Chapter 7

They had made their way back to the camp and found the White Wolf sitting at the fire, whittling a piece of wood into a little carving that began to resemble a stout dwarven man. He looked up at them both, nodded and went back to his work.

"Good evening, White Wolf." Root said pleasantly.

"Let me just prepare a space for us to work. I'll be right back." Regis said and went to the wagon.

Geralt glanced at Regis and then looked at the woman who came to the fire and sat down on the ground.

"You needn't call me that. Geralt is fine." He replied.

"If you prefer, although I quite like the title. For obvious reasons." She replied, giving him a glance from under her dark lashes. "What are you carving there?"

"Nothing specific. Just a little something to pass the time. You don't play Barrel do you?" he asked, tilting his blade to get the design on the braided beard just right.

"No. I'm afraid I never learned any of the games fancied at inns and taverns. I would love to learn though." She said, glancing up as Regis returned carrying a small black leather satchel, a pillow, a fur and a couple blankets.

Geralt raised an eyebrow and glanced at the two of them.

"Should I erm…ya know…I can leave for a bit."

Root flushed deep crimson and averted her gaze to the forest floor while Regis simply rolled his eyes. He placed the pillow against a tree trunk and laid out the heavy blanket over the fur.

"Good gracious, Geralt. I'm over four hundred years old. You'd think I'd have figured out…oh…forget it." Regis said giving the legendary hunter a sideways glance.

The Witcher put up his hands, "OK, OK. So what are you doing?"

"Come sit over here, Root, and get comfortable while I prepare a few things." Regis said, this time making sure he altered his voice in a much more noticeable way.

Root glanced over at the Witcher, her ear tips still red from his insinuation, but she felt compelled to do as Regis had said. Geralt noticed the switch as well but Regis silenced any question with a glance. The vampire sat down beside her and opened the satchel, taking out a bit of square cloth, a small glass bottle of quality alcohol, a long strip of rolled cloth, a surgeon's scalpel and small bowl made of white bone.

"Now, I need you to give me explicit permission to perform this. I am going to deeply entrance you, take a bit of your blood, and read your memories in order to see through your eyes. Do I have your permission?" Regis asked.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Thank you." He said, and covered her legs with the blankets. "Now, rest your hands lightly on your lap. Take a deep breath and as you let it out, look right here, right into my eyes. No need to stare, just look as if you were gazing into the night sky."

She looked up into Regis' eyes, dark and beautiful. It was almost as if she could see within them, as if something within beckoned her.

"There you go. And just breathe deeply, nice and easy. All you need do is listen." he said softly, in a voice that was so beautiful she couldn't remember ever hearing anything so lovely before. "Now just fall into them, Root, like you were slipping into a warm spring at night. Notice your eyelids becoming heavy now, just like falling asleep."

As her eyes closed, Regis reached forward and covered her face. The woman sank deep into the spell, her hands sliding slowly to the side, shoulders relaxed, and her head slightly turned to the side, resting on the pillow he'd provided for her. He let his soft fingers trail over her eyelids, giving them the unspoken command to remain closed.

"Now, Root, I'm going to speak to Geralt and you will not hear anything we say until I say your name again. Do you understand?" he said.

"Yes." She whispered softly, her voice otherworldly and far away.

"Geralt, if you would be so kind as to set up yrden wards around our camp." Regis said, turning to the Witcher. "And be ready with that silver sword of yours. You may need it."

"You could've given me some notice." The Witcher grumbled. "And why all the theatrics, Regis? You could've just looked into her eyes and put her out. I've seen you do that before."

"I can do as such if there is no time for proper preparation. But this way it's more like she's seeing a doctor and not a vampire." He said. "I'm trying to help her, not seduce her. Although it's been ages since I've used my powers for that anyways so…"

"Could've fooled me. Oh, don't pretend offense, old friend. Besides, you don't need to seduce her and you know it. It's plain as day how you two feel. I'm not judging. Yennefer and I…"

"Yes, yes I know about you and Yennefer. Can you set the wards please? We can chat about my feelings later." And he gave his friend a smile, showing that he wasn't really upset.

Geralt rose and walked around the perimeter of their camp, setting up the ancient sign which would alert them if anything supernatural outside the circle breached the barrier. He then stood calmly but ready, leaning up against the wagon with his arms crossed.

"Thank you. Root, hear my voice." Regis said, taking her hand and turning the palm up.

"Yes…" she replied.

"Good. I want you to see yourself floating on a red river, and you're being carried safely on the vessel of my voice. And you will hear my voice no matter how far down the river you go. This river is your bloodline, Root. And you are drifting in the present time, the harbor of this current moment, safe with me and Geralt. Can you see that?" he said, his voice becoming very hypnotic such that Geralt had to focus not to get caught up in the vampire's spell. The Witcher was immune to normal hypnosis, but vampire magic was different.

