Geralt cursed under his breath. Even with his superior night vision, under the dense roof of the forest, in the dark of the night and with rain whipping against his face, he had a hard time moving forward. He had lost the Hunter and by now, only defended his own life from men that grew more and more desperate in their attacks. The witcher clutched at his bleeding side, where a blade had found its way through a gap in his body armour. The wound was superficial, but is still hurt and would need proper cleaning to avoid an infection.
Somewhere behind him, to the side, someone moved. Feet broke through the dense brush and a deep howl escaped the mouth of the attacker. Sometimes, Geralt thought to hear words and sentences, but it was hard to understand. He turned and used his elbow to smash the man's nose in. Blood splattered down and he staggered back. Geralt repositioned and led a strike through the man's neck. The head tumbled to the ground, but the witcher didn't wait until the body followed. Something was wrong tonight. Not the brigands, not the violence, but something else. A more primal sense had nestled in the back of his head. Something that pleaded and begged him to turn around, take Ciri and his Yennefer and run. Something else than these men were roaming the woods and he did not want to find out what. However, Johannes had run forward, reckless and stupid. Again, Geralt cursed as he pressed through the rain, his only orientation were the sounds of battle that came to his ears then and again.
Somewhere behind him, the fire that these barbaric madmen had laid, still raged, but it's shine was too weak to reach him this deep in the woods. A shrill cry echoed through the darkness, followed by the sound of something breaking. In front of Geralt, through the tree trunks, he saw an explosion of fire. Something flammable had been spilled and the light blinded his eyes, which had by now adjusted to the darkness. Suddenly, out of the inferno, a burning person ran out towards the witcher. He stepped aside and left the screaming man to pass by him. Whipping his head back around, he just saw the black silhouette of Johannes against the fiery backdrop. The Hunter strode with wide steps forward. All around him, there was movement, shuffling through the trees, hiding in the brush, eyes watching him out of the dark.
While the brigands bellowed and screamed obscenities, while they yelled in surprise and gasped in pain, the Hunter fought in eerie silence, even his footsteps seemingly made no sound on the forest ground. Geralt had only seen such from the elf folk, the aén seidhe, but while they moved much like a dance, the Hunter moved erratically and mechanically. No single movement was wasted. Every strike was deadly. Geralt watched him cut another man down, blood spraying upwards, the mist and droplets reflecting the fire light. It almost seemed as if for the Hunter, this was no fight to the death. He was simply working. What Geralt had seen before, when they had found the poor girl that the family had asked them to find, suggested otherwise.
Geralt was not happy to say that he had seen worse done to young women, but as much as he tried to keep a cool head, Johannes had descended into a cold rage. Wordlessly he had turned around towards the single survivor of their skirmish, who lay unconscious on the forest ground. Geralt had thought of saying something, or maybe stop him, but he had no energy left in that moment. So the witcher just watched as the Hunter dragged the poor man to his feet, only to put his knife into his neck before walking off into the darkness, leaving Geralt to stumble after him. It didn't take long after that until the Hunter and by extension Geralt, as he was following him, made contact with more of the murderers. Men, dishevelled, their clothes in varying states of disrepair, but very clearly resembling the uniform of Akhorn's militia, lurked seemingly everywhere in the forest. Their mouths were filled with rot, spilling vile fluids beside insults and senseless rambling, their eyes were milky and broken, staring forward at him, a strange deepness in them as he fought them off.
To his right the forest moved and spoke. Something that he couldn't see, fell from the trees and landed in the dirt below. The witcher felt the wetness creep into his armour and the added weight of so much water in his boots, his clothes and his gambeson. His hands were slippery, so he wiped them on the inside of his sleeve, so he wouldn't lose grip on his weapon. He turned and walked after the movement, noticing to his dismay that the fight, as well as himself, was moving back towards the cottage. Soon, the shine of fire light was on his skin again, as well as on the body of the poor girl that the brigands had made their victim.
She couldn't be older than fifteen, her body naked and covered in bruises and cuts, as she stared with lifeless eyes up towards the sky. She, almost similarly to Klara, had been set on one of these horrible crosses that Johannes had reacted so strongly to. Here, it was barren of the noxious smell that had permeated the air back then, but still neither he nor the Hunter had dared to lay a hand to the dead girl's body, or the wood that she had been bound to.
