The Witcher: The Emerald Dragon
By
Spyro 423
Chapter 10: Contract
Moonlit Hunt
HARRY
When Harry Potter had begun his training at the School of the Wolf, he had considered meditation to be fairly useless. After all, what good would staying still do for a beast hunter?
But, as time passed, he discovered that it was not without its benefits. It allowed him to become calm whenever he needed to, and this was as good as a time as any.
Harry and his witcher companion, Moire, had been waiting in an Elven outpost located in the Chiava peak of the Kestrel Mountains.
They had been there for some time then, whilst Viella, the mage who had brought Moire here, had gone out to placate the elves; Harry's entrance had caused quite a stir among them.
It was beneficial, in a way, allowing Harry a few minutes to scrutinize the offer she had put forth, no matter how vague it had been.
Whilst a free pass to and from the ranges had its obvious advantages, there were still a few patches about the whole ordeal that he found suspicious.
Moire obviously had a similar notion, but Harry noted she was much less concerned about it, appearing impatient and moody.
The tent doors flapped open, and a visibly flushed Viella stepped inside, tightening her luxurious cloak around her.
She was a highborn elf, as was obvious from her high cheekbones, deep eyes, and the ruby brooch in her blonde hair.
That persona was offset, however, by her wicked smile, and a pair of playful eyes. A dark blue dress, knee length and supple, contrasted dark grey stockings and black shoes gave her a certain richness Harry found interesting.
"Well, Liveriel isn't too happy." She grinned. "Your little fireworks display obviously didn't sit well with him, but," She did a little clap, "He's agreed to let you go for the greater good."
"Which you still haven't explained." Harry noted.
"Hah…" She sighed. "Well, I've only just stepped in, as you can see."
"Retorts aside," Moire sat up, "You really haven't told us anything."
"That's not true." She pouted. "I did tell you about the job when we met."
"You told me we were hunting something powerful. Enough to warrant two witchers. But, you don't know what it is, why it's attacking or why it has been silent until now." Moire paused. "Not a lot to go on."
"If we knew what it was, we wouldn't really need you, would we?" Viella wagged her finger. "Not very bright, are you?"
"Actually, I think she's dead on." Harry got up from the floor.
"Oh?"
"You're a mage. That's how you brought Moire here so quickly."
"Fairly obvious." She agreed.
"And Francesca Findabair is stronger than you, yes?"
"Lady Francesca." Viella nodded. "I fail to see you where you go with this."
"Then let me put it simply." Harry spoke. "Why do you, a group of elves including proficient rangers, hunters, and mages, led by one of the strongest sorceresses in the land, need our help?"
Harry noticed how Viella's smile widened a little. "Were Lady Francesca in the Valley, you would be right. We would not be having this conversation. However, as it stands, she happens to be away to Nilfgaard on official business, and thus, we need to improvise."
"Fair enough." Harry agreed. "Then tell me this. Why haven't you hired someone before?"
"The problem was not present before."
"This 'problem' of yours…" He continued, "It popped up around the same time the elves took the Kestrel Mountains, yes?"
"Ha!" Viella laughed. "You honestly think there's a connection between the two? We sent out scouts all the time. Granted, this is a bigger regiment…"
"This is not an ordinary scouting party." Harry added. "You can't expect us to believe this is a coincidence."
"I promise you, I have no idea what caused its sudden appearance." She added. "The Valley was never known for such things, even before Lady FIndabair took the mantle of ruler."
"All right." He paused. "Why hasn't Findabair done anything about it, then?"
"Lady Findabair." Viella corrected. "It's not that she hasn't tried to, but more that she cannot."
"Sorry?" Moire enquired, an eyebrow raised.
"It sounds a lie, I know, but Lady FIndabair has tried to understand what the trouble is." She paced the room, the smile replaced by a wary thoughtfulness. "It seems whatever spell she tries to cast is… waved aside by the beast, whatever it is."
"And Lady Findabair is no meagre magician, I can tell you that much." Viella bit a finger, trying to make sense of it herself as she spoke. "The creature, whatever it is, is strong. That is the simplest way I can put it."
"That's all well and good, but I don't see why I should be bothered."
"Hm." Viella raised her eyebrows. "I was under the impression witchers worked for coin."
"It so happens I'm not interested in coin at the moment." Harry stated.
"Perhaps I can offer you something else." He noted the smugness in her voice. "We can help find your mage friend."
Harry turned his gaze at Moire, who shrugged. "You were the one on about how it was important to find her."
He shook his head and turned to the elf. "Fine."
"No arguments?" She grinned. "No 'I can do it myself' quips?"
"No." He said simply. "It would be quicker if the scouts were on the search. Only, once you find her, you must not let anyone harm her, do you understand?"
"But of course."
"I mean it." Harry put as much ice in his voice as possible. "I apologize about what happened with your scouts, but if that affects their search for my friend in any way, we will have a problem. And that includes any 'accidents.'"
"Agreeable."
"If you cannot find her, that's fine. However, I will search these ranges myself then, and if I find even a wisp that she was here and something happened, I will hunt down every elf here, regardless of their claims."
"Less agreeable, but fine." She grimaced. "I sincerely hope it does not come to that."
"So do I. Now that we've got that sorted, let's leave."
"Straight to business." She smiled, clapping her hands. "Excellent. We leave at dawn."
As the portal opened up, revealing the land of Dol Blathana, the Valley of Flowers, Harry felt his stomach twist and turn.
"Is this how portals are all the time?" He asked, nauseous and sick. 'If it is, you've got my weakness.'
"It should only be for your first time." Viella quipped. "Emphasis on should."
As they walked through the Valley, the light of dawn sweeping over the land, Harry could not help but marvel at its breath-taking beauty.
The sun rose over the looming ranges of the Dragon Mountains, casting shafts of gold onto the earth.
It illuminated the huts and the buildings, the streams and the trees, and most of all, it illuminated the flowers.
Flora of all kind, Harry could see. Ones that he could and could not name. The colours, however, were a different matter.
Red, Blue, White, Gold, Pink, Purple, Orange, and so, so many more. It was a wondrous sight to behold, but Harry noted a singular oddity in the picture perfect landscape.
"Where are all the people?" Moire voiced his thoughts, clearly finding the problem.
"In their homes." Viella replied, briskly walking forward in the chill. "As an extra precaution, we have asked folk not to step out of their homes until well through the day."
"Extra?" Harry asked, tightening his own cloak as he kept pace with the elf.
"Mm." She nodded. "Salt lines outside their doors, windows, and fireplaces. As few sources of light as possible, Cattle kept well away from the family. Everything we could think of, we have done."
"And?" Moire looked over the surroundings as she walked. "How's that working out?"
"Not very well." Viella admitted, grimacing. "I do not know how it does it, but somehow or the other, the beast gets around the salt lines."
"Interesting." Harry noted. "If nothing else, that narrows down our list."
"How so?" She asked curiously.
