In Dreams
By Pyreite
Chapter 7: Dining with a Witcher
She emerged from Avallac'h's bedroom close to dusk. The silver-white of her hair shining in the candlelight, bright against the bronze of her skin. She smiled when Geralt reached over his shoulder for the hilt of a sword, gloved fingers closing on air. She winked when he cursed in dismay, amused by his reaction.
His steel and silver swords were in a weapons-rack against the wall of Avallac'h's laboratory. The witcher wore a brown gambeson, though he'd shed the heavier chain-mail jacket. It hung along with a steel gorget on an armour-rack beside his swords. The craftsmanship exquisite, like nothing she'd ever seen. Witcher armour was as unique as the monster-hunters that wore it.
One of which lounged at Avallac'h's table, staring at her like a surly yellow-eyed tomcat.
"Am I to be cleaved in half or set aflame?" asked Ellana with the bluntness of a Dalish peasant.
"That depends", said Geralt. "Are you here to capture Ciri?"
"No".
"Am I supposed to believe that?"
"Contrary to what you might think", she replied, rolling her eyes. "Not everyone is interested in taking advantage of your foundling. I didn't cross a hundred worlds to find Zireael. I came to claim the man destined for me. He's asleep right now if you can't hear him snoring".
"Avallac'h too tired to greet an old friend?"
She smirked, brimming with satisfaction. "The poor darling is exhausted. He'll wake come dawn, but not a moment sooner. I'll be your host tonight if you don't mind dining with someone like me. I suspect most witchers would've taken my head as a trophy by now".
Geralt wondered if she'd broken the poor elf's spine. He'd heard the commotion they'd made. The repetitive rapping of the headboard on the wall had likely created a sizeable divot. He was impressed Avallac'h hadn't dislocated a hip during their energetic lovemaking.
"I'm not like most witchers".
"So Avallac'h told me. He said you were rather unusual for a man of your profession".
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"He implied that you preferred to talk than to fight".
Geralt accepted the invitation veiled though it was in politesse. "I don't kill sapient monsters".
"I'm not a monster", claimed Ellana. "Even if I resemble one".
He glanced at the horns curving up and over the crown of her head. He eyed her with wariness of a vagrant wolf, though he didn't try to leave his seat. He stayed put with the stubbornness of a mule refusing to be led to water. He was the cautious kind of hunter, a man that weighed the risk before acting. A witcher that'd talk given the opportunity, asking questions before drawing a sword.
"Are you a shapeshifter?"
"Was it my scent, the cat-eyes, the claws or horns that gave me away?"
"All four. Though you stink of sex and Avallac'h. I don't smell steel or silver, though there's a tinge of platinum. You're wearing jewellery, but not a dagger, comb or needle sharp enough to stab me with. You sure that's wise?"
She snorted as if he'd said something amusing. "Because you're a witcher?"
"I kill monsters for a living".
"I'm not a monster, but a rather unusual half-elf".
The witcher frowned. "So you're half-dragon?"
"Something like that".
He shrugged, accepting her explanation. "It's not the strangest thing I've come across. A little odd, but plausible considering the chaotic nature of magic. Might be possible if you're part elf, since elves have their own innate weirdness. You are different from anyone I've met before – monster, elf or mage".
Ellana was unsure if she should be flattered or insulted. "Thanks. I think".
Geralt assessed her with a witcher's methodicalness. She was shorter and skinnier than he'd expected, though there was a sinewy strength in her limbs. The kind he recognised in dryads, rusalka and succubi. She hadn't postured or threatened him, seeming harmless in her borrowed clothes. The linen, leather and velvet ill-fitting on her slender frame.
The shirt was a pale grey with a high collar embroidered in silver thread. It was cinched at the waist by a leather belt with a decorative buckle in the shape of a leaf. Her breeches were loose at the knee, flaring outward like pantaloons. Her boots were a dull brown, ending an inch below her knee. The toes of each as ill-fitting as the shirt and breeches.
Geralt recognised that shirt, along with the breeches and boots. She'd rummaged through Avallac'h's wardrobe for something to wear. He hoped she hadn't borrowed the snooty elf's underwear. The shapeless white shorts he'd seen in Kaer Morhen while clean had smelt rather musty. He doubted Avallac'h had the luxury of spare changes, though being a mage and an Aen Saevherne.