Geralt snapped back to attention as a bolt of lightning shattered the black sky, thunder following close behind, shaking the ground below him. He took a look towards the cottage and saw that somewhere behind it, a plume of smoke, illuminated from below, rose from the ground. The lightning had apparently impacted a tree and started a fire. Between him and the cottage, Geralt heard the sounds of struggle. A yell cut short, steel on steel, the scent of blood, though weak due to the rain, growing stronger each time more was spilled.
Geralt knelt down beside the girl. He would not leave her in the rain like this. The witcher was known as one of the best, in some places even as the best swordsman alive, yet he was unable to keep up with the inhuman speed and ruthlessness that the Hunter displayed here. Even Geralt, with his superior stamina, would have to take a breather after subsequently battling five or six men. The Hunter had surely slaughtered a dozen by now, with the witcher still unable to catch him. Not only by the man's behaviour, or dress, but now also by his way of fighting, Geralt felt himself remembered of his friend Regis, or of said friend's acquaintance Detlaff van der Eretein, both higher vampires and thus, inherently powerful. Their assault on Dun Tynne Castle had felt similarly, with Geralt trailing behind, while more savage beings ground the defenders to paste.
Mindful still of his surroundings, the witcher unclasped his cloak and started to remove the girl's shackles, so that he could wrap her body up in the woollen sheet. If her family had to see her, then at least not like this.
Ciri flinched a bit as the crack of thunder made the windows tremble. Judging from the light outside, the bolt of lightning had hit one of the trees out front, across the dirt road and set it on fire. She looked at Yennefer who, helped by a spell, was tracking any movement in a wide perimeter outside the building. She had stopped to comment her findings a while ago, since Geralt, Johannes and almost all their opponents were too far away to see. Ciri still did not sheathe her blade. A quick glance over to the three inhabitants of the cottage elicited a thankful nod from the father. The little boy had fallen asleep on the mother's lap. All of a sudden, Yennefer stood up from where she had been sitting.
"They are coming closer again." She said seriously, pulling off her right glove. Ciri stood as well, her blade turning in her hand from her reverse grip.
"Where?" Ciri asked and Yennefer pointed with her arm. Then she suddenly dropped it, her head turning to her right, where the cottage wall was only.
"What is it?" Ciri asked again, but received no answer at first. Instead, Yennefer turned further and Ciri now found out why. A crash was to be heard from the other side of the cottage's wooden wall. The sound of grinding soil and breaking branches. The thudding of heavy steps that moved from left to right, around the house and towards the road out front. Ciri gripped her sword tight.
"What is it?" She asked again, as the grinding became louder and something else mixed itself into the cacophony. The sound of something ripping and wet sloshing, even in the rain.
"I don't know." The sorceress said. "It is too big for a man."
"Fuck!" Ciri cursed and ran towards one of the windows, stopping some distance away, as to not be visible from the outside. They had extinguished all light inside the house, as to be able to see better outside. Her sword rested eagerly on her shoulder, while her other hand fell to her hip to take one of the bombs she had built together with Geralt. But her hand came back empty. She heard the horses in the stable become unruly and loud. Under her breath, she cursed again. All of her specialised equipment was on her saddle which she had left outside and forgotten when the fighting had started. Silently, she shrunk a bit further back into the shadows, only her stark green eyes still reflecting the light of the fire that licked up the trees outside, on the other side of the road.
"Don't be rash." Yennefer whispered from behind her. "Let's see what beasts we have awoken."
Ciri nodded. She did not necessarily need the advice, but she was grateful not to be alone nonetheless. To have Yennefer by her side, as a friend and as a powerful ally, was most reassuring.
A terrible sound of breaking wood and panicked whinnying drew Ciri's attention back towards the window. The whinnying became a horrific scream, one which Ciri had never heard a horse to make and that sent a shiver down her spine. Another round of crashing and breaking and then again… silence.
She looked back at the family, who were frozen solid in their corner of the room, the father with a small hatchet gripped in white knuckles. Then she looked at Yennefer. The sorceress was experienced. Not only in magic, or age, but also in war. She had fought and killed, watched comrades die and forests burn from her powers. It was hard to unnerve a woman like her, yet now, Ciri saw genuine concern on the sorceresses face.
