The next day.
It was the middle of the day when Geralt brought the axe down upon the twentieth log of firewood. Geralt pushed the two sides apart, grabbed the next log, and split it with a single swing of the axe. It was simple menial labor, but it was worthwhile nevertheless. Even for a Witcher.
Ingrid has opened her home for me, the least I can do is a bit of manual labor. Geralt told himself as he looked at the large pile of wood he'd prepared. He put the axe down and began gathering up the firewood, bringing it into the cozy hut Ingrid kept for her home. He moved to the fireplace, putting some of the smaller pieces of wood on the fire, then put the rest in a small alcove next to the fireplace where it could easily be grabbed.
"Done already?" Ingrid asked as she continued skinning the pair of rabbits that Geralt had killed with his crossbow. The old woman was dressed from head to toe in a simple peasant's outfit, with a veil that hid everything except her head. Her permanent hunch being compensated for thanks to a cone she almost always had handy. Although Geralt had seen her go without it for long stretches of time.
She smiled at Geralt, with a full row of milky white teeth. "My, you're quite the help. I'm starting to think I shouldn't let you leave." She giggled under her breath.
"It is not like I can go anywhere. You're the only one that hasn't been trying to kill me."
"True that. Hey. Do you want the legs of the rabbit, or the flank?" Ingrid asked.
"Flank. Legs are too bony." He said, then thought about how odd that sounded. What's next, your majesty. Fine sirloin and a side of 1262 Cintran wine? "But either way suits me. I'm a guest. You should have first pickings."
There was a loud chop as the woman brought down a cleaver on the neck of the rabbit. "Don't give me any of that 'oh m'lady, ah am just a guest.' nonsense. You're a guest, not a kid visiting while mom an' da are buggering each other in the woods and they want to be free to scream as loud as they can without traumatising their kid." She picked up the head of the rabbit and plucked out the eyes without a hint of pause, putting them into a jar.
"The firewood should do you for the next few weeks. Tomorrow I'll build a shed to store extra firewood for the winter."
"You're a godsend, Geralt. My hands are still good, but my bones aren't what they used to be."
Geralt sat down at the only table in the home, and gently reached into his many pouches and packs and began to place his alchemical reagents onto the small table. He had vials of pure alcohol, carefully preserved plants, and samples of the organs of the monsters of the Continent. Two of each potion he regularly used, as well as a small selection of bombs.
Not enough to last more than a handful of fights. If I had a decent laboratory, I could carefully distill and extract the substances from some of the less useful potions and oils I took with me. Bombs are a different matter. While the Zerrikanian powder in these lands is extremely potent, I have no clue where to get the reagents for my more exotic bombs.
Geralt took out his one remaining Northern Wind bomb, looking it over. I need some allspice, but that only grows on Skellige. Will need to find a substitute.
He still had his oils, and a basic supply of potions. But not enough. He'd need to quickly start making more.
"So. What kind of potions do you have, hrmm?" Ingrid asked Geralt as she began cutting several mushrooms, carefully separating the spores, and putting them into a small mortar. She took the remaining pieces and put them into jars filled with what Geralt's nose determined was salty water. Waste not want not. Geralt thought with approval.
"Several. But none that you could survive. They're all toxic" He paused for a moment. "Ingrid. Do you know where I might be able to get an Alembic?" Geralt asked, all the while sorting out his reagents. He sorted out all the seeds, and any small bits of flesh that he could potentially grow more of with magic. He didn't want to rule out he might have to grow more.
Ingrid turned to look at Geralt, looked hesitant for just a moment, then reached for a cupboard and opened it up. Inside were three single alembics, as well as a small selection of glassware, alongside several vials and other measuring equipment. She reached up for the tray the Alembic was on, then put it on the table with a smile on her face.
"Huh." Geralt remarked. "You're full of surprises."
"Don't 'huh' me, boy. What's so weird about having an alembic."
"Where I'm from, most hedge mages don't have high-quality alchemy equipment hidden in cupboards." Now we're getting somewhere.
Ingrid cackled. "I wasn't always an old woman, dear. A cauldron is nice. But you need more than that if you want something done." She moved over a chair and sat down across from Geralt, looking intently at him. "Now. Tell me what you're doing."
It couldn't hurt, to be honest with this woman, could it? Geralt needed to keep her on his side. And she could be of help to him. Geralt took his own alchemy set from his pack. Some filters, chemicals used to break down certain substances, and a few measuring devices. Enough that he could brew a few potions himself.
"I don't have access to my usual ingredients, so I'm going to distill what I brought with me into raw alchemical substances. I'll start with Vitriol, Rebis, and Aether. They're what I need to brew my most potent healing potion. Swallow."
