A/N: Hey everyone, back again with another chapter. I know it's been too long but I will find a way to get on a regular upload schedule I promise. If you've stuck with me this long thank you. I believe wholeheartedly that this is one of the best stories I've ever made and I'm proud of what I've managed to achieve so far. And I'm also very grateful for the kind words you've had for me as this story has developed, I thank you truly. I hope you enjoy this chapter and please a review, it really motivates me to keep moving forward.
Stomach Pains
Meril's stomach hurt. That was the simple fact of the matter. However, the word hurt failed to truly illustrate the feeling of strangling that his innards felt as they were being forced back into place by magic. He wasn't sure what kind of magic the amulet hanging above him was casting but whatever it was it made his guts feel like they were being pressed into a brick.
The first time he complained Giscard told him to just bear with it and that it will pass shortly. That was over eight hours ago. When the squeezing started Giscard had strapped him down to keep him from moving and administered a sedative to put him to sleep, but Meril's advanced metabolism burned through it in half an hour leaving him a solid seven hours of being strapped down with the life slowly squeezed out of him like toothpaste.
"DAMMIT! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! SOMEONE TURN THIS DAMN AMULET OFF!" he screamed. "TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!"
Suddenly the pain stopped and Meril breathed out a heavy breath of relief. "Settle down, you're disturbing the other patients," a young black haired nurse said as she stood over him, amulet weaved around her hands.
"You try having your guts squeezed for eight hours see how easily you settle down!"
"It's for your own good. The spell that was cast upon this amulet is meant to realign your small intestines so that we can safely reconnect them to your large intestine. You don't want to live with a bag strapped to your hip for the rest of your life do you?"
"How much longer do I have to put up with this?" Meril asked.
"Not much longer. The doctor said we should be ready to reconnect your large and small intestines in another day or two."
"I have to spend two more days with that thing hanging over me!?"
"Or if you manage to man up and bear with it, just one more day," the nurse said chastising, "honestly, with all the legends and myths that float around about Witchers I expected you to be a bit tougher. Lord Ellmalloy over there had his spine severed, he'll never be able to walk again, you don't see him mewling like a sick cat."
"I think that might have to do with all the morphine you put him under," Meril said
"And if a certain mutant didn't have a metabolism that burns through any medicines introduced to it in a heartbeat, he would find himself in a similar situation."
"Well forgive me for not being a lightweight like Lord Ellmalloy."
"You are forgiven," the nurse said with a self-amused grin. "Now then let's get these straps off. You have visitors."
"Visitors? Who?"
Suddenly Meril heard the distinct sounds of a flute, drum, and a lyre. Three minstrels stood at the entrance to the ward. One, a tall bearded man beating a hand drum, another short delicate-looking young women expertly plucking the strings of a lyre, and in the center young man with brown hair piping away at a flute.
The nurse admonished the players immediately, "stop that, this is a hospital, not a tavern. People are trying to rest."
"A thousand pardons m'lady," the tall bearded man said, "we just wanted to brighten up the mood in here is all."
"I know you," Meril said pointing to the man with the flute. "You accused me of stealing back in the Rosemary and Thyme."
"Aye, and for the record, I still think you're guilty," the man with the flute said.
"Buuuut," the young woman with the lyre interrupted, "you also saved us and everyone else at the coronation when you took on that skeleton thing at the coronation sooooo..."
"Sherry! You know we're not supposed to be talking about that. The Empress said very clearly for us to keep our mouths shut until the crown makes a statement," the man with the flute said. "We're lucky they didn't lock us up."
"What are you three doing here?" Meril asked.
"Blame this big oaf," the man with the flute said pointing to the bearded man. "He fell head over ass for your heroics at the temple, insisted that he write a poem about you."
The bearded man flicked the flutist behind the ear before approaching Meril's bedside. He offered his big bear paw of a hand forward to Meril as a way of greeting. "How do you do? Names Byorston, son of Creig, of Clan Tordarroch. I'm a skald."
Meril took the big Skelligan man's hand and shook it. "Meril, Witcher," he said curtly.
"What land do you hail from Meril?" Byorston asked.
"I don't hail from anywhere," Meril said.
"Surely you come from somewhere you didn't come out of thin air."
"Well, I grew up in the Dragon Mountains."
"Ah, so Kovir then?"