"A monster not stopped by a salt circle has a degree of intelligence. Most are higher vampires that can mimic human appearance and speech." He paused. "What about the victims?"
"We couldn't find any connections between them ourselves, but you're welcome to ask around the Valley." Viella sighed. "And I do mean the entirety of the Valley."
"I guess that rules out vampires." Moire added. "That is not good."
"How is that not good?"
It was Harry that replied. "Because if it's not a vampire, then it's something…" He wanted to find the right word. "Stronger."
They walked in silence for a few minutes after that. In this time, the two witchers surveyed the surrounding woods, shrouded in an ominous mist that both contrasted and brought out the dawn light.
"We need an inn." Moire spoke up abruptly, and Harry thought that she seemed a little uncomfortable. "Somewhere to stay and plan." She added hastily.
"You'll be staying with me." Viella said, guiding them along the branching roads of the town. "The Lady Findabair has asked me to help you however best I can."
"Good." Harry spoke. "We need to meet with the town garrison captains, the alchemist, and the elder."
"Easy enough to arrange."
"We also need certain tomes, and we need to search the area where the bodies were found."
"That… might be difficult, mainly because none have been found."
"What?"
"You heard me." She grimaced. "I don't know where it takes them, but of all the people gone missing, we have not found a single one."
"How many?"
"Around forty or forty five."
Both Harry and Moire were dumbstruck as the figures were revealed. "Forty?" Harry echoed. "How long has this thing been killing?"
"We do not know." Viella admitted. "The first five or so reports were treated as though the people went missing. Then the guard captains began to see that the counts were going up.
At first, we thought it was a killer-no matter how odd that seemed- but then… then it just kept going on and on and on. Everything we tried, everything Lady Francesca tried, was failing and we started to panic.
When she got called away, the entire Valley was sent into fear. It is all we can do to keep the people calm and collected. All entry to the woods have been banned, but the people… the people still go missing."
"Hmm." Harry took in the information he was given, trying to come with a basic idea on where he stood on the hunt. Very few monsters could achieve this, and even less when faced with this particular group of elves.
"What about the scouts you sent out?" Moire asked, and Harry was glad she brought it up.
"Same as the villagers." was the reply. "Except, we actually found a survivor this time. She's in the infirmary. We have not met with her yet."
"Well, it's a start." Moire stated, sighing. Harry thought he sensed an ache in her sound. "For now, let's go to our quarters."
Viella's home was large and comfortable, a two storey building full with cosy furniture and warm interiors.
Whatever chill Harry had felt outside was quickly remedied by the various fireplaces and lights in the house.
"You really like your heat." He noted as the warmth made him all sweaty, as he walked among all the stacks of books and parchments and scrolls.
"I am not from Dol Blathana." She smiled as she took off her cloak. "All this 'pleasantly cool' talk does not sit well with me."
"Where are our rooms?" Moire asked hastily. The way she was acting, Harry couldn't help but think something was up with her.
"To the top." Viella replied. "Go up the stairs and to the right. Take whichever one you like."
"Thank you." She said as she rushed up the stairs. Harry quickly followed after her.
"Hey." He said as he caught her at the top. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." But Harry could sense a certain breathlessness in her. "Why do you ask?"
"You seem a little on edge, that's all."
"I'm just… tired. It's been a long day."
"All right." Though he still was not convinced, Harry decided he would prod her for answers later. "Who do you want to talk to?"
"What?"
"For the contract."
"Oh. Right. Um… I suppose I'll go talk to the survivor." Harry noted there was a pause. "But I would appreciate it if you could look into the others."
"Mm." He nodded, turning toward his own room. He paused at his door, wondering if he should have inquired more, but decided against it. With a glance toward her, Harry opened the door.
He had to admit, the elf had taste. The room was large and spacious, a window facing the ranges, with dim light lazing in.
The wooden floor was covered with a furry, warm carpet with intricately woven floral designs in red and gold.
A wardrobe lined the wall, alongside a cupboard, both ornate and luxurious. The bed itself was gigantic, draped in silky supple linens seemingly so comfortable they were inviting.
And tucked away neatly in a corner was "a fireplace." Harry had to smirk. 'The woman loves her warmth.' But still, the feeling was comfortable and familiar. The red and gold, the cosy drapery, the warm fireplace.
For the first time in days, Harry felt content fill his heart as he remembered the common room back in his time. He reached into his backpack, pulling out the xenovox.
It was still as quiet as it had been before, even when he tried channelling his magic into the device. With a sigh, he tucked the box back in.
As much as he disliked the idea, the elves stood a much better chance of finding Hermione in the ranges than he did alone. But as soon as he was done with this contract, he would venture out himself.
As for said contract, Harry had tried to come up with ideas on what could terrorize a village so much. Other than the higher vampires or elder monsters, nothing could threaten them, especially not with the Daisy here.
Harry had no clue on politics, but he knew of the Lodge and the elf's involvement in the coven. For her spells to be repelled, the creature had to be incredibly adept at the arcane arts.
With nothing else to do, Harry decided to get some rest to prepare for his little 'meetings' later on.
It was past noon when he awoke from his nap, all sweaty and wet. "What in hell?" He muttered as the sweat ran down his face.
With an angry grumble, he got up and walked toward the door. Sparing a glance to see he had not forgotten anything of import, Harry made his way downstairs.
Viella was already busy with her work, reading through various tomes and scribbling down notes here and there.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he tried to glimpse her work.
"Oh, a little bit of this." She replied, not bothering to hide anything. "And a little bit of that."
"Mm." A little annoyed at not being able to understand anything, Harry decided he had best begin. "About the contract…"
"Yes?" She straightened up on her knees, looking up. "What about it?"
"Where will I find the garrison and the elder?"
"The garrison you can't miss. It's one of the biggest buildings here. Step out, go east for a few minutes, and you should come upon a fork. North from there for a few more steps and that's it. Tell them I sent you and they should let you in without any hassle."
"Your name carries a lot of weight, I assume?"
"Well," She grinned, brushing her hair back. "Any brothel here will give you a free session if you mention me."
"Not what I was expecting, but hey…"
Viella chuckled. "I'm a member of the mage corps of the Valley. Does that clear anything up?"
"Not a lot, but it's a start."
"Depends on how far you want to take it." She said with a twinkle in her eye.
"Hmm."
"But not right now." She pointed to her notes. "I happen to be busy, as you can see."
"I had not noticed." Harry replied lazily. "Did Moire leave already?"
"No, actually." Viella wrinkled her nose as a dust cloud engulfed her face. "I assume she's still weary."
"Then I'll be leaving."
"Of course." She wiped her face on her sleeve. Harry watched as she sneezed into it, wondering if all the things he had heard about elven grace was wrong. Shaking his head, he walked toward the door.
"Oh, wait." Harry paused as Viella looked at him with wide, reddened eyes. "The elder you'll find in the inn. It's impossible to miss."
"Thanks for the reminder."
