What is the point of anything, if all is null in the end?
Ask a peasant
To work, live, and enjoy.
Ask a priest
To give praise and become one with the gods
Ask a knight
To fulfill my duty, to serve. To lead and to protect.
Ask a King
To protect my people (To gain power and wealth)
Ask a parent
To provide for my children, so that their lives may be good.
Ask a philosopher
There is no point. All once was null; all shall be null again.
What consumes is what life is.
Made clear by
What is the point of anything, if all is null in the end?
Ask those who are hunted
To live.
- Mocala
"So you are not a member of the round table?"
"Not officially, no" Galahad said as he removed his hand from Ciri's, turning his head towards a hill of wildflowers. He quickly brought his attention back to Ciri as they rode on. "I am too young to officially be a member of the round table, but I'll be old enough in only a few months. King Arthur has assured me my position in the round table is secured."
"Member of the round table or not, you are still a knight?"
"Yes, I am. Just as you are a witcher, I am a knight."
"Mmmm..."
Joining hands once more, their horses carried them into the forest, the light of the setting sun catching pine needles and leaves as the trees and bushes shook from the soft thumping of hooves. As they traveled farther into the forest, alongside the river that ran into the lake where they had met, the undergrowth thinned. Since they did not truly want to ride all the way through the forest - Galahad had indicated going around the forest would, ultimately, be the quickest route - they decided to make camp roughly half a league into the forest, taking them just out of the bitter breeze that had wound up along the hills and plains, and into the protected, pine scented air.
Ciri spotted their soon to be campsite - a small break in the trees surrounded by filbert bushes, with several patches of moss crowding the ground around their roots.
"I'll go find wood for the fire." Galahad stated as he tied the reigns of his horse to a tree.
"If you get lost, just yell."
Galahad quickly bowed his head and left the campsite, picking up kindling from a few bushes along the way.
Following Galahad's departure, Ciri first tethered her horse, Kelpie, by Galahad's horse. She then tore up moss from where they had grown to hide in the shade. She laid the patches alongside each other, beside a few bushes, then sat down on one and waited.
She looked up, past the gently swaying pines that refused to let loose the open secret that was the coming of winter; only the bushes showed the signs, bearing yellowing leaves. The constellations were foreign. Not that Ciri could see many stars from between the clusters of needles that clung to their branches, but the few she could see were clearly different. The moon towered over the forest, mostly failing to gaze into the clearing. Unlike the stars, the moon's appearance was the same as always. Round and beautiful, despite its grey imperfections. Perhaps because of them. As the moon rose in the sky and more stars began to appear as the sun set, Ciri thought of swords and magic. Kingdoms and tyrants. And of love. Of families torn apart, of lost romance.
All my past is behind me. No one here shall make me bow down, force me to do as they will. No one
need come to care about me, only to die or to sacrifice themselves for someone else. I don't need to kill
anyone, and I don't need to see anyone killed. No one will die. I'm old enough now; I can protect them. I'll
start life anew. I don't need to run. I can be happy wherever I am. Nobody here will need to keep secrets
from me. Surely Galahad won't. He's a straight and true knight. He won't lie to me. He won't forget me or
leave me.
Ciri snapped out of her reverie when she heard a call. "Ciri? Ciri, where are you?"
She wiped her eyes.
"Ciri."
She thought for a moment, cleared her throat, and then began singing - waveringly at first, then steadily - a ballad of sorts.
"Sir Galahad of Caer Benic
So brave, and strong
Hardship, tails you
Yet it makes you strong
A man's will is iron
rough and weak
But tempered into a sword
it is strong, and deadly
Sir Galahad of Caer Benic
love you shall find
But keep your sword behind your back
for love is hunted."
There was a slight rustling of bushes before Galahad stepped into the clearing, his eyes focused on Ciri. He stood for a moment, his eyes wide, mouth fixed in a slight gasp. He saw her eyes were mildly wet, but otherwise she was calm. After noticing Galahad staring at her, Ciri closed her eyes and continued singing.
"Sir Galahad of Caer Benic
So brave, and strong
Hardship, tails you
Yet it makes you strong
Our swords shall protect us
our pasts, provide us wisdom
My knowledge, show us the path
your bravery, guide us forward
A knight of King Arthur
soon of the round table
Ready to strike monsters down
and save, the day."
In Ciri's pause, branches and kindling being put down clattered slightly in the center of the clearing, and the moss compressed and the cold metal chains of Galahad's mail clinked as he sat down. His eyes did not part from her face all the while.