"Well, no, I'm from deep in the mountains, far out of the reach of any kingdom."
"Interesting, a mysterious warrior trained in the mountains, far removed from civilization. Oh, this has all the makings of a proper epic already."
"I don't see the big deal Byors, sure he's handy with a blade, but that's kind of what you'd expect from a Witchman ain't it?" the flutist said as he approached Meril's bedside.
"The rude one here is our flutist, Mello," Byorston introduced, "don't pay him any mind."
"And I'm Sherry," the young girl with the lyre said. Meril noticed that she had dark hair, sharp angular features, and eyes that were slightly slanted. Her ears were round but her other features were definitely elven.
"A quadroon gotta be," Meril thought.
Sherry pulled a stool up to Meril's bedside and began to pluck a few more notes on her lyre. "You were so brave back at the temple. Fighting those death spawn. Is it true what they say about Witchers that you have no feelings or emotions?"
"No, not even remotely," Meril said, "I think that's a myth that Witchers actually started to make themselves seem tougher."
"Ah, so it is bravery then!" she chirped.
"I wouldn't say that either. To call a Witcher brave for fighting monsters is like calling a rat catcher brave for trapping rats. He's just doing his job as am I."
"So what was that skeleton thing anyway?" Mello asked.
"No idea," Meril said, "never seen or heard of anything like it before. Whatever it was though it was incredibly powerful. I've heard of necromancy before but to actually be able to summon specters from beyond the veil the way that thing did, I don't think I've even heard of a myth describing such a thing."
"I have," Byorston said. All eyes turned to him.
"Back in isles, the skalds sing of wraiths that will arrive on the day of Ragh Nar Roog aboard a ship made from the fingernails of dead men."
"The Wild Hunt," Meril said.
"That's right, but it's probably not that lot. I heard tell the An Craite gave the Wild Hunt the old fashioned axe to the face a few years back."
"You're kidding," Meril said incredulously.
"Wish that I were lad."
"The Wild Hunt, you're telling me that regular humans actually fought and beat the gods forsaken WILD HUNT!"
"I know, I wouldn't believe it myself but I was on Ard Skellig a few days after it happened. The whole island was covered in ice, far more so then what was usual for that time of year. Kaer Trolde was in shambles, and everyone was crying about how Ragh Nar Roog came and went. There were even giants on the island were giants previously were not. But here's the real kick in bollocks. They actually managed to kill a few of the hunts riders and you know what they found when they stripped the corpses of their armor?"
"What?" Meril asked listening with anticipation. This went against everything he had ever read about at Szolka Smoka.
"Elves."
"No," Meril said mouth agape.
"Yeah, I heard it straight from the mouths of men who were at the battle. All these centuries being terrorized by that invincible host of wraiths and it turns out they were nothing but a bunch of elves in scary armor."
Meril fell back to the bed winded. "How long ago was this?"
"Five years ago," Byorston said.
"Shit! That long ago, why doesn't everyone know about this?"
"It was quite a to do back when word first got out, but most folks on the continent thought it was just Skelligan hogwash. Hel, a lot of Skelligers outside of Ard Skellig still think its hogwash. Everyone is certain that if Ragh Nar Roog truly had come the whole world would have been consumed in fire and ice, not here one day and gone the next."
"But you don't think its hogwash?" Meril asked.
"How can I? I went and saw for myself. Some of the warriors were actually wearing the armor and weapons that they took off the corpses of the slain riders."
"Wow, I had no idea," Meril said.
"As much fun as it is to rehash old rumors, that still doesn't tell us anything about that beast that was in the eternal fire," Mello said.
"What happened after I passed out?" Meril asked.
"Oh, you should have seen it!" Sherry said excitedly, "that elf, the one that serves the Empress, he cast this awesome powerful magic. He had this wooden staff with a crystal on it and he chanted something in elvish that I didn't get. The next thing I knew, the sky started going dark and black clouds formed overhead. Then thunderbolts started shooting everywhere, it was all 'pshew pshew, boom btoom boom' and then a giant hand made of black clouds reached down from the sky and tried to grab the monster. That gave it a really good scare because then it flew away before the cloud hand could catch it."
"That must have taken some serious power," Meril said, "and the thing still got away?"
"It was quite a sight to behold," Byorston said, "I've been spending the last three days composing the events of that day into an edda, we'll be famous when it's done."
