The second time Julian met a Witcher, he was ten years old and far away from the Lettenhove estate. He was visiting his cousins for the summer while his parents and younger sister were away at the Redanian Court. He couldn't say it was a great summer, but it wasn't the worst summer either. He had enjoyed the relative freedom that he had gained with being away from Mother and Father. His uncle, Count Lindenstein, was just as strict in his attitudes as Father, but Julian had noted that he indulged his heir and Julian's oldest cousin in ways that Father never indulged Julian. A tiny bit of that indulgence had been extended to Julian and he basked in it. Of course, like any good noble son, Julian knew there was a price to pay for that indulgence.
Today, his cousin Piotr had summarily decided that they were going on an adventure to save a fair maiden from a dastardly dragon. Piotr, being four years older than Julian, did a lot of summarily ordering around, but Julian had determined that it was just easier to go along than to put up a fuss when Piotr decided on what they were going to do. So, Anna, Piotr youngest sister, was recruited to be their damsel in distress, and Piotr, Julian, Anna, three Lindenstein guards and Anna's governess all rode out to one of the remotest parts of the Lindenstein estate with food for the day.
Piotr was tolerable, if not a bit of bully, but Julian figured that came with the territory of being both four years older and far more muscular than Julian's slight frame. Which was why Anna was currently perched on the lowest branch of a great oak tree and Piotr and Julian were 'sword' fighting with two wooden practice blades.
Julian had been designated as the black knight in league with the dragon currently holding Anna hostage while Piotr was, of course, the hero of this drama. Julian didn't care one way or another about being designated the villain but did wish that Piotr would stop taking the smiting of the evil doer so seriously.
It wasn't that Julian didn't know how to use a sword. At ten, Julian had been taking sword lessons for the past two years. He hated them. The sword felt loo long in his hand, the balance was wrong, and he was always forgetting his follow-through. He had wanted to learn knife fighting, something that utilized his quickness and agility because even the Pankratz Swordmaster acknowledged that Julian was never going to be overly muscled and would tend towards tall and lean. Father however, stated in no uncertain terms, that no Pankratz was going to learn knife fighting like a common tavern brawler and that had been the end of the discussion.
Now, as Julian took a solid thwack to the calf from Piotr's wooden sword, he rather wished he'd been able to learn the knives. He wasn't stupid. He knew that a knife against a sword was a losing battle, but from Julian's point of view, a thrown knife could kill a swordsman and allow Julian time to run away to someplace safer. He didn't consider himself a coward, just someone who knew what he was capable of. He was competent with the sword. The Pankratz Swordmaster was excellent and made sure Julian could utilize his weapon without stabbing himself in the foot. But Julian in all his ten years of wisdom and experience had decided that he would never be brilliant with the weapon and had no desire to put forth the effort to ever try. Now, if Father would let him practice more on his music lessons, oh, then Julian could and would strive for brilliance.
Unfortunately, that currently left him in a losing battle against a stronger, more trained opponent who was determined to beat him into the ground, kindred or not. Julian had also not missed the smirks on two of the guard's faces as their young master did his aforementioned smiting of pretend evil. Bastards.
In the midst of getting the snot beat out of him was when Anna screamed, her pre-adolescent voice high pitched and terrified. Julian, Piotr and the guards all stopped, the governess rising from where she'd been resting on a blanket with the food near the edge of the clearing. Anna, high in the tree, was pointing beyond the meadow clearing and continued to scream.
From the tree line came something out of one of Julian's nightmares – it resembled a wolf, but a bigger, rangier and scarier, in the same way that stag-hunting hounds resembled the fluffy lap dogs that the nobility favored. This one though had a long gash along its side that dripping a thick viscous blood.
Anna screamed again as the wolf-thing bore down on the governess. It was on her in seconds and the poor woman didn't even have a chance to get to her feet. The thing didn't stop but took several bounding leaps before launching upwards at one of the guards, taking both the guard and his horse down in a rolling ball of snapping teeth, blood and screams – both man and horse.
