Author's note: Please forgive the extreme tardiness of this update. My muse took an extended vacation to another world and was reluctant to come back. (Feel free to interpret that as a non-Witcher story in the works). Thank you for your patience and enjoy.
The hushed voices intruded on the darkness and Eskel tried to open his eyes. His lids were so heavy. He tried to move his hand to no avail. He felt detached from his body. The voices were getting louder, arguing. A man and a woman. They sounded familiar, but he couldn't bring up names or faces in his mind's eye. He groaned in frustration. Suddenly the arguing stopped, and cool, soft hands stroked his forehead, a woman's voice murmured to him and he was enveloped in the sweet scent of strawberries. He stilled and drifted back into the fathomless darkness.
Triss carefully closed the door behind her and Lambert turned on her.
"He's been lying there for two days! We need to wake him up!"
"Lambert, we don't even know what's happened to him or why."
"All the more reason to wake him up!"
"But if he is not ready to wake," said a gentle tenor voice, "you may do more harm than good." Lambert looked over his shoulder and scowled.
"This doesn't concern you, old man."
"Lambert!" Triss pushed past him. "Magnus, I'm sorry. We're all out of sorts here."
"That is alright, my dear. I came looking for you and this young lady offered me a cup of tea." Magnus tuned his blue eyes on Lambert. "You must be Lambert, the bitter and impulsive brother. You belong to a unique brotherhood, Lambert."
"Belonged. Two are dead and a third might join them. And I've got a lot to be bitter about." Magnus considered Lambert for a moment before Kari brought him a cup of tea.
"Ah! Thank you. And yes, Lambert, I agree you do have a lot to be bitter about. Being essentially sold off by your own father…"
"How do you know that?"
"I seem to have gleaned a few of Eskel's memories. It happens from time to time when I examine someone the way I examined Eskel." Triss invited Magnus to sit at the table with them while Kari slipped off to check on the napping twins.
"Magnus," she began, "I can't feel the vibration anymore."
"Yet he lives. I told you it was good the witchers found him first."
"He has been unconscious for two days but there isn't a mark on him." Lambert complained again.
"But he is injured just the same, although it is not an injury you would be familiar with. It is usually found among mages when their power has been drained, which can be self-inflicted or not. There are things that one can take to prevent death but to use those substances could mean death."
"Someone siphoned off his power? Wouldn't the witcher's mutations have blocked them, too?" Triss asked.
"It blocks him. I'm not so certain that is true for a skilled mage." There was a thump from the bedroom then the door swung open. Lambert jumped to his feet as Eskel shuffled out, one hand on the wall, the other on his head. He draped Eskel's arm over his shoulders and wrapped his own around Eskel's waist. For all his bluster and biting comments, Lambert cared for his brothers, especially now that he only had one left. Eskel eased to the bench across from Magnus. The old wizard said nothing as he sipped his tea.
"Drink," Eskel croaked. Triss quickly fetched him a tall tankard of ale. He downed the entire tankard then sighed. Triss and Lambert waited.
"Good afternoon." Magnus said. Eskel grunted.
"What gets you out of bed?" he asked.
"A dream…memory…then I puked my guts up."
"And what was so upsetting?"
"Pond scum."
"Pond scum?" Magnus queried.
"She gave it to me…right before." Eskel laid his forehead on the smooth wood table.
"She?" Magnus continued to gently question him. Eskel turned his head to the side and looked at Triss.
"Yen. Yen was there." Triss gasped and Lambert's face turned red with anger.
"That two-faced bitch!" he yelled but Eskel shook his head as he sat up.
"She did it to save us. You and me. Emhyr rescinded the kill order and she stayed to serve him. Then she poured a bottle of something down my throat and fed me this awful slime. It tasted just as bad coming up as it did going down." Eskel dropped his head back down to the table.
"Eskel," Magnus said, "may I have your hand, please?" Eskel slid it toward him without lifting his head. He felt he mage's warm touch and was soon engulfed by the gentle squeeze of air, but it was over almost as soon as it began. He lifted his head.
"Well?"
