In Dreams
By Pyreite
Chapter 11: Return
Avallac'h gaped when dimeritium cuffs were clamped around his wrists. He heard the lock click, felt the dead-weight pull his hands down. He'd never known an Aen Elle to cuff another, but he'd seen Eredin's captives after a raid. The Wild Hunt had brought many to Tir ná Lia fettered hand and foot, always bruised and bleeding but alive. He was incensed when the witcher palmed the key.
"You'd dare shackle me?"
"You attacked Yennefer", growled Geralt, every inch the white wolf he was named for. "I should be dragging you towards the nearest drowner nest. A little blood in the water and they'd be on you in moments. I've seen what what they can do when they're hungry. Be grateful that the wraith you attacked healed her or you'd be in a waterhag's stomach".
"That creature isn't an elf! He's a monster!" spat Avallac'h. "You're a witcher! Witchers' kill monsters! So why is he still alive?"
"I don't take orders from you".
"Bloede dh'oine!"
Geralt snorted, his lip curling in distaste. "I don't know what Ellana sees in you".
"Thaesse!"
"You should take your own advice", suggested Fen'Harel as he helped Yennefer into a chair. The sorceress still tender and sore. She grimaced, teeth clenching when he jostled her. He whispered apologies in a language she didn't understand, the words as foreign as his kindness. "I mightn't understand that expression", he told Avallac'h. "But the way you've said it makes its meaning plain".
"Don't speak to me!"
Fen'Harel undid the clasp at his throat, shrugging off his cloak. He offered it to Yennefer, her nightgown leaving little to the imagination. She eyed him with distrust, knowing what lay beneath the facade of his elven face. That he'd healed her without demanding recompense had spoken volumes. She accepted his gift still wary as she pulled that cloak around her shoulders.
"Thank you".
"You are welcome, though you needn't fear. I am not here to wreak vengeance. I came to rescue my beloved, though she has thwarted my plans. Again".
"Perhaps she doesn't like you".
"Are you always this rude to those that help you?"
"That depends on your motives. Why heal me?" asked Yennefer.
"You would have died if I hadn't". Fen'Harel glanced at the pale figure staring at him with her wide disbelieving green-eyes. "Your daughter might have taken issue with that". He gestured to the witcher watching them like a hawk. "As would your monster-hunter. I'd be dead if I hadn't helped you".
"That is true on both counts. They're fond of me".
"As I am fond of my beloved. Forgive my abruptness, but I have come a long way to see her again".
Yennefer smoothed the folds of her borrowed cloak across her lap. She was far from shy, but Ciri was in the room. She would maintain a modicum of modesty around her daughter. The latter of which wrung her hands when Fen'Harel bowed at the waist. He ignored Avallac'h's remonstrative hiss, moving towards the only bed in the room.
"Get away from there! Leave her alone! Stop him, witcher!"
Geralt shoved Avallac'h backwards, irritated by his whining. The elf staggered, toppling over into a chair. It rocked on its legs till its wooden feet slammed on the carpeted floor. Ciri flinched. She backed away when Fen'Harel reached for the woman lying upon Avallac'h's wrinkled sheets.
Her hair a river of silver upon his brocade blankets.
"Ma vhenan", whispered Fen'Harel as he slipped his hands under her shoulders. "Ir abelas". He lifted her gently, sliding a leg underneath himself. He took a seat there, the mattress shifting under his weight. He pulled Ellana into his lap, breath hitching when her limbs dragged.
Limp as a marionette with cut strings, she fell against his shoulder.
"Vhenan?"
Ellana's lids neither fluttered nor opened. She was quiet as a mouse, the tension in the air palpable when she didn't awaken. Fen'Harel kissed her temple whilst the silver tail of her hair thumped his thigh. He frowned, gazing downwards – a flash of something catching his eye. There perched upon his knee was a little blue bird with a white breast and a forked tail.
It chirped at him, its beaked face splashed with red. A pair of beady black eyes peered up at him as if it wanted to tell him something.
"A swallow?"
A name whispered in the depths of his spirit, spoken by a voice he loved. His eyes widened with incredulity, realisation dawning as he looked across the room. He saw ashen hair and emerald-green eyes in the face of a shemlen girl. She was tall and slender as a reed, dressed like a man in linen, leather, steel and velvet. A warrior with a spine to match.
"Zireael".
"Why are you looking at me like that?" demanded Ciri, wary and unsure of the stranger in their midst.