Suddenly, out of the window she saw something big fly high across the road and crash heavily into the trees on the other side. A body that now tumbled down to the ground to come to rest in front of the fire. As she looked closer, she realized with horror that it was Yennefer's horse. The poor animal had been dead before it was thrown, it's spine showing an unnatural bend in the middle. Again, rending and squelching from the side of the cottage. It moved towards the light. Ciri dared to glance sideways out the window and waited.
When it came into view, Ciri had to cover her mouth with one hand.
A heap of flesh, tattered cloth hanging from folds and swaying heavily and slick with fluids. It's back was hunched over, it's shoulders at least as broad as the road. Would the thing have erected itself to its full height, it would surely tower over the conifers around them. It's legs were like tree trunks themselves, open wounds splitting at the bottom to perversely form some kind of stumpy feet. All over its surface, the skin was ripping and tearing, unable to contain the whole thing inside it's fleshy hull. Hair hung in wispy strands from its shoulders and biceps and when the monster turned around, so that Ciri could see its profile in the fire's light, she saw that it carried a human head that, almost comically, had not grown with the rest of the body and with it's mouth wide open, emitted a steady moan that drove into Ciri's bones.
Behind her, something clattered to the ground. She whirled around and saw that the father had dropped his axe. His eyes were wide open like his mouth, which was locked in a silent scream of terror. Ciri looked at the abomination again and to her horror…
It looked back at her.
"Yen!" Ciri bellowed, fully aware that stealth was no longer an option and sprinted towards the door. Yennefer immediately understood, rose to her feet and uttered something. As if a gust of wind pushed them, the window in front of her flew wide open. Ciri had just opened the front door to run towards the stable where her pack was lying, when a thin string of white hot flame shot through the window and hit the beast on the side of its neck.
It screamed a bone chilling scream and with it's massive arms, it slammed into the ground, sending tremors through it that even Ciri still felt as she reached the stable. All of the horses were gone, run off as the giant had apparently reached through the roof to murder Yennefer's steed, but she found her pack in the corner of the building, next to a swinging door. Practiced motions, dug into her supplies until she yanked the bandolier of bombs from its place. Dashing to the door, she pulled the first one out, along with a fire striker. The amount of time it took to produce a spark, let the char cloth catch it and wait until the wick caught fire, was agonizing. She waited until the fuse cord was almost only a stump, before tossing the heavy bomb as strong as she could.
Her timing was impeccable, as the Dragon's Dream detonated immediately in front of the beast's face, blinding it and engulfing it in a cloud of flammable gas. Yennefer seemed to catch on without any delay and in the same second, sent another bolt of fire at the thing. The roar of the burning gasses being consumed, was deafening. The heat reached Ciri even where she stood and she had to shield her eyes from the blinding flash.
She blinked, lowering her arm, but the thing was still alive. Even worse, it was angry and charging right at the house. Ciri hefted her sword and the bombs and ran outside into the rain, directly at the towering monster. Yennefer sent a shockwave at it, which ripped one side of the window frame with it and sent the abomination stumbling. Ciri was now almost upon it, taking a knee to ignite both remaining bombs, Grape Shots, and tossing them inside the bandolier, under the monster's bulk.
The explosion was powerful and almost made her slip in the muddy ground. Shrapnel from the grenades ripped through flesh and rained bits of meat and blood over the surrounding area. The beast howled and thrashed about, tearing part of the cottage's roof with it. Parts of wooden shingles impacted around the sprinting Ciri like arrows on a battlefield, but she pressed on, gripped her sword with finality and jumped.
Her blade burrowed into the creature's back, just next to it's disfigured spine. A vile stench hit her like a fist, but instead of recoiling, she drew her dagger and rammed it into the rotting flesh as well. The beast shivered and screamed. Sounds that should never come from a human's mouth. But then again, this was no human anymore.
She pulled to dislodge her sword, blood spraying into her face as she did so. Again, she pushed down to plunge it into its flesh, this time higher, so she could pull herself up and cut it's neck. A few more times, she would need to repeat this process until she could reach the goliath's shoulders, but now the monster seemed to have had enough. With speed that should not be possible, it swung itself around, throwing Ciri off it's back and slamming her into the mud, where she lay, unable to move and breathing heavily.