His underwear might have been an illusion rather than real.
"If you're a shapeshifter that looks and smells like a draconid", he surmised from a brief appraisal of Ellana. "That makes you half a monster, even if you haven't razed the countryside. I know you can breathe fire, there's the scent of ash on your breath. You smell like a burning hearth, but not sulphurous like rotten eggs. So you're a different kind of draconid than what I'm used too".
"My scales are silver. My draconid form is several times larger than a wyvern. Which should be clue enough about what I am".
Geralt was loathe to believe her claim. "Silver dragons don't exist".
"Have you ever seen one?"
"In a storybook. On a tapestry. Once on a nobleman's coat of arms".
They assessed each another, trying to gauge strength and weakness. The witcher seemed vulnerable without his swords, though Ellana knew better. Her nostrils flared as she tested the air, catching nuances of familiar scents. She smelt wood, feathers and steel coated with a thick and spicy blade-oil. So he'd prepared to retaliate if things turned sour between them.
"You left your swords on the rack to distract me. Clever. Although I can smell the draconid oil on the quarrels of your crossbow. It's behind you, strapped across the back of your chair. Did you intend to shoot me?"
Geralt arched a snowy eyebrow, ignoring her question. "Wasn't sure if I could go toe to toe with you". He gestured to their surroundings. "Avallac'h might have intervened. We are in his laboratory. If he's got enough protective wards on this place to give Yennefer trouble. I don't stand a chance if I draw a weapon here".
Ellana was unimpressed. "You think a quarrel would put me down?"
"Of course not. I wanted to see if you'd attack me outright. Most monsters don't like witchers' on principle. So we get into fights before there's a chance to talk. But that's if they're afraid of what I am and what I do".
"Track, hunt and kill monsters?"
"Yeah".
She replied with a dry reiteration of an earlier statement. "I'm not a monster, so you can keep your swords sheathed. I'd appreciate it if you didn't shoot me either. I'd rather not transform in here with several tonnes of dirt and rock above our heads. So let's call a truce shall we?"
"You don't like getting dirty?"
Ellana wrinkled her nose, grimacing with such distaste that Geralt snorted in amusement.
"Not especially", she admitted with chagrin. "It's easier to bathe in this form than as a dragon. I can fit in a tub on two legs, but on four with wings and a tail. I need a lake, lagoon or an ocean to wash in. It's also rather weird having a neck long and flexible enough to swing my head around".
He got the gist of what she'd meant. "So like a cat or a dog, when you're a dragon. You can lick your own arse".
"I might be half-draconid, but most of me is still an elf. Some things don't translate well when you think like a person. Once after shifting back I had to gargle salt water, while scrubbing my teeth and tongue with a twig. It took an hour to get the taste out of my mouth. It was awful".
She had the witcher in stitches.
Geralt chortled till he was red in the face and his eyes were streaming. Few things in the world could make him lose his composure. A shapeshifter adopting the behaviours of the creature they transformed into broke him. He croaked like a bullfrog, laughter subdued but frequent enough to cause offence. Ellana scowled when he enjoyed her misfortune longer than was polite.
"It's not that funny".
"It's hilarious", he replied, gasping for air. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, grinning from ear-to-ear when he got his breath back. "You got a name?"
"Ellana".
He pressed a gloved hand to his chest. "I'm Geralt. So. You ever play Gwent? If we can't kill each other, we could bond over cards".
"Does it involve gambling? I've no coin if you're intent on swindling me".
He blinked at her with the slow methodicalness of a cat. "I've got higher stakes in mind".
"Such as?"
"Information. We play. We talk. You could answer some questions I've got. I could answer some of yours".
Ellana was intrigued by the offer. "All right. But if we're going to bond. It'd best be over food and drink rather than cards. You hungry, witcher?"
Geralt's stomach gave an audible rumble. He hadn't had anything to eat all day. "I could go for a decent meal. It's been a while. You cooking?"
"I'll see what I can scrounge. But don't get your hopes up. Avallac'h eats like a bird".
She was gone in a flash of silver. Her departure softer, quieter and less dramatic than Ciri. Geralt saw the frigidity of her magic shimmer then dissipate like mist. It had a glacial bite reminiscent of Eredin, though she hadn't frozen Avallac'h's door. The latch was free of icicles, the brass untouched by frost.
