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The first thing Micah noticed when she awoke was the absence of the headache. She reveled in that for a few moments before her mind turned to the second thing. Arek wasn't here. He hadn't slept in the bed with her, though he must have come in late after she fell asleep as his satchel was draped over the chair. Clasping the towel to her slight frame, she dug in her rucksack for the clean clothing that lay in the bottom. It was fortunate the canvas of the bag had kept the contents dry when she was drowning in the swamp, otherwise she would have nothing to wear. The maid had yet to return with her laundered garments.
The woman dressed in a soft doeskin skirt that brushed her ankles and a dusky green peasant blouse that bared her shoulders. It felt good to be clean again. She straightened the room, then retrieved a very light coin pouch from her belongings. It would be enough to get breakfast, she thought, if she still couldn't find Arek.
The taproom was filled with rough looking dockworkers getting their breakfast when she came down and she realized belatedly she was the only woman present other than the serving girls. The little woman spotted Arek brooding in a corner, likely where he could observe all entrances. Nothing to do but brazen it out, she started toward him. She got four paces into the room when someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her into their lap.
"Barrow, ye gots a new lass! Where ye bin hidin' her?" The man was older, sinewy rather than bulky and he looked at her with a keen interest out of muddy brown eyes.
Micah pushed against his chest, trying to disengage from the man's grasping hands. "Let go of me!"
"Oiye! She's got spirit!" The man laughed to his companions, who had turned to watch the little bird with interest. "Gimme a kiss, lass, an' ye can be on yer way. Ol' Jack jes wants some love!" The man gave her a gape-toothed grin and she shuddered as he pulled her closer pushing his face toward hers.
"NO! Let me go!" Fear rose in Micah's breast like a tide and she started struggling in earnest.
The ring of a blade being loosed from a scabbard silenced the entire tavern as the point of the witcher's steel appeared at the man's throat. "The lady said she wasn't interested, mate. Let her go now and we'll call that the end of it." Arek's voice was rough grated ice and the randy dock worker immediately released Micah. She fell to the floor with a solid thump and Arek held his free hand down to her, keeping his sword where it was. She took his proffered hand, letting him drag her into his left side as a hideous sneer lighted his features. "That's better. Now, we're all going to go back to our business and forget this ever happened, right?" The dock worker gulped and nodded. His friends had abandoned him, finding some other, more interesting things to occupy themselves with.
The sword sang again as he sheathed it behind his right shoulder and he led her back to his table in the corner. One of the serving girls came and topped off his ale and set another cup down for Micah. Together the pair ordered some breakfast. The wait for their food grew awkward as they stared anywhere but at each other. Something had shifted in Arek's demeanor toward her and Micah couldn't put her finger on it. She had been used to his light banter and easy teasing over the last several days, but now he seemed distant.
"Did you find passage to Kovir?" she asked nervously, wiping her palms on her thighs and trying to keep her tone light.
"Yeah. We embark just after midnight tonight and sail with the tide." He sipped his ale and spared her a quick glance. "How's your head?"
"I'm better, thank you." Micah chewed her bottom lip. "Thanks for taking care of me." She smiled at him. "In the swamp, last night and just now."
He was saved from answering her by the arrival of their food. For a stretch of time, they ate in silence, the noise in the taproom flowing around, filling in the spaces between them.
"You ever been to Novigrad before?" He asked suddenly, fidgeting with his fork, still avoiding her eyes.
"No, we did most of our business in Vizimia, and I went to Oxenfurt to study at the University. But that's as far as I have traveled before now," she answered.
He nodded as if answering his own, unspoken question. "I'll show you around. Been a few years since I've been this far north, but there should still be a stall in the open market that has the best sweet pies in the city." A grin ghosted across his face as he finally looked at her. She responded with one of her wide, wholehearted smiles that lit up her face stealing his breath away.
Novigrad wasn't as large as the cities of Micah's world, but the press of people going about their business was no less industrious than in any metropolis on Earth. They visited Hierarch's Square where preparations for Belleteyn were underway. The beginnings of a huge bonfire were taking shape and buntings of paper flowers were strewn between buildings, brightening the drab stone. A puppet theater had drawn a noisy crowd of children, attracting the little doctor and her companion to join in the merriment. They laughed at the antics of Punch and Judy for a short time, before moving on to browse the wares of the many merchants surrounding the square.