A second later, a rider clad in black thundered into the clearing. He was pitched low on his horse's neck, one hand holding a gleaming sword parallel to the ground. Julian heard him yell, "Get them out of here." The wolf creature was already up and charging towards the second guard only to be blocked by the man in black.
Julian heard someone shout, "Get the heir!" and saw the guard nearest to Piotr grab him up onto his saddle and turn his horse towards the Lindenstein estate. The last guard turned his horse toward Julian.
Anna
Anna was still in the tree. If those things could jump or climb . . . Julian pivoted on his heel and took off for the tree. He was only vaguely aware of the last guard swinging his own horse around and racing after the first, abandoning him in his race to get to Anna.
Thundering hoofbeats sounded behind him as he ran and suddenly the back of his clothing was yanked tight as he was flung through the air into the lower branch of the tree. He let out a pained grunt as he fought to hold onto the tree limb he'd been flung against.
"Higher!" the man yelled before pulling his second sword and slashing at the lower branch, breaking it off with a single swing.
Julian scrambled up on another limb. "Anna, go up higher." Catching the next limb, he climbed upwards until he was sitting close to Anna and he could straddle a branch and look down. The Witcher, because it had to be a Witcher, had slid off his horse to take a position in front of the tree.
The wounded creature was pacing in front of him, but Julian's eyes were drawn to the mangled remains of the governess and the guard, and the blood splashed ground. The monster hadn't killed to eat but had killed to main and rend. Its snout was covered in blood and gore up to its ears. Snarling its displeasure, it advanced on the Witcher. The man stood at the ready, sword in hand in a relaxed ready stance that Julian could only ever dream of imitating.
From his vantage point high in the tree, Julian caught movement at the edge of the meadow clearing. Horrified, he counted four more of the creatures move out from the tree line. "Witcher!" Julian called. "Four more coming."
Something sounding very much like a growl drifted upwards to where Julian was perched. The Witcher darted froward, catching the attention of the wounded one, blade flashing in a deadly arc, as the he sidestepped and pivoted on his heel before bringing the blade down in an arc that severed the head of the thing.
Anna whimpered on the branch above him. "Don't look, Anna dear. Just keep your eyes on the tree trunk. It will be okay, I promise. I'll get you home."
At least, Julian hoped he would because the four other creatures were now on the Witcher, the air filled with shrieks and growls as they circled the man like a true wolf pack. One darted forward to draw his attention while the others tried darting in from the back and sides.
Even telling Anna to look away, he couldn't. The Witcher was a quicksilver dance of deadly grace as he spun and parried snapping jaws and kept the wolf-things back. Compared to this man, Julian's Swordmaster was just a man waving a blade around. This was the brilliance Julian knew he would never achieve.
Another of the things darted forward. Julian's warning shout cut off, as the Witcher raised his free hand. From his hand flame ignited, engulfing the creature. The other three backed off, retreating out of the range of fire and sword. All three of the creatures were wounded now to some extent. To Julian's dismay, the Witcher was also steaked with blood, but he couldn't tell if it was the Witcher's or the creatures.
Two rushed forward this time, the Witcher darting towards them to slip between the rushing pair. His sword flashed out again, taking off the front leg of the closest one before he spun and stabbed the second through the neck. With one down and the other hobbled, the Witcher retreated back a few feet, drawing in great breaths of air as he waited the next attack. It came quickly, the uninjured creature taking the lead with a leaping snarl that knocked the Witcher to his knees, only for the man to roll with the attack and stab upward into the unprotected underbelly of the beast with a knife that suddenly appeared in his hand. Coming out of the roll to come up on one knee, the knife was thrown – hard – embedding itself in the eye of the last creature, who went down without a sound.
The Witcher stayed kneeling long enough for Julian to wonder how injured the man was before he surged to his feet in a more graceful fashion than any man had a right to who had just fought four monsters.
Julian found he was breathing almost as hard as the Witcher below him just from the adrenaline of watching the fight. He was fairly sure they could get down out of the tree now. "Anna, come on, we can get down now," Julian called up to his cousin.
Wide, frightened brown eyes stared tearfully at Julian. "No."
"Come on, Anna. The monsters are dead. That man down there is a Witcher. He saved us. It's okay."