Geralt tensed when she reappeared by the table in a burst of light and cold.
Ellana arched an eyebrow, noting how agitated he was. His shoulders hunched, his neck pulled in as if he were a turtle hiding inside its shell. She laid the satchel on the table between them, exhaling a mouthful of white fog. She frowned when he eyed her with a wariness that spoke of violent past encounters. She knew what'd perturbed him, the chill of her magic lingering in the air.
"You can travel between worlds", the witcher declared with a sense of trepidation. "I know of an elven warlord that could do that too. He was of the Aen Elle, one of Avallac'h's people. He hunted Ciri across worlds and between them until the day he died. I killed him".
He regarded her with suspicion, uncertain of whose side she was on.
"Eredin Bréacc Glas, leader of the Wild Hunt", hissed Ellana, her lip curling in dislike. A serpentine tongue flicked out from behind her fangs, tasting the air. It was pink, thick and forked. "May the earth lie heavy upon him, the arrogant bastard". She arched an eyebrow when Geralt frowned, his golden eyes widening in surprise.
"You know of him?"
"Thanks to Avallac'h".
The mention of her lover's name made him more mistrustful. There was a glint of knowing in Ellana's eyes, as if she knew more than she'd let on. Geralt sensed the truth in her words, but also a lie of omission. She had learned of Eredin from Avallac'h, but not of the Wild Hunt chasing down Ciri like a pack of wolves. There was something she was hiding, a reason and an explanation that he was determined to ferret out.
"Right", he replied, suspecting that he wasn't going to get a better answer. "How far can you go?"
"Far enough".
"That's vague".
"So was the question. Shall we continue playing this game of cat and mouse?"
The tension while still present slackened like a belt loosening a notch. Geralt gave her ground, letting the subject drop for the moment. If she was this cagey than given the right coaxing, she might yet tell him what he wanted to know. The witcher conceded with grace, though he didn't let her forget what he'd learned. He added the gentlest of pressure, waiting to see if she'd squirm.
"I suspected as much, but seeing is believing". Geralt gestured to the chair across the table, inviting her to sit with him. "Are you aware that Avallac'h's people, the Aen Elle hunt mages like you? They've spent years trying to capture Ciri. If he reveals your existence to them, they'll come for you too".
She shrugged her shoulders, unconcerned despite his warning. "If they do than I'll deal with them. If they don't than I'll assume Avallac'h didn't want his kinsmen to die. I won't be taken captive or held in bondage, shackled hand and foot. Tir ná Lia will burn if they're foolish enough to try and put a leash around my neck".
Geralt recognised that tone of voice. The promise of retaliation a certainty should the worst come to pass. Ciri had vowed such should she fall into the hands of the Red Riders again. The similarity between both women made the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Neither would be captured without significant losses to the Aen Elle.
"You mean it".
"I don't make idle threats", stated Ellana with the frankness of a Dalish woodelf. "Like Zireael, I know what it is to be hunted. The creature that came after me wanted my head mounted on an iron spike. I hunted and slew him instead, destroyed his allies and killed a dragon he held in thrall. If the Aen Elle decide to follow his example, it will be the last thing they ever do".
"What if they leave you alone?"
"They'll keep their lives, if not than I'll respond in kind".
"Like a witcher", said Geralt. "So we have something in common. Are you going to sit down, or continue standing there like a horse? I thought you were cooking. You invited me to dinner".
Ellana sank into the seat across from him, wary lest he put a quarrel in her eye. She'd surprised him, though the witcher shrugged it off. He was every bit the consummate professional, even if his skin was crawling as if he had ants in his pants. She smelt the fear in his scent, the spicy sharpness of anticipation. He was raring for a fight and a tumble in the sheets, though she knew better than to try her luck.
His paramour was averse to sharing.
"If I were to cook. We'd be roasting a pig on a spit over an open fire. Avallac'h's laboratory lacks a suitable hearth. So I've brought basic provisions to tide us over. Unless of course you want something hot to eat".
Geralt decided to test her. "I wouldn't mind".
She rolled her eyes. "I knew bread, butter and cheese wouldn't suffice. Give me a moment".