Fen'Harel felt the weight of the eyes upon him. First the witcher that smelt of blood and steel, then his witch that radiated magic like a lantern. Then the elven mage whose scent saturated Ellana's hair, skin, and clothes. She stank of him in a way that made his fangs grit, the red of his irises glowing like hot embers.
"I need your help".
Ciri tensed whilst Geralt raised a hand over his shoulder. Bare fingers closing upon a sword's hilt, a muffled curse amusing Fen'Harel. Yennefer glared at him, a spell on her lips – fingertips sparking. Avallac'h sat up in his chair, gaping at him in horror. Fen'Harel kissed Ellana's brow, the hard lines of his face softening.
The bird was gone, replaced in a heartbeat by its startled human namesake.
"Peace", he begged in earnest, hating his own weakness. Yet for Ellana he was willing to bend even to break the bounds of his own pride. "I am bonded to my love through magic. Call it a leash if you will, but she has gone to a place beyond my reach. Birds can find their way there. You will too".
Ciri bewildered by his request shared an uncertain look with Yennefer. "What is he talking about?"
The sorceress shook her head, the black curls of her hair brushing her shoulders. "I don't know. I have never heard of such a place. I doubt it exists within the confines of this world. He's a foreigner like that woman that brought us here. He might appear to be an elf, but he's something far worse".
Fen'Harel smiled, cheeks dimpling. "Astute of you".
"I am not a fool".
"Neither is your daughter, or her father I expect".
Yennefer glanced at her beau, noticing how quiet he'd gotten. "Geralt?" She recognised that hard line of his shoulders, the ramrod straightness of his spine. He turned around, ignoring Avallac'h – the bridge of his nose wrinkling. The cat-eyes that she loved, yellow as the sun at dawn – were narrow angry slits.
He nodded to the sleeping woman in Fen'Harel's arms.
"Her name is Ellana. She's a half breed shapeshifter, part-elf, and dragon. But she's lost her horns, claws and even her fangs I suspect. She doesn't smell right either. Something's off".
"What do you mean?"
Geralt's nose wrinkled. "She doesn't stink like a draconid. Smells like Avallac'h, sex and elf. No dragon-musk. That's not the woman I met last night".
He looked over the figure lying in Fen'Harel's arms. The bronze of her skin and hair recognisable, yet without the horns she was an ordinary elf. The linen shirt hanging off her shoulders carried the scent of draconid. The heady musk hours old, subdued and washed out as if she'd slept in the rain. The nuances of the woman he'd met was there, scars and all but she wasn't the same.
The change unsettling to a seasoned witcher.
"He's right", seconded Fen'Harel. "She is and isn't the same. The part of her that is a dragon grew wings and flew away. Here she lies in my arms as she was before her dragon's blood awakened. Yet she'll not survive long without it".
"You said she was alive!" snarled Geralt with such vehemence that Avallac'h, Yennefer and Ciri flinched.
"I saved her from death, but it was temporary. Ellana must choose life to return to us whole of mind, body, and spirit. She is a rare half-breed, a duality of opposing natures complicated by her heritage. The fire in her father's bloodline mingled with the ice in her mother's is most unusual. Ellana's cognomen of First-Thaw is an apt title".
Avallac'h blanched, going quiet.
Geralt heard the change in his heartbeat, from slow to fast in a rapid staccato. He smelt the bitter stink of Avallac'h's fear, a sourness like rancid milk. He saw the sage's pupils dilate, then his eyes widen and brows arch. Although Avallac'h was quiet, although he tried to school his expression. It took moments for the witcher to detect his agitation.
"You know something".
"It is none of your concern".
"But it's mine", said Ciri with an eerie certainty that sat heavy in her gut. "What're you hiding?"
"It is unimportant".
"Liar", hissed Geralt. "You stink of fear".
Ciri trusting in her father's judgement, eyed her former mentor with suspicion. "You've heard that name before. First-Thaw. It's one of the many that she had in the world she hailed from. A world lost to the White Frost".
"What?"
"Her people are dead, Avallac'h. Their bones lie buried under mountains of snow. Ellana is the last living remnant of an elven race that predated The Aen Seidhe and the Aen Elle. That she lives is a miracle, but she's lost in the mire of her own guilt. If I can't convince her to stay here, to recognise me as part of her family than she'll die too".