Slowly, the beast turned again, eyes glowing in the grotesquely small skull, as it took one lazy step after the other at Ciri. She lifted her head, only to see the behemoth, accompanied by another bolt of lightning, wave it's hand through the front wall of the cottage, ripping wood and stone apart and sending debris flying everywhere. In the ruined building, she could see Yennefer, shielding the family, but unable to assist Ciri. The beast came closer, seemingly taking it's time, toying with her. The black sky was once again streaked by lightning. Then again. And again. The sound was ear shattering.
Again.
Again.
She blinked. Within moments, the sky had turned from pitch black, to a sick red. She could now see the clouds rolling, as if she looked up at waves during a storm. The air seemed to heat up and all around her, between the trees, soft blue lights began to glow. The sound of rain vanished, even though she was still pelted by thick drops and above her, high above, she saw the clouds part ever so slightly and a red moon throw it's light on them.
The abomination stopped. Blood was flowing freely from it's wounds. Those that Ciri had made and those that had been there before. It turned and looked over its shoulder at the moon.
And it howled.
Not like a man. Not like a wolf. Not like anything Ciri had heard before. It was a sickening sound that threatened to turn her stomach around and pained her ears and head. The monster stopped after a moment and turned itself around again. From where it had come, through between the stable and right side of the cottage, came a shadow, a smaller one.
Ciri had to wipe blood and dirt from her eyes to see more clearly, but it was definitely Johannes. Even worse as herself, he was painted in blood. No spot on him did not shine in the light, slick and heavy with crimson. His hat dripped red water and his blade was caked with gore. She didn't know how many he had slain, but to be so covered in red, she couldn't imagine. The beast turned to him. The Hunter let his gaze wander first through the ruined building, over Yennefer, then at Ciri, where his eyes lingered, she thought but could not say, as she could not actually see them. Lastly, he looked up at the face of the monstrosity, switching his sword over to his left hand, where he let it lazily hang out to his side. The same bluish glow she saw in between the trees formed beneath his left hand and speechless, she watched his hand open and drop his sword, which sunk into the floor like into a lake. He ducked and stuck his right hand out, blue light stark on his masked visage, before pulling up something heavy.
As if given to him by the lady of the lake, Johannes took up from seemingly within the soil, a weapon of massive size. A cleaver of crude form like a club. Fierce metal teeth stuck out of it's "sharp" side, like a shark's, only longer and thinner. It's surface was battered and scratched, the cloth around it's grip tattered and yellowed. Something told Ciri that this… thing, whatever it was, was ancient and abnormal. With ease, even though it's weight must have been enormous, the Hunter took up the weapon and swung it up onto his shoulder, his left hand still free. The beast screamed and then… the Hunter answered.
A guttural roar, painful to hear for Ciri and even more so for the beast apparently, came from the Hunter's mouth. The behemoth stumbled back momentarily but caught itself quickly. But not quickly enough. Within the blink of an eye, Johannes was upon it, hacking at the monster's limbs with the combined force of his strength and the awesome weight of his weapon. Blood and bits landed in streams on the ground, mixing with the mud when the Hunter pulled his weapon, rending flesh with savage metal teeth.
Another lightning bolt struck a nearby tree, blowing it apart in chunks of wood and charred bark. But neither the beast, nor the Hunter paid it any mind. Slashing upwards, the Hunter ducked under a savage hammering strike from the beast. Ciri could taste blood, even dozens of feet away. She spat and tried to right herself, drag herself to her feet. She had to help him. He would be massacred.
As if on cue, a backhanded swing lifted the Hunter off his feet and slung him in her direction. He tumbled and rolled, but to her surprise, managed to finally land on his knees, sliding a few feet through the mud. The stench of the monster's blood on him was horrible, but he didn't seem to mind. She opened her mouth to say something, but he only shot her a pointed look and said to her in a hoarse voice: "Stay!"
He took off again, cleaver swinging and spilling blood. She wanted to move, but was as if rooted to the ground. Her feet just wouldn't budge. In front of her, the beast roared and fell to a knee, Johannes before it, his weapon in two hands, savagely beating it over the beasts head. It's skull split open, revealing… nothing. Where the brain should be, there was only reddish, bubbling mush. A last strike, and it's head slumped to the side. It fell forward, propping itself up by its hands and the Hunter rushed around it.