"You're welcome." She called out as Harry walked toward the door. "Come back soon."
As he stepped out into the sunshine, he could see that the Valley was indeed an incredibly beautiful place to live in. Except nobody seemed to be trying to.
The roads were deserted, except for a few stragglers wandering here and there, Harry included. The ambient silence was more eerie than serene, as though everybody had suddenly up and disappeared.
Looking around, Harry could see all the quaint homes and buildings on the side of the roads. Dol Blathana, it seemed, was never destined to be a town.
Small moss and shrubbery grew in patches over the walls, giving the entire place an earthy feel. Or at least, Harry assumed that was what is was like when it did not feel abandoned.
Harry could feel the unease in the air as he reached the fork. Of course, he could also sense part of it was seeing a witcher there, serving as confirmation that the Daisy needed outside help.
He kept walking, his witcher eyes scanning the surroundings for the inhabitants. He could see some, hiding inside their homes; children trying to play while their parents hushed them, people arguing about some things or the other, fear on their faces.
Viella was not exaggerating, Harry could see. The garrison, whilst perhaps not as large as some in human towns, was relatively big compared to everything else in the valley.
The coat-of-arms of the Valley was adorned with a gilded rose on top of the door to the building. Even when down-to-earth, the elves loved exquisiteness.
"Halt, hunter." The guard at the front raised a hand as Harry approached. While he did not seem that threatening, Harry was sure an archer was somewhere nearby.
"VIella sent me." He stated plainly. "I'm here to talk to the captain."
"What if he doesn't want to talk?" The elf asked tensely.
'Great.' Harry thought. 'Either news travels fast or elves hate everyone.'
"Then your people will just keep on dying. And then you can explain that to Viella."
"Pass." The elf moved aside, and Harry moved past him.
The interior of the garrison was much more similar to regular human ones, in that an entire arsenal was packed into it.
Pale blue cutlasses, ornate long and short bows, caches of arrows and spare leather jerkins and polished steel armour were kept stored in various cupboards and racks.
'No spears, axes or great swords.' Harry noted. 'Elves and finesse.'
"What do you want?" An elf who was obviously the captain was walking toward him, his expression stern. Then he spied the twin swords on Harry's back.
"Ah." He raised his chin. "So she did hire the witchers. Good." He walked briskly toward Harry, offering a hand. "I am Nivarin, captain of the guard of Dol Blathana."
"Harry. Witcher." He shook the captain's hand, noticing his firm grip. "Pleasure."
"I fear we have no time for pleasantries. It seems another family has gone missing."
"Last night?" He asked, following the captain toward the door.
"We do not know. It could have been before that, it might just have been that no one noticed."
"Mm. The town is in disarray." Harry stated.
"Do not judge us, witcher." Nivarin nodded at the guard in the doorway, motioning him to follow. Harry was sure someone else would fill in as soon as they left. "This is not the true image of the Valley."
The house was only a few minutes away, and was much like all the other houses Harry had come across in the valley. The exterior was simple and plain, a peasant abode.
But the interior was a whole other story. Harry was surprised at how spacious and well-kept the house was, with all its beautiful furniture and linens.
"The people are not ones for luxury." Nivarin said, noting Harry's reaction.
'Could have fooled me.' He thought as he looked at the captain. He was dressed similar to the elves he had fought in the ranges, though the colours were different.
His overcoat was a deep forest green, expertly designed to accommodate the various buckles and knots that held the armour tight. A finely gilded rose was emblazoned on his chest.
A dagger was sheathed across his back, throwing knives on his front. His blade was a pale blue cutlass, the standard weapon for the elven guard, it seemed. Only, this blade had an intricately woven guard, which Harry assumed to be a statement of position.
Deciding he had best get to work, Harry went about examining the house. He glanced toward the entry door, and he could pick out traces of a white powder.
'Salt lines.' Harry thought. 'So the creature did break it.'
The living room was almost untouched. No furniture was toppled, no marks on the walls or the floors, and nothing was torn apart.
"How do the other homes look?" Harry voiced a query. "Assuming someone was taken from their homes."
"Almost exactly like this." The captain replied as Harry walked toward the bedrooms. "We had scoured every inch of all homes where families have gone missing. And in all instances, we have turned up nothing."
The bedroom was a similar story for the most part. The sheets were rather tousled, he noted, but thought that could very well have been the inhabitants themselves.
"Does the creature attack often?" Harry asked as he took a closer look at the floor.
"Not in the beginning, it did not." Nivarin was conducting his own search, much like his subordinate. "But the incidents seem to be escalating."
"What about the people? Do they all go missing? Has no one sighted the thing at all?" The floorboards were a little loose, Harry noted. 'A heavy tread?'
"It picks people off in the dead of night. Stragglers at first, families after that. When people go missing, they are taken in complete secrecy. The only way we know someone is taken is if their family reports it, someone checks on them, or we find their corpses in the woods."
'There's nothing to find here.' Harry decided. "Whatever the creature is, it's thorough."
"I agree." Nivarin called from the other side. "These many cases, and we have yet to find a clue."
'Maybe you just didn't know it.' Harry thought. "We're done here."
"You could not find anything?"
"No. There's no point in standing around here."
"Is that so?" Nivarin sighed. "It is a shame, I must say. To lose the village elder at a time like this…"
"The elder?" Harry echoed in surprise. 'No.'
"Yes. The elf here and his family."
Harry sighed, exasperated. 'If anything, this makes for a short trip.'
MOIRE
Every step ached slightly as Moire made her way towards the infirmary. The pain had subsided once she had taken the potion at Viella's, but that did not stop her head from spinning.
She had slept far longer than she had intended to, and once she had gotten up and taken another dose of the potion, she found out that Harry had already gone out to enquire about the monster they were hunting.
It was evening now, and Moire wanted to get to the infirmary before close, if for nothing else, to have something to show Harry when he got back. The last thing she wanted to be was dead weight when even Viella was trying to scrounge up something of help.
She was sure Harry would not have minded had she told him the truth about how she was doing; she could see he suspected something. But from Viella's descriptions about the contract, she felt Harry could be severely outclassed, even with his prowess.
She noted how eerily calm the roads had gotten now that the light was slowly fading away. She could not see a single person anywhere –in any field, shop, or home.
The only sounds she could pick out were a few creaks or whimpering in the houses, and a slow breeze travelling though the Valley, beneath the rosy sky. In the distance, she could see the building Viella had described, casting a long shadow.
The infirmary, once she saw it up close, was quite wide and seemed spacious. Even from this distance, Moire somehow felt an air of desolation oozing from the establishment. What she saw after entering it did not lessen the feeling.
Save for an elf or two walking down the hallways, lighting lamps in intervals as they went, the building seemed deserted. It was so quiet she could hear the floorboards take her weight or the wind caressing the windows.
"Excuse me." She called out to one of the elves. Once they turned around and saw her, their faces immediately darkened. Moire did not let it get to her. She knew what the elves outside suffered at the hands of the dh'oinne. More than that, she understood why it warped their perception of all humans. She understood it very, very well.