"Yes…" Root said, her voice becoming very quiet as she sank deeper.

Regis placed a hand on her shoulder and lightly pressed her into the pillow.

"Now begin to flow backward in time on this red river. And see all the happy, positive memories flow by you as you do. We leave any other memories there, and notice only the one's that made you happy for now." He said softly.

She smiled slightly, her eyelids beginning to twitch as if dreaming.

"Flow back even further on the river. Back, back, so far back into your bloodline that you are now that small seven year old cub, happily roaming the forest, knowing only the peace and security of your father." Regis droned on, becoming slightly entranced himself in order to lead her.

Geralt raised an eyebrow over him calling the woman a cub, but he remained silent. He could feel the power radiating from the vampire now. The White Wolf knew without a doubt that his friend was indeed very, very powerful but rarely showed it.

"And back even further, Root, back into the bloodline right at the moment of your birth. And hold there for a moment and feel nothing but joy and happiness flood your body, knowing that your father and mother love you so." He said, bringing his focus to the present to swab her skin with the cloth dipped in alcohol.

She did not move at all. "And now you are being born. And you remain calm and focused on my voice. You see the world as your eyes open, werewolf eyes that see more than you remember."

Regis used the scalpel and made a delicate incision into her wrist, allowing just a few drops to fall into the bone bowl. He then pressed a clean cloth to the wound, and wrapped the thin strip around her wrist to secure it. The vampire then placed one hand over her eyes, and raised the bone bowl to his lips, licking the few drops from it.

The Witcher noticed the shift in the air around them immediately, and he felt pressure against the wards. Something was trying to get through. Regis' mind looked through the red haze that now covered his vision, seeing the room through a newborn Root's keen eyes. He saw a massive, brown furred werewolf with eyes the color of a pine forest standing near the bed. Her father picked her up, and Regis' vision shifted and he saw what he was looking for. There in the cabin window, looking in with jealous eyes was a figure, and they were casting hex signs.

"Regis…" Geralt said softly in a cautious voice.

The wind had picked up, and the fire snapped. With a voice that was terrifying to hear, Regis bared his teeth and snarled at the figure, yet unseen by Geralt, "You will manifest your spirit now!"

And the Witcher watched as a form materialized just outside of the wards. It was skeletal, and reeked of death, but was clearly the remains of what used to be a human person dressed in shredded, soiled and tattered garments. It just stood there, silently, its hollow eye sockets staring. Regis came out of his trance, but Root simply slept on, oblivious to anything. The vampire rose up, and Geralt knew then why many witchers feared the ancient higher vampires and rarely took contracts for them, no matter the rewards promised. Regis was menacing in a way that made even the legendary White Wolf shudder. His eyes were black as pitch, and the very night seemed to coalesce around him to do his bidding. Geralt drew the silver sword and shadowed him as he approached the figure.

"You cursed her." Regis said in a voice so soft and yet so filled with venom that Geralt felt sure any living being would've dropped dead upon hearing it. "Why? Explain yourself, woman. I command you."

The fiend, cursed herself for cursing another, had no power to refuse the command of such a venerable vampire such as Emiel Regis.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" she shrieked, a sound so forlorn and filled with hatred that Geralt visibly shook. "Jealous! Jealousy! We wanted a child of our own but none came to us! NONE!" spoke the figure, grinding its teeth in bitter resentment, the jaw rubbing bone on bone, the sightless eyes glaring at the powerful being before her.

"But the filthy monster; filthy werewolf mating with a human and they get a baby of their own! We HATE THEM! We cursed her, cursed her to not be able to control herself! She would be found out! They would be found out and suffer as I have SUFFERED! AHHHHHH! Let me go! Let me go!" The woman cried and wailed.

Regis was furious at the shallow, pitiful excuse for a person laid before him. He bared his fangs and growled so fiercely that the woman shrank before him, falling to the ground, groveling, begging to be released from the will that bound her to that plane of existence.

"By the blood of my ancient forebears this curse is broken. And you, wicked soul, are banished forever; your hold over her is no more." Regis said and he bit into his wrist, sucked deeply, and then spat the blood onto the specter, who wailed in pain as it burned her bones like acid.

"End it, Geralt." He said, turning away.

And the White Wolf cut down the skeletal form with a slash of the silver blade that glistened with specter oil, the bones dissolving into ash as they fell to the ground. In an instant the wind died, and all went silent. The wards dissolved, having done their duty and the dust of the jealous neighbor was blown into the creek. For it is known that running water prevents spirits from finding their way.