He swung his weapon through the air, followed by a brutal and mechanical sound. The "blade" of his weapon split apart into individual segments, chunks, like a whip, only made of steel and thick as a leg. The segments extended and then smashed back together, before he took aim, reeled back and smashed the thing over the monster, letting the segment's teeth dig into flesh over the entire length of the beast's back and over its shoulder.
He pulled, ripping the right arm completely from its shoulder and throwing the monster on its back. The beast did not scream or howl anymore, as its face had been caved in. Instead it gurgled and breathed through several holes in its lungs. Pink froth gathered at these wounds. Johannes dropped his horrifying weapon at the ground, where it vanished immediately and ducked a second time to retrieve his sword the same way he had done with the other thing. Within two solid steps, he was on the abomination's chest, sword in hand and in a reverse grip. The beast attempted to lift its arm to get him off of it, but as it was about to reach him, the one remaining arm, which was also strongly damaged by the sawteeth before, was simply bisected at the elbow with a pair of hefty two handed strikes from Johannes' sword. The useless limb tumbled to the floor, blood now black and viscous.
The Hunter raised his sword, and with both hands, plunged it down deep into the creature's chest, taking a knee to add to his weight on the sword. Almost stuck to the hilt, he moved it, right to left, front to back, then in a circling motion. He stopped to grab at the giant's jaw, and pulled his head up to look at his eyes.
The thing didn't move. After some observation, the Hunter admitted it's death and stood up.
From her post within the house, Yennefer had seen the whole fight. At some point, it had been obvious that the real danger was not the giant, but the black clad, wordless killer that was the Hunter. Never before had she seen magic as this. The night sky did not lighten up in this moon's obscene red sheen by coincidence. The clouds did not part by chance. The blue lights had apparently also been noticed by Ciri. It was only logical. She was a powerful source herself after all. But when Yennefer looked closer, there were little shapes in the blue glow, almost like bodies, frail and infantile, but many. They had accepted his sword and delivered him this accursed weapon that made her feel sick. As much as it looked like simple steel or iron, there had to be some vile magic to the thing. She was sure.
Now, the abomination was dead, replaced only by a more dangerous predator, now looming over its prey, fire raging all around him, refusing to let the rain extinguish it. The thick droplets had diminished to a fine, falling mist, reducing the sound of hard splattering to a constant calm rushing that was a lesser assault on the senses. In the distance, a crow called out, as if to signal the vanquishing of such a gargantuan foe. Down the road in the dark mist, the Hunter's large horse could be seen trotting calmly towards the battlefield, Ciri's mare, Kelpie and Geralt's Roach in tow. With some sadness, Yennefer glanced at the carcass of her own horse. The poor beast had not deserved such a fate.
The Hunter jumped off the corpse of his prey, bits and droplets of blood and gore shaking off of him and with long strides walked towards Ciri, who was still only shakily on her feet. With some amount of shock, Yennefer noticed him righting the grip on his weapon, though it still swayed leisurely with the movements of his arm. He stopped before the girl, tilting his head lazily as if regarding her attempts to get up. Yennefer willed her feet to move and get a better angle on the Hunter in case he tried to attack her. She stopped at the one remaining front window and peered outside.
Ciri's vision was blurry and her legs hurt like hell. Her palms were scratched open and her back was still numb. She felt like throwing up, but did not dare to look away from Johannes' piercing eyes. He tilted his head like a curious bird and she could not ignore his blade, held low, but ready at any moment.
"Are you wounded?" He asked, his voice still rough.
"Just sore." She shook her head. "Are you-"
"I am fine." He cut her off. Somehow she couldn't escape the feeling that she was at a triage, him being the official deciding her fate. There was a long pause, during which both of them watched each other carefully. She considered him a friend, someone with only her best interest in mind, yet she felt herself shrinking before his, no, it's presence.
"You have come into contact with it." Whatever lurked beneath his human form, it was mulling over her, scaling her worth against the risk.
"It seems so." She coughed, still regaining strength.