"What do you want?" One of them asked gruffly, whilst the other eyed her warily.
"I was sent by Viella." She answered, walking into the light, so it would catch her eyes. "I need to speak with the elf who survived the attack."
Once they saw her eyes, they knew who she was. "Right." He replied. "Lirael, show her the way."
The elven girl stared daggers at the other before turning around and walking back. Moire took it as a sign to follow her.
Their short walk was awkward, to say the least. Moire could not think of anything to ask or say to the girl after the cold treatment she had got, and she herself was in no mood to chat.
Eventually, she stopped in front of a room, and motioned with her head for Moire to go in. For some reason, it irked Moire: that this girl was not even being the least bit polite to her, her who had come to help them.
And so, she stood her ground, playing the fool. The elf motioned again, but Moire stayed rooted to the spot. Eventually, she gave. "The survivor is in here." She said. "Please do not strain her."
"Thank you." Moire replied coldly as she walked inside. She faltered a bit when she saw the scout.
Her torso was mangled, covered in large, deep claw marks. More than that, it seemed… 'Crushed.' She thought in disbelief. 'Her body's been rammed by something. Something large.'
"Bring whoever is in charge." Moire ordered the elven girl. "I need to know the state of her injuries."
The girl left lazily, but Moire was too busy analysing the victim to care. Her right leg was held up in a cast, obviously broken, much like her left arm. The other arm was barely better, resting against her chest.
Each breath seemed heavy, seemingly the result of the forceful trauma she had suffered. Her face was bruised and battered, 'but not from being attacked there.' Moire deduced. 'She was thrown, perhaps?'
The scout seemed to be sleeping, but Moire had to wake her up if she wanted to know about the attack. It occurred to her then, she did not know the scout's name.
Moire slowly touched her good arm, giving her a gentle, yet firm tap. "Hello?" She whispered as the girl turned in her sleep, moaning slightly.
"Excuse me." She said, slightly louder. "Girl?"
"Hmmm." The scout moaned.
'It's a start.' Moire thought as she tapped her again, a bit more forcefully. Slowly, very slowly, the girl opened her eyes. They were unfocused and heavy, but she moved them around, eventually resting on Moire.
In that moment, Moire felt her stomach lighten. Seeing her, so beaten and defeated, gave her a sudden sense of how fragile this girl was.
Through the arm she was holding, Moire could feel each pulse, each breath the girl took, and how arduous it was for her to do so. And in that moment, Moire did not know what to say.
"Hmmm?" The girl moaned slowly. Moire could not speak. As the sleep slowly left the girl, she whispered-in the sound of one on their deathbed- slowly. "Can I help you?"
"I…" Moire stumbled. "That is… I would…uh…"
"She wants to know about the attack on you, child." A gentle, motherly voice helped Moire voice her thoughts, and she clumsily said "Yes."
A she-elf, seemingly old-though one could never tell by how much- walked into the room, taking a seat next to Moire and the girl. "This is Lilea." She introduced the bedridden victim, "And I am Torivel."
"Moire." She replied. "I assume you are the person who takes care of her?"
"Yes." Torivel nodded. "And whoever else happens to visit." She gazed at Moire. "But enough about me. I am certain you have questions for Lilea." Turning to Lilea, she whispered gently. "Go on, child. Tell the huntress what you told us."
"Huntress." Lilea echoed, looking at Moire again. "I see."
Moire leaned in closer, focusing on what she was about to say.
"The Lady Francesca." She started, feebly. "She wanted us to investigate the woods. Try to find what was kidnapping and murdering the people." She paused, catching her breath.
Moire could see that the ordeal was strenuous for the girl, but she needed answers. "Go on."
"So, I, in a group of sixteen of our best set out." She paused again, shaping a fist with her good arm. "The best trackers, hunters, archers, and warriors we could get."
"And?" Moire nudged.
"It was going all right in the beginning. We were making good ground. It was midday, and no one thought the monster would attack then. So we started to split up, covering more area." She paused again, her eyes reddening. "I could still see a couple of the others. We left in pairs, but then… but then… Then I heard the screaming."
When Lilea's voice broke, Moire could tell she was reliving the memory. She continued, slowly. "We rushed toward the sound, only to find nothing. We wondered if it was a trap, and then we were blind."
"What?" Moire asked, wrinkling her eyebrows. "Blind?"
"Yes." Lilea replied. "We were shrouded in darkness. Darkness all around. But I could still hear them. I could hear them getting dragged off or beaten to death."
"Darkness?" Moire echoed.
"Mm." Lilea confirmed. "I could still hear them. I could hear their bones break and their insides tear. I heard it all." Tears made their way down to her chest as she continued. "I tried. I turned and turned, slashing my sword this way and that, hitting nothing but air. The darkness… The darkness was the only thing I knew. And in that darkness… I saw it."
"The eye." Moire said, her face hard.
"Yes." Lilea confirmed. "I saw the eye. Red and terrifying. It would not go away. I tried slashing it too. But to no avail. And then, it grabbed me."
"It threw you?" Moire asked, and Lilea nodded, slowly.
"It almost crushed all the bones in my arm. I hit a tree, and while I was trying to get up, it hit me." She shivered slightly. 'Fear.' Moire noticed. "I've never felt so much force. It grabbed my leg, and bashed me against the ground."
"How did you make it away?"
"I do not know. Before it could finish me off, someone hit it. The darkness did not go away, but it changed targets. I crawled away, as fast as my arm and power would allow."
"And you made it out?" Moire could not believe the story. If what attacked her was what she thought it was, then Lilea being alive had to be a miracle.
"No." She replied. "I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was here, in this bed."
"I see." Moire said. And she did. She was relatively certain what was attacking the villagers now. "Rest, now, Lilea. I promise you, we will kill this thing for you."
Moire got up, said a few words of consolation, and stepped out the room, followed by Torivel. "You know what attacked her, witcheress?" She asked.
"I have a few notions, yes." Moire replied. "Tell me, how are her injuries?"
"Almost fatal." She replied calmly. "Her ribs are crushed, as are parts of her backbone. Her left arm is shattered, and her right leg is in no better shape. Some internal organs have suffered bleeding, and the bones in her face are broken. Altogether, it is a miracle she is still alive."
"Give her my best." Moire said. "If you will excuse me…"
"What will you do?" Torivel asked.
"I'll try to track the creature down, and try to kill yet." Moire replied. "Prevent more murders."
"I see." Torivel nodded. "I wish you the best of luck, huntress. By the Old God and the New Ones."
Harry was deep in discussion with Viella when Moire returned to the house. The mage was still stuck in her tomes, arguing with Harry about something, perhaps the monster they were hunting.
She was still in the attire she was since last night. It seemed to Moire she had not moved from the spot she had seen her since she had awoken.
Harry was pacing around the room, in a simple white shirt and grey pants, his witcher medallion showing against his chest where the shirt was unbuttoned.