Avallac'h paled, his lower-lip trembling. His eyes shifted from left to right as he contemplated what Ciri had revealed. He glanced at Fen'Harel hoping that her claims were false. He tensed when the spirit countered with a stern nod. The affirmation horrified him.
"She didn't tell you".
"Neén. But even if what you say is true, Zireael. She has me as you did".
"If I wasn't enough than you won't be either", said Fen'Harel as he inclined his head to Ciri in a show of deference. "Lovers come and go, but family is forever. Ellana's people were a tribe, so the bonds of trust, love and friendship are the foundations of her world. If you want her to acknowledge you than you'll have to remind Ellana of her duty to her tribe. To you".
"Are you implying that she and I are family?" asked Ciri in bewilderment
"Blood calls to blood. How else were you able to find her?"
Ciri felt the scrutiny of her foster-parents, Avallac'h and this strange creature with the face of an elf. Their eyes heavy with the weight of expectation. Ciri hated being the centre of attention, yet as a child she'd often been at the forefront of her grandmother's court. A living reminder of Calanthe's legacy. The heir apparent to her throne – young, strong – the Lion Cub of Cintra.
"I had too. She would've left me here alone again".
"If she'd had the chance. Yes".
"Why?"
Fen'Harel shrugged his shoulders. "That, little bird – is something you'll have to ask her yourself".
Geralt hated how the wolf seemed to know more than he did. "Ciri insisted that we had to hurry to Skellige. She needed to find Avallac'h. A two-week trip by boat ended with her teleporting Yen and I here. That was five days ago".
"Ellana could've escaped in that time. She didn't which was fortunate, although she was looking for something in turn. That's why she sought him out". Fen'Harel glanced at Avallac'h, lip curling when his beloved's bedmate glowered at him. "She was looking for information about her mother, someone that he knew quite well".
All eyes turned to Avallac'h, sitting like a prisoner in his seat. Manacled, the dimeritium draining the magic out of him. He gritted his teeth, mouth thinning as he refused to answer the accusation. That the spirit that'd hunted Elaine knew of her comings and goings was insult enough. He doubted that she'd told him, Fen'Harel had deduced her purpose based on several assumptions.
Yet it was Ciri that came to the penultimate conclusion. "Shiadhal, Queen of the Aen Elle. Wife to Auberon Muirecetach. Mother to Lara Dorren. Your Ellana is Lara's younger sister".
"Half-sister", corrected Geralt. "Lara's the firstborn, but Ellana's father wasn't the Alder King. He was a descendant of a witch called Mythal. That's why she looks different to Avallac'h and the Aen Seidhe elves we've seen. She's from a different world and she's a little weird for an elf".
Yennefer frowned, glancing at Fen'Harel cradling his slumbering beloved. "She doesn't hate humans".
"No", affirmed the witcher. "She didn't care that my ears were round instead of pointed. Or that I had eyes like a cat. We shared a meal, talked and she was never scornful. That I was a witcher didn't bother her at all".
Fen'Harel smiled, long-used to Ellana's peculiarities. "It is her way".
"Always?"
"She sees the world and all that dwell within it with her heart not her eyes".
Geralt went quiet, reminded of someone else. He shared a fond look with Yennefer, nodding when his paramour offered insight.
"Like Ciri".
Curls of ashen hair fell from the messy bun at the nape of Ciri's neck. Each strand a line of silver alike in shade and colour to the locks of the elf sleeping in Fen'Harel's arms. Yennefer understood what they were at last, seeing the resemblance. A gift from Lara Dorren's side of Ciri's family. They were somehow born of the same bloodline.
"I sensed her the day she awoke", admitted Ciri, her shoulders hunching. "Something drew me here like a hook inside a fish's mouth. I felt the line go taut then pull me in. I didn't know why. I only knew that I had to find this Ellana before she left this world".
"Blood calls to blood", reiterated Fen'Harel, his eyes glinting like rubies. "Why else did she take great pains to avoid meeting you in-person? I know the how and the why of it already. You were the reason I was able to find her at all. The obsidian statuette your father cleaved in two had a powerful shielding spell upon it".
Ciri glanced at Geralt, frowning. "You broke it?"
"Yeah".
"Why?"
"Ellana threw it at me".
That revelation intrigued Yennefer. "She threw it at you?" she asked with a straight face, thinking the worst. "Whatever did you do to make a woman throw something at you? Elven or not I do recall that statuette looking hefty. Did you say something to offend her?"
