Hello Anonymous reviewed named Davs and welcome aboard!
Again, thank you importchick and Lucy for the reviews, glad you enjoyed the fight scene as much as I enjoyed writing it!
You'll be glad to know what I have a better idea of where I am heading with all this.
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She woke slowly, gradually, into a world filled with pain. The first thing she felt was a hollow throb along her left arm, which seemed to radiate with the exhausted beating of her heart. Alyra tried to swallow, feeling her mouth quite dry, but she halted her action and winced as sharp pain shot through her bruised throat. She could feel a soft mattress beneath her body and a warm blanket covering her, soft against her skin… since she could feel it so well, she understood she'd been undressed before being placed in the bed. Her body felt clean and fresh, which, considering the last time she was conscious she was elbow-deep in mud, could only mean she'd been bathed as well. However, every inch of her skin seemed to burn or throb from some cut or bruise and it took her the longest time to steady her breathing, fighting a rising panic all the way, before she decided to open her eyes.
Bright light flooded her and she shut them back at once, wincing anew as an ache like fire awoke behind her eyes and deep within her skull.
"You're awake." An emotionless, male voice said from somewhere nearby, somewhat tainted by surprise.
She swallowed slowly, willing her mouth to fill with moisture so she could speak.
"Where…" Her voice came out as tiny, broken croak and she cleared her throat gently, ignoring the pain, to try anew. "Where… am I…"
She heard a ruffle of clothes as the male near her moved slightly.
"In Tir nà Lia. At the infirmary adjacent to the battle arena." Was the answer.
She had no idea what to make of that, so she decided to try opening her eyes anew. Again, the bright light ignited vivid pain in her skull, but she clenched her teeth, breathing steadily through her nose and slowly got used to having them open.
Alyra found herself staring up at a stone ceiling. She moved her head to the left and saw more beds like hers, one text to another, all covered in fresh, white sheets and all empty. Beyond them was a huge window through which bright daylight and fresh air flowed in generously, giving a view of some street beyond. She could hear voices from outside, but could not make out what they were saying. The young woman turned her head slowly the other way, wincing at the pain in her tender neck, her eyes landing on the male who had spoken earlier as he stood near her bed, arms crossed behind his back, his pale yellow eyes staring at her sharply and curiously. His gaze was piercing and unnerving, but she supported it, analysing him.
He was clearly not human, being a deal taller than the tallest man she'd ever seen, with shoulder-length white hair that he kept smoothed back. His clothes were richly worked, made of some of the finest material she'd ever seen, covered in intricate, gold threading. His pointed ears let guess he was elven, but she knew he was no Aen Seidhe… if her assumption was correct and the Wild Hunt had carried her back to their world, then this being was one of its inhabitants, an Aen Elle; another sort of elf. One of which she'd only ever read about.
"Who… who are… you?" She asked softly through her tight throat. The elf kept that hard gaze on her, remaining silent for a moment.
Finally, he spoke up. "I am Ge'els, the viceroy of Tir nà Lia and one of the generals of his majesty, king Eredin Bréacc Glas. Whom you, little dh'oine bird, somehow managed to make very angry."
She had a million questions rushing through her head, so fast it was making her ill. But first and foremost, she felt she had to correct this Aen Elle. So she pushed herself up against the pillows slowly, grimacing as pain shot through her body and wounded arm and she stared up at him with a hard gaze.
"I'm… only half… dh'oine…" She coughed and though for a moment the motion would rip a hole in her throat, excruciating as it was. Alyra saw with some surprise that the Aen Elle smirked at her words, amused.
"That you are…" He said softly. "Whether that serves you or not will remain to be seen. Ah, here comes the healer…"
A tall, Aen Elle woman strode briskly into the room and scowled fiercely when she saw the patient sitting instead of lying. She tsked her tongue, placed her graceful hands upon her slim hips and shot a glance at Ge'els, who stepped back a bit to let her work. The elf move to a cabinet in the room her light, braided hair swinging behind her head, grabbing salves and potions and walked up to Alyra, who was staring at her with distrust.