"Sir Galahad of Caer Benic
So brave, and strong
Hardship, tails you
Yet it makes you strong
The people are your sheep
your sword, your fang
You protect the herd
but without us, you die
Sir Galahad of Caer Benic
take your respite
Stay, with me
let the world wait till the morrow."
Ciri rested her head on the curls of moss, hugging herself with her arm around her stomach. The lines in her face disappeared as she took in the smell of moss beneath her face. Her face was flat, her mouth straight. Then she opened her eyes to look at Galahad, who merely blinked a few times before she closed them again. Galahad's mail once again clinked, this time as it came to rest, folded on the ground, a few taller, dry strands of grass poking through the ringlets. Then, the moss being just wide enough for the both of them, Galahad laid down next to her. Though it was difficult to make out due to the lack of light, he found a face like the moon. Round and beautiful. Flawless, despite her scar.
"Sirens would be jealous, Lady Ciri. How did you come up with such a song so quickly?"
"My grandmother used to sing me a song like that. I changed the words for you."
"No doubt, her voice did not match yours, neither so sad, so soft, or so sweet."
"I don't know. It's been a while since my grandmother sang to me."
"A lifetime ago."
"Yes, indeed."
"But your eyes are wet. Are you not happy here? The ground is soft, the pines sway silently, and when the moon is so kind it hints at your beauty."
"It's just the cold making my eyes water." Ciri spoke firmly while she avoided Galahad's gaze and wiped her eyes once more and sniffed.
"Clearly some sadness lies within you. I understand your life has been hard; I dare say harder than mine, if the stories you have told are true. Ah, I'm sure you reflected on your recent past while I was gone. But if you are sad, how do you sing so gently, and why do you not cry? Why do you not shed tears and weep?"
"Why should I, when I can hold them in? When my tears would freeze on the grass and make it hard. When my whining would disturb the pines. When my tears would obscure my face."
Seeing Ciri's gaze lost in space, her face melancholy, Galahad tried to find something to talk about, but Ciri spoke first.
"Sir Galahad?"
"Yes, Lady Ciri?"
Ciri ran over the soft, cold carpet of moss with her hands, playing with the bumps of the moss with her fingers. She recalled many nights spent resting on the ground. She continued speaking only after seeing Galahad shift and, similarly, fidget with the moss between his fingers. "Why did you come here?"
"To this forest with you?" Galahad replied, confused.
Ciri smiled slightly. "No. That's to be discussed later. Why did you come to Gwynedd?"
"Oh, right. Of course, of course. Uh-hum. Uh, wolves. The inhabitants of Gwynedd were complaining of a great many wolves devouring their livestock."
"A knight dispatched for a pack of wolves?" Ciri looked at him and tilted her head, spotting a silver pendent that had laid under his chainmail, hanging from around his neck by a string. It was a disc at the base, with many tiny protrusions spaced at even intervals on one side that came to points at their ends. The sides curved outward somewhat, preventing the pendant from twisting and scraping Galahad's chest.
Galahad thought for a moment, biting the inside of his lip. He followed Ciri's gaze to his pendant.
"Oh, my pendant. It's encrusted in silver. The knights of the round table wear these to help protect against monsters. Sticking yourself with it before a battle while giving praise to a god divinely strengthens oneself, steels one's blood. Even if a knight dies fighting a monster, the monster will leave the body for a proper burial."
"Of course. Monsters are hurt by silver."
"Indeed. I was most surprised when you didn't mention any rituals in your stories. Everyone in the kingdom believes that giving praise to the gods is necessary for assuring victory in battles and warding off monsters. Now I see it merely strengthens the effects of silver." Galahad took his pendant off and handed it over to Ciri. "I'll be given a proper one when I become a knight."
Looking at the pendant, she found it held no fine detail, except for a crudely carved snake circling the circumference of the base. "So, a knight dispatched for a pack of wolves? Seems hardly worth your time."
Galahad let out a small sigh before answering. "King Arthur requested that I improve relations with the people of Gwynedd. I was to inform them that a number of his royal knights were searching for the wolves and that I was, in the meantime, to assist them in whatever ways I could."
Ciri placed the pendant back on Galahad's neck, leaving her arms wrapped around his neck. "His guards found them then, and now you are returning home?"