Arek pulled her along the line of stalls and they paused at a jeweler's booth where the elderly proprietress hailed them with a hearty greeting. The fat little woman peered up at the big man and grinned wide.
"A witcher! Seems there's more than a few of you floating around Novigrad this year. I saw two others in the city just three weeks ago! That's unusual enough to comment on." She nodded sagely as she brought a covered tray out from a locked cabinet in her hand cart, laying it on the smooth surface and rolling away the soft cloth. Spread out before them were a collection of witcher medallions. Two Cats hissed alongside a howling Wolf and a screeching Griffon. What drew a hiss from the witcher, however, was the twin to his own medallion, a Manticore.
Arek stroked a finger across the front of the snarling lion's face bracket by bat like wings, his expression inscrutable. "Are these authentic?" he asked. His voice grew emotionless.
"Aye, as far as I can tell." The merchant lowered her voice and said, "Can't really check to see if they shake in the presence of magic, not with witch hunters and the priests around every corner, here. But the man who sold them to me said they were."
There was one way to know for sure. Arek lowered his hand and carefully formed the sign so his movements were hidden by Micah and the merchant's truckle cart. He cast a very weak quen on himself, feeling his own medallion vibrate in response to the magical energy. One of the Cat medallions also vibrated along with the Manticore symbol. He picked up the two pendants and asked the price.
"I'll give you the whole lot for a hundred and fifty crowns." she said, her eyes narrowing as she settled in to haggle.
"I'll give you fifty for these two." He held them up in his palm.
The fat woman considered the deal. She could easily make more knock offs of the remaining Cat, Wolf and Griffon models and she had made a cast of the Manticore just last evening. Only a true witcher or a magic user would know the difference and the copies sold well to commoners. She smiled sincerely then said, "Seventy five crowns and they are yours, master witcher."
"Sixty-five." He countered, his eyes narrowing.
"You drive a hard bargain, sir, but I'm a woman of business." She produced a small velvet bag and Arek let her put the two pendants into it as he fished out his coin. "Is there anything else I can interest you in? A pretty necklace for your sweetheart, perhaps? Or a promise ring to grace her finger?" The old lady turned a sweet smile on Micah, thinking the woman needed some adornment to bring out her looks.
Micah shook her head and smiled at the lady. "I don't usually wear jewelry. I'm afraid it would be wasted on me." She laughed as she pulled Arek away from the stall. They walked toward Temple Isle slowly, and she finally broke the silence.
"Why did you buy the medallions?" She had a guess, but wanted to hear his explanation.
The big man sighed looking into the blue sky of early afternoon. "When a boy passes all the trials, he receives his medallion. It becomes part of him. A witcher never takes it off for very long." He looked at her significantly, "I've known a few who forsook the Path and abandoned theirs, but by and large, finding a medallion at a merchant's stall means the owner is dead. I don't like to see them hawked to the public like that. Feels too much like desecrating a grave."
Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "What will you do with them?"
In answer, he pulled the Manticore pendant from the jeweler's bag and placed it around her neck. "Always keep that with you. It'll tremble in the presence of magic or monsters, giving you a warning ahead of time." His touch grazed her as he placed the finely crafted medallion, a twin to his own talisman, around her slender throat and smoothed the silver chain in place with his fingers.
They walked on, climbing the path to the wide, covered bridge that connected the Temple complex to the rest of Novigrad. "I'll hold on to the Cat medallion until I find an appropriate place to bury it."
She nodded, "Where are we going?"
"Going to see if the place of power is still behind the Temple." He added with a small smirk, "You'll get a chance to feel the medallion work for yourself if it is."
He was quiet as they ambled on. If it weren't for the Eternal Fire Church and their pogroms and hatred, Micah thought she would really like it here. They arrived at the flat topped rocky outcropping the temple had been built upon. He led her around back to a standing stone with a hole about the size of her head piercing through the top. She felt her pendant shake on her breast and grasped it in her hand, a look of wonder crossing her face. Arek gave her a lopsided grin and knelt before the stone.
'Funny,' she thought, looking at the obelisk, 'The stone is warm, I can feel it reaching out toward me.' Micah placed her palm against the standing stone, feeling power surge into her body through her fingertips. With a gasp of shock, she swiftly stepped away, holding her fingers, inspecting them with a little fear. Arek looked at her, his brows drawn down in concern.
