Authors note: I would just like to thank everyone for the reviews and the tips as they are invaluable to me as a new writer. And as always hope you're enjoying the story.
Chapter 4: Across the sea
Far away from the swamps of Velen, far from the bustling city of Novigrad and far from the ferocious roaring isle of Skellige the distant land of Ofir lays.
In the land of culture where Sultans replace kings, where purple, blue, silver and gold all dance intertwine. Where the soldiers carry curved blades, the palaces and cities casts shadows over the continent, where there towers of white marble stone and domes of purple are tipped with jewels, where the white ivory halls of the great Sultans are laden with water pools that reflect the golden snakes wrapping the columns of the great halls that's where Ofir lays.
Where the sun beats down relentlessly baking the ground under its gaze, where the great sand seas are only broken by the fresh springs of the oasis, where the monsters of the forest are swapped for the monsters of the sand that's where Ofir lays.
Where coin is to be made by anyone mad enough to make it, where the thrill of the fight and the job are the only thing that make you feel alive where mercenaries thrive that is what makes Ofir home.
Fifty years ago, in the purple sail a portside bar in Ofir a group of mercenary's sit at their table and bench shaded from the gaze of the people and the shade of the sun under their canopy.
To any non-traveller of the world this portside city could be mistaken for the capital. Merchants lined the street selling anything a man could desire, jasmine and sandalwood hung in the air clinging to every fibre, the bartering of captains with their crew littered the docks as ships where making ready to travel across the sea to the lands of the continent and beyond.
Pressing the cold mug of ale against his jawline in the open tavern accompanied by Halvar and Casimir, Marden and the rag tag group where pondering on what had just befell them.
"Bhahahaha" slamming down his tankard on the dusty wooden table sending the liquid contents of his beverage over the brim and onto the floor, Halvar had been laughing for a good two minutes.
"All right that's enough, it could happen to any of us" Marden protested sulking his face on his tankard.
"Aye, but it happened to you Mardy, you let a fairy of an Ofiri bandit smack you upside the head with his spear, you're lucky it wasn't the pointy end"
"The sun was in my eyes"
"Baha, oi Cas have you heard this"
Casimir Bassi was ordering another round of ale for the group from the bar as they were determined to enjoy their earnings. shuffling through the bar being careful not to spill Casimir slumped to his places on the bench.
"Oh, don't go getting him involved all he had to do was drive the wagon"
"Dinnae be giving me that cheek Mardy, if ye remember rightly It was me that shot that fairy"
"Bloody good shot by the way, I saw that from where I was" Halvar was agreeing with Casimir as they slammed their tankards together wasting more good ale.
"Ah fuck haha, to the Dhu Coram"
"The Dhu Coram!" the echoes of cheer where accompanied by laughter and the slamming of tankards again wasting more good ale as it sloshed over the sides splashing upon the table kicking off dust.
In the early hours of the morning where the only creatures that stirred where rats and bakers where the sun was hidden by the darkness of night is when the group had been approached by an Ofir silk merchant proposing a job.
Rather simple as jobs go, two wagons carrying spices and silks bound for Kovir, they were to travel to the drop off point at the edge of the village so the workers there could transfer the load to the docks.
The two witchers and the dwarf had already accepted the contract they didn't care what it was or where they were going they were fearless.
The scorching heat of the dessert was enough to drive the common person mad, perhaps it was this mid-day heat that prompted the bandits to attack because if they had looked closer they would have seen that this wasn't an ordinary wagon route.
Whilst resting at the watering oasis taking advantage of the shade and water for the horses there only brief respite before being attached back to the wagon and fed. Laying in their makeshift hammocks the witchers spied a scout looking down on them from the canyon.
"Mardy, you see that prick there, been following us since we left" Halvar was staring at the scout on the edge of the canyon as he sat on the edge of his hammock. "I reckon we'll be in for a scrap the next time we set off"
"Good cause I'm sick of all this foreplay" the stout dwarf remarked as he was cleaning and oiling the crossbow, it was good practise to keep the hinges and moving parts clear of dust and grit especially when they might be using them soon.
Marden folded up his hammock and gave the word for the others to pack up as they set out on the road again.
"I make out ten Halvar what say you?"
"Aye"
Barrelling down the side of canyon slope kicking up the dry dust as they charged for the wagons looking like a thunderstorm on the horizon, the Ofiri bandits screamed as they charged.
As if by some form of telepathy Marden, Casimir and Halvar all threw their northern wind bombs, turning the dry dusty ground of the desert into a sheet of ice causing the horses to skid, buck and crash into each other leaving the bandits to fight on foot.
Putting some distance between them and the sheet of encroaching ice marden and Halvar jumped off their wagons and walked towards the downed Ofiri.
If a witcher with a sword is a feast for the eyes than a witcher with a Warhammer is a sight for the ages and coincidentally the last thing a foe has ever seen. The weapon favoured by the bear witcher would take four strong men to lift, the two-handed Warhammer was black with a tinted blue colouring the hammer side of the weapon was littered with six peaking spikes whilst the rear of the hammer was pointed and sharpened into a blade.