"A few... individuals were hired to look for the wolves. Not royal guards, to be certain, but they must have been busy. They have been quite busy as of late." Galahad clicked his tongue a few times and shook his head. For the first time Ciri had seen, Galahad looked somewhat annoyed. "King Arthur ordered the men he hired to report to me once they killed or drove off the wolves. They must have run off with the advance that King Arthur gave them; I heard from them only once, before they supposedly set out for the wolves. I was returning to report to King Arthur when I came across you, Lady Ciri."
After Galahad finished speaking, the two fell silent again. The forest continued to grow chillier. Upon seeing Ciri shrug her shoulders and curl up to hide herself from the cold as a frosty gust blew into the clearing, Galahad put an arm around her, after which she inched her head into Galahad's chest, where she found his heart beating fiercely.
"You said you were to improve relations with the people of Gwynedd. Have the wolves been hounding them for a long time?" Ciri asked quietly.
"This wolf problem has cropped up rather recently, actually. Of course, wolves and other beasts have always plagued the commonfolk, but this seems to be an especially nasty bunch. Livestock are killed all the time, right? A cow here, a sheep there, a few pigs over there. It's a wonder there's always enough meat to go around. But no, these wolves have been truly feasting off the livestock here. Strangely, some animals seem to have died from hypothermia and frostbite, even though no snow has fallen yet, and likely won't for some time. Tonight is the first real chill we've had this side of the year."
"Strange indeed. Regardless, now the people are unhappy with how the situation has been handled, and you've been sent in Arthur's stead to calm them?"
"These wolves are but a splinter in the foot. Painful to be sure, but people all across the kingdom have been... dissatisfied with King Arthur's ability to supply assistance, as of lately. I mark some after thought of an attempt at helping these people."
"How is he, King Arthur?"
"How do you mean?"
"Is he... well, another tyrannical monarch?"
"Oh, no no no... far from it. It's just... he's had some problems recently. The usual troubles, mostly. Taxes, protecting the kingdom from bandits. All of those little things. Unfortunately, he's also come down with some illnesses as of late. An herbalist named Mocala and the magician Merlin have been helping him though, and as such, he's recovered quickly from whatever's befallen him." Galahad finished with a small frown, staring off towards the ground a short ways away, thinking hard.
As he did so, the clearing filled with silence, like a bubble protecting them. The warmth of their bodies held off the biting cold that was seeping into the clearing, seemingly freezing the scent of the pines as it did so.
"How long have you been a knight, Sir Galahad?"
Galahad looked back up and thought for a moment. "Hmmmm... Well, long enough to see how much I have helped people. And long enough to see past the glory of my occupation. Long enough to understand the pain that comes from this work." Seeing Ciri look at him, apparently with no intention to ask another question, he continued. "Though, I continue because we knights, in the end, do good by protecting people. I will always do what's best for the people, even if I die trying. Because someone needs to do what I do. I only hope that war does not start with our neighbors, or from any peasant uprisings within the kingdoms, due to their dissatisfaction with King Arthur's rule. All we need is a war on top of everything else."
Ciri spoke with a quiver in her voice, "I'm tired of all this warring, Galahad. Aren't monsters enough trouble?"
"Yes, yes they are. The beasts of the lands are plenty of trouble. Yet humanity insists on being its own worst enemy." Galahad chuckled, but stopped upon seeing Ciri turn her head away.
"But now we can rest." She wrapped the pictish rug Galahad had given her around the both of them.
"Yes, now we can rest. Every knight and every lady needs their rest."
"Have you ever wanted a break from being a knight. Time to sit back and look at the stars?" Ciri toyed with the pendant around his neck.
"Oh no. I would never give up my knighthood. Though that doesn't prevent me from looking at the stars when I rest at night." Galahad smiled at CIri. "Besides, there's no need to look up at the stars tonight."
"No?"
"The stars are reflected in your eyes." He spoke softly as he cupped her cheek in his hand.
At that moment, there was a small flash in the sky. Amidst the sprawling darkness, a shooting star crossed over a bright, twinkling star.
"Make a wish," Ciri whispered.
"A wish?"
"Yeah. You're supposed to wish upon a shooting star."
"Oh. Well alright then. I'll think of something to wish for."
And so, they both wished on the star, which flicked out of existence.
"What did you wish for?" Galahad asked.
"Success with my new start in life. You?"
"For no filbert nuts to fall on me tonight."
"That's what you wished for?" Ciri asked incredulously.
"It seems you've never had a nut fall into your clothes while you were asleep and woke up thinking it was a spider."
"I guess you have."