Regis closed his eyes and sighed softly, his wound sealing almost instantly. He then packed away his instruments after cleaning them, and sat down beside the resting woman. He took a moment to calm himself, and reflect on all Root had shared with him. He listened as the night became once more a soothing and pleasant backdrop rather than his servant. For he could command the night like many vampires, he just rarely did so. Regis thanked the ancients of his bloodline and he whispered a few words to Root's father, hoping that he might in some way know that his daughter had peace.

"You're free now." He whispered, brushing a lock of her short hair behind her ear. "Time to wake up, Root. Come back now. Come back to us."

Root slowly opened her eyes and looked up into Regis' face. They were cloudy from being so deeply enspelled, but after a few moments it was like a rainstorm cleared and he could see the green of her gaze piercing through the grey haze of his magic. She began to blink.

"There you are, almost there, my dear. Come back, all the way back." Regis said, changing his voice back to the light, conversational tone he used in everyday speaking.

Geralt came and sat by the fire, pouring some fresh water into the kettle and setting it in the coals. He was not a master herbalist, but he did know that those delivered from curses often needed something to ground them back into the world. Some tea and leftover meat from supper would have to do.

"Re…Regis…Geralt?" Root said softly, her eyes focusing first on the vampire and then the witcher.

"Yes, we're both here. Ahh there you are. Back safe and sound. Do you remember anything?" Regis asked, lightly laying his hand on hers.

"Yes. Everything. I could see through your eyes. Oh, Regis you are…the power I felt was…is…I can hardly believe it!" she said, her eyes adoring the man before her, not fearing him in the slightest. But in awe of the regal majesty she'd seen and felt while connected to his mind.

Regis smiled, and bowed his head, graciously accepting her praise.

"You honor me. I do not call on that power often, but it has its place and uses." He said humbly.

Root leaned toward him and placed one hand on his cheek, the other on his chest and softly kissed the corner of his lips. The ancient vampire was stunned for a moment, breathless. It'd be years since he'd felt the sincere and loving kiss of a woman on his mouth. She nuzzled him with the tip of her nose, breathing in his scent; the scent of the forest, the scent of home.

"Thank you." She whispered.

He slowly raised his hand and took hers, entwining their fingers. He could've remained there for a hundred years and never once tired of her presence, and she felt the same for him.

"Ahem." Came Geralt's gruff voice from the fire.

Root flushed red but she smiled and so did Regis. They parted and both looked over to the great witcher, legendary in his own time, who did his best to look annoyed but only ended up shaking his head with the usual smirk across the aged and scarred face.

"Ah you've got the kettle ready." Regis said. "Well done, Witcher. Excellent. Let me get my tea."

While Regis was searching through one of his many bags of herbs and plants, Root came closer to the fire and sat beside the White Wolf.

"And thank you, Geralt. I don't know what fate or circumstances led you to cross my path but, I'm thankful you followed them. Had you not, I couldn't have received this tremendous gift of healing and closure. How can I ever repay you?" she asked him, admiring the great hunter.

He inclined his head to her, accepting the thanks. "I appreciate the offer. But might I remind you that I initially set out to turn you over to my employer. Things could've gone very badly for you, Root. You don't know what he wanted to do. I do."

"I know." She said softly. "But, you didn't; for whatever reason you didn't. And I would see you repaid. Since your kindness and goodwill did cost you a reward did it not?"

"It did. Sort of. I mean, we didn't exactly buy all the booze we're carrying." He said with a sly grin.

"So I would ask of you the only thing I can that would be equal to sparing your life." He continued, and turned his eyes to her. "Make his life happy for all the days and nights you find yourself in his company. Regis is one of my best friends, who understands me better than anyone, except maybe Dandelion…maybe. If you can make him happy, than sparing you repays me one hundred fold."

Root smiled and nodded to him. "I will, Gwynbleidd. I promise."

Regis returned the fire and dropped a variety of herbs, flowers and roots into the kettle of boiling water. Geralt reached into one of his traveling pouches and gave Root a hard bit of venison jerky to eat.

"Here. Chew on this. It'll help ground you. Don't you wrinkle your nose at it. You've just had a curse lifted from you and you might feel fine, but you need…to…

The Witcher's voice trailed off as Root stood up and unceremoniously undid the belt, dropped the doeskin pants and slid the silk shirt from her body. Dandelion's clothing now lay in a heap at her delicate bare feet. And the night air caressed her naked body, making parts of it perky. The two men simply sat there, speechless.

"Remember when you asked me if the fur helps keep me warm? It does." she said coyly.

Neither of them could say a word. And in a magical instant, the huge brown furred werewolf with wild green eyes stood before them. She lowered her head, laid back her elongated ears and touched a cold wolf nose to Regis'. She then growled playfully and with a mighty flexing of her powerful back legs, leapt over both men, cleared the wagon and bounded into the forest after anything that was not dried meat.

The White Wolf slowly turned his head to look at Regis, who looked back and then handed him a tin cup.

"Tea?"