"You'll come to no harm, dh'oine. At least not in this room" The elf assured. The girl grimaced, but it had nothing to do with pain.
"She's half dh'oine." Ge'els corrected, amused. Alyra shot him a glance that could almost have been thankful, as the healer nodded and prepared a salve from a small tin pot.
"That explains why she's still alive. Dh'oine are so fragile, one would never have survived those wounds." She reached her salve-covered hand towards the girl who tensed visibly as it approached her throat. The elf ignored her and began applying the fragrant muck on her skin, rubbing it with precise, gentle hands. Alyra found the pain in her neck receded somewhat. "You're healing fast. Unfortunately, in light of what the king has planned…"
The healer stopped speaking and glanced at Ge'els. Alyra felt dread seize her, but she was not surprised: she was alive and being cared for, but that was clearly not going to be the norm for her, as was to be expected. Truthfully, she was amazed enough that she hadn't been killed back in Velen… it could only mean she'd pissed off the wrong people and whatever they had planned for her was going to be far worse than the death she should have been given.
The way the viceroy was looking at her only confirmed her suspicions.
The healer uncorked a small bottle and poured some of the liquid inside onto a wooden spoon. It was so dark that it was almost black and seemed to flow thickly, like some sort of tar. She stared at it with unveiled disgust, but at least it smelled nice… like licorice…
"Don't fret. It's for your throat." The elf said curtly, pushing the spoon towards her. Unconvinced, the girl obliged, swallowing the heavy liquid gingerly. As soon as it passed her throat, she felt it loosen as the pain dissipated. She shot a grateful look at the elf, but was ignored as the healer prepared a glass of clear water for her, which she left on the bedside table, before gathering her things and leaving the room. Alyra was alone with Ge'els again.
She grabbed the glass of water cautiously and drank from it deeply, savoring the cool, fresh liquid. The viceroy stepped closer, still staring at her with those unnerving, pale eyes.
She sighed once her glass was finished. "So… why am I not dead?" It seemed that was the most obvious question to ask.
"King Eredin decided death would be too quick a punishment for you." Ge'els said simply, no emotion in his voice that could let on if he agreed with his monarch or not. "You apparently caused quite a few injuries to his soldiers and a bit of embarrassment to his generals, none of which gave him any desire to spare you. And, if I heard the rumors correctly, you even somehow managed to disarm him. Is that true?"
She sneered sadly. "Yes. I got lucky."
"I would not call it luck, seeing where it landed you. There are fates worse than death, you know." The viceroy said softly. "You've made him furious and fury makes him very dangerous."
"So what will he do to me? Why is he letting me heal?"
"Right now, he's debating with the two other generals you fought, Caranthir and Imlerith, on who will get to torture you first. I don't know whether they've come to an agreement, but one thing can be sure: all three see this as a game and they love to toy with their prey. You will learn the true meaning of pain before this is over, no matter which one gets to you first. Make no mistake about that." Ge'els' voice was detached, uncaring. She felt dread burrow deeper into her belly. "One thing is certain: you are half Aen Seidhe, which makes you more resilient. Therefore, they will abuse you much harder than an ordinary dh'oine, seeing as you can take it."
She cursed in the Elder Speech and he raised a surprised eyebrow at her. There was a long moment of silence as she thought on what he had said, before the girl glanced back at him, her eyes grave.
"And why are you here?" She questioned. "You don't agree with them…?"
Ge'els shook his head with a slight scoff. "I neither agree nor disagree with their current game. And make no mistake, I am no friend of yours. You will be subject to whatever the king decides and I will not interfere. However," He stared at her. "The thrashing you gave his soldiers and the fact you actually managed to stand your own against his two best generals perfectly illustrates the issue I have been raising with him for decades: they think themselves unbeatable and that makes them underestimate opponents that appear weak. It can be fatal. As such, I believe this is a perfect opportunity for them to learn a valuable lesson, albeit the hard way. Because I believe you are more than capable of resisting them, at least for a short time. Am I wrong?"