"You can be rather coarse", remarked Avallac'h. "Witchers' aren't known for their articulateness".
Geralt took offence, pulling his head into his neck like a tortoise. He felt Ciri's and Yen's eyes on him, even Avallac'h was staring. "Why does everyone always assume that it's my fault? Ellana threw the damned thing at me to distract that arsehole! It worked 'because he shifted out of his lupine shape and back into a man!"
"He tried to attack you", surmised Avallac'h, his tone scathing. "Which seems like something he would do. Beast that he is".
"Such flattery", teased Fen'Harel, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought the witcher had taken Ellana captive. I was afraid and I reacted badly. I'm sorry for being a right arse about it. I tend to lose all sense of myself when my beloved is in danger".
"You tried to take a chunk out of me!" hissed Geralt, taking offence.
"I have apologised for that".
"So, I'm supposed to forgive and forget?"
"You can feel and remember whatever you like. I care not".
Geralt scowled, his lip curling. "You're a prick".
"I know", acknowledged Fen'Harel. "You'll live to fight another day".
"How'd you find us?"
"I tracked your daughter through space and time. Where she went, I have followed. I am most grateful that she has led me to where I belong. I am reunited with my beloved at last. We have not been together in centuries".
Avallac'h inhaled a shaky breath, realising why Ellana had left that statuette on his table. "You're the wolf she was running from".
"Yes", affirmed Fen'Harel, baring his fangs. "She was yours for a night, but she will be mine forever. We share a bond, albeit unwilling on her part. It does not change the depth of my feelings, nor what I have done for her. If your relationship progresses, you will find that she is not an accommodating woman".
Avallac'h blushed, ducking his head. He felt the sting of Geralt's scrutiny, the witcher's grimace telling. "I know that already. She bites when peeved, purrs when delighted. She was gentle with me considering her strength".
"You are more fortunate than I was".
"You have lain with her?"
"Never though I have wanted too", admitted Fen'Harel to Avallac'h's immense relief. "Hers is a love that must be earned. That I share the face of the man she despises has soured her opinion of me. I cannot change my past, nor can she change hers. We are what we are".
"Did you hurt her?"
"She wouldn't be here now if I hadn't".
Avallac'h glowered at the creature wearing an elven man's shape. He was fair of face and form, black-haired like Eredin yet there was something unnatural about him. The way Fen'Harel returned his gaze, unblinking reminded him of a wolf. The lupine growl that rumbled in the hollow of his throat. The way his own heart sped up as he gazed into Fen'Harel's eyes.
It was as if he had peered into a pool of blood so deep it was bottomless.
He saw faces reflected in that sheen of red – elven, human and a multitude of spirits. Each dead, torn to shreds or devoured. He blanched upon hearing their screams, each repeated a thousand-fold. He shuddered in fear, the facade of his bravado wavering. He doubled over with a wretched sob, the tears coming thick and fast.
His shrill wail raising the hairs on the back of Ciri's neck. "What are you?"
Fen'Harel laid his cheek upon Ellana's brow, content to bask in her warmth. "The elves of my world called me the Dread Wolf. A reputation I'd earned when I slaughtered their foes until my wrath terrified them. Those I had protected soon betrayed me, so I wreaked vengeance upon them. Many died until I was subdued then leashed by an elven mage called Solas".
Ciri saw the bewildered expression on Geralt's face. The way the slitted pupils of his cat-eyes dilated. "What is it?"
The witcher scowled, knowing that he had betrayed himself. "Ellana spoke that name more than once. She thought it was tied to the White Frost. I don't know why or how, but she also said that it was in the past".
"Her past?"
"Yeah". He shook his head, uncertain of what was true. "She knew about you, Yen and I. What we had been through together. She knew about other things too".
"How?"
"She's special like you are, Ciri. I saw her teleport without opening a portal. It was like she'd slipped through the fabric of time and space, appearing then gone like a wraith. A moving shadow, seen and unseen. Even her magic is different from Chaos".
That got Avallac'h's attention. "How do you know that?"
"She told me", said Geralt. "The rest I saw and experienced in one way or another".
"You saw her cast spells?" demanded Yennefer.
"Ellana used an ice-spell to chill the leftovers from the dinner we ate last night. It was mundane as if she'd used magic for the simplest of tasks. It spooked me at first, since her magic smells and tastes like steel tipped in ice. It reminded me of Eredin".