Hard training from his homeland of Skellige Halvar of Undvik was a true bear witcher not just because he was brought to the guild as a child but also by his stature, all witchers are taught the same fundamentals combat, signs, alchemy, and a many other tirade of skills mediation, oils, bombs hand to hand not to mention the vast array of books that needed to be consumed before a life on the path could begin.
It's not surprising then that each school leaned towards certain teachings more than others. Halvar leaned towards the more forceful of options.
Faroe was one of the smallest island in Skellige but its people where far from inferior to the rest of the isle, approaching the notice board Halvar scanned the board.
"Wanted strong men for hard work, barmaid required for the Pebble and Pond," Halvar was close to giving up util he saw it.
"Missing daughter, ah finally."
Tying his mount to the stable hold Halvar strolled through the narrow paths of the village, women ushered their children out of the way of the witcher whilst the children where set that they had just seen a giant.
A small path twisted its way from the centre of the village as the land rose to meet the woods the witcher had finally arrived at the house, a withered woman was sat on a bench her sheep skin coat pulled up around her shoulders her thick skelligan pants were wrapped and tied leading into her thick wolf skin boots.
"Ah a witcher fellow, what brings ye ti Faroe"
"Greetings, ye post the notice"
"Aye, almost forgot about that"
"What happened?"
"Well twas one moon past, mi daughter Issa her husband was murdered, he's a hunter ye see or was and he didn't make it ome, Issa went looking for him she did but she didn't return either"
"Do you know what he died off."
"Ravaged by some woodland spirit they said, and I fear that's what took my Issa."
Halvar shadow had fully disappeared along with the old woman as the blue sky of the day was now replaced by the sparkling tints of the night stars, Halvar decided now was a good a time as any as he approached the woods where the old lady had said her daughter and her daughters husband went missing.
Coming on the edge of the crime scene in a small clearing, Halvar began his investigation, there was no body the old woman mentioned about a group of lads going to reclaim it but the after math of the event still lingered on the ground at least for a witcher.
"That's a lot of blood, the hunter was thrown into the tree from behind then pinned their thrown back to ground where he most likely died."
Thinking out loud and scanning the ground Halvar's mind flicked through the potential options at what could have befell the hunter, the grass was clean not accounting the stains of blood and kicked up dirt caused by the commotion of the event.
"Grass isn't burnt, no spectre or spirit did this."
Stepping back from the scene before him Halvar walked through the trees, tracks of every kind of woodland creature filled the area, deer, wolf, sheep. Reaching his hand to tree next to him he pressed his fingers into the deep lines that scored the bark.
"What do we have here, urgh that stench leshens don't leave that stench behind"
Examining the tree that the hunter was thrown into the bark was ripped from the tree as if it was clenched from a hand in a feudal rage.
"Halvar you bloody fool!"
Standing in the centre where the body had laid Halvar looked up at the sky, the thick dark clouds separated bringing the pale light of full moon into view. The blood curdling howl shivered down the woodland form tallest peak in Faroe.
"Let's get this over with" Halvar hadn't turned around he didn't need too he could hear the growled breathing through snarled teeth.
The werewolf appeared its long frame was curled over on its front paws eyeing the witcher waiting for the first movement.
Lunging forward the werewolf's jaws were wide anticipating the flesh to come this was no wondering woodsman however and the bite was met with a domed shield of Quen, drawing his silver sword the witcher grimaced as the force of attack shook the witchers frame.
They danced the dance of the devil the werewolf's strong jaws looking for any opportunity to kill the witcher, the witcher dodged rolled strafed just about everything the long years at the school of the bear taught him to do, the trees glowed from the purple runes that littered the ground.
Stalking its prey, the werewolf crouched, the earth around the paws of the beast began to rise as its claws pushed into the ground sinking its weight on its hind legs preparing for another attack, lunging forward again the beast managed to come down on the witchers silver sword biting it in half and throwing the witcher into the tree.
Leaves cascaded from the branches of the tree as the frame of the witcher cracked the trunk,
Standing across from the witcher the werewolf snarled prowling forward preparing for its final attack.
Scrambling for his crossbow that he prayed still worked Halvar found nothing but smashed wood and string, Halvar reached for his large kukri knife on the back of his belt as he regained his breath.
"Bring it! you over grown lap dog!"
The two forces collided as the witcher and the werewolf locked horns, clamping its jaws on the witchers left gauntlet Halvar let out a protesting groan as he drove his knife into the belly of the beast lifting the monster and slamming the werewolf to the ground.
"Stop squirming you flea bitten mutt!"
The thrashing that the beast gave in protest as it tried to stand was soon nullified when the witcher mounted the monster placing his weight over the beast's chest, the red fur of the monster was bunched up in fist of his now free hand.
Punch after punch after punch connected with the beast's head bouncing the werewolf's head of the ground, with each strike the witcher could feel the monsters resolve giving until the witcher noticed the familiar look as the beast eyes rolled back and the protesting came to a halt, rolling of the beast exhausted Halvar laid on his back staring at the pool of stars as his vision faded.