"That's a stupid name. It's like calling a poultry 'rub'." Ingrid said, turning back towards her shelves of reagents. She had over a hundred awkwardly sized glass and masonry jars, all of them with different reagents. Geralt had so far never seen her pick the wrong jar when working her craft.
"It's named after the bird." Geralt said, sorting out the reagents rich in Rebis and loading them into a mortar. He searched for the pestle, noticing Ingrid was offering him one. He nodded and gave a brief smile, then began to narrate as he worked.
"Rebis is very commonly used as the bulk of a potion. It is power and life, but also death. Reagents rich in Rebis are either certain plants, or the organs of creatures that devour substances rich with this. Preferably the liver."
"If this is plant based, but found in organs. I take it the liver is the best organ to use? I find that other organs take far too much preparation to get a use from."
Geralt nodded. "The liver is generally the most potent organ within a monster's body for usage in alchemy."
Ingrid nodded, carefully examining his handiwork. "The liver is a powerful reagent in alchemy. Especially in poisons. Beastmen liver ground to a powder, mixed with Hemlock and Hellebore creates a potent poison that turns a man rabid before death, until their hearts fail. But if you wanted a healing potion, you'd need more than raw natural vigor. You'd want to focus it on something."
Geralt continued to grind his mortar, quickly turning the contents into a uniform paste. 'That's right. Rebis is usually combined with another substance that helps to focus. Add two parts Rebis and one part vitriol, and you have a light healing potion. Add a part Aether, and you have a Swallow potion."
"What is Vitriol?"
"Rebis, but found within living creatures. There are exceptions, but that's the short of it."
"Aether sounds magical. If I had to guess, Aether serves the role that incantations and spells serve in my potions." Ingrid noted. "But what happens if you don't add Aether and add more Vitriol? I'm curious."
"You get a more potent, but also a more toxic potion. Blizzard. It improves speed and reaction time. Its more poisonous than Swallow, though. There is no Aether to neutralize the effect. Add another, and your blood will turn to acid."
Ingrid was hanging on his very word, looking back and forth at him, his hands, and then at her own reagents. "Hrmm. Makes sense. If you create a healing potion without the right incantations, you either nothing, or pure poison."
"That is because you don't have the mutations I have. I can drink potions that would kill a lesser man with just a sip."
"But one part of Vitriol too many and your health potion can turn your blood to acid?" Ingrid asked, with far too much fascination for such a macabre subject.
"Yes. It's why I prefer to work with the reagents on their own, instead of distilling them into base alchemical substances. Less chance of overdosing or getting a wrong mixture."
"If that's the case. I think it would be possible for me to make some of your potions. If I found the right substitutes and incantations. Now, go on about this Aether."
"Aether is fluid and intelligent. It is found in objects close to water, or in the brains of creatures that live close to water."
"This Aether. Does it always make something less toxic when added?"
"You could say that. Potions with Aether can have wildly varying effects. They are neither incredibly poisonous, nor are they weak. For someone like me. Even the lightest potion I make could kill you with a sip,"
"Hrmm. I believe I know what you're referring to with Aether." Ingrid said. "Clean stones plucked from rivers purified by magic can be used to increase the effectiveness of a potion, or make them 'smarter' in what they do. I use them alongside Hemlock and Cave mushrooms to create a potion I give to young girls who wanna plough without getting kids."
"An abortifacient." Geralt noted. "Aether and Rebis can be used together for such a thing. Certain mushrooms are rich in Rebis."
Ingrid slapped her forehead. "Ach. I'm being daft. You're not talking about new substances. Just collective terms. I'm going stupid. There have to be a great many exceptions to what contains which substance, are there not?"
Geralt nodded. "Hrmm. Too many."
Ingrid got up, grabbed a small bowl from a plank, then grabbed a large vial filled with blood. She then reached for a string of dried up flowers, and what looked like a dried up slab of meat.
"I think I have an idea, Geralt. Wait for but a moment."
He did so, and continued feeding his Rebis into the Alembic.
Ingrid ground up the dry flower and broke a small bit off from the meat, muttering a spell under her breath that made the meat start to smolder smoke. She added this to the bowl, before pouring in a small amount of the blood. "The blood of a ghoul. Flowers that grew in a fallen undead warrior. Word of power infused in burned troll liver." She stirred the mixture, causing Geralt's medallion to shake as she spoke more mysterious words. She then walked over to Geralt and slammed it down before him.
"One Middenland Swallow. Based on what you just told me." The drink was orange, and almost seemed to stir as if it was alive. It was bubbling like a volcanic lake.