"Bad?"
"Yeah. But she did the weirdest thing, Yen. She apologised when she saw that it made me uncomfortable. She even said that she should have asked first before casting that spell. She was kind to me, thoughtful and civil considering that I'm a witcher and a dh'oine".
Yennefer glanced at the elf-cum-spirit cradling his beloved. "Like you".
Fen'Harel smiled at her with a flash of white fangs. "Ellana has had friends of many races. Her closest confidants she loved as if they were her own brothers. Bound in all but blood, they were inseparable until their deaths. She grieves for them still".
"They were human?"
"One was while the other was of a horned-race descended from dragons".
"Like Ellana?" asked Geralt to astonishment of his lover and their daughter.
"To some degree".
"That's vague".
"How many dragon-elf half-breeds have you met?" challenged Fen'Harel.
"One".
"My point exactly".
"She didn't hate you?" asked Avallac'h, perturbed by the knowledge that his lover didn't share his beliefs.
"Unlike you?" The witcher snorted when he flinched. He ignored him, addressing his daughter instead. "You brought us to her. You knew the exact moment Ellana first awoke in Avallac'h's bedroom. That's why we got here so fast. You knew something was wrong this morning too. That's why you brought Yen here in a rush".
She shook her head, ashen curls fluttering around her ears. "It's not like that".
"Ciri".
"It's not!"
She felt the expectation of four people weighing on her like a stone. Geralt, Yennefer, Avallac'h and Fen'Harel stared at her as if she might sprout horns. Ciri feeling self-conscious was reminded of her grandmother Calanthe. The green of her eyes flashing, the thin line of her mouth flattening as if she were about to lose her patience. The Lioness of Cintra had oft reduced her subjects to tears at court and upon the battlefield.
Ciri proud as a peacock, refused to be cowed. "Even if she is Shiadhal's daughter, and Lara Dorren's half-sister. We might be blood but it's diluted. How could we share kinship at all?"
"Ellana isn't like the Aen Seidhe or the Aen Elle", insisted Geralt. "She won't care that you're human".
"The Aen Elle think my blood is polluted. My magic a corruption. They called Lara Dorren's human husband a thief. What does that make me? The descendant of a man that stole an elven legacy?"
Yennefer saw the dirty look Geralt shot Avallac'h. The Aen Saevherne lowering his chin, the blue of his eyes glinting in the candlelight. He stared right back, never once denying Ciri's claims. Their shared dislike for one another so palpable she could almost taste it. A bitter horrid thing stinking of salt and as palatable as sand.
She broached the subject with the subtlety of a sorceress attending court. "Say it, Ciri. Give your fear a name. Recall our lessons, darling. You must face what you fear to overcome it".
Ciri sucked in an anguished breath, giving her foster-mother a pained look.
"Say it", coaxed Yennefer with a mother's gentleness.
Her composure crumbled, the grief red and raw. Her lower-lip wobbled, the dark lines of her kohl smearing. The tears slipped down her cheeks, hot, wet, and stinking of brine. Geralt hated it when she cried, Yennefer did too. It hurt them to see her sad and unhappy, it stung worse to see her every fragile hope dashed to pieces.
She gestured to the unconscious woman in Fen'Harel's arms. "Is she of the Elder Blood?"
"Ellana is descended from one of the oldest and most powerful witches from our world. Mythal, a mage-turned-goddess. Worshipped and adored by thousands of elves across a multitude of generations. Ellana is Mythal-reborn, yet she is not like Mythal at all. This Elder Blood of yours awakened the dragon inside her to save her from Mythal".
Ciri frowned. "Why?"
"Mythal wasn't dead, child. She was a wraith desperate to obtain a suitable host. A parasite. The dragon's half of Ellana's spirit devoured her before she could slip under my beloved's skin. Dragons are proud creatures – far more than a man or spirit".
"I don't understand".
"I do", asserted Geralt. "Ellana was in danger of being possessed. So her inner-dragon ate the competition. Happens in wyvern nests with a glut of hatchlings. Messy".
"You have no idea how much", cautioned Fen'Harel. "I have never seen a mage channel that kind of power and live. The force of it set her aflame. She was a living inferno, burning within and without. Her dragon's blood ignited".
Ciri swallowed, reminded of what'd happened in Kaer Morhen. "Did she know what was happening?"