Then she was gone again in a flash of silver.
Geralt leaned across the table, nodding when he saw the plush seat of her chair. The cushion neither icy nor hard as if it were frozen. The air was cold where she'd sat, the scent and feel of her magic subtler than Eredin's. She didn't rage or howl like a blizzard, but crept into a space like falling snow. His skin prickled with unease, though he ignored the urge to arm himself.
It was strange to be treated with a modicum of respect too. Ellana hadn't jeered, cursed or looked down her nose at him. His profession neither offending nor revolting her. She'd offered to sup with him, a courtesy few people extended. Most spat when he passed them in the streets, whilst others pelted him with stones once they'd learned what he was.
Geralt wasn't sure how to feel about Ellana's lack of hostility.
He contemplated weird dragon-elf customs till a feast coalesced from nothing. Platters of roasted meat and vegetables appeared on the table as if by magic. A dish crusted with pastry, a bowl of fruit and glass shakers of salt and pepper soon followed. He gaped at the bounty she'd brought him, sniffing delectable scents like a hound. His mouth watered when his host reappeared in a swirl of silver-white fog.
She gestured to the table and the fare she'd brought him. "Will this do?"
"Yeah".
"Let's hope that Avallac'h hasn't drunk all my wine".
She strode away to rummage in her lover's dusty shelves. She returned moments later with crockery and cutlery in hand. A bottle of wine tucked under her arm. She was grateful when Geralt offered to help, letting him take the bottle while she set the table. She passed him a plate and goblet, then a knife and fork.
"Hungry?"
"Very", replied Geralt. "Where'd you get the food?"
"Does it matter?".
His eyes narrowed. "Did you steal it?"
Ellana smirked, winking at him. "I glamoured myself to appear human, walked into an inn and compensated the cook with coin. They were suspicious of a stranger then delighted when I could pay for the food I wanted. They offered me more than I could carry, but my hands were full. So eat your fill while it's hot".
Geralt wondered if she'd picked his pocket. She had warned him that she was skint. "What kind of compensation?"
"The sparkly kind that jingles".
He patted himself down under the table. He had a sneaking suspicion that she'd nicked his coinpurse. He was proven right when said purse was tossed in the air. His hands shot out to catch the bag before it knocked over his goblet. He was about to let loose a scathing tirade when he noticed the weight difference. It was heavier than he remembered.
"Huh?"
He eyed Ellana distrustfully, squeezing his reclaimed purse. The coinage was gone, but there was something lumpy inside. He thought it might be rocks or lumps of coal. He unlaced the purse, certain he'd been duped. He reached inside, gloved fingers closing around something hard.
He withdrew a handful of baubles, each shiny, colourful and clinking like crystal.
"Sapphires. Rubies. Emeralds", he remarked, biting into one to test its hardness. He was shocked to realise that it wasn't coloured glass. "This is worth five to ten times what I had in crowns. Where did you get these?"
"I made them".
"What?"
"I made them", Ellana reiterated in earnest. "I can turn ordinary items into anything I want with a thought and a little magic. You'll get more for the jewels if you trade them for currency. The stones' are flawless, which should net you a suitable return. I told you I had no coin, so this should be adequate compensation for what I borrowed".
The incredulous witcher made an assumption. "You're an alchemist?"
"Sorry to disappoint", corrected Ellana. "I am but a humble elven mage".
"Bullshit", countered Geralt, knowing that she told half-truths like Avallac'h. "Humble elven mages can't make gemstones out of pebbles. If that were true your boyfriend would've found out the how and the why of it. I bet that he's devoted to you because you're special like Ciri is special. Except he ended up in bed with you, while he stuck to mentoring Ciri".
"Surprised?"
"Relieved. The less focused he is on Ciri. The better. No offence".
"None taken", acknowledged Ellana. "I understand better than you might think".
"Am I supposed to take your word for that?"
"Of course not. We're going to bond over dinner. Remember?" She gestured to the food she'd brought him. "Eat before it gets cold".
Ellana watched the witcher sniff the contents of his plate. He was careful to smell everything she'd brought him. He wasn't a picky eater, but he was particular about food being safe to eat. He swallowed potions daily that would kill an ordinary man. Yet there he sat at Avallac'h's table, hesitant to taste anything.
