Here is the next chapter! Another short one, but we are so close to the finale!
Thank you so much, and please leave your thoughts and feedback in a review or PM! I would truly appreciate it, hope everyone is doing well and please enjoy Chapter 10
"It's better to die than to live in the knowledge that you've done something that needs forgiveness."
― Andrzej Sapkowski, Blood of Elves
SECRETS UNSEEN
Aubrey felt distinctive recall, both fondly and diabolical as she and her two companions walked the steps following the spiral of paths towards the upper levels of the Palace which captured a vast overlook of the Duchy. The pastiche of the exedras, wide-open terraces, tracery and floral engravements and murals of Aen Seidhe architecture were as close as they could be to the genuine work of elves, however she wouldn't know for certain, as she was never alive to see the ruling of the slowly fading species.
Clearing her throat rather loudly, she stumbled nervously at the thought of divided races and peoples, now being sure that her Father was not of her division. It kept casting shadows on past memories over and over, like a sundial.
She took to glancing back and forth between Geralt and Regis whom quietly communicated under low breaths, eventually finding her focus on the stars that glared in an appearance of diamonds up above in the evening sky. Knights and guards sometimes stole her attention, but she reclaimed it just as swiftly. As time continued to pass by, she struggled to keep her mind on what was transpiring in front of her. Albeit, nothing much was; however, a war was proceeding in her silent mind.
She couldn't say she was cursed or given a destiny and life of pure lies and sadness, she couldn't say that at all. However, at times it felt as if that was exactly what she was given, although served on a silver platter and fed with a silver spoon. Still did taste bitter and sour on her tongue, or perhaps bitter-sweet?
Victor de la Savant, a ducal architect, scholar and incredibly sought-after man of the court with dark and bloody secrets. Herself, not that she remembers anything, a young abandoned girl with no given name, parentage or history. He found her, and for some reason secured her with a false story, yet a truthful love. Gods she loved him …
Gloomy brown eyes gazed over a particular spot under a stone hut, looking out to Hauteville and Gran'place. She conjured an image of a young blonde-haired girl and a young dark-haired man, leaning over the railing, disclosing dreams and hopes, jests and banter, truth and lies.
She smiled a smile that could tell a story with no speech… As the distance between her much older form and the space of fond memories increased, hindering her vision, hindering the scene of Father and Daughter laughing.
Then there was the door, the door that led to another place of fond yet sullen memories. Fragments of helping him examine different building materials and their properties, diagrams and sketches of future and historic projects, flowers, and herbs and the chemicals he kept secret between them both. A lone hand found a piece of the parchment rolled in a scroll, sitting guardedly in a satchel from her belt… The last thing she had received from him, the final piece of his legacy.
There were times all she wanted to do was run into his arms, breathe in his scent, play with his brown curls that felt like silk to touch, stare into his green eyes that sometimes could change tone, could be visually deceiving at times, she wanted him to tell her everything would be alright as long as he was by her side. They were a team… Yet there were times she wished to scream at him, cry and accuse him of drifting away, of losing touch, of not staying. He left the year of 1266 … never to come back. His destination unknown to her. Maybe their destiny not meant to be together, maybe they were never meant to follow the same path.
The trio were soon gaining on their own desired destination. They were getting closer by the minute. And at times, gossip and whispers peaked in the background. The turbulent commotion of Knights, guards and nobles "quietly" arguing amongst themselves heightened in noise. Discussing what would possibly and should be done with Syanna. Biting her bottom lip, Aubrey ignored the words that threatened to leave her mouth. There was no need to chime in, it would only delay their travels.
'Do you think Her Grace's nerves have been calmed?' Regis discontinued her inner thoughts, speaking out to either one of them.
'Doubt it. Rarely forgets, rarely retracts what she says…especially not threats.' Geralt responded quickly, irritated and restless with their current situation, understandable too. And of course, he was right, Anna rarely ever gave out hollow threats, besides a few individual circumstances, including one with a certain bard and poet-friend of theirs who was immensely close to being hanged. The memory although alarming, was somewhat amusing and it was the first time she met the Lion cub of Cintra and Sorceress of Vengerberg. It was after Vilgefortz, after Geralt was the only one to come back with them …
But she had to abandon those painful memories This was beginning to get out of hand, for everyone. Dettlaff and Anna especially. Regis seemed to swallow the words, and she did her best to do so as well, while they continued to the stairs that would soon unveil their presence to the court and the Duchess herself.
'Yes … Well even I must admit Dettlaff's actions were highly inappropriate, reprehensible even.' Regis described truthfully, as they began to climb the first set of steps. She didn't respond, didn't truly know what to say or how she would say what she felt.