She had no idea what to make of his words, of this twisted idea of his… To him, she was no more than a pawn, a small card in a game of Gwent, a tiny piece of paper at the mercy of the hands that dealt her. But did she have a choice? She was in a world that was not hers with no idea how she could go back or even if she could go back… perhaps he could offer some inkling of help that would allow her to survive long enough to figure out a plan?
"I am a mercenary. I've been fighting for years, but never against armored Aen Elle. I don't see how I could…"
"I'll tell you what you need to know in order to have an advantage. If that allows you to hold your own against either of them, even for a short time, that will be enough for me. Perhaps you can even survive their game, whatever it will be?" Ge'els said. "For the time being, I still have no idea what they've decided to do to you. Perhaps they've simply settled on hanging you publicly, or giving you over to the soldiers to use as they please. I'll go speak with the king today and return to inform you of your fate. In the meantime, try and recuperate… you might not have much time left. Oh… and don't try to run. You'll only make things harder for yourself."
He turned to leave without another glance.
"Wait!" She cried out just before he reached the door, making him stop. "Do you think… could I get some herbs, from my world, I mean? I can brew a potion that would help me heal… it would make for more of a sport, wouldn't it?"
The viceroy thought on this for a moment. "Indeed… what is it you need? I can see with the mages and herbalists if they have plants from your world."
Alyra thought momentarily on this. She was no Witcher, but she'd learned the ingredients used in their decoctions over the years, either by speaking with Witchers or by rummaging through their books in the abandoned, ruined keeps of some of the older schools. Since she had not gone through the mutations, those decoctions were deadly to her, even though she was half Aen Seidhe. However, because she was half-elven, she could survive diluted versions of them.
Besides, it might not be a bad idea to prepare an actual poison for herself, should her awaited fate truly be worse than death…
"I'll need celandine, drowner brain, cortinarius, endrega embryos and alcohol to dilute it. I had some of those things in my pouches, but I don't know…"
"Your items have not been destroyed." Ge'els assured. "Very well, I shall see what I can do."
He left without another word, leaving the girl alone in the bed, feeling exhausted, lost and somewhat afraid. Figuring she might as well rest, she lay back down into the covers and fell asleep rapidly, worry gnawing at her belly.
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Ge'els returned many hours later, when the sun had set on the world outside her room. He was accompanied by the healer from before and a young servant of some sort and their entrance woke her from a deep, dreamless slumber. Alyra gingerly rose against her pillows as the healer tsked at her motion and grabbed some potions from her cabinet, getting ready to administer them to the young woman.
The viceroy came to stand next to her bed while the servant following him deposited a small package wrapped in silk at the foot of her bed and took a few steps back, keeping his head down all the time. She was very surprised to notice that he was a human boy, just a year or so short of puberty…
"It is not uncommon that the Wild Hunt bring back slaves from the worlds they raid." Ge'els explained, noticing her surprise, again in an uncaring tone of voice. "Some serve at court, some are slaves for the soldiers, depending on their captor's whims. Some of them have to fight in arenas as entertainment…"
The heavy look he sent her made her understand there was an underlying message there… Alyra swallowed the potion the healer gave her without complain and felt the general ache of her body decrease gently. The elven woman also brought in a covered bowl and spoon, which set on the bedside table along with a fresh glass of water before retreating out of the room without a word.
Alyra reached for the cloth-wrapped package, holding the bed covers up to her bare chest and was delighted to uncover her leather clothes within, along with her pouches and another package that contained the ingredients she has asked for. Naturally, her weapons were not there and she was unsurprised, even if she was disappointed.
"So…" She looked up at the Aen Elle. "What is my fate going to be? A servant at court, a sex slave for violent soldiers or do I get the honor of fighting wolves and bears in some pit for the amusement of your king?"
He scoffed. "Nothing quite as pleasant, I assure you. Eredin's fury only boiled down into an unrelenting desire to break you, piece by piece. Eat." He gestured at the bowl at her bedside, so she grabbed it, revealing a warm soup of some sort within.
She began scooping it slowly with the spoon and eating it. It probably tasted wonderful, but her stomach was in knots and she found she had no appetite whatsoever. The warmth did spread through her being and she felt slightly better after a few mouthfuls. Ge'els resumed.