"Think you could perform it for me when it's ready?" Meril asked.
"Of course, after all, you'll be the hero of the story," the jolly skald said with a laugh.
This brought a slight smile to Meril's face. "Hero huh, well that would certainly be good for business."
"So what are you gonna do once your out of here?" Mello asked.
"Pick up my swords and get back on the path," Meril said, "I'm broke right now."
"You know if you're looking for work, I have a cousin who works as a caravan guard for the merchant's guild in Novigrad. I could introduce you."
"I'm not really supposed to take on things like mercenary work," Meril said.
"What are you talking about? Isn't that what Witchers do? Kill for money?"
"We kill monsters for money, we're not supposed to take money for killing people. When we do kill people it's supposed to only be in self-defense."
"Really? I heard the assassin that killed most of the Northern kings was a Witcher," Mello said.
"And what did people think of Witchers after that?" Meril asked.
"Fair point," Mello conceded.
"Still," Sherry perked up, "nothing wrong with caravan work. It should be easy money for someone with your skill."
"Maybe, but that's not really what I want to do. I didn't spend twenty years studying and training to kill vicious beasts just to become a merchant's guard."
"Well, the caravan routes tend to go through a lot of wild patches, maybe you'll encounter some monsters on the trail."
"Hmm, it doesn't sound like a bad idea. I'll think about it, thanks."
"Excuse me," came a raspy old man's voice. The trio of minstrels turned around to see the aged physician Giscard, approach them. "I'm afraid visiting hours are over now, young Meril must resume his treatment."
Meril noticed the golden amulet in the physician's hands. "No, no, no! You are not putting me back under that thing!" Meril protested.
"Calm yourself boy, I have a sedative for you. This one I formulated myself just for you."
"That makes me even more uneasy," Meril said.
"It's nothing to be afraid of, I simply increased the dose of poppy extract, added a dose of absinthe and emulsified it into a gelatin that your body will take more time to digest. Here you'll be able to take it as a pill." The old doctor said as he flourished a squishy black ball between his fingers.
"Swallow it," the doctor ordered placing the black pill in Meril's hand.
Meril hesitated. "You're going to get hooked up this amulet either way boy," Giscard, "the choice is yours on how painful you want it to be."
"You know for someone who's supposed to be healing the sick, you really don't have much in the way of bedside manner," Sherry said to the old man.
"I'm the chief physician of medicine for the Imperial Royal family. I don't need to be nice to commoners," Giscard said curtly.
"You speak to the royal family like that?" Sherry said.
Meril swallowed the pill before he could hear whatever Giscard said in response. His head started spinning almost immediately. He went limp within seconds.
"Oooh dearrr," Meril heard the doctors voice almost as if through a fog.
For a moment he struggled to keep his eyes open, but it was as if they were weighed down by bricks.
"Seemmmsss…stronger…planned…" the voices were getting more distant. Then finally they faded completely and everything went black.
He couldn't breathe. He opened his eyes and he felt a skeletal hand on his throat. He looked down at the face of the skinless man holding him up like a rag doll. The one eye he had in his left socket was dead and expressionless and yet fixed itself on Meril as if to accuse him of the gravest sin.
Curtains of blood swirled around them as the wraiths closed in. "What are you?" he croaked.
Spike-forming in his hand, the skinless man simply replied, "I am…deathless."
There was a sharp pain in Meril's stomach. He gasped for air as he woke up again. He was back in the hospital. The darkness of the ward indicated to him that it was late at night. From the corner of his eye, Meril noticed the light of an oil lamp coming from his nightstand and a person standing next to him.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," the man next to him said. Meril looked up at the man, in the dim light of the oil lamp he could make out the pointy ears and chin of an elf. The elf was tinkering with the amulet that was suspended over Meril's bed. He took it off its hook and cupped it in his hands.
"What are you doing?" Meril asked.
"These amulets need to be recharged periodically," the elf said. He waved his hand over the amulet and softly whispered a word under his breath. The amulet glowed a light green for a moment, and then the glow faded. "There we go," the elf said before hanging the amulet up again.
"Who are you?" Meril asked.
The elf answered with a warm and inviting smile. "I am called Niallis Eltir aep Salthia, resident enchanter of the Imperial court and Aen Saevherne in training. My friends call me Nial."