"Is it supposed to bubble?"
"Drink it." Ingrid said in the denigrating way only a wizened old woman could. "You're immune to most poisons, so think of it as an experiment."
Geralt grabbed the bowl and sniffed it, not smelling anything particularly toxic. He took a gulp and then put the bowl down. He took a deep breath and opened his body up to the potion. He felt a warm feeling in his body as he drank it. Somewhat reminiscent of a Swallow potion, but incredibly weak. It also tasted off. Too much blood, and not enough liver. He himself would have added more elemental stone, and perhaps Drowner brain.
"And?" Ingrid asked giddily.
"Close. But far too weak. I can barely notice the toxicity."
Ingrid looked incredulously at the bowl. "That sip you took would kill three grown men."
Geralt smilled. "It is close. A few changes, maybe another source of Vitriol, a bit more power, and you'd have something like a Swallow potion."
Gerralt downed the entire bowl in one go. Closing his eyes and feeling the power spreading through his guts. It was weak, and unfocused. But as Gerralt meditated, he felt something off about the potion. The potion was close to Swallow, and he could feel the resemblance. But he tasted far too little Swallow, far too little for a whole bowl. It was as if he'd drank a few drops in a bucket of water. Something had stopped the potion from properly interacting.
"I think your potion was contaminated. The components did not react properly to form Swallow."
"Contaminated, how? I cleaned everything quite thoroughly." Geralt wasn't sure if she was offended or confused by her tone of voice. She almost sounced apologetic in a way.
An idea started to form in Geralt's head. He thought back to how the Ladybug he'd found shortly after emerging had been mutated, but without anything he could taste in it being responsible. He started to suspect something was very wrong about that ladybug, if not life as a whole on the world he inhabited. He checked his pack to confirm he had any flowers he'd spotted while travelling, and to his satisfaction, he did. A purple Hellebore. "I have a theory. Do you have a Hellebore?"
Ingrid looked at him cautiously, then nodded. She reached for one of the dried flowers inside of her many jars, and offered it to Geralt. Geralt then took a Hellebore he'd taken with him from the Continent. Both were purple, and the same type.
Lambert would have loved to see me do this. Geralt thought for a moment.
Then he ate the one Ingrid had offered him. Then the one he'd taken with him. He chewed carefully, taking in the taste. He tasted it quickly. The entire flower Ingrid had offered him was touched by mutagenic properties. He cautiously swallowed.
"Well. What was that about?" Ingrid asked, looking at him somewhat bemusedly, if not a little shocked.
"The flower you gave me. It's different from the one I took with me. Something about it has changed compared to mine. There's a minute amount of magic to it. But I can't tell what kind. "
"If you say so. I have no clue what you're talking about." Ingrid shrugged.
"No need. I'll discover more myself."
Geralt returned to what he had been working on. He made the sign of Igni with his right hand, and aimed it at the pile of wood under the Alembic. But the amount of fire he produced was much smaller than he was used to. He focused and made the Sign again. This time the wood properly caught fire.
Ingrid started to trim a small plant she kept in a pot, bumbling a dainty tune as she did so, not looking at Geralt as she spoke. "If I'm catching onto what you're doing. And stop me if I'm wrong."
"I will."
Ingrid nodded and continued. "You're breaking down almost everything you have into their base substances, you turn many different potions that have wildly different uses, into a handful of potions you can reliably use. That's a pretty handy skill, if I might say so."
Geralt stopped what he was doing and crossed his arms. "I don't believe for a moment you never left this valley."
Ingrid giggled. "It's true. I might have traveled a bit in my maiden years. I also had a good teacher. Visit me again, and I'll tell you the rest." She then glanced at the fire beneath the Alembic and asked. "Your magic. Where did you learn it?"
He looked at the old woman, cocking his head with some confusion. They don't have signs in this land? "You mean my Signs?" Geralt asked to confirm. "I learned it at the school I became a monster hunter. They're just simple spells that require a hand gesture to cast."
"Is it something you can teach others, or something you needed your alchemical changes for? I wouldn't mind turning on a fire with a hand gesture."
He thought about whether he should tell her the truth, and decided to go ahead with it. The woman had been trustworthy so far. And she was already "Signs are just simple spells cast by hand symbols and willpower. You need a natural affinity with magic to be able to cast them. All you need to be able to do use a Sign is to learn to cast magic without speaking."
Ingrid nodded slowly, filling up another bowl with her rejuvenating brew. "What school of magic do you prefer?" She asked.
"School of magic? What do you call a 'school' here?"
"Oh. I meant to ask if you specialize in fire, water, metal, life, or perhaps nature?"