Anna shook her head and Julian glanced downward to the Witcher standing below their tree. He decided to change tactics. "Anna, you want to go home, don't you?"
She gave him a small nod.
"Good, you see that man down there. He's going to take us home. But first we have to get down, okay?"
She eyed the long climb down and shook her head again.
"I'll help you." He held his hand up to her. "I'll be with you the whole way and I'll make sure you get home."
"Promise?" The word came out in a plaintive whisper that hurt Julian's heart.
"Promise."
Grasping her leg, he guided her foot down to a sturdy branch. Slowly, branch by branch, they headed down. Halfway down, the Witcher let out a loud whistle that startled Anna into freezing in her downward journey. Hoofbeats sounding from the distance, assuring Julian he was only recalling his horse, so he urged Anna to continue the climb downward.
Below them, the Witcher swung up onto his horse and positioned the animal under of the branches. "Lower her down to me, boy."
A bolt of excitement went through Julian. He knew that deep rumbling voice. It was his Witcher – Vesemir.
Anna's eyes however went wide with fear at Vesemir's words, and she frantically shook her head no, eyes welling with tears.
"I promised, remember. It will be okay." Julian took hold of both of Anna's hands and bracing a foot against another branch, swung Anna down into the Witcher's arms.
"Now you, boy."
Julian was fairly sure he could jump the remaining distance, but Vesemir's tone was not one Julian particularly felt like challenging, especially since Vesemir was bloody, possibly wounded and probably still on edge after fighting whatever those things were. Stepping down from the branch onto the saddle, he let Vesemir wrap strong gloved hands around his waist and lower him to the saddle and then to the ground.
Anna promptly threw herself at him and buried her face into his chest, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
Julian addressed the Witcher over the girl's shaking shoulders. "Thank you Master Vesemir for saving us from those . . . those-"
"Wargs. Mage bred wolves. Bigger, meaner, smarter." The Witcher's head cocked to the side. "Do I know you, boy?"
Still rubbing Anna's back in a hopefully comforting manner, Julian gave the other man a rueful grin. "My apologies, Master Witcher. I should not have been so familiar as you have no reason to remember me. I'm Julian Pankratz. You hunted a pair of mated gryphons for Father, the Viscount de Lettenhove." Julian hesitated then added, "He didn't honor the Contract."
Recognition lit the Witcher's eyes. "But you did."
He nodded, then decided to switch attention from himself. Patting Anna on the back he said, "This is my cousin Anna, daughter of Count Lindenstein. He holds the surrounding lands and villages. The other boy the guards took was Piotr, his first born and heir. They will send reinforcements once they get to the Manor house."
Vesemir nodded. "Good. Stay with her. I need to check the-" Vesemir's eyes landed on Anna, and he stopped.
Julian nodded, turning her toward where the Witcher's horse stood and away from the bodies – human, horse and warg – that littered the clearing. Behind him he could hear the Witcher moving around. It sounded as if he was dragging something heavy and Julian swallowed against the bile the wanted to rise up in his throat, but Anna was still plastered against him, whimpering softly and he had to be strong for her. He would be strong for her. Long moments later there was a whoosh and Julian jerked around to see a pile of, well, a pile, go up in flames.
"The guards?" he asked softly.
Vesemir shook his head as he came back to them, a bloody looking leather bag in hand. "Can you direct us back to this Manor?"
Julian thought, "I think so."
Vesemir hummed slightly under his breath in acknowledgement. "We'll go. Best to meet the rescue party so they don't get any ideas. Can you both ride?"
Grimacing, he nodded. He was not always the best with horses. "Yes, but not well."
"We will take it slow then. You'll need to keep her in the saddle."
"I can do that, Master Vesemir. We are much appreciative of what you've done."
The Witcher seemed to startle, and Julian wondered if it was because he'd acknowledged his name or because he'd thanked him. Neither answer really sat right. "Before we head out, are you injured? Should we take care of you first?" Again, Julian got that startled reaction. Maybe he was just misreading the Witcher, and it was some other emotion?
"I'm fine," came the gruff, but Julian thought, sincere answer, but he still gave him the side-eye, looking him over carefully.