"What is it?" He asked, standing back up, taking her hand and soothing her with a caressing thumb.
"The stone. I can feel it ... feel it emanate. I touched it and it was like being an empty pitcher suddenly dipped into a cold spring and filled water."
"Magic users, sorcerers and the like, can channel power from these stones, let it course through them and direct it to their command." Arek said, then he rubbed his chin. "They can even store up the force within themselves to be used later. But witchers are the only ones I've ever known to actually describe the experience of touching the stones like that - being a pitcher dipped in water and filled up." He considered her from under furrowed brows. "You ever come across a place of power before?"
"No, never." She watched Arek stroke her fingers, desire spurring into her even as the echoes of the power throbbed under her flesh. Nipping at her lip, she asked, "How does it work for you?"
"I kneel close and draw the power into myself. For a while, it intensifies one sign or another that I cast, lets me put more force into it. This place of power best supports the aard sign."
He pulled her down with him as he knelt again, instructing her to quiet her mind and "reach" for the power. His left arm circled her waist and his right hand twined with hers as he laid it on the ground in front of the stone. She concentrated and felt the thrumming sparkle of energy flow into her, filling her with its essence.
"What do I do with this … magic? I've never felt anything quite like this." Arek still held her hand and had drawn power alongside her. He didn't quite know what to make of it. He himself had never touched standing stones prior to his trials. The obelisk under Kaer Mardyakor had been a closely guarded secret, only revealed once boys had passed all their tribulations and emerged as fully realized witchers.
"Let's get out of here. This isn't a discussion I wish to have so close to the Temple." He kept his voice low, looking about to see if they had been observed. He pulled her to her feet, twining his fingers with hers as they walked away quickly. They made their way well beyond the docks on the waterfront, to a secluded strip of land, protected from prying eyes.
Arek stood behind her, helping her make the sign for aard after setting up a target of driftwood, telling her to pull the power from within her and let it go on an exhale. She concentrated, feeling it gather. Forming the sign as she exhaled, she "pushed" and felt force flow from her hand, knocking the target over at five paces. She looked at Arek and grinned. "That's amazing! I've never had any aptitude for magic of any sort. They tested me at Oxenfurt – they tested everyone back then – and I didn't even jiggle their magic meter. How am I doing this?"
Arek palmed his chin in thought as he carefully considered his answer. "It's been said that anyone can learn the five signs, even common peasants. But it takes time to develop the stamina to actually implement them and most people won't ever be able to gather enough strength for them to be of any practical use." He looked down into her face, a warning note entering his voice, "Putting too much into a sign can tire even a witcher, and it could, potentially, kill you. We take this nice and slow as we figure out what your limits are."
The sun was beginning to set over the water as they set the driftwood back up and Micah tried again, putting more into the sign, quietly defying Arek's injunction toward caution. The tiny woman felt the power flux through her, draining what she had drawn earlier as she sent the pieces of wood flying twenty feet into the bay on a boom of force. She hit her knees, feeling the force drain rapidly from her body.
"Well. I see what you mean about being careful how much you put into it!" She was gasping as if she had just run a mile.
The witcher barked at her, fear twisting his usually impassive features into a snarling mask. "Dammit, I told you to be careful!" Arek wasn't impressed with her display, he was angry. He dragged her to her feet and shook her by the shoulders. "I told you not to put so much into it! You don't know what it would do to you if you aren't careful!"
"I wanted to see how strong I could make that." She huffed into his enraged glare. "Don't think I could do that without drawing from the stone again, though."
The witcher's fingers were digging into the Micah's soft shoulders and he realized he was beginning to hurt her. He softened his grip and pulled her toward him till he was looking straight down into her face, taking a deep breath to diffuse his temper. "We'll work on your signs on the way to Kovir. Do not, I repeat, do NOT put everything you've got into making them! Do you understand?" She nodded, then flashed her heart stopping smile. The little minx wasn't repentant at all and Arek groaned. He grasped her face between his palms, pressed his forehead to hers, lowering his voice to rumble at her, "Promise me, Micah. Promise me that you will heed me in this."
She laid her hands on his and tilted her head to the side. "I promise. I trust you to teach me how to know what's too much." She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips on those words, sending shocks of surprise and delight through him, then she spun away on a giddy laugh. "Come on, I'm hungry! You promised me sweet pies." She danced away from the hand he shot out to catch her.