"She was dying, child. As she burned, she lost pieces of herself. She was naught but ash when the fire extinguished. I do not think that she knew she had perished. Her soul thereafter wandered the space between worlds in a state of confusion".
Geralt shuddered, imagining the worst. "She died?"
"For a time".
"But she was here. She spoke to me. She was alive".
Fen'Harel shrugged his shoulders. "I never said that she'd stay dead. It is in Ellana's nature to overcome the insurmountable". He inclined is head to Avallac'h. "Her bedmate there encouraged her to face her fears, that is why she returned to life. At that precise moment, your daughter sensed where she was".
"Blood called to blood".
"So it did".
"Shit".
"I'm not the only one like me", Ciri said aloud, lower-lip wobbling. She gestured to Avallac'h's bed and the woman lying there in Fen'Harel's arms. "But if she knew that I existed if she was aware of my plight. Why didn't she come for me when the Alder King held me in captive in Tir ná Lia?"
Geralt and Yennefer exchanged worried glances. The gravity of the question such that they dreaded the answer. Ciri had endured her captivity alone, subject to the whims of the Aen Elle. Even proud Avallac'h acknowledged his failings, head bowing when Ciri regarded him. There was none of the respect the Aen Elle had for him in her gaze.
"Forgive me", he pleaded, seeing Lara Dorren frowning in her place. The green eyes he loved glinting like shards of ice.
Devoid of warmth, Ciri laid blame without speaking a single scornful word. The weight of her judgement – overwhelming. Avallac'h's shoulders slumped when she looked away at last, the tears slipping down his cheeks. Never had Ciri so resembled her foremother in face and form till now. The human side of her heritage eclipsing what little of the elf that remained.
Like Ellana she was a daughter of the Aen Hen Ichaer.
"You lured me to my doom. Lied to me. Let Auberon Muirecetach use, abuse, and abase me as if I were nothing but a receptacle for his seed. A walking womb that would've carried a half breed child. A baby destined to be an aberration your people abhorred".
"Neén".
"The Aen Elle hated me for what I wasn't", Ciri reminded him. "I resemble Lara Dorren but I'm human, Avallac'h. By what right do I have to claim her power? A legacy the Aen Saevherne spent generations creating through careful breeding. Selective pairing you once told me, to beget a golden child like Caranthir".
He wept for the lost, keening with Ciri pressed on – relentless.
"Yet here I am, the last living descendant of Lara Dorren. Human by blood and heritage, heir to the legacy you helped shape. A daughter of the Elder Blood, as nature intended. Your lover is the same as I am even if she is an elf".
Fen'Harel smirked, seeing how Avallac'h cowered as if he were being scolded. "Half-elf, little bird", he corrected. "She is Mythal's heir, a child of wind and flame. Half-dragon, half-elf – and like you an unwitting scion of this Elder Blood. Dragons are proud creatures, but so are Dalish elves. Ellana will never accept the chains these Aen Elle would place upon her".
Yennefer watched as Avallac'h shrunk in on himself, the weight of his guilt near crushing. She'd never seen the haughty Aen Saevherne brought to heel. He was quiet as a mouse, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. He peered at her from under his mussed blonde hair, face wet and glistening. He was wretched, broken and grieving – as if all that he'd known had been torn away.
It hurt to see his anguish, to witness the pain of a wound that'd never healed.
Yennefer shocked herself (and Avallac'h) when she spoke up for him. "Voe'rle!"
Ciri frowned, while Fen'Harel arched an eyebrow. The amused tilt of his head suggesting that he found her intervention comical. Geralt was staring at her. His cat-eyes narrow, the slitted pupil a thin black stripe against the yellow of his iris. Her vehemence startled him.
"Yen?"
She was tense and quiet, glaring at Avallac'h when he cowered like a mouse. That he was a man and elf, bearing the arrogance of his people and centuries older didn't matter. He was hurting and vulnerable in a way that reminded her of the horrors of her childhood. The beatings, the cursing, and arguments. The futile tears she'd wept behind a closed door.
The frustrated anger of a child unable to change their circumstances.
Yennefer lifted her chin, staring down at the infamous Aen Saevherne. "You're a Knowing One, an Elven Sage – the wisest of the wise. Stop cringing like a cur expecting the world to take pity on you. Straighten your back and lift your head or has that infamous Aen Elle pride taken too much of a battering? You abandoned Ciri when she needed you most – accept it".