"Not to question, Master Witcher, but you are covered in a lot of blood. Are you sure, sir?"
"I'm fine," he repeated, voice dropping. Then added, "Witchers heal quickly."
"Oh." There were so many questions that Julian wanted to ask but one look at Vesemir's tense demeanor and Julian swallowed them down, but he still filled that bit about healing quickly away in the back of his mind. He found the Witcher fascinating.
Turning his focus back to Anna, he gave her shoulder a little shake. "Hey Anna?"
His cousin was still plastered against his chest but at least she wasn't crying anymore. "Come on, Anna. Master Vesemir is going to take us home now, okay?"
She nodded against his chest. Over her should, Julian caught Vesemir's eye. "Can you help Anna up?"
He didn't give any warning. One minute she was clinging to Julian and then next she was sitting in the saddle. The movement so swift and smooth Anna didn't even have time to gasp. A few seconds later Julian was ensconced behind her and the only thing he could wonder at was how strong the Witcher was. It was another tidbit to file away.
"Hold on."
Sitting behind Anna, Julian wrapped one hand around her waist and grasped onto the saddle with the other. Vesemir led them at a fast walk as Julian occasionally pointed out directions. Within thirty minutes a cadre of Lindenstein guardsmen, led by the Count himself rounded the bend.
"Papa!" Anna called at the sight of them, bringing everyone to a halt.
"Stealing children, Witcher?" The words were laced with such venom and hatred that Julian rocked back in the saddle.
"No, Uncle. He saved us from the wa-wargs." Julian's tongue tripped over the still unfamiliar word. "You should have seen it. Master Ves-" Julian's words stumbled again, something about the hostility in the air changing his words from the more familiar Master Vesemir to the more formal Master Witcher. "The Master Witcher saved us. He fought and killed five of them. He was amazing. He saved us," he repeated.
"Save your breath, boy. Just hand me the girl, quickly now."
"But-" He looked between the Witcher and his uncle's hard expression and sighed. This was another thing he didn't understand, and he burned with unasked questions.
But he did as directed and helped Anna down into Vesemir's arms. Father had been rude and somewhat condescending when he'd contracted the Witcher, but Julian had come to recognize he was that way with all he considered to be beneath him.
This . . . this was cold hatred.
As Anna ran to her father, Julian climbed down from the horse's back with little grace. His Uncle had dismounted and swept Anna up in his arms, carefully checking her over for injuries. Anna had started tearing up again, but Julian figured that a lot had happened for a sever year old and she probably deserved a good cry.
Uncle handed Anna off to one of the guards, before turning back to face the Witcher, Julian still at his side. "You killed one of my men and the children's governess," he snarled.
Julian opened his mouth to defend Vesemir only to stop as a heavy gloved hand landed on his shoulder.
"The pack of wargs killed your people. Almost killed your heir and daughter," his voice was low but carried, a man who never had to rage or shout to command attention. "I took Contract with the village of Linden to track and kill the pack." One greying brow rose, "Isn't Linden part of your lands, Count Lindenstein? Surely the Lord of the land would have been informed of dangerous monsters roaming his dominion?"
Two dangerous men – one of privilege and the other of power – stared as the tension rose around them. Julian shifted on his feet, unsure of what was happening. The small movement drew the eyes of everyone, but the Witcher, and Julian flushed in embarrassment under the scrutiny. But the movement seemed to break the silent tableau and he let out a small sigh of relief.
Vesemir's hand dropped from his shoulder as his uncle asked, "You unhurt, Julian?"
"Yes, I'm fine, but for a bruise or two."
"Then come. Mount up with one of the guards." Uncle's gaze shifted. "Get off my estate, Witcher."
Julian turned to formally bow to the Witcher, the depth signifying acknowledgement from one of equal rank to another. "I'm afraid I have no coin this time, Master Vesemir," he said softly, "but thank you for saving us."
The Witcher snorted softly, a breath of sound that sounded like amusement to Julian. "Safe journey as walk your Path, boy."
Reluctantly, Julian walked from his side and by the time he'd clamored up on the back of a guard's horse, the Witcher was already gone.