"Indeed. The other knights I was with heard me scream, strip, and run into a stream. They like to do reenactments every now and then."
"Will I get to see one?"
"Ay, you might." Galahad sighed.
"But for now, we rest."
"Indeed."
They stared at each other for a while, smiling, staring into the depths of each other's souls. Their focus was on only themselves. Then, Galahad's smile slowly faded before he cupped Ciri's cheek in his hand again and kissed her. Slowly and hesitantly at first, but for a long time. And when they finished, they lay snug against each other, for a long time. After all, they had all the time in the world. A new life lay ahead.
They laid like that for a while, her head pressed into his chest, his head on top of hers. Galahad tried to move so that they could kiss again, but Ciri held onto his torso tightly, not letting him move. So instead, he kissed the top of her head a few times and massaged her back. Dense knots loosened as he rubbed. Their bodies wrapped them in peace, the silence and the trees providing additional layers to shield them from whatever worries may rest deep in their minds or out in the forest.
Until, one gust of wind carried with it a distant noise, sounding something like a howl. Ciri shot up to look in the direction of the disturbance, ramming her head into Galahad's chin in the process.
Galahad grunted.
"Oh, sorry Galahad!"
"That's alright, that's alright. I'll be fine." Galahad spoke, slightly stunned, and placed a hand under his chin as if to protect it. "I thought I heard som..."
"Shh..." Ciri placed a finger over his mouth, and Galahad cut his utterance short.
They kept their ears perked for a few more gusts of wind, not hearing anything save for the leaves and needles brushing against each other as the trees and bushes swayed from what wind penetrated this part of the forest.
"I thought it was a wolf." Ciri whispered as she searched in the direction the sound had come from.
Once again, the bubble of silence was broken as the sound came again, but this time much closer, and as a chorus. The sounds laid somewhere between wolven howls and ghastly wails.
Ciri moved for her sword, which laid in its scabbard just behind her, the moss crackling under her shifting weight.
Galahad spoke next, beginning to put his chainmail shirt on. "How strange." Both noticed clouds of vapor now rising from their mouths with every exhalation.
"Something's wrong. We need to leave."
"Yes, I agree. We should leave. Follow my lead Ciri, I'll guide us out of the forest."
They lay for some time, resting. Not like two lovers on a carpet of moss, but like a century old couple failing to rise from bed, their bodies aching every time they shifted.
"What do we do, Yen?" Geralt spoke after some time, having drifted out of sleep.
"We rest for now. Later, we find our way home."
"Where is home?"
"I don't know, Geralt. Let's worry about that later."
Geralt tried to sit up, but he winced as a muscle pulled taught beneath the bandages on his stomach. Yennefer gently pushed him back down by his chest while Geralt grumbled. A stream gurgled from behind them, running through the clearing they found themselves in. The clearing had a ring of trees around the edge, behind which was, as far as they could see, a dense forest. Geralt looked up at the apples that resided just above him - some perched high, some hanging lower, just out of his reach. Yennefer, following his gaze, reached up to an apple and picked it. She turned it over in her hand, furrowing her brows in confusion.
"How do we know that apple isn't poisonous?"
"An apple, poisonous?"
"A strange apple. From a strange tree." Geralt nodded his head towards the tree which loomed over them.
When Yennefer looked back up at the tree - previously appearing to be a normal apple tree - it now appeared thin, with winding branches; some ending by cupping an apple that hung by two stems. The tree now smelled strongly of lemons, and a fog suppressed the sun and obscured much of the tree's branches and trunk. Yennefer thought she could see, squinting through the fog, a few butterflies of different shades of the rainbow resting on the higher branches of the tree, but they faded from sight when she tried to focus on them.
"Well what else are we to eat, Geralt? We've been laying here for at least a day already, you can't move, and we don't know where we are. We should trust that Ciri left us where we would be safe, even if we don't know where this place is."
"We'll never find out where we are if we die first. Trees don't suddenly change like that, Yen. You do see that this tree is different now, don't you?"
Holding out the apple for Geralt to see, Yennefer said "Yes, I do. And yes, a strange tree, perhaps. But this apple looks normal, doesn't it?"
"It has two stems, Yen. Even you seemed offput by it after you picked it. Don't let your hunger convince you to eat it. Surely there's something out in the forest we could eat."
Then a voice from within the tree spoke "Eating the fruit will not kill you. Eating of the fruit of this tree, your eyes shall be opened. You will be as gods."