"I told you, I cannot take risks." He said. His voice was low, heavy with regret. She strengthened her grip on her sword, one hand still clutching her side. Around her, the fire, the rain, the creaking of the damaged building, it all gave and vanished. Silence hung heavy in the forest. No birds, no cries, no cracking of twigs, no rushing of wind.
"Don't." She whispered. Over his mask, she could see his eyes, so filled with sorrow. So full of regret.
"There has to be a chance."
"There might be." He said, though not entirely convinced himself. "It is slim."
"Then, can we wait?" She was grasping at straws here. He had told them what would happen if the sickness took hold in anyone. They would forget themselves, fall to madness and give in to the plagues twisted machinations.
The Hunter was still. Like a statue, he stared down at her, his gaze accusing the world. There was a twinkle of light under the shadow of his torn cap. The back, like ears of a beastly predator, yet a tear running down his cheek, before dissolving into the cloth of his mask.
"Johannes." She breathed, tears welling up in her own eyes. She didn't want to die. She never could bear the thought of Geralt and Yennefer and Triss, mourning her. But even more, she didn't want to turn into something like Akhorn's men. Crazy and defiled, killing randomly in the name of some twisted god.
A splash of water announced another set of feet settling behind Johannes. Steel scratched the wool of his collar. He didn't move.
"Lose the blade." Geralt's rough and laboured growl rumbled through the dark. The yellow glow of his cat eyes permitted a sinister determination to protect and to destroy.
"I am trying to help." Johannes growled back.
"If you won't listen, you will die here."
For a fraction of a second, Geralt's steel blade twitched, if only for a millimetre. It was not a strike, nor a cut, only fatigue settling into his reinforced muscle.
The very moment in time that the blade touched the Hunter's collar a second time, Ciri saw the light in his eyes die. Cold grey flickered to the side and, too fast for her, too fast for Geralt, the Hunter rotated his body, his feet following, spewing mud around him. His left hand shot up, the weapon in his right skimming the ground and forcing the witcher back. He pulled back, but his sword stayed where it was. The Hunter, with bleeding palms, twisted the witcher blade until it couldn't hold. It turned in Geralt's grip, yet if he loosened it, he would be disarmed.
A snapping sound announced the metal's final effort. As if loaded on a spring, Johannes launched forward while casting his blade aside. Water and sweat sprayed from Geralt's face as he was smashed with the Hunter's elbow. His head snapped back and the man dropped to the ground, living, but concussed and unconscious.
"No!" Ciri cried out, freeing herself from her stupor. She swung, but her sword hit steel. The tip of Geralt's sword, still in Johannes' hand, had deflected her blow as if she had struck a boulder. The Hunter disengaged, dashed back out of reach and dropped the metal shard, now stained with his own blood. Within the blink of an eye, he had his own sword back, held in a guard, but moving away from her. She lunged, hammering down with her sword, all notions of technique and finesse gone. Only a desperate anger remained. He had raised his weapon against her. He had hurt Geralt.
Every strike felt as if her arms might shatter. No matter how fast, no matter how strong, no attack got through. Johannes backed away further, turning and twisting as he dodged and blocking with impenetrable force. It was as if she was trying to hack a castle's wall to death.
Gathering herself, she led another strike at his neck. She had no plans to follow up, wanting nothing more than to just sit down and cry, but if she did that, who knew what Johannes would do. His eyes didn't leave hers, but she couldn't read them clearly. There was no rage in them, nor the uncaring cold that she'd seen a glimpse of, shortly before he had hit Geralt. There was a melancholy, sure, and something else, something that she couldn't place.
The sharp sound of metal sliding against metal was cut short as the Hunter made a step forward, as fast as lightning. He stomped down on her diverted blade and the steel was ripped from her weakened hands. Her sword splashed into the mud, almost hidden under the liquid dirt. She was unarmed.
"Ciri." He said. His sword was dangling from his arm. Both his shoulders hung low, as if he had been scolded by a parent. He raised his hand and pulled down his mask. His lower lip and chin was smeared with blood. Blood that could only be his.
"Please." She said softly. To her surprise, his answer was only a look of exasperation. Was he fed up with this? Did he not care for her will to live? Almost he ad sighed there.
To her side, she caught a shuffle. Yennefer was walking up to them. Well, more stomping than walking and behind her, Geralt was getting slowly to his feet.