"It's not poisoned".
Geralt glanced at her empty plate. "You're not eating".
She rolled her eyes, sliding her plate across the table. He filled it without hesitation, using his own knife and fork. She soon had a pile of roasted pork, beef and chicken. Roast potatoes, pumpkin and carrots followed. He pushed her plate back, along with his unfilled goblet.
She smiled, taking the hint. "A feast it is".
She accepted the plate with a nod of thanks. She reached for the bowl of fruit, taking an apple from the top. She tossed it to him, grinning when he caught it one-handed. He set it down down beside his plate, waiting for her to play the gracious host. Ellana snorted, taking her bottle of wine in hand.
She uncorked it with a pop.
"Smells good", said Geralt, his nostrils flaring. "I hope it tastes as good".
Ellana tilted the bottle till a stream of liquor trickled into his goblet. The sweetness of apples, oranges and other summer fruits filled Avallach's laboratory. It was a pleasure to watch the witcher twitch in his seat like an overexcited hound. She filled her own goblet, recorking the bottle as she placed it on the table between them.
She braced her taloned fingers on the enamelled stem of his goblet, pushing it forwards.
Geralt accepted it with a nod of thanks, eager to partake. He set his fingers around the goblet's brass bowl. He frowned when she didn't raise her cup in toast. Ellana smiled with a flash of white fangs, understanding what he wanted. Some courtesies translated across worlds and between them.
"It's been a while since I've shared a drink with anyone".
"Centuries?"
"Possibly".
She raised her goblet, meeting his in the air. They toasted with a metallic clink, pressing the brass rims to their mouths. They sipped in unison, the witcher making a noise of appreciation. He was restrained enough not to drain the entire goblet much to Ellana's amusement. He licked his lips instead, setting it down before he could drink it dry.
"That's some wine".
"Like liquid sunlight, but softer than silk?"
"Yeah", said Geralt. "Never tasted anything like it".
"Nor would you. It's not made by anyone from this world. It's from mine, several thousands years in the past. Produced for a bunch of elven twats masquerading as gods. I once stole a glassful, but never an entire bottle".
He recalled what she'd told him. "You said that you can make things".
"I can".
"How?"
She winked at him. "With magic and the right application of force".
"So you made the wine, the bottle and the gems you gave to me?"
"More or less".
He stared at her, brows furrowing. "Mages that I've met can conjure illusions like food and wine that look, smell, feel and taste real. Neither will sate my hunger or quench my thirst. It's fake even if all my senses tell me it isn't". He gestured to the platters she'd brought him, hot and steaming on the tabletop. "How do I know that this isn't an illusion too?"
Ellana was annoyed that he thought she'd be that callous. "I didn't swipe your coin so I could bargain with a innkeeper for nothing. I bought this food because you asked. Considering that I'll be eating it too, should be evidence enough that it's real. You're not the only person at this table that's hungry. The mages you came across must've been right arseholes".
"How'd you figure that?"
"Only a prick would cast an illusion of a banquet than offer a guest a meal. They're either too cheap to buy actual food, too poor to hire a cook or too haughty to do either. It's a gross breach of social etiquette. Were these mages you met human or elves?"
"Human".
"There you go, witcher", she declared, disdainful of their rudeness. "My people feed their guests, we don't starve them. We deign to eat with them too. So help yourself. I don't care if you eat with your fingers or a fork".
"You first", said Geralt.
"Such a gentleman".
Ellana took the first bite, a forkful of beef that tasted as delicious as it smelled. She chewed and swallowed whilst Geralt scrutinised her every move. She responded by jabbing her fork into another piece of meat. She made short work of it, popping a third into her mouth. That soon disappeared, along with carrot, a potato and a mouthful of pumpkin.
"Someone's hungry".
She shrugged her shoulders, continuing to eat. She'd downed a third of her plate before Geralt was convinced the food was palatable. He shook his head, grumbling about ravenous dragon-elves and followed her example. They ate in companionable silence till he'd seen enough of her fangs to last a lifetime. He studied the horns that curved up and over the crown of her head.
Each was as thick as his wrist, ridged like a seashell and tapered to a sharp point.