"Minx!" He growled affectionately and chased after her in the dying light of the sun.
He bought two bubbling cherry pies at a stall and they gobbled them like children, grinning wickedly at each other under the stars as strains of music floated over the main square. Bonfires had been lit all over the city, allowing rich and poor alike to celebrate the last day of April according to the ancient traditions. Young people laughed and flowed around the square in an intricate chain dance, circling both the witcher and the woman in their revelry, sweeping them into their swirl of sensuality and life. Bards tuning up their instruments made the air shimmer with wisps of music and Arek tugged Micah to the dance floor where they joined couples already pairing up for a whirling country reel.
The witcher proved himself a very good dancer, leading her in a merry romp that had her gasping for breath at the end. She sparkled up at him, life lighting her eyes and his heart squeezed painfully as he was caught in her enthusiasm. Somehow, between two trilling spaces the notes of the lute left in its wake, his desire for her body matured into a consuming need for all of her. Arek felt if he didn't unite with her soon, he would burn to ash. He had never wanted a woman like this. Prostitutes and one night stands had always satisfied him in the past, but he knew they never would again. Once he immersed himself within her, she would forever be part of him. Hell, she already was.
The drums started up a new beat then, slow, like a witcher's heartbeat, and as the pipes and lutes took up the tune of life and love. Arek traced Micah's jaw with one hand and drew the woman back into a much slower dance. His eyes never left hers as they circled each other, barely touching their palms together. Turning in time to the drum beats, they switched hands and circled the other way. The flush on Micah's face made her glow. Arek swallowed, entrapped in her mysterious smile, feeling his heart thump in tempo with the song. As the music faded, he tugged Micah's hand, pulling her against his chest. Slowly, he threaded a hand into the hair whisping at her temple, angling her face up for a lingering kiss.
"We should get back to the Sturgeon and get some rest. We sail early." He purred, reluctantly drawing his lips away from the cherry flavored ambrosia of her mouth. Encircling her shoulders and folding her next to his heart, Arek led her away.
They returned to their room quickly. Arek striped out of his weapons and armor and stretched like a cat when he was in nothing but his leather britches. Micah slipped up behind him and traced the long scar she had stitched only three weeks ago.
"It's healed well." She murmured, her small hand lighting sparks under his skin as she circled around him to inspect his belly. "This one, too." She watched his abdominal muscles twitch and contract as she touched him. He looked expectant as Micah's fingertips skimmed up his chest, teasingly over his nipples, and her dusky lashes dipped over eyes heavy with desire. She pressed kisses into the scars over his chest and looked up at him, need evident in her gaze. Her lips were parted as she drew in panting breaths, small tremors shaking her as she pressed her small body into him.
Wordlessly, Arek wound her braid in his hand and let it slide through his fingers, tugging away the leather thong she used to tie it. He loosened the braid, spreading her soft, auburn waves around her shoulders then plunged his hands into the soft masses as her arms came around his neck. He angled her head up and kissed her, slow and hungry, reveling in her eager response. Taking his time undressing her, the witcher learned her curves, committing them to memory, and when they both stood naked before each other in the candlelight, he swept her slim body up and laid her down on the bed, joining her in the cocoon of blankets to love her thoroughly till they were both exhausted.
As he spooned her into his chest before they slept, he rumbled into her ear, "Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?"
"I honestly didn't think about it. Didn't expect it, you know?" She yawned, less concerned about the matter than he was. "I was married to my husband for forty years and bore him three children, after all." Micah snuggled into him and was asleep before he could ask another question.
Gulls danced in the air floating on updrafts and daring each other to wheeling aerobatics, out screaming each other with challenging taunts. Arek and Micah stood at the rail of the Fair Maiden of Trolde with wind ruffling their hair and caressing them with the promise of springtime. It was the first of May and the ice had broken enough in Praxada bay to allow ships to return to the far north. They watched as the coastline slip into the distance, the ship finding the deep currents that carried her on her way, and Micah felt completely at ease for the first time since leaving her home some six days ago.
"So, are you going to teach me the other signs?" she asked the witcher, giving him a sidelong glance.
He rolled his eyes, looking into the sparkling water flowing past the prow of the ship. "You aren't going to let me forget, are you?" He grumbled.