"Ciri, there is still time. I will not…" He said, while taking a step towards her. He had lifted his empty hand, palm up. It might've been a gesture of peace, even though she knew that he couldn't lay down his weapon.
Whatever he wanted to say, it was cut short though. From deep below, Ciri heard the voice of Yennefer, formulating a spell. The words reverberated in the woods, echoing around them. Johannes looked towards her, as if he had forgotten that the sorceress was there. With raised eyebrows, he looked upwards. Ciri almost expected him to say out loud, how curious he found it that there were two modest, black crows coming directly at him, but he didn't. Instead, he only stared, seemingly clueless of what to do. When the birds folded their wings and started to accelerate, faster than the laws of physics would allow, that was when his expression turned from confusion to a strangely innocent mixture of surprise and amazement. Ciri imagined that he would have reacted similarly if he had found out about how ingenious the skelliger longboats were constructed, or how long lost civilisations had complex sewer systems to prevent cities from becoming as infested with dirt as they were today.
She wouldn't know.
The first bird smashed against his hand, as he held it up to shield himself against the collision. The speed drove it deep into his flesh, but then it went limp, dead from the impact. The second however, found a way through. With one hand holding his sword and one impaled by a sharp beaked animal, he had no chance of properly defending himself from such a peculiar attack. The bird croaked one last time, before hitting him straight in the face, knocking the Hunter off his feet, to Ciri's surprise. It took her a moment to see why.
The crow had found it's intended target. Befitting for it's kind, it did all that it could to find Johannes' eye. More uncommonly, it had apparently been possessed by a devilish enthusiasm, not content with just picking said organ from his head, but diving straight into it and then digging even further. The sight of the Hunter, sprawled on the ground, with a crow's back-end sticking straight up from his eye socket, was bizarre. So bizarre in fact, that Ciri was not able to decide if she should be relieved, or mourn his death.
Had this all not been a misunderstanding? Had he not told her that he would wait and see. Had he not been her friend? Had he not seemed shaken by her being contaminated as well?
Geralt had been trying to protect her and she wouldn't fault him for that. But had he not come off as so aggressive, there might have been no fight. Yennefer had only seen Geralt being stricken down and then Ciri fighting back Johannes. When she had been disarmed, she had come to her rescue. But had Johannes not wanted to say that he would not hurt her? He hadn't finished, but she thought he would.
Now, he was dead. The muddy water beneath his head turning to a shade of rusty brown, as his blood, light in colour, almost cherry red, mixed into it in swirls.
Dawn was coming. The sun would be out soon. She would have to bury his body. She blinked. Again, confused.
Where was his body?
Lea had woken up earlier today. Something had been disturbing her sleep. Well, something other than the nightmares that had plagued her sometimes. This morning, she didn't feel as groggy as usually. Oh how she wanted to sleep in most of the days. Her big sister was an early riser anyway, but Lea was lazy in the mornings. It was fine. Her father always got a chuckle out of it when he saw her stumbling down the stairs to shovel down her breakfast. Yet today, she was wide awake. And the first too, it seemed.
She threw her simplest dress over herself and after putting on a pair of light shoes, she left her room to go downstairs.
Sometimes, there would be patrons here, who'd either stayed up long, or had arrived early. Of course, her father would've been awake as well, but today the main room was empty. She hopped down the last two steps and looked around. Everything was normal. The sun was just about to come up, so most of the room was still shrouded in darkness. Just now, she wondered what was different today, when she heard something.
It was a chime, soft and clear. Like a small musical note that hung in the air around her for a long time. She turned to face the direction where it came from and stared directly at one of the cellar doors below the stairs. This particular cellar was empty, safe for some barrels of wine which had gone sour and couldn't be served anymore. Jürgen had therefore decided to let them sit and become vinegar, which he could, maybe, somehow sell.
Carefully to not make too much noise, she walked up to the door. She noticed a weak light, shining through under it. A thin blue, that reminded her of fog. She opened it and walked downstairs. On the last few steps, she stopped.
In the middle of the room, surrounded by its own circle of light, stood a lantern. It's flame seemed to burn purple, but strangely, it's shine was more blue, or green. At its metal base, grey mist bubbled upwards from the ground, like smoke sitting over an extinguished fire. Within the mist, she could make out faint forms. Little arms and heads, maybe eyes and mouths. There were small, almost invisible creatures sprouting from the ground. She walked up closer and to see them better, crouched down, wrapping her arms around her shins.
