a single soul was present. Then, when I looked around and found that your most loyal handmaiden was missing too, I knew exactly what was going on." The woman spoke in a very calm manner accompanied with a certain sharpness in her words. Ciri could not reply, she was at a loss of words and she still did not understand why.
"We are so close to our hometown, please do take care of yourself my dear. Our emperor would be very disappointed if anything were to happen to you. I would be very disappointed and deeply saddened. Do you understand, dear?"
The Ashen-haired lady stared at her with her emerald eyes. Ciri was stunned and for the third time could not help herself. Sweat was pouring all over her body. The stare of those emerald eyes commanded her. She understood what she meant. She knew what she wanted to hear. She wanted this feeling of submission to end. She replied.
"Yes mother, I understand"
The events of the night almost made her forgot why it was that she couldn't sleep. Now she was forced like a child. The fatigue from her walk, the softness of the bed, and the soothing scents did not help. The sands of the night devoured her into a deep slumber.
The same dream had haunted her for days. Whenever she awoke all traces of it was forgotten. She had no idea what it meant but the feeling of helplessness she would feel after awakening from her nightmares assured her that it was not pleasant. This night was different. Tonight she will remember and tomorrow she will understand – she hoped.
A room filled with smoke. The strong scent of verbena and fool's parsley was permeating the walls. A bed and wardrobe on the far side of the room where the candles were abundant. The light of the candles barely piercing the shroud of the smoke. Beside the window stood a women with Ashen-hair. A huge scar across her eyes of emerald hue. She wore such fancy clothes. She was no doubt a princess. She was staring out into the night, engrossed by its beauty. Behind him stood a man with cat-like eyes. He stood motionless as she slowly turned her head towards her. A great orange fire stood between the two of them.
And she burned.
The sun had barely risen but a trot of a horse could already be heard. Luckily the road was even quieter than the first. The Witcher rode on peacefully.
One benefit of him forgetting his nightmare was that he did not have to worry about it by day. This gave him his much needed focus to stay on track. Right now, the only thing in his mind is his desire to complete Vesemir's contract so he could finally spend his days in retirement. In order to do that he needed to first meet this mysterious employer that Letho spoke of. Luckily he would not have to ride any longer. He was near his destination.
He could already see the silhouette of the damaged walls of the city. After many years of war, he was surprised there was any left. This sight indicated that he was a few hours away from the city. This meant warm bread, fresh wine and, if he is lucky, a warm, dry, place to sleep.
He was a few moments away from Cintra.