Yennefer and Geralt both searched for the voice, but their eyes couldn't find purchase on any figure in the tall tree.
"Where are you?"
"You need to eat. You are tired, and you are hungry."
"Have you eaten any of these apples yourself?"
Crunches sounded from above them.
"Eat. One has not hurt me, neither shall it hurt you."
"So says the man hiding in a tree with two-stemmed apples and a mysterious fog." Geralt retorted.
"Then Yennefer. Focus. You will see. This tree is safe. In fact, it is pulsating with magic."
Yennefer looked towards Geralt, who's blank face lent nothing of use.
"Alright then." Yennefer relaxed herself, as she had done many times before. Concentrating on her surroundings, letting herself become aware of what magical ley lines may be around her, and she felt a thrum from the tree. A wellspring of magical force. Some specks of magic flitted around like butterflies; some were contained within the apples themselves.
And so, Yennefer ate of the fruit. After swallowing some of the fruit's flesh, her gaze became lost. She looked away from the tree while holding her hand up as if it were a blinding sun. Shielding her face still, she looked at the base of the tree, and then at the apple. She gasped all the while, before returning her attention to her surroundings.
"Yen?"
"I've... I've never seen anything like it."
"What do you mean?"
"Eat".
Geralt hesitated, but Yennefer insisted. And thus, Geralt also did eat of the fruit, and he too gasped. The tree was dense with energy, blinding him until he looked away and closed his eyes, the tree somehow leaving his ears ringing for a few moments. When his hearing cleared and the spots disappeared from his shut eyes, he opened his eyes and saw butterflies of all the shades of the rainbow floating soundlessly up from the ground. He saw many colors within them: red, green, and blue; filled with anger, hope, and despair; and one that was cold - a large, white butterfly, the air around it sparkling like crystals hung in the air, reflecting light from a source not seen. The white butterfly froze the others around it, whose color drained as their fluttering wings came to a stop and they glided back towards the ground like sediment settling in fluid, lifeless.
When Geralt gazed at the base of the tree, he saw roots of energy extending out in all directions, with their own filaments and bubbling globs of magical force from which the butterflies were birthed and rose. And on which the dead butterflies lay, slowing being reabsorbed, turning the roots slightly white and icy.
Then he looked at the apple resting in his palm; he now realized the skin of the apple felt like thick sugar water. The surface was wet and sticky, sweet when licked, and bent at his touch, but held its solid form even under pressure. A number of specks of light from within the core shone through the translucent skin. Then - a strange feeling that made him nauseous - his consciousness "fell" into the core. The numerous specks of light within it grew bigger and bigger, and so too did the spaces in between. In these spaces he saw much black. Much death. The space was dotted with the occasional concentration of light which rested around barely perceptible ley lines that dipped into the murky darkness, becoming tainted as they did so. Far off in some direction was a skein of light, from which shot multiple strings in different directions, unceasing to the dark around them, ending in smaller points of light.
Then this vision faded from his sight and Geralt dropped what remained of the apple onto the ground. "Is this what magic normally looks like to you?" Geralt asked Yennefer.
"I have seen caches of magic before, huge intersections bursting with magical force but... but this was different. Much grander than anything I've ever seen. And never have I never seen magic so clearly. Usually it's a vague force I can sense, but this was like a blind woman seeing for the first time."
The voice spoke once again, "The roots here mark the final tributaries of the magic flowing throughout the world. The tree being the intersection, the vast, oceanic reservoir, the greatest climax of magical force. The tree's fruits grow as they do from the culmination of this force. The fruits become intertwined with energy in far flung parts of the world when they ripen. By partaking of them, one breaks the binding between the fruit and the energy elsewhere in the world, and one can see how energy flows in the other place. Partaking of a fruit, however, uses the energy that it is tied too. Elsewhere in the world, a ball of electricity may spontaneously burst forth, space may become contorted, or the heat may drain from the area, freezing whatever life may be there. I too have eaten of this tree and have witnessed the destruction of the world. By eating of this tree, the world tree, we have seen and strengthened a brewing storm, which will one day freeze the earth. A White Frost."
When the two looked up again, they saw that the tree's appearance had returned to normal. The air again smelled of apples and herbs. Though, the butterflies still flitted around the tree.
At the top of the tree in a large hollow, which no butterflies dared venture near, peering down with aquamarine eyes from beneath flowing golden hair, was an elf.
Geralt lifted his mouth into a crude, ugly smile. "Hello, old friend."