"A bit of everything. I know six signs, each of them a simple spell from a school of magic.. I can use the Sign of Igni to conjure flames, that's pyromancy in a sense. With the sign of Aard I can throw bolts of Telekinetic force. With Somne I can put someone to sleep. Which qualified as Oneiromancy, I believe. Quen creates a magical shield, while Heliotrope protects me from magical and physical damage."
He didn't mention Axii. It was something he'd keep in reserve for the time being.
Ingrid's smile had faded, replaced with a look of deep concern. "Wielding many different schools of magic is a path that leads to madness and mutation, Geralt. Has no one ever warned you of that?"
"What do you mean, Mutation? How does using magic cause you to mutate?" Geralt asked, eager to know more about the dangers of the world he'd gotten stuck in, but also somewhat worried. The last thing he wanted was to suffer further mutations because of Sign usage. But he also didn't want to be forced to give up his signs.
Ingrid's face turned to pure shock, as she looked at Geralt like he'd just grown another head. "Where in Ulric's bushy beard are you from, Geralt? You don't know magic can cause mutations, and you use magic! You're either a fool, or..." She paused, backing off slightly. "Your portal. You didn't come from this world, did you? You're from another realm entirely. One where magic and alchemy are different."
He'd made a mistake, Geralt instantly realized. He shouldn't have asked a question that might come across as incredibly dim-witted. Something he would have known if he actually came from this world. "Yes. I'm not. I come from a world far from this one. One without Beastmen, Morrslieb, or 'mutations.' And if I'm going to go back, I need to know more about how the magic of this world works."
Ingrid slowly eased up, her eyes still fixed on Geralt. "I'll keep it brief then."
"In this world. Magic comes from Chaos." She spat the last word. "Far to the north of here dwell the dark gods. The source of all evil in this world. They want nothing more than to corrupt this world, and consume it whole. Their mutations are not like yours, I'm talking about extra heads, tentacles, crab claws, and other horrific changes like those. Cannibalism, incest, and other sins against nature are spurred on by their will."
She looked him directly in the eyes. "If you came from a place where you never heard of the dark gods, you need to go back, and never mention this place again."
"The way back is closed, not until my friends on the other side open it again." He paused. "If they open it.
Just another nekker contract. Just another elven portal. Geralt thought bitterly. Just some Nekkers that had crawled forth from the other side of a gateway. A quick jump through to kill them at the source. Now he was in a world that hated him, without Yennefer at his side, and nobody knew he was here.
"Ingrid. I'm stuck here for the time being, and I can't just wait inside of a hut. Is there anyone you know that could assist? A patron perhaps."
The old hag looked conflicted, and put her hands together in contemplation. "Maybe a blessing of the gods? Perhaps if you played up your mysticism you could pass yourself off as a spirit."
"Not good enough. I need to talk to other mages, get their help in returning home. Someone known for portal magic."
"Oh, so I'm not good enough." Ingrid said in a huff, sounding offended.
"That's not what I-" Geralt was about to say in defense, when Ingrid interrupted him with a cheeky grin.
"I'm just pulling your ponytail." Ingrid waved him off. She looked lost in thought for a moment, eyes glazed over. Then she nodded sternly. "But I have an idea who might help you. You need not the word of man, but of the gods. Three days march from here, there is a large hill that overlooks the surrounding forest. Atop it is an ancient shrine to Ulric, one of the oldest in Middenland. Go there and beseech the God of Winter for aid. Let the god of Winter, War, and Wolves decide your fate."
"I know no prayers to Ulric." Geralt said. And I doubt he even exists. Any faith that has witch-hunting is one I'd prefer to avoid. "How would I even beseech him?"
"Hah. You don't need to get on your knees and grovel to Ulric. You need to honor him through combat. Many beasts will stop your journey to the shrine. Let none stop you. Take the hearts of the greatest, and cast them down at the steps of the shrine. There the gods will decide your fate."
"I will leave as soon as possible." Geralt said. "Once I've finished with my alchemy. I need but a few more hours. I'll leave tonight if possible."
"Not yet, you're not." Ingrid said, a defiant fire in her voice. "You're not leaving, young man, not without a good night's rest and a bowl of grandma's rabbit soup."
"I can't say no to that." Geralt said, a faint smile on his lips.
"Good. You're not leaving until I've spoiled you as hard as my grandchildren." She said, reaching for a hatch Geralt hadn't noticed before, pulling out a bottle of what had to be wine, as well as a chunk of smoked pork. "I've been waiting for a guest that didn't ask me to cure lumps, and I'm going to make the most of it."