"Your power will return in time. You may feel a bit…disconnected for a while. This Yen seems to be aware of your tolerances. She is also very skilled and stopped just shy of draining you dry. Who is she?"
"Yennefer of Vengerberg. How could she?" Triss said in disbelief.
"Don't be angry with her. She had no choice. Sit down, both of you. Kari, could I have something to eat, please?" Kari jumped at the sound of his voice as she entered the room again but swiftly turned to the pot over the fire and served him up a hearty bowl of slow cooked meat and fresh bread. They all watched silently while he ate. When Eskel emptied the wooden bowl, he sat up straighter, feeling slightly renewed on a full belly.
"Emhyr is dying. He has been trying some old dusty spell that converts magic to life, or something like that. Yen has been the only one strong enough to pull it off and live. But the sources haven't been powerful enough to reverse the disease."
"Until you." Triss said.
"Until me."
"I am familiar with this spell. It also explains the substances she used. Your 'pond scum' is a type of algae that puts the user into a death-like state. The potion was most likely one of your Witcher's potions, Swallow, I believe? She might have even sacrificed a small portion of her own magic to finish the spell in order to preserve your life." Magnus sipped his tea.
"She said it would keep me alive until Triss could find me. What could she have meant by that? Did she find you?" Eskel addressed Triss and he watched her turn her eyes away from him. "Triss?"
"I…I cast a spell on you. Yen would have sensed it. Don't look at me like that. It would let me find you if you were hurt, that's all. With all that is happening, I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, too." She wiped away the tears trying to push back her fears. Eskel reached out and took her hand and gave her a gentle squeeze before continuing.
"All of this brings up another problem. The Council has a spy. That's how they knew about me." Eskel looked from Triss to Magnus. Magnus set down his tea cup.
"How can you be sure I am not the spy?" he asked.
"I would have known." Eskel said quietly. "I have a sense that you are fleeing something from a long time ago. A refusal to bow."
"I guess it works both ways." Magnus took another languid sip.
"Why is he doing this?" Triss asked.
"The same reason he fought Geralt over Ciri. An heir. Triss, he wants the twins, only he doesn't realize they are twins."
"Oh, no…"
"Hold on. I'm missing something here." Lambert said confused.
"Their mother was a cousin to Emhyr. She got wind that he wanted to marry her off, she eloped with a merchant she had fallen in love with. They managed to hide for a little while, but when she became pregnant, they decided to get as far from Emhyr as possible and made the ill-fated trip to Kovir.
When I found them, she was adamant that I should be the one to protect them. It didn't make much sense at the time until I read a journal I found among their belongings."
"You know he isn't going to give up. He'll come for them." Lambert said. Eskel looked across the room as Kari held Isabella while Rayden pulled at her skirt.
"Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of."
Eskel convalesced at home peacefully outwardly. Inside, he raged with questions and frustrations. In the early days, he tired easily. This was not something he was accustomed to. Even in the lazy days of winter, they still had work and training. Merely walking across the room wore him out. He pushed himself daily even though Triss said he needed to rest until his inner power restored itself.
After a couple of weeks of sitting, Eskel waited until Triss left then dressed in his full gear and grabbed his sword. Kari looked up at the sound of him trudging through the house, his swords dragging behind him. He ignored her as he opened the door and ventured out into the afternoon sun.
Across the yard he placed one foot in front of the other, making slow but diligent progress. Finally, he squared up in front of the practice dummy and hefted his sword from the scabbard. He used a two-handed grip and his whole upper body to swing the blade. It made contact with the tightly packed straw but didn't have enough momentum to cut. Eskel pulled it back with a grunt and swung it again and again until the forward motion pulled him off his feet. He dropped the weapon and caught himself, kneeling on all fours while he panted to catch his breath. As he knelt feeling sorry for himself, gentle hands came around him and pulled him near.
"Eskel, you shouldn't be out here." Triss said softly.
"I can't just sit here, Triss. What if Emhyr comes for them? I can't…won't…let him take them. You know what he called me? A secondhand witcher."
"You are second to no one." Triss said, knowing full well the other connotation being 'secondhand' had. She loved him for his own sake, not just because he was a witcher and certainly not as a replacement for Geralt.