The tweeting sound of the Faroe island birds signalled the start of the day, the pale blue sky over the island brought a sense of freshness the white streaks of the clouds darted across the sky.
"W... what, who are you, what are you doing here?" the strange voice almost sounded muffled as if under water "why am I naked who are you?"
"Lass my head is pounding could you lay of the questions" Halvar responded his eyes still closed as suns light stirred him from his lethargic state "oh no."
Taking his riding cloak he wrapped it around his new companion, offering a drink from his water skin.
"So, lass you've got some issues that for sure, who are you."
"I... Issa, m..my names Issa"
"So, you're the missing daughter and I take it you killed your husband the hunter"
"Aye I didn't mean to, I…I.. I came through the woods to get to the mountain to wait out the change and the next thing I know I woke up with blood in my mouth"
Halvar wanted to scold himself for not thinking of it earlier how could he have missed the signs, there was another far more primal reason he wanted to scold himself too the werewolf was gorgeous.
After she had stopped crying and her breathing had slowed did Halvar get to see her for the beauty she was, her hair was fiery red that cascaded down her neck and over her shoulders, her eyes where a piercing emerald green which made her features even more sharper her figure was not different to any other skelligan woman however she was not without shape, the stress of turning into a werewolf had forced her to have more muscle than most girls but it didn't look out of place it made her look healthy and athletic which was a surprise to the witcher.
The scars from the battle had already turned to faint silver line's and the mark where he had run her through with his knife was just a red line as his knife lay in a blood pool in the muddy forest ground, she ensured the witcher that come tomorrow there would be no evidence of them at all.
"Your mother sent me out looking for you, you need to go back lass,"
"No, I can't you don't understand they'll kill me or cast me out I'm better out hear alone"
The woeful voice of the red-haired woman struck a cord deep in the witcher, Faroe wasn't a big place and without the means of gaining gold to leave it would only be a matter of time until someone brought her down.
"You don't have to be alone" Halvar stood collecting his knife wiping away the dirt and mud.
"What you saying you going to kill me"
"Don't be daft your silly mare, I meant if you wanted to you could come with me I'm leaving for Metinna in the morning you could start a new from there"
Placing his knife back in his sheath Issa pondered the choices that laid before she could either stay in Faroe and lead a life of struggle and fear as a hermit or follow the witcher.
"Wow, well there nothing left for me in Faroe I suppose…. why not aye I'll go with you, first ill need clothes."
Scooping her up in his arms Halvar and Issa set a course for Metinna.
Firing bolts from his crossbow Casimir provided brief cover fire as the two witchers worked their way through the group Halvar was off breaking bones fighting like raged bull, Mardens two elven sabre where dancing as if he where the eye of a tornado and his swords the wind, the leader of the bandits spun his spear with expert timing and skill Marden dodged and blocked the serpent like attack, managing to knock one sabre out his hand marden was fully of the defensive.
With blinding speed Marden felt and herd the sound of the spear whipping across his face a lesson he will never forget. Another thing Marden will never forget that day was the sound of crossbow bolt whistling past his ear and into the attacker's neck as he was seconds away from becoming a skewered piece of meat.
"Like I said it could happen to anyone, now can we just forget it and move on"
"ohh wee lamb, our boy is getting grumpy witcher maybe we best get more ale for our mardy"
"Aye make sure you get two one for his mouth the other for his face"
"Right that's it"
The laughter that bellowed from the witcher and dwarf were soon silenced as Marden smashed the tankard over the skelligan and jumped over the table for the dwarf. The dust of their commotion only managed to scare the horses as the rest of tavern where silenced by what came into view.
Floating through the crowd three women headed towards dust ball. One Issa her hair as radiant as fire, green eyes that would shame any jewel led the pack of disgruntled looking women. The other woman was a slim elf, her hair cut short proudly showing off her ears her brown eyes scanned the room as she winked at the barman, her slender frame rocked side to side accentuating her figure. Following behind the two ladies was another her eyes a sharp blue and hair as black as night stood out on her fair pale skin.
"Ahem…ahem!" the dust settled to revel the three men locked in combat all tied together like a rope knot, "its rude to fight in front of a lady let alone three"
The fiery haired maiden crossed her arms as she eyed up the larger of the witchers.
"And you should be especially ashamed, a skelligan wasting good ale like that for no good reason"
"I agree, we don't even have a tankard for ourselves for shame gentlemen, I thought dwarfs took their drinking seriously" looking down at the soak dwarf the slender elf crossed her arms shaking her head.
"I bet I know who the culprit is for shame Marden" her piercing blue eyes starred hypnotically into his own.
After a brief silence the deep chuckle of laughter emanated from Issa,
"Well don't just sit there get the drinks in we are the Dhu Coram and what's a black lion without a drink!"
The table was propped back up as the dwarf went for more drinks, rather masterfully he managed not spill any, Issa sat on the lap of her Halvar as Inga and Casimir traded friendly insults that including him betting her he could out shoot her. Cheers erupted from the group when Marden and Elli totalled the coin they had made as once again ale was wasted as the tankards of the group collided with each other.