He might have thought her a succubus if not for the slitted pupils of her eyes. A succubus had more in common with a chort than a cat, their pupils round, small and dark. They lacked the nictating membrane sliding across the ball of Ellana's eye when she blinked. If he'd been an ordinary man instead of a witcher, Geralt might've found her oddities disturbing. No woman he'd ever met had the horns of a goat, the eyes of a cat and the claws of a lizard.
Neither did they have a left-hand, bottle-green and transparent like glass.
It lacked the claws of her right-hand, the fingers slender with curved nails. He saw translucent bones through the veil of her skin and silver-white veins. He'd known it was a magical construct the moment she'd first appeared. The witcher medallion around his neck twitching like an overturned beetle. He knew she was part-elf from the pointed tips of the ears sticking out of her hair.
Although she didn't resemble an Aen Seidhe or an Aen Elle.
She had an elf's youthfulness and beauty, but she looked more inhuman than either race. Her face too angular, her features too sharp and delicate like the petals of a flower. Her ears were too large, her eyes too bright and expressive in a way that wasn't elven at all. She lacked an Aen Seidhe's dignified restraint and an Aen Elle's haughty condescension. She hadn't treated him with the loathing elves usually had for humans either.
It was downright unnatural.
"This is the first time an elf hasn't called me a bloede dh'oine", admitted Geralt whilst sipping from his goblet. The wine was refreshing if strange like the woman sharing his table. "Do you not hate humans? I already know that for a shapeshifter you're unafraid of witchers".
"Still stuck on that?"
He grimaced, feeling uncomfortable. "It's weird".
"Why?" demanded Ellana.
"Because all the elves I've ever met don't like humans".
"You're not human. You're a witcher".
"A mutant".
She stabbed her fork into a piece of pork, baring her teeth as if it'd offended her. "Unlike most of those elves, I don't judge a person by their race. I don't care that you were once human, but now have cat-eyes and hunt monsters for coin. I care that you're an honest man. Who you are means more to me than what you are".
"That's a dangerous way to think".
"Of course it is. You needn't worry. I can handle myself. Should trouble find me, I'll draw my preferred weapons. I have a knack for getting into and out of difficult situations with my skin intact".
Geralt chuckled, reminded of a friend. "You sound like Borch Three Jackdaws".
"Who?"
"A shapeshifter like you, but his scales were gold instead of silver".
Ellana's eyes widened in disbelief. "You've met a gold dragon". She was intrigued by the Geralt's nod of acquiescence. "How delightful. Avallac'h mentioned such creatures existed".
"Borch said they were the rarest of dragon kind".
"He was wrong. Silver dragons are rarest".
"You'd know".
"I do in fact, so do you if no one in this world or Avallac'h's has ever seen one. My kind exist only in art and folklore. So I must be the only silver dragon in existence. Ironic considering that I like Zireael may yet be another kind of rarity. You've no doubt come to the same conclusion".
"I have. Yeah".
"So ask the question I know you want too".
Geralt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like the way she looked at him with those piercing jade-green eyes. She reminded him of the orphaned runaway from Cintra. A little girl that'd survived tragedy, grief and hardship. That child, now a woman could cut a man in half with a stroke of her sword.
"I'm a simple witcher".
"You're Zireael's father", corrected Ellana. "Your beloved is her mother. It doesn't matter if none of you share blood. You're a family. I'm a stranger and an outsider, though I doubt that'll matter to your daughter".
"You think Ciri came here for you?"
"I know she did. The troubling dreams she's had of late have everything to do with me. She won't understand the meaning behind them, but I do which is telling enough. Zireael was sent to find me before I could leave this world. That she appeared with you and Yennefer in tow, within an hour of my arrival isn't a mere coincidence".
That surprised him. "You only got here four days ago?"
"Quite".
"How long have you known Avallac'h?"
"A week at most, give or take a few days".
Geralt was sceptical. "But you're sleeping with him".
She snickered, her eyes twinkling in amusement. "He initiated. I responded. It was a pleasurable exchange for us both. I'm certain you've had enough trysts to know how such things go".
He knew better than to bite, sensing the trap she'd laid. He preferred to keep his conquests past and present private. So he focused on her budding relationship with Avallac'h. "Last I knew. Your boyfriend was particular about who he beds. You're an elf, but not completely".