'Are you upset?' Regis suddenly asked, causing Aubrey's head to rise in confusion, he was speaking to Geralt. The three halted in their journey, stopping to further discuss the odd question, the odd question that Aubrey was also curious and worried to hear the answer to. How did the Witcher feel about all this? She felt selfish and ashamed that she never asked either of them how they felt.
'What do you mean?' Was his counteracting response, he certainly was good at feigning indifference, sometimes too much so, sometimes she wondered if he was at times, indeed a little unaware, and she found it strangely endearing.
'Hmm, let's see … You're returning empty-handed. No trophy. No new lead to boast of, then pursue.' Regis explained deep in thought. Aubrey couldn't help but smile bemused at Geralt's reaction, a couple of raised eyebrows and just as addled eyes.
'What can I say … It happens at times. Especially likely to when the monster I'm chasing can turn into fog.' Was his feedback, as he turned from them both to travel the upcoming steps. But of course, Regis was not done questioning, she thought amused once more, yet delighted all the same.
'Hm. How … How do your employers customarily react when you fail to meet their expectations?' The vampire appeared and sounded as an overly adventurous and curious child, practically drooling to hear the answer of his own question, perhaps a little more subtle albeit, but she found herself shaking her head, struggling to keep a laugh from sneaking out into the elsewise, quiet night. The calm before a storm almost …
'Depends. Peasants cuss me out. Merchants demand I refund their deposit. Whereas nobles mostly just release their hounds.' The Witcher posited briefly. Aubrey with a stumble and lack of control, released an unexpected laugh, covering up with a poor clearing of the throat as the Golden-eyed wolf took to glaring at her. Close … Too close, she jested in the safety of her mind this time, catching a quick smile from him and Regis.
'And rulers?'
'Usually threaten me with the gallows.' He answered with a side glance to Regis, as the three of them stood at the bottom of the last and final steps. A guard descended slowly, observing them from a distance.
'Her most Illustrious Grace awaits the Lady and Gentlemen.'
The voice of a ruler soon peaked in height, her tone furious and hiding bloodshed almost. Her words sharp and bitter as she defended her sister, Anna would no doubt defend her sister to the death if she had to … Something she could familiarise herself with.
'Let them storm. They will not find her there. Syanna is hidden away, in a safe place… She shall await trial there until we have rid ourselves of this accursed vampire.' The Duchess explained vividly, hands gesturing in approval of her own words, standing tall with pride and fiery passion, although, Aubrey felt a sting at the way she referenced Dettlaff, as if he were a mere monster … Completely ignoring all that had happened as if it was a lie.
'Which, to judge by your miens, has not yet come to pass.' She continued with a rise in voice, projecting a rather disappointed and angered expression on her otherwise soft and feminie features towards Geralt and Regis. Of course, she would jump head first and start pointing fingers and calling names, something Aubrey was never and never would be fond of about Her grace.
'Did what we could, but—'
'My patience is at an end, Geralt. Where is he? Where is Dettlaff?'
'Your Grace, Geralt and Regis have been working and investigating for the past few days with focus and determination. I apologise for my bluntness, but I believe they deserve a little more respect.' Aubrey cut in, keeping a light and polite tone, but stood her ground even when Anna conveyed shock and enmity towards her, piercing her with acute grey eyes.
She felt the stares from all around, Palmerin, nobles and ducal minsters, they all were shocked and disgraced by her words.
'Aubrey … Do not begin one of your vigilant and greatly banal tangents, I beg of you. It will only serve to drag you deeper into trouble, grave trouble you have already found yourself in.' Anna challenged, breaking all distance and area between them. Grey eyes tested the waters, before reaching Geralt once again. Aubrey should have taken it to heart, and she did with great pain, but she knew somewhere, that Anna felt regret saying such things. Aubrey had grown accustomed to the behaviours and ticks of the Duchess over the years. Those grey eyes broke for a moment, showing remorse.
'Dettlaff's head is nowhere to be seen, you've come with not even a clue, and then attempt at excusing your slack efforts. Do not take me for a fool.'
'I-I wouldn't dare—' Geralt begun, head bowing in defence only to be interrupted, igniting a fire in Aubrey, or some form of flammable material that was indeed dangerously close to an explosive inside her.
'I care not one bit what you have worked on, are working on or shall work on. I'm interested in results. Which, thus far, have been nil…
'Ahh. At times I hunt foxes. Do you know how it works? The Ducal huntsman releases the hounds. They catch the fox's scent, chase the animal down, and lead the battue to it – All within an hour.'