Avallac'h gaped at her in amazement. "I did what I could to help her without rousing suspicion. The boat. The river. I took Zireael out onto the water when first she was taken captive in Tir ná Lia. It was the only way to show her the boundaries of the barrier spell that encircled the city"
He gazed at Ciri in desperation, hoping she'd understand. He sighed in relief when her eyes widened, head bowing when she realised the truth at last. He'd hid his deception in plain sight, hoping she'd prove as observant as Lara had. That she'd see the weakness in Auberon's spellcasting. That she'd slip Eredin's net and escape Tir ná Lia even if the Wild Hunt were on her heels.
"You sent your lover away to help me that day?"
"She was Eredin's spy. That we were to have spent the morning together was known to him. Yet your unexpected appearance at the docks provided me with an opportunity. I could escape her notice for a while under the guise of keeping you entertained. It was a fitting excuse considering that you trusted me".
"I don't believe you", challenged Ciri.
"It's the truth, Zireael. I'd hoped that you'd prove as resilient as Lara had. After Shiadhal disappeared, Auberon never let their daughter out of his sight. He charged members of the Wild Hunt to serve as her personal guard. He promised Eredin her hand if he found Shiadhal and brought her back to Tir ná Lia".
"By force?"
"If necessary".
"Bastard".
Avallac'h shrugged his shoulders. "He loved her, Zireael. Losing Shiadhal near broke him. That is why Auberon became addicted to fisstech. The drug dulled his senses and deadened the grief till her loss was bearable enough to endure".
Yennefer exhaled a shuddering breath, reminded of her troubled childhood. Her father had dabbled in such things as had her mother in darker days. The habit as destructive as it'd been traumatic. The glassy eyes, the pique and the cruelty that'd followed. She'd had her share of bruises, scars, and broken bones.
"Voe'rle", she reiterated, voice soft and sad. "We remember the past to learn from our mistakes, not to reopen old wounds. You cannot change what happened, Ciri. Neither can Geralt and I no matter how much we want too. Now is what matters not the darkness we were once mired in".
Geralt stepped forward, slipping his hand into hers. Their fingers twining when Yennefer smiled. Her witcher was a treasure, seeming to know what she needed most at the right time. She leaned against him, glad when he didn't shy away. Most men in her life past and present still found her intimidating.
He never had.
Ciri witnessing their united front, gestured to the unconscious woman on Avallac'h's bed. "What of her darkness? If her past is as tragic as mine. She'll carry her share of bad memories too. Do you think she'll be as willing to forget what was and focus on what is?"
"Like you?" asked Fen'Harel, the wraith drawing their attention.
Geralt, Yennefer and Avallac'h regarded him with a sense of dread. Each in their own way aware that his appearance in their lives was a catalyst for change. The Dread Wolf would've agreed if he weren't focused on one soul. A shemlen woman with ashen hair and eyes like emeralds, named for a little bird with a forked tail. Each flap of her wings capable of unleashing a maelstrom of chaos.
"Yes".
"That is something you'll have to ask Ellana. If you're brave enough to seek her out".
Ciri feeling vengeful, turned her ire upon Avallac'h again. "If you had found Lara Dorren instead of me that day in the ruins of Tor Zireael. If she had lived instead of marrying Cregennan of Lod. If she returned to Tir ná Lia of her own accord. Would you have let the Alder King beget a child on his own daughter?"
She held his gaze for a heartbeat, the moment charged with tension. He broke first, trembling as he averted his eyes. He was white as milk, gaping at the floor as if a chasm had opened at his feet. Ciri didn't doubt that he wanted to fall into it rather than answer. The face of Lara Dorren peering back at him, the green of her eyes so like her predecessor that he baulked.
"I didn't think so". She inclined her head to her foster-parents, determined to have her way. "Take him with you. I need some time alone with our red-eyed friend. I'll do this my way".
Geralt conferred with Yennefer, a moment of silent communion shared with one look. A simple nod exchanged between them. The witcher removed Avallac'h from the room, dragging the Aen Saevherne out of his chair. Yennefer rose with greater dignity, leading the way to the door on dainty bare feet.
Ciri watched them go while Avallac'h followed meek as a lamb.
Ciri regarded Avallac'h's unexpected guest. There on the bed lounged a creature in the shape of an elven man with ruby-red eyes. He had the pointed ears of a race infamous for their beauty, agelessness, and youth. Yet there was something eerie about him that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. He wasn't an elf at all, but a creature wearing their shape like a coat.