Moire closed the door behind her, catching their attention. "Moire." Harry greeted. "How are you doing?"
"What kind of question is that?" Moire smiled. She was not doing well, truth be told, but she did not want or need Harry to worry.
"Did you find something?" Viella asked, her eyes droopy.
'She must be tired.' Moire thought, guessing she had not gotten the naps the other two had. "Now that's what you need to be asking."
Harry looked a little miffed, but Moire would say something later, if need arose. "Did you?" He asked.
"Indeed." She walked toward the stairs. "Just give me a few minutes."
She could feel Harry's eyes upon her as she made her way up to her room. Once inside, she locked the door, quickly reaching for her backpack.
Rummaging through the contents hastily, she glimpsed the potion she had prepared, removing the stopper and downing it in a few gulps.
'There.' She panted, trying to catch her breath as the potion turned her insides to fire. 'That should hold me for a few hours.'
She plopped down on the bed, letting the potion work its magic on her body, briefly wondering about the creature they were possibly up against.
HARRY
Moire looked better when she came down than when she went up. She was still pale, but not as much as she had been before. Harry eyed her carefully for any signs of ailments, but found nothing.
He sat down next to Viella, as Moire took the spot opposite to him. Seated around the table, they began to form their hypotheses.
"Nobody knows anything at the garrison." Harry began. "I took a look at a family's home who went missing. Nothing."
"Nothing?" Moire echoed.
Harry nodded. "That was the village elder's home, by the way. Well, was, anyway."
"He was a good elf." Viella said. "You did not find out anything about the bodies, I assume."
"Right." Harry agreed. "Other than that survivor Moire went to, no bodies have been found. So that trip ended fairly quickly." He sighed. "What do you have, Moire?"
"A lot." She replied. "She's near death, suffering from some particularly crushing blows."
"Something huge?" Viella asked.
"Very much so." Moire said plainly. "That's not the worst part, either."
"Joy." Harry sighed. "What is it?"
"The scout." Moire started. "She said when the attack began, the entire group was shrouded in darkness."
"No." Harry sat up straight. "It can't be."
"And all she saw..." She said grimly, "Was a single, blood red eye."
"Of all things to find…" Harry crossed his arms. "We find a fiend."
"Fiend?" Viella asked, glancing at both witchers in turn. "I have not read about them."
"For good reason." Harry said. "They're not the most popular of all monsters."
"What he means is they are very, very rare." Moire clarified. "And thus, is also incredibly difficult to hunt, let alone kill."
"But how?" There were still things that made no sense to Harry. "Why would a fiend possibly be hunting humans? They stay away when they can, don't they?"
"I suppose that's true." Moire bit her lip.
"The home I went to…" Harry paused, "I couldn't find a single clue as to what it was that took the family. If it were a fiend, don't you think I would have found some sort of fur or prints, or anything?"
"I suppose." She agreed, hesitantly. "What about outside the house?"
"Same story." Harry replied. "The ground was all stirred up, but I did not give it too much thought. Looking back on it, I suppose it was trying to hide its tracks. But that makes no sense either. Fiend aren't known to be so… careful, to put it lightly."
"If we're dealing with a fiend." He continued, "And given what you've told us," He pointed to Viella. "I'm surprised the house, and the town, to be honest, are still standing."
"Why, thank you." Was the mage's sarcastic reply.
"There's still the matter of the creature resisting Findabair's spells. Fiends have superb magical resistance, but to hide for so long from someone like her, it makes no sense."
"Lady Findabair." Viella corrected. "I keep telling you."
"But the eye." Moire countered. "She was not lying. If she saw the eye whilst surrounded by darkness, then that does mean a fiend, doesn't it?"
"Yes." Harry was perplexed. "And that's what strikes me as odd."
"Do you have any guesses, Harry?"
"No." He said, simply. "I'm not sure." He looked up at the girls. "What I would say, is we prepare for the fiend, and maybe take a look at the woods."
"I suppose that's a start." Viella agreed.
"It is." Harry looked at her. "But you're not coming."
"Sorry?"
"I really don't want to be looking out for my client in a fight, and especially not in one with a fiend."
"I can take care of myself, thank you." She replied hotly.
"Oh, I'm not going to stop you." Harry said. "Just giving you a bit of warning. If the fiend does attack, don't expect me to put myself between you two."
"Same here." Moire agreed.
"Some witchers you are." Viella pouted.
"You would just weigh us down." Moire replied. "I really am sorry, but it would be best if you wait here, Viella."
"Fine." She said, clenching her lips.
Harry shrugged, and turned to Moire. "I've got Dog Tallow and Mistletoe, so I'll start on the oil. Bombs would probably be useless, but we'll take a few Samums."
"What? Is that it?" Viella snorted. "I thought there would be more preparation from the 'witchers.'"
"This is pretty much all we can do." Harry replied, in no mood for jests. "I'll be happy if we can drive the thing off, at the very least."
"This is a big hunt." Moire stated. "Are you sure we shouldn't get someone else from the School?"
"What for?" Harry asked. "It'd just be a waste of time. Not to mention, we have no clue how many witchers, experienced witchers, are still there." He paused a while, reminded of the bruxa. "No. We do this ourselves."
"All right then." Moire shrugged. "I'll go start on the bombs."
"And I'll just go do nothing because that's apparently my job." Viella angrily quipped.
"So." Moire started, as they stood at the edge of the woods. "Shall we?"
Harry surveyed the scene. If he had thought the woods were mysterious from a distance, they were downright ominous up close.
It did not help that it was night time now, the moon light washing over the trees. Shafts of pale white made its way through the branches, expanding through the misty air before reaching the ground.
Shadows danced across the scene, in perfect rhythm with the wind that rustled the leaves. 'A fiend.' Harry thought. Something simply did not add up; what it was, he did not know. 'A fiend can't possibly be doing all this.'
But he shook the feeling off. They were here. Now. This was neither the time nor place for second guessing anything. "Let's go."
As the two witchers walked through the woods slowly, their steps no more than leaves hitting the ground, they strained all their senses to their limits.
Sight was least of use, as the mist and the trees made it difficult to see past a certain distance in front of them. 'But something like the fiend would be hard to miss.' He thought. 'Especially if it was attacking.'
He could hear movements all around him, some a few paces away, others off in the mist. Some of them were creatures, yet none of them large enough to be warranted a fiend.
"Harry." Moire whispered. "Have you noticed?"
"Noticed what?" He asked. Had he missed something? Was the fiend already on the prowl?
"It…" She began, but bit her lip. "I don't know."
"Sorry?"
"It just… it feels too calm."
And then Harry understood. Moire was right. It did feel too calm. As much as he strained, he could not hear any monster. No monster.
"Right." Harry agreed, a lot more wary. 'Why?' He asked himself. 'Fiends don't have this effect. Not when we haven't even gotten close to it.'
"Moire?"
"Yes?"