"Neither he nor his generals could find agreement on who was going to go through you first, knowing that there would be little to nothing left for the next one waiting in line. So they've decided to leave that choice to you."
"How kind of them to let me decide who will savage me." She sneered coldly. "And which one are you going to tell me to pick? Which one needs to learn they shouldn't underestimate me the most?"
"It's not quite so simple. You won't be choosing, truthfully. If I understood correctly, they'll fight you one by one and whoever wins will get to do as they please with you."
She stared at him. "You're joking." He did not answer, only stared. "Great… of course you're serious. You're as deranged as they are. So I'm just supposed to fight against all three of them and somehow expect to save myself in the process? There's no way I can beat all three of them…"
"I never said you'd be able to beat any of them." He answered as she brooded darkly. "But they are cocky and you've irked them. They'll let their guard down and you should be able to last… at least for some time, against them. I don't know the details of how you'll face them on the morrow; you'll learn that from them."
"On the morrow?" She said, shocked. "I haven't even healed!"
Ge'els shrugged. "They are not patient. Another irksome trait. I hope your Witcher brews can strengthen you somewhat more than they expect, that you might at least surprise them…"
Alyra seethed, finishing her soup without a word. The viceroy looked at her carefully.
"You will not meet a kind fate at their hands, be sure of that." He said softly. "However… I would strongly advise you to not let Caranthir be the one to claim you first. He's a mage and his cruelty knows no bounds. He was bred to be deadly and had a vast imagination when it comes to causing severe harm to other beings. Expect the victor to rape you… they'll mount you in their rage and it will be no kind experience. Imlerith will be the harshest with you on that count, so think of that when you fight tomorrow."
She felt like throwing up. The calculated coldness with which the viceroy was announcing her imminent torture and rape was making her ill, sending needles of dread through her being.
"And your king…?" She ventured.
He shrugged. "Hard to tell. He can be immensely cruel when he is angered and believe me, he is not pleased with you. He just might be worse than the two other combined…"
She swallowed the knot in her throat and reached gingerly for the ingredients in the package that had been brought to her, trying to hide the trembling in her hands. Ge'els watched her grab the things she needed for her decoction and begin adding them in the empty soup bowl in her lap, mechanically.
"Caranthir will rely heavily on spells. I've been told you used some sort of primitive Witcher magic during your battle… save that for him. Imlerith is hot-headed and quick to lose his temper: it makes him reckless. Taunt him and you just might be able to survive him… as for Eredin…" He paused and she looked up at him expectantly. "Well, I've not often seem him blunder in combat. Not much I can counsel you to do other than try and stay on your feet."
"No point in tarrying, then." She said sadly. "Might as well get ready for tomorrow."
He frowned curiously at her. "Take it as you will, but you do seem to have much courage, girl. I find that admirable."
With that, he left the room, the servant following him closely without even glancing at her.
Alyra ignored him as she combined the ingredients for a Swallow potion first, using the Igni sign to bring the decoction to a boil in the bowl, combining the ingredients in very small doses. It took her about an hour of work, but in the end she had herself a weakened version of the healing brew, a swing of which she took at once to have it act through the night and prepare her for the day ahead. The decoction, even diluted, was powerfully deadly and she felt it twist her insides like poison, even as it started to heal her wounds. The rest she poured into a small vial from one of her pouches, corking it and saving it for later use.
Next she prepared a weakened Thunderbolt. It would give her a strength edge against the warriors, should they be armored for their fight… which would quite honestly be very unfair.
When that was done and ready, she combined the remaining ingredients for the Thunderbolt again, but in much stronger concentration this time. There was not much left, barely enough to fill the bottom of a vial once she was done, but she knew it was potent enough to kill her, should the need for death arise.
With her brews ready, the girl lay down and tried to get some sleep. She was anxious and the Swallow potion was burning through her system, but she managed to close her eyes for a few hours during the night nonetheless. When morning rose, bright light pouring into the room anew, and an escort of soldiers came to guide her. She was seated on her bed, fully dressed in her leather clothes and chainmail shirt, ready to face the Aen Elle who were so eager to tear her to pieces.
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