"Hey there." She said softly. "How are you this morning?"
The little beings froze for a moment and then turned around to face her. She regarded them more closely this time. They really weren't easy on the eyes, but cute in a way. Their spindly arms and contorted faces reminded her more of corpses than not, yet they moved so childlike, playing with each other and looking around curiously. A few of them wore little accessoires. One had a bow tied to its head, one wore a high, tube-shaped hat. They all seemed so innocent, yet she had no idea where they had come from.
"Are you waiting for someone?" She asked. A few of them waved their arms, one looked straight at her and nodded.
"You seem to have fun though. Are you the ones who are playing this beautiful bell?"
As if on cue, two of them grabbed the base of the lantern and tried to shake it. They barely managed to move the metal stem, yet the little silver bell hanging from the top of the lantern moved so slightly. A soft tone came from it.
"Would you mind if I take it for a moment?" She asked. The little beings looked at each other as if they counselled among each other, then they turned up again to her and some of them nodded.
Carefully, she took and unhooked the little silver thing. It was engraved with fine ornaments and foreign runes, beautiful and delicate, like a spiderweb. She looked down at the beings and saw that they were signalling her, with their little hands, to shake it. She raised it to her eyes and swung it gently. The clapper struck the lip of the bowl and she felt the vibrations travel through her entire body, eliciting goose bumps to form on her skin. The sound, now stronger than before, but still refined, hung in the air for a long time. The little ones seemed excited, some clapping enthusiastically, even though they were completely silent.
She was about to say something, when all of them suddenly turned to look up at the purple flame of the lantern. The lazy purple was vanishing, quickly being replaced by an angry red, that burned stronger, little sparks flying upwards, almost escaping the metal and glass body through the holes at the top. They were motioning for her again. What exactly they wanted was, of course, not clear, but she had the inner feeling that the bell needed to go back where it had been. Careful, not to disturb anything else, she hurried to attach the bells chain back to the top of the lantern. She touched it once, to quiet it's sorry wail and then, she stepped back.
The red grew stronger, the little flame like a small fire now. A few seconds it burned like that, until, with an audible hissing noise, it went out, plunging the cellar into darkness.A tiny flame flickered to life. It was faintly pink, but the light that it gave of, was of a greenish blue. Lea decided that this one was less pleasant, as also the little ones were rushing around in their confined space around the base of the lantern. Patiently, she waited for something to happen. A few moments, a minute, one and a half.
She blinked.
Suddenly, he was there. Kneeling before the faint light of the lantern, the Hunter had appeared. It had been so noiseless and so sudden, that Lea jumped a little where she stood. But her moment of fright turned quickly into concern, as she saw that the Hunter´s face and hands were slick with blood. His clothes were dirty and encrusted with mud and maybe more blood.
Like a knight asked to stand by his queen, he rose. Carefully running his hand through the small crowd of small beings at the base of the lantern, who all tried their best to snuggle up to his fingers and raised their hands like worshippers, when they were too far away. His face was half obscured by his collar from where she stood, but she could see his eyes, pupils wide in the darkness as an owl. He scanned quickly across the room until his eyes landed on her. She could not help but blush again as he stared into her. It was´t unpleasant, but still a bit intimidating.
"Greetings, Lea. It is good to see you again. I see you have gifted my friends a bit of company." He said. She nodded.
"I am back in Rhinzweig?" He asked, turning and bowing down a bit to be closer to her level.
"Well, yes." She said. Did he not intend to travel here? This lantern of his must be some kind of fantastical magic. Surely he was used to it, right?
He smiled and sighed, before rising to his full height again. He pulled his hat from his hat and looked towards the stairs. His next words were soft and mumbled into his collar, yet Lea had a good idea of what they were.
"Well, fuck."
AN: Hey. It's been a while again. Here is my little Christmas present. Happy holidays.
If you like it, leave a review. If you have suggestions for improval, or creative ones, leave a review. I enjoy them a lot. There isn't too much right now to do, except work and this here. I hope that the next chapter comes more quickly, but I promise nothing.