"Are we sure we're hunting a fiend?"
"It's either that or a chort."
"Yes, but still…"
"Look." The anger in her tone surprised him. "I told you what I know, all right. The girl said she was covered by darkness, save for a burning eye. Now unless you have some other big idea as to what it could be…"
"I didn't mean anything by it." Harry clarified, though he clearly noticed she was on edge. What surprised him was how quick she was to calm down.
"You're right." She said, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I should not have jumped at you."
"Damn right." He said calmly. "What's been going on with you lately?"
"Look, I said sorry, didn't I?" She replied, anger rising again.
"Yes, you did." He replied, noting how odd it was for a non-magical human witcher to show such mood swings. "However, out here, right now, I'm trusting a part of myself to you. More than just friends, more than just colleagues, what you do in this hunt could very well define life and death for me." He turned to gaze at her. "And I need to know if you're up to the task."
"What are you saying?" She asked, her face flushed.
"I'm saying you haven't been in the best of shape lately." He replied, slowly, keeping his pace and awareness of the surroundings. "Pale, out of breath, and always in a rush. That's not the you I know."
"So what?" She flared. "Why do you want to know?"
"So I know how much I can count on you right now."
"Ha!"
"And so that I can help you if you need it."
"I…" She paused. "It's not your concern, Harry." It appeared to Harry it was, but he kept quiet. "I'm sorry if I seem a bit off, but I assure you, I am more than capable of having your back. So… So just… Just trust me on this one."
"Mm." Harry agreed. "Fine."
"Thank you."
They walked on in silence after that, still no hint of a monster of any kind in the vicinity, although Harry expected it would only be a matter of time until the beast showed itself, or they happened upon it.
As they went deeper and deeper into the woods, finding nothing as they advanced, Harry started to feel the slightest hint of boredom.
The feeling only increased as they kept going further in, still finding nothing. "Perhaps we should split up?" Moire voiced.
"No." Harry replied, steely. "We don't want to fight this thing one-on-one. Not yet."
And so they kept walking, on and on and on, reaching no end in sight. Harry never let his guard down, though he was genuinely considering calling it a day and going back home. And then he heard it.
He halted for Moire to stop and motioned her to listen. Something was scurrying around in the dark. Certainly not the fiend, it was much too small for that. But as Harry kept listening, he noticed there was more than a single source.
'It's surrounding us.' He realized, as the sounds just kept getting faster, coming from all directions. Instantly, Harry and Moire moved into position, their backs to each other, each covering the other's blind spots.
'Where?' Harry thought as his eyes darted through the openings in the trees. 'Where are you?' And then, it howled. The sound tore through the night air, long, deep, and chilly to the bone, resonating in his ears.
"A wolf?" Moire voiced in surprise.
"Not one." Harry replied as another took up the howl. Then another. And another. All around, the wolves sang their terrible, ominous melody, resonating in a bone chillingly horrible howl that made even Harry's hairs stand on end. It seemed as though the ground itself was shaking.
He calmed himself down. 'They're just wolves.' He reasoned. 'They can't hurt you.' As his eyes kept scanning the area, he thought he saw a branch move. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they were not branches. They were a pair of antlers.
"NO!" Harry yelled as the darkness engulfed them. He turned desperately, trying to make sense of where he was. But anywhere he turned, he could only see one thing. A single, burning eye.
"Quen!" Harry yelled, as he cast the Sign, hoping Moire would do the same. His shield expanded, and Harry held it in place, motionless. He did not know if Moire's Sign was Intense enough to achieve it, so he did what he thought he had to.
The fire burst from his arms as he cast Igni. He maintained the stream, aiming it toward the eye, in the dual hopes that it would hurt the fiend and draw it off Moire. He was not sure whether he should have been happy that his plan worked when his shield was rammed.
Harry was forced to take a step back as the raw force of the blow struck the Quen. The fiend kept pounding away at the shield, but Harry held it in place with gritted teeth.
"Moire!" He called out. "Throw a Samum at my voice!" His shield would hold, and if the fiend backed off, they could regroup and attack. But the bomb never came.
'Great.' Thought Harry as shield kept getting battered. 'Where are you?' He wondered. 'Why don't you answer? Unless… No. You can't be. You can't be dead.'
His shield would not hold any longer, not against this much force. Harry decided to take a risk, releasing the Quen, and immediately casting Igni at the eye.
Harry rolled to the side quickly as the fiend shrugged the fire off and rammed him. He escaped by a hair, landing on his feet and casting a more controlled Quen.
It was weaker than the full on shield, but did not restrict his movement. Harry back stepped from the eye, then leapt to the sides, trying to avoid attacks he could not see.
'If I stop, I'm a dead man.' Harry thought as he continued circling the eye in quick hops and leaps. He could not tell if the fiend was motionless or swiping at him, but he did not want to take a risk. But then again, he could not keep dodging forever, either.
'I need it to charge at me.' Harry thought. He continued his chain of steps, but stopped amidst one and shot a blast of fire at the eye. He waited a moment before leaping again, repeating the manoeuvre.
Harry could hear the trees getting struck by the beast, the branches breaking as it tried to swat him, and there were moments when he crashed into a tree, unable to see. But with each step, Harry was starting to gain a sense of the battlefield, and with each step, he felt he was doing better.
Slowly taunting the fiend, Harry continued this dance until the beast finally lunged, which was what he was waiting for. He rolled to the side, planting his feet into the ground, and using the force to lunge at the eye, bringing his sword over his shoulder and down in a furious slash.
The silver, coupled with the Relict Oil burned the skin of the fiend, as he could hear by its angry roar, and Harry felt a massive paw crash into his chest, knocking him backward and into a tree. The force was enough to bend the trunk, and Harry's Quen dissipated almost immediately, but it did not faze him.
He landed, quickly moving so as not to get caught by the creature. He started to see the darkness was clearing up, and now could make out the beast's mountainous shape.
Seeing it was still searching for him, Harry quickly reached into a pouch buckled at his waist, removing a vial which he immediately downed.
With renewed vigour from the Wolf potion, Harry moved in on the offensive. It saw him coming, and with a mighty bellow, waved a massive, muscled paw at him. Harry ducked under it with reflexes of lightning, and made a light, but long cut on its face.
He paused a moment as the beast roared again, shaking the forest. In this moment, Harry withdrew a Samum from his pouch, lighting it with Igni and hurling it at the beast.
It did not seem to understand what it was until it exploded in a flash, making the creature take a few steps back. With the darkness completely gone, Harry could finally see the fiend.
It was a hulking figure, its antlers adding to its already massive stature. It was covered in fur, some areas more than others, and some of it was still smouldering from Harry's Igni. It had a long face, with a mouth full of fangs and a thick, slimy tongue.
Both of its front limbs were larger and more muscled than its hind legs. Its paws were massive, with thick, sharp, yet short claws.
It had a wide chest, and pale skin with distinct markings on its body. Harry remembered how Geralt said almost all relicts were unique. But then again, Harry thought it looked like a deer. An enormous, evil deer.