"I thought I could speed things up…"
"There is no speeding up." She said. He sat back on his heels. "I found some old writings about this spell. Anyone who does survive just has to wait until the magic begins to replicate."
"How long?"
"Days, years…everyone is different. If you were another mage I could transfer some of my power to you, like a jump start. But I don't know if that would work with you. We could still try it…"
"No. One of us needs to be at full strength."
"And I need you. Please don't hurt yourself trying to do something that only takes time." Eskel struggled to his feet, leaning on his sword. Triss wanted to help him but let him be. She understood the helplessness. Once he was upright, she offered her hand and he slid his arm over her shoulders knowing he couldn't make it back on his own.
After the episode in the yard, Eskel stopped trying to push himself. Summer would be coming to an end before long and he decided not to stress Triss any more than she already was. Instead, he turned his focus inward, resuming the long hours of meditation he had once undertaken as a young witcher. Other times, he gave his attention over to his two young wards. Their playfulness gave his mind a much-needed break from his worries. One afternoon, he sat with his feet propped up preparing to re-read one of his favorite tomes when a tiny visitor came pulling at his leg.
"Boo," she said in her little high-pitched voice.
"Boo," Eskel replied running his hand over her silky blonde curls. Her tiny hand gripped the material of his pants as she climbed up. He put a hand under her bottom and assisted her climb. She reached across his lap and patted the heavy leather-bound book tucked between his thigh and the arm of the chair.
"Boo!" She said excitedly. He chuckled stupidly.
"Oh. Book. Do you want me to read to you?" Isabella clapped her hands. Eskel pulled the book out and opened it revealing a drawing of a wyvern.
"Monsr." Isabella said with a serious face.
"Wyvern," Eskel said to her. "It's a draconid." The baby looked at him then patted the pages. Eskel began to read the words he almost knew by heart while the little girl curled up in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest. Every few minutes he would stop thinking she had fallen asleep but she would make some incomprehensible sound and point at the book. After twenty minutes, Isabella had finally drifted off to sleep and so had he.
Winter, Nilfgaard City
The Emperor of Nilfgaard stood out on the balcony of his palace overlooking the City of Golden Towers, the seat of his power. He squeezed the railing before him, his grip firm, his hands strong once more.
He watched the people below as they scurried from one place to another occasionally looking up at the watcher above then hurrying out of the biting cold. He also watched his armies as they drilled in the cold, the golden sun on their black chests shining through the snowfall. This time he would be ready. This time he would fight fire with fire.
The small voice of his clerk encouraged him to come in out of the weather…but no. No, he would stay out in the cold. He felt alive and vigorous. Strength one again coursed through his veins. So here he would stand until the word had spread. The Master had returned.
Winter, Toussaint
Eskel woke feeling refreshed for the first time in months and stretched. Although it was morning and he could hear others moving around the manor, his bedroom was dark owing to no windows. Leaning over he lit the candle on the bedside table. He smiled at the little flame then turned to curl himself around the woman at his side.
Triss stirred beneath his touch and quickly became aware of the hard length pressed into her hip. She opened her eyes to find him gazing down at her, a sensual eagerness in his face. Running her hands up his arms and over his shoulders she sighed as the hum slid beneath her skin.
She inhaled suddenly, her eyes wide. It was back.
Eskel leaned down to kiss her, savoring the softness of her lips. The last time they had made love was in this bed last spring. Even once he had regained some strength, he still managed to fall asleep before his head hit the pillow every night, leaving little to no opportunity for intimacy. And when they did have time upon their return to Toussaint it was a disastrous failure.
But not this time.
He moved slow, teasing her body and stretching his patience. Triss sighed and trembled under his skillful hands, beckoning him for more, and he obliged. He came into her slowly and gently, a caress instead of a thrust. They had both waited so long for this that neither wanted it to end, so he kept his movements slow and soft for as long as possible. That moment was more than just a joining of their bodies, it was a joining of their very souls.
As they lay entwined in the aftermath, Eskel laying small kisses across her forehead and Triss snuggling closer, Eskel felt relaxed and at peace. He was himself again and they were both glad for it.