He gestured to the horns upon her head, the slitted pupils of her eyes. The marks of her draconid nature set her apart. It would be suicide if she ever set foot in a human village, town or city without a glamour to hide her alieness. She'd be lynched, driven out by force, slain on sight or wind up with a bounty on her head. A contract that a witcher like him would consider for an adequate sum.
"You're wondering why Avallac'h accepted me", assumed Ellana. "So am I considering that I'm unlike the women he's used too. I began my life as an elf, then became something more after a period of great suffering. It changed me within and without, making me a half-blood at best, an abomination at worst. If either had mattered to Avallac'h, I wouldn't have let him touch me".
"You think he's that shallow?" asked Geralt.
"He's brilliant, obsessive and arrogant. Of course he's that shallow. We are bound by destiny, but nothing is set in stone. He could betray me to the Aen Elle, so what happened to Zireael could happen to me. I might be sharing his bed, but I'm not fool enough to trust him".
"He is of the Aen Saevherne".
"A born scholar that chronicles elven pedigrees. I've seen the tapestry of Lara Dorren's family tree on the wall. I'll leave him if it becomes a problem. If he follows me than we'll play fox and hound for a few decades. Considering how obsessive he was over Lara, getting out and about might be good for him".
"You're not worried he'd catch up with you?"
"We'd end up in bed after he finished working himself into a rage. Sex is a wonderful way to relieve pent-up frustrations. He'd forgive me afterwards, then likely demand that I take him with me when next I go wandering. We'd talk, wind up in bed again and come to realise in a week that we can't stand each other. So we'd hiss and spit like two tomcats in an alleyway, until we went our separate ways again".
That was familiar ground to Geralt. "You've described my relationship with Yennefer".
"I've always been intuitive".
"Smartass".
"Aw", teased Ellana. "Don't be like that. We were starting to figure out if we could be friends".
Geralt reminded of a cat batting a ball of twine, was perturbed by her playful flippancy. While she'd answered his questions, she hadn't confirmed what he suspected was true. If Avallac'h had taken her to bed than she was special in the same way that Ciri was special. It fit even if her bedmate abhorred humans like his fellow Aen Elle. He hadn't looked twice at Ciri, yet a dragon-elf had turned his head.
What Geralt didn't understand was – Why?
So he asked what he'd wondered since they'd met. "Who is Ciri to you?"
He was suspicious when Ellana exhaled a weary breath. Instead of replying, she lifted her goblet to her mouth, taking a deep draught of wine. Geralt continued on the offensive, certain that he was on the right track. A witcher's nose was akin to a bloodhound's if far drier than wet. He was determined to root out this secret if it might help Ciri.
"I know that you're like her, even if I don't know how. You smell like lightning before a storm like she does. You disappear in a flash of silver, though your travels through space and time are subtler. Quieter with a touch of frost that suggests an affinity with ice magic. Which leads me to believe that you can control your powers".
Ellana swallowed having emptied her goblet, she set it down with a brassy clink. She inhaled a fortifying breath, bracing herself for his reaction. It wasn't something she'd wanted to admit, least of all to Zireael's adopted father. It was a personal matter that didn't concern him at all, but Lara's interference had changed everything. He was involved now, along with Yennefer of Vengerberg and their mutual stepchild.
Sometimes she hated her sister.
"Zireael is my niece some forty human generations removed".
Geralt's yellow cat-eyes were wide as saucers. "That's not possible".
She fiddled with her fork, the tips of her talons clicking against the metal. "It is very possible. I'm far older than I look. I'm also a bearer of the Hen Ichaer, the Elder Blood. So I can use all the associated magical abilities inherent in that bloodline".
"Like Ciri".
"Yes".
The witcher forgot his thirst and hunger. This was a revelation in the worst way possible. "Ciri is the last living descendant of Lara Dorren. You're a half-elf that's part dragon not human. You can't be her descendant too".
"I'm not".
"Then who are you?"
"Lara Dorren is my half-sister", revealed Ellana. "We have the same mother, but different fathers. Auberon Muirecetach sired Lara, while mine hailed from another world. Shiadhal stayed with him long enough to fall pregnant. She abandoned me after I was born, leaving my father to raise me alone".