'Dettlaff is not a wild animal your Grace. He is-' Aubrey could not control herself, letting out the words that sat on her tongue only to be stopped in her tracks. The chestnut-haired woman sharply turned to her, glaring, giving a stare that could have killed her … A stare that demanded if another word came from her mouth, she would not have a tongue. But … like always, Anna let it go, for some strange reason holding a forgiveness for Aubrey, ignoring the comment and charging back at Geralt who eyed Aubrey hesitantly.
'… You, Witcher, have had a week. The aid of my most excellent knights. Yet you have tracked absolutely nothing down… I've begun to suspect my beagles might have done a better job!'
Silence … An awkward and offensive silence … Geralt surely had a comeback, no matter if the gallows were shadowy with death and close by, no matter she was the Duchess of this rich land, Geralt would have something up his sleeve.
'Then perhaps Your Grace should've sent a beagle instead of a Witcher after the vampire.'
Victory … A small and quiet simper sat on Aubrey's lips, at the reaction of the Duchess. The truth … small or big, hurts, oh it hurts.
'You tread on thin ice, Witcher. Very thin. Wisdom demands you choose your words more cautiously … But to the matter at hand. Have you managed to establish anything?'
'Your Grace, it seems Syanna tricked Dettlaff, used him to murder the knights who escorted her into exile. We have reason to believe that –'
Regis could not finish … The grunts and moans of agony and torment crawling up the steps, the scent of blood and danger high in the air.
'Your Grace … Vampires!'
Vampires … Calm before the storm … Dettlaff, he did it … how could he? She screeched in her mind, screamed in sadness, leaving the sight of the guard barely making his way to the crowd. Sprinting to the railings that prevented her from falling over to her death, yet allowing her to see out to the city, her home … She wailed silently. So many lives lost …
She could almost hear the cries of terror, the screams of death … The smell of blood and gore, hunger and hunt …
'Dettlaff … why?' She whispered, hoping he would hear her, 'Stop…' She begged, witnessing an attack of immortal and bloodthirsty creatures on the city.
Briskly spinning on agile legs, she left the side of Anna who stood beside her at the railing, running as fast she could, melting the tension in her leg muscles. She made it up the stairs only to stumble …
She was face to face with a woman … No, a wraith. Skeletal and skin tightened around bones, eyes dark and fuming with lust for blood, a red substance dribbling from the wet and drooling mouth, nails at least as long as a dagger on each finger. A bruxa …
'Get out of my way …' The voice shivered, pounded, echoed in her mind as their eyes stared into each other, although the vampire's lips did not move once. But she could not move, seeing the man's lifeless body on the marble ground … 'I can't move…'
'Then I shall help you.' It cackled to her personally, inducing a horrid cry of pain and terror … The liquid trickled like rain and tears down her face, the aching pulses of her skin increased as she was thrown down the stairs. Bones and limbs hitting each level of stone with a crack and clatter, colliding with her shoulder and elbow, knee and wrist.
She gasped, failing at catching a breath … Heart pumping and hitting her ribs, eyes wide and tears pooling. As there was no ground, no protection. The air sung, glided fiercely against the edge of her body, flickering through the thin material of her clothing. She was falling … The shout of a man faded as she fell through the trees, muddling her sight with flashes of green and brown, blue and silver, stone, and sky.
The breaking and crackling of tree branches colliding with every inch of her, congested in her ear drums … Sometimes a moan or cry would disrupt, being forced from the depths of her throat.
Then … She finally met the ground. The clap of her side against the earth floor of dirt and flowers … She lost her vision entirely for a few moments, forced to be defenceless and vulnerable to where ever she was now, and whoever might find her.
The echoing of pain burrowed deep in her head, throbbing and slithering down to her neck and chest, back and feet, stomach churning and twisting. Aubrey … Aubrey … Get up.
'What? Regis … Geralt?' She croaked, rolling over so that she could see the sky. It was there, barely … The trees that sheltered her from the screams and shouts of fear, the trees that hindered her view. Every limb was shaking … Fingers stiff and stubborn, not a limb would move … She had no control over anything … No, no, no!
'Ahhh! Help!' She wailed … dread like the blood permeate and oozing down her numb skin. Hell! Please don't do this … She frigidly lifted a finger … but nothing else would move.
She couldn't feel anything …
Aubrey, you are not paralysed, merely in shock. Close your eyes … Breathe carefully, breathe with your lungs damn you! Yes, breathe deeply and calmly.
'What If it's hypovolemic shock? I'm – I'm losing blood… I can't feel m—'
No, you're just in shock, move your toes, fingers … Good, now move your joints.
Aubrey begun to grow sensations in the joints, muscles and skin. A cool air pierced her first, and she shivered, resonating with the shaking breaths she inhaled and exhaled … Rotating her neck, it felt as if the bones were crushing themselves as she peered up. How was she still alive? The balcony she slid through and fell from was at least twenty metres tall from where she lay …
She landed on her left side … Hesitantly, fearfully, she glanced at her arm only to gasp and close her eyelids tightly.