Harry caught his breath as the fiend eyed him. He knew this was going to an incredibly tough fight, especially without Moire here. He was certainly not equipped to deal with this thing, not with his poor silver blade and run-down armour.
Fiends were known for their incredible stamina and vitality, and its thick skin was going to be extremely hard to penetrate. Harry was counting on Moire to actually whittle its defenses down along with him, but clearly, that was no longer an option.
Looking around, Harry could not find Moire anywhere, so either she had run –which was unlikely- or she had been occupied somehow else –also unlikely, considering there was a fiend in front of them.
Harry noticed the ground beginning to shake again and immediately realized what the beast was trying to do. "Not this time." Harry said, quickly taking his crossbow and firing a bolt straight at the beast's face, causing it shake its head furiously.
"Well, that didn't do much." He noted as he strung another bolt, his eyes on the fiend. "Alright." He echoed as the fiend stared at him with raw anger in his eyes. "Round two."
VIELLA
When Viella had decided to sneak out of the house and follow the witchers, she had not expected something like this. Camouflaged as she was, the woods still gave her a feeling of unease, never knowing what was lurking in the trees.
If push came to shove, she had thought to run out to Harry and Moire, put on a show and apologize for not heeding their advice, and then work her way back home. But when Harry stopped Moire, and by extension, Viella, she had decided her entire plan was a master class in idiocy.
She hadn't even heard the wolves circling them, and thankfully they did not catch her scent. But when they howled, all in unison, Viella considered herself lucky not to have fainted on the spot.
Her heart had leapt up into her throat, and her breathing was so quick she might as well have been hyperventilating. And sighting the fiend did nothing to ease her fears. The creature had been terrifyingly large, with a cruel face and a muscular frame.
'That's a deer.' She had thought hysterically, as Harry had yelled something out. 'Why are they just standing there?' Was her next question.
She could see the thing clearly, pounding away at Harry, who seemed to have put up some sort of force field. He was obviously taking a beating, stepping back so he would not fall, and was yelling something at Moire.
But Moire seemed to be occupied herself, having cast her own force field, which did not seem to restrict movement as much as Harry's, yet seemingly weaker.
'What is this?' Viella had wondered in disbelief, as she watched the wolves from before batter Moire this way and that. 'Why aren't they doing anything?' She briefly wondered if the witchers had been in over their heads when she remembered. 'They must be hypnotized.'
As she wondered whether to join the fray herself, she watched as the wolves kept assaulting Moire from one side, and the fiend at Harry from another. Harry was still holding his ground, but Moire kept leaping back, a hand extended behind her to stop her from hitting any obstruction.
'Are they…' Viella wondered. 'Are they forcing them apart?' How or why the wolves were assisting the fiend, she did not know, but now she had a choice. She could either help Harry or help Moire.
Her initial choice would have been Harry, given how he was fighting the tougher opponent, and Moire would possibly be out of range of the fiend's spell soon.
But as she watched Harry roll out the way of an attack and dance around the fiend, she felt something surprising: exhilaration.
The way he moved, the way his eyes never lost focus, it was like watching fury materialized. 'You don't look like you need help. Yet.' She thought, as she moved to Moire.
The wolves had not let up in their assault of Moire, and she was finding it difficult to even break her defence for offense. Whereas the fiend was one singular entity of massive force, the wolves were that force divided into five or six.
Moire had her own rhythm, much less offensive than Harry's, and she dodged the wolves with pinpoint precision and accuracy. But she would be tired too, Moire knew. Viella was about to cast a spell to help her when she threw something at the ground.
Viella watched as the ball exploded at the wolves, making them stumble. In that instant, she saw Moire rush forward, drawing her second sword.
Both blades gleamed as she pierced the wolf's head, bringing it to the ground. She removed them quickly, whirling on her feet with the swords to push the wolves back. The creatures watched her cautiously as she sheathed one sword.
One lunged at her, and Moire cast some sort of spell that blew the thing backwards at the others, Moire rushing in after it.
As a couple of wolves dodged their thrown companion, Moire drew her crossbow, firing the bolt straight at the face of one wolf, which had its head cut off as it reeled from the shot.
The fallen wolf had gotten up now, and there were three remaining in total, all circling Moire. Viella watched as Moire cast some sort of rune on the ground, and stood, motionless.
They stood so for a few moments before Moire threw a knife at one wolf. Seeing the witcher make a move, another wolf lunged, and Moire let herself fall back as the Wolf was caught in some sort of magic trap.
Moire lingered a moment, crouched, perhaps catching her breath. It seemed to be a mistake, as a wolf lunged at her, teeth bared. 'Oh no you don't.' Viella thought as she cast her own spell. Miniature fireballs lit the wolf on flame as a surprised Moire pushed her sword through its stomach.
She seemed more wary than surprised, as the next wolf lunged. "Look out!" Viella yelled, but Moire casually moved out the way and the wolf was caught in another one of the traps.
'Oh.' Viella thought, feeling stupid. 'So she was just luring it in.'
"Viella?" Moire turned to look at her, despite how dark it was. "I thought someone was following us."
She quickly jogged toward the two wolves still trapped, plunging her blade into their bodies as she went. "I thought we told you to stay at home."
"Well." Viella began sheepishly, "I thought you might need some help."
"I appreciate the sentiment." Moire replied coolly, "But not the stalking."
"Sorry." She muttered.
"What's done is done." She replied. "You're not hurt, anyway. Now let's go back to Harry."
She ran behind Moire, who made her way through the woods like she had known them for months. And in a moment, they were back where they started, where Harry was still locked in battle with the fiend.
Even at this distance, Viella could tell Harry was getting tired. He was panting as he stood, sword in hand, facing the beast.
The fiend, too, was standing still, hot breath coming out of its nostrils as it pounded its paws on the ground, taunting Harry.
"Good." Moire whispered. "At least the thing's tired too."
The fiend was in a sorry state. Its chest was heaving as it breathed. Most of its fur was blackened or smouldering. Innumerable cuts lined its body and face, some small, some deep. A bolt was still stuck on its back, and the ground on which they stood was covered with shrapnel, broken shafts, and ash.
Harry himself was no sight to behold. There were huge gashes on his armour, his arm seemed to be bleeding, and he had forsaken his left armband and glove. The sheaths on his chest were empty, and his blade seemed to be about to break off.
His face was a lot paler than what Viella remembered, a few veins were starting to show, deep and purple, and his eyes, emerald as opposed to Moire's yellow, was almost blank; there was no light in them.
In the scene, Viella could not tell which one was a monster. "He must have been fighting for some time." Moire whispered, and Viella noted a touch of admiration in her voice. "Right. Stay back, Viella."
This time, Viella did not argue. "Although," Moire continued, "A few of those fireballs would help."
And with that, she charged in, throwing a bomb as she went. The explosion caught the fiend off guard, and Harry rushed in.