Geralt gaped at her in astonishment. "You're the daughter of Shiadhal, Queen of the Aen Elle".
"Unfortunately".
He swallowed, trying to absorb that detail. "Are you an orphan?"
"I don't know. I've never met my mother. I haven't been home in years either. So I don't know if my father is dead or alive".
"I'm sorry".
She fiddled with her fork, looking up at him with those sad jade-green eyes.
Ciri's eyes.
"Not as sorry as I am. I rue the day I found out that I was different from everyone else. I never wanted to be special. I wanted to be ordinary, to live a normal life. Fate had other plans for me, as it did for Zireael".
Geralt nodded, goblet pressed to his lips. He followed suit, taking a deep draught of his wine. It was sickly sweet on the back of his tongue. He was quiet, contemplating how this strange woman reminded him of Ciri. He wasn't sure about anything she'd said, but that Avallac'h had taken her to bed spoke volumes.
The elf had been vigorous in staking his claim too.
"I assume the resident Aen Saevherne knows who you are?"
"He knows about the circumstances of my birth", said Ellana. "But he's uncertain of anything else. I haven't shown him what I can do, nor has he had a chance to test me. I suspect that come morning we'll be arguing about it. He'll learn that I am not an accommodating woman".
"Neither is Ciri".
"That's something she and I have in common".
He paused, sensing an opportunity. "Did you even know that she existed?"
"Not until my sister visited me in a dream".
That got his attention. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. Lara appeared to me one night, in a white dress dripping with pearls. She had a gold diadem on her brow, emeralds in her ears. A platinum signet ring on the index finger of her left-hand. It belonged to Auberon Muirecetach, while its partner was worn by our mother".
Geralt stared when she showed him her right-hand. There upon her index finger glinted a platinum band. A signet ring, the bezel engraved with a flower with six petals in the shape of a star. The very piece of jewellery Ciri had described dreaming of over and over again. He swore, realising that he hadn't noticed it until now.
"Shit!"
"Does it look familiar?"
"It's more than that".
"How so?"
Although reluctant to reveal his daughter's secrets. He realised that Ellana had known more than she'd let on. The description she'd given of Lara Dorren, of the ring upon her finger matched the figure in Ciri's dreams. The platinum band in her possession had to be it's twin, taken from the hand of Shiadhal. It was an eerie coincidence.
He'd learned the hard way that dreams had power.
"Ciri dreamt of a world consumed by the White Frost. Its castles, cities and villages frozen in ice. A blizzard raged, the wind howled and a black wolf with red eyes prowled there. The snow fell unending while a man wept beneath the last living tree in a sea of white. He knelt over a grave, the name of the person buried there scratched into its bark".
Geralt went quiet when Ellana blinked, her brows arching in surprise.
"So that's what he thinks happened to me".
"What?"
She regarded him with calm solemnity. "The man kneeling at the foot of that grave is my estranged beau. An elven mage called Solas. The black wolf is a form he would take to move in secret among my father's people. The name scratched into the bark of that tree is mine because he believes that I died".
"Did you?"
"Maybe. I don't know for sure. I could have concealed a part of my spirit elsewhere for safekeeping. Thereby allowing my resurrection under the right circumstances. That might be why I have Shiadhal's signet ring, and why I came to find Avallac'h".
Geralt frowned, confused. "I don't understand".
"Neither do I. There are far too many missing pieces. I'll have to make a voyage tonight".
"You're leaving?"
"Not by boat, witcher. Never fear. I will be here come morning, ready to wake in Avallac'h's arms. Should Zireael return, I will answer what questions she has. It should be an illuminating conversation for us both".
Geralt heaved a sigh of relief, glad that she was willing to indulge Ciri. They'd travelled far and wide in the past week, traversing land and sea to find her. The trip from Novigrad planned by boat had changed when Ciri had sensed something off. She'd grabbed his hand and Yennefer's, teleporting them to Skellige in the blink of an eye. They'd arrived at Avallac'h's laboratory not knowing what to expect.
"Good", he replied, regarding her with concern. "I don't believe half of what you've told me. But I saw you leave and return in a flash of silver. That's Ciri's brand of magic. If the dreams she's had guided her here than she was meant to meet you".
"No thanks to my troublesome sister", concluded Ellana. "Lara never did like being told – No".