"No! I want to figure this out. I may never be able to use igni to do more than heat a cup of tea, but I intend to try." She shrugged, giving him a mischievous look. "You can teach me, or I can figure it out for myself."
"And likely start yourself on fire." He sighed, then grinned. "Ok, you convinced me. Just so you don't go burning the ship down around us when you blast igni too hard."
Laughing, she smacked his chest. "You aren't going to let me live that down, are you?"
He hauled her in for a quick kiss. "Never."
Arek split his days working with her on witcher signs and practicing sword drills. Micah proved to be a reasonably apt student and was able to cast a respectable quen shield on herself with only perfunctory instruction. Her igni, however, was another story. It was pathetic, indeed, just about strong enough to heat a cup of tea. Axii, and yrden seemed utterly beyond her at this point. Arek encouraged her and said she just needed to practice and she would gain mastery, then repeated his warning that she was not to overextend her stamina to cast.
After a late afternoon meal, she watched him practice his swordsmanship in just his breeches, enjoying the play of muscles rippling beneath his well built torso. His body, despite the many scars he bore, was one of savage beauty. In the evenings, they lay together in a single bunk, talking about their plans once they arrived in Lan Exiter. They would go ashore in Pont Vanis so Arek could complete his contract then they would ride on to the winter capital together.
Micah worked on a letter to send ahead to her friend at the University there. She hoped to have a warm greeting from him when they arrived, but her Oxenfurt years were nearly two decades behind her. If all went to plan, she would be able to spend the summer in research concerning witcher mutations and pinpoint where the various schools were located. The pair had agreed that keeping witcher mutations out of the hands of the Eternal Fire Church was a priority. Living in the city would give her time, as well, to fully peruse the journal, which she hadn't had a chance to read again since that night in Toderas. Arek would resume his Path and return to her in the fall, combing the north for contracts over the summer hunting season. There was always work for the Hengfors league, and in the Dragon and Kestrel mountains. Kaedwen was not too far afield either.
"It's witcher's life," he explained one night, "to always be on the move, plying my trade."
"Do you ever get tired of it and want to do something else?" She asked.
He just shrugged. "I wouldn't know what else to do. I don't know anything but this."
Thus their days were spent during the short sea voyage until they stood on the docks wharf side in Kovir's summer capitol. Micah had entrusted the captain with her letter after he assured her a runner from the temple of Lebioda made the trek twice a day between the two royal capitals. Reassured her arrival would not be a surprise, she followed Arek into the city where they secured a room at a merchant's inn.
They bespoke a light lunch and Arek left her to her own devices as he strode away to conclude his most recent job. Micah spent some time wandering through the market square where she enjoyed an amusing puppet theater and later decided to buy some linen dress lengths and a new sewing kit. She would need some simple clothes for the summer. A trip to the apothecary found her with sufficient materials to make up a simple first aid kit as well. Her shopping expedition was rounded out with a glass of hard cider being sold by a merchant from a local apple orchard, turning the last of the previous summer's crops into coin.
Arek arrived at the merchant inn just as Mica strolled up. The sun was setting over the sea to the west and a flock of starlings were settling themselves around in the trees twittered and chirped goodnight to each other. The witcher and his woman enjoyed a heavenly platter of roast mutton and potatoes, cold ale and fresh bread, speaking easily together of their day.
"Tell me about your friend," Arek asked as they were sipping the last of their ale in the quiet warmth of the taproom.
"Dennas? Well, he and I started at Oxenfurt Academy together and had friends in common. He studied history under one of the foremost professors of the time, finishing his advanced degree when I was taking my master's exams for medicine. We kept in touch for a few years after I returned home and he accepted a post-doctoral position at the University in Lan Exiter." She propped her chin in her fist and finished her ale. "I'm honestly not even sure he's still here, but it's a place to start. Not sure what direction to go if he isn't."
The witcher scratched his beard. "If it comes to it, I'll take you with on the Path, but that's a hard road and you aren't trained to protect yourself. It would be much safer for you to stay put."
Micah didn't want to think about him leaving her. She knew his trade was a deadly one and she would worry till they were reunited. Until then, she intended to savor every moment with him. The little woman stood and held her hands out to him, moving to shelter in his arms as he rose to his feet.
"Take me to bed, witcher. You can tell me a story about one of your scars." She was a vixen, smiling at him wickedly and he decided the only honorable option he had was to do as the lady requested.