'No … I- It's dislocated god damn it!' She yelled in fury, struggling to keep her eyes off the swollen and disturbingly disunited joint between the upper and lower arm. The fall dislocated her elbow …
And you've also an open wound on your head, a fracture in your left hip and hand and multiple scrapes and bruises.
The strange man's voice that echoed inside her head continued apathetically, expressing no emotion or pity …
'Who are you?' She moaned through gritted teeth and wet eyes, analysing the injuries he explained to her … He was no figment of her imagination; couldn't be for he was right. He was correct to the T, every time she twitched a finger, a muscle in her left hand, it throbbed violently, causing her to leave it to be motionless.
As she peeled away her trousers at the hips with her uninjured hand, her eyes in immense shock and nausea noticed the severe bruising, finding their way down to her feet where just as noticeable was the difference in leg length. Her right leg was now shorter …
She fell back once more, attempting to ignore and forget the extreme explosions of pain that subdued her whole body … She would die, a vampire would find her and drain whatever life she had left from the veins … That's if she would even have any blood left with the gaping wound atop her head.
You will not die … I'll make sure of that, but you must stand. Quickly, if you wish to save your home, find the Red-haired woman- The one who knew your Father—
'Orianna! How will she help? She would more likely be a part of the invasion, sinking her teeth into innocent people no doubt! How could Dettlaff do such a thing … After all that we—'
After all that you shared with him … Pathetic, do you truly believe a creature such as him would be above revenge, humans aren't even above that, and from personal experience, revenge is blind of love and remorse.
Not only did she carry a heavy physical pain, but an emotional weight as she limped away from the solemn and lone gardens she fell into. Whoever this being was, he was right … so horribly right. She found her way down steps, at times losing balance and falling on her left side sending an agonising tremor of inferno throughout her bloody and wounded body. She was alone, traversing the empty streets and pathways leading to the main section of the Palace, where she fell from. Instead, she was trembling, practically staggering away from the safety of the palace, away from Geralt and Regis…
'You are a vampire are you not? I judge you will not give me your name; yet why do you help me?' She whispered to nothing, somehow knowing he was still with her, feeling his presence in her mind. It was like a mutual symbiotic relationship. She a worn down and close to shattered tankard, he a cool, clean and refreshing liquid indulging within her, keeping her useful, keeping her alive.
Who said I would not give you my name? I am someone of utmost importance to you—
'If that is so, why do I not recognise your voice?'
You do not know me, yet we have met before … And we are connected, you are my family after all.
She took her time to relate and correlate his words, she knew quite quickly, too quickly that it frightened her. This man or being, whatever he was, was related to her Father. He felt familiar, like a wine on a hot summer day. A wine that had not been drunken or enjoyed for many years, and then with thirst, sipped thoroughly was the cool and sweet wine, the fond memories coming back, yet bitter was the after-taste, and straight to her head it went … Dizziness clouding her otherwise attentive sight.
I can see now why he chose you … Funny, he is so much like me, finding affection for a human, a woman who was not as furiously wide-eyed and callow as most of them are.
'He was my Father … Not my romantic partner!'
Hmm, maybe, yet he definitely did not plan it out that way.
The voice chuckled darkly, sending shivers of dread and discomfort, yet she continued to limp her way to the Gran'place square, where ashes and smoke kindled above flames of burning orange and red, blood and hunger.
'Are you his Father?' She asked in a wistful whisper, attempting to ignore the cries and wails of pain and mourning from escaping inhabitants … It was too much to bare and hear, tears trickled along with blood, reaching her lips, occasionally catching the substance on her tongue. She was yet to confront any vampires, so perhaps this man had something to do with her mere luck, however there were those who were not as lucky, and she focused on anything but the bodies adorning the bloodied soil and stone of their home …
Maybe, maybe not. I did know his mother very intimately however, I knew her every liking to my every touch, her appreciation of my sweet words-
'Stop with the jests and one-sided amusement, please! Can you not see what has been done! Now tell me why I must seek out Orianna!' She shouted with the leftover energy she carried with her, heaving sharp and shallow breaths. She felt him withdraw from her for a moment, only to return more erratically. She screeched in surprise and unexpected pain and relief, her elbow once more held normally and connected with an ear-piercing crack, then the hips, then the twitching of her skin and scalp, itching and burning cruelly, attaching the broken skin and increasing the red blood cells.
She conserves a key … A key that you will use to stop this lunacy of a night, a key that will allow you entrance into the hideout of a very, extremely old vampire. Oh, and before I forget, I am Christopher Lugosi, your extrinsic Grandfather.