What Viella saw next was almost artistic. The two witchers worked in rhythm with each other, one drawing the fiend away while the other swooped in for a cut.
Moire was precise and deadly, with not a single movement wasted. She stood her ground, moving only when needed, casting her spells with deliberation and accuracy. Slow and graceful, she made long, calculated slices at the fiend's tough, seemingly armoured skin.
Harry, meanwhile, was the exact opposite. He rushed in with fearless fury, slicing this way and that, dancing around the creature, trying to get a hit whenever he could. He feinted and lunged, thrust and cut, his spells lighting the creature on fire. He never stood still, and Viella was entranced by the fight.
As a spectator, Viella could see Harry was different. He was faster, he used spells a lot more, and he was a lot more reactive. It was more than just their fighting styles. She could still follow Moire, but Harry was often no more than a blur. And the frequency with which he cast his spells were almost 'mage-like.' She thought. 'There's something about you, isn't there?'
Determined to do her part, she wanted to cast her own spells when she could, but there was no need to. More than that, there was never an opportunity to. When Harry backed off, Moire would step in, and when Moire moved away, Harry would charge in.
With expert timing and scary finesse, they cut and sliced and seared until Viella started to begin to feel sorry for the beast. It swiped at Harry, and she could see it was much slower than it had been in the beginning.
Harry ducked under it with reflexes of lightning, leaping onto the arm with one step and onto the creature's back with another. He embedded his sword as deep as he could within its skin, and held on tight as it tried to shake him off.
With one hand holding on with superhuman strength, Harry cast a steady stream of fire onto its head, and the creature roared in frustration. It fell as its limbs buckled, and Moire rushed in, plunging her sword into the creature's third eye. The bellow it gave off then almost gave Viella a heart attack.
The creature stopped for a moment, and Harry took the opportunity to remove his blade, nimbly hop to the front, and struck it deep at the base of its neck. The creature rose its head weakly in a warbled scream, just as Moire drew her sword across the front.
Monster blood dripped to the ground as the beast staggered, losing life slowly, one cut at a time. Moire, a lot more active now, cut the creature here and there, while Harry moved forward, one step at a time, creating a handhold for himself with his sword strikes.
Eventually, he reached its head, and with brutal strength, impaled it from the top. As it tried to raise its head in an attempt to shake him off, Moire rammed the sword up from the ground. The sound the creature gave off then was nothing more than a scared, dying whimper of a cry.
It fell to the ground with a thud, and Harry leapt off. Both witchers cut the beast some more, to ensure the fiend was, in fact, dead. Viella watched as they hacked at the head of the beast, severing it in short time.
"Why do that?" Viella whispered. Looking at them now, smeared in blood with their grim faces and colored eyes, Viella felt a small pang of fear. They were not the people she had seen in the mountains. They were not the people she had brought into her home.
"A trophy." Harry clarified. "So we can show the client the job has indeed been done."
"Oh."
"Come on, then." He started to turn back to where they had entered the woods. "We need to leave, quickly."
"Why?" Viella asked. She was still a little frightened, but there was nothing to worry about anymore. "Isn't it dead?"
"I'll explain when we get back." Harry replied, and Viella noted the urgency in his voice. "Now come on!"
"All right." She muttered, as the trio turned back toward the Valley. It was a short trip, mainly because Harry insisted they walk quickly. They were borderline running once they exited the woods, and made their way back to the town.
"You two go back home." He ordered as they walked past the gates. "I'll go ahead and give the trophy to the guard captain."
Once they were back home, Viella took off her cloak, and with a simple spell, lit all of the fireplaces in the houses. "Do you know what he was talking about?" She asked Moire.
"I think so." She replied. "He believes the fiend wasn't the problem plaguing the village."
"What do you think?"
"I honestly don't know. The survivor wasn't lying, obviously. But I do admit, something strange has been going on."
"Mm." Viella nodded. In truth, she was still a bit frightened of Moire, and Harry too. The way they had moved and fought and killed that thing… She understood why witchers were viewed with fear and distaste.
The door opened as Harry walked in, dried blood on his face and his eyes dead set. "I've told the captain the general situation, and I asked him to keep the curfews and precautions for a week more."
"Okay." Moire crossed arms. "You were going to tell us something?"
"Yes. It's about the monster we were hunting." He began. "You already know I have some doubt about the fiend being the true threat."
"You mentioned it here and there." She answered sarcastically.
"Tonight, when we were in the woods, you noticed something." He looked at Moire.
"Yes." She agreed. "I thought that it was too quiet, especially for an elven territory."
"Exactly." He nodded. "A fiend does not have that much of an effect on an area, and certainly not that wide."
"True." Moire seemed thoughtful all of a sudden. "My mentor has never mentioned something like this, nor have I read about it in any bestiary."
"Exactly. And that's not all." He continued, pacing the room. "When we were being attacked, did you notice how the wolves were acting?"
"Howling in unison, surrounding us." Moire noted.
"Yes, but more than that," He stopped, turning to look at the girls. "It was as if they were trying to hide the fiend's presence."
"Are you sure?" Moire asked. "That doesn't seem right."
"That's what I've been saying." He said. "Otherwise, don't you think we would have heard the thing coming? Their howl… It was almost as if they knew we wouldn't notice our medallions if we were focusing on them. We didn't realize anything until it was already upon us."
"I noticed something too." Viella remembered. "Back when it attacked, it was as if the wolves and the fiend was trying to separate you two."
"That explains why you didn't hear me." Harry looked at Moire. "But if that's the case, then it means we're dealing with something far stronger. Strong enough to control a fiend, and woodland creatures."
"By the Gods." Viella gasped.
"I'm guessing sylvan, or some other relict. Or maybe an incredibly pissed off, elder vampire." Harry continued, but stopped when it seemed Moire was trying to remember something.
"The Gods." She whispered, as she turned to look at Viella.
"Did I say something?" Viella asked, wondering what she was thinking of.
"Moire?" Harry seemed to be wondering the same thing as Viella.
"Viella." Moire sat down next to her. "What's the major religion in Dol Blathana?"
"Uh…" She paused a moment. "Well, the old elven gods. But now, I guess Nilfgaard is trying to preach the Great Sun here."
"Before that?"
"Before that?" Viella thought for a moment. "I don't really know. Maybe the people who lived here before Lady Findabair's rule had some deity they worshipped, but…"
"Oh." Harry's eyes widened in realization.
"Back at the infirmary, the elf mentioned Old Gods and the New Ones."
"Pagan worship, I suppose?" Viella nodded, not understanding what they were worked up about.
"An ancient pagan God." Harry whispered slowly. "Your people are being hunted by the very thing they used to worship."
"A Leshen." Moire was grim. "A very old, very powerful leshen."
- - -T- - -H- - -E- - }|{- - -W- - -|- - -T- - -C- - -H- - -E- - -R—
To Be Continued in Chapter 11 – Contract: In The Heart Of The Woods
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