"You asked for my help".
"So, I did", he confirmed without a hint of deceitfulness. "Yet all things come at a price. Are you willing to pay it?"
His cheeks dimpled when he smiled, lips peeling back from jagged white fangs. Like pale icicles each of his teeth glinted inside that sumptuous mouth. He was handsome like Avallac'h, yet he lacked the disdain of the Aen Elle. When he looked at her, Ciri didn't feel dirty as if her skin were caked with mud. It was a strange not to be seen as lesser because of the rounded shell of her human ears.
"I am".
Her bravado pleased him. "So be it. This is mine, little bird". He slipped a clawed hand out from under Ellana's silver braid. "Accept it and I will grant you what you seek".
Ciri stared when he offered his bare palm to her, taloned fingers splayed. "Just like that?"
"If you refuse, my love with die. If you accept than she might live. Either way you will find what you're searching for. The risk is yours to take, I can but show the way. What comes next will either disappoint us both or change our lives. Forever".
She hesitated at first, anxious and afraid until Fen'Harel remarked without conceit.
"You have but one chance. Will you take it?"
Geralt and Yennefer waited outside Avallac'h's bedroom. They were tense and weary after having left Ciri alone with Fen'Harel. Avallac'h sat stiff and upset in a chair at his table, manacled like a criminal in his own home. Geralt fussed over Yennefer, checking the pale pink skin upon her sternum. That she was half-naked and clad in a thin black nightgown hadn't roused his ardour.
He was more concerned about her well-being.
"Are you all right?"
"You know I am".
Geralt's nose twitched, the lack of that iron-stink in his nostrils reassuring. "Yeah. Sorry. I hate it when you get hurt. Makes me mad".
She smiled, her violet eyes soft and warm. "I know".
They shared a single loving look till the floor rolled like a wave beneath their feet. Yennefer near lost her footing when dust was shaken from the vaulted roof. Pebbles rained down upon them, the flagstones underfoot seeming to crack and crumble. Avallac'h leapt from his chair, diving under the table. Geralt followed suit, dragging Yennefer into his arms.
A second shockwave, the golden glow of a Quen shield erected in haste, and the door to Avallac'h's bedroom burst open. Dust, pebbles, and a cloud of smoke billowed into the chamber. Ciri stumbled inside, coughing – her face blackened by soot. Her hair an ashy tangle of dirt, twigs, and singed feathers. An arm was slung across her shoulder, the person it belonged to leaning against her side.
"Ciri!"
"I'm all right! But she needs help! She was poisoned!"
Ellana emerged into the firelight, her bare feet dragging. Her borrowed nightshirt soaked, slashed, and splattered with red. The ragged sleeves revealed the bloody lacerations on her forearms. There were handprints on her hips and thighs, each many-fingered, black, and oozing. It was as if she'd been restrained then dragged along by someone or something unnatural.
Yennefer waved a hand in the air, chanting a spell in Hen Llinge.
A breeze swept through the room, blowing the smoke out and away through the farthest archway. The air cleared in a matter of moments, though the smell of hot ash and embers remained. Geralt swore, Yennefer gasped and Avallac'h leapt out of his chair. The Aen Saevherne was horrified by what he saw. Ellana's skin and clothing was sopping wet, yet her skin steamed as if she were baking hot.
"En'ca minne!" hissed the sage. He shook his manacled hands, the cuffs rattling like metal bones. "Uncuff me!"
"Not a chance", growled Geralt, voice gruff. "You're better off out of the way". He glared when Avallac'h fumed, daring to argue with him. "I haven't forgotten what you did to Yennefer. If you don't want to find yourself fed face-first to a hungry drowner, then I'd suggest that you sit down and shut up".
Avallac'h raised his bound wrists, breath catching in his throat. "Let me help".
"Unless you've got vials of Golden Oriole lying around".
"I have!"
"Where?"
"Unshackle me!"
"Tell Yen where you keep your potions. If Ellana is poisoned, we need to get the Golden Oriole down her throat before she falls unconscious. If her throat swells up before that she'll asphyxiate and choke to death on her own bile. That's if she doesn't go into shock and start flailing like a landed fish in a boat. The longer you delay, the higher the chance that Ellana will die".
Avallac'h ashen-faced and full of fear replied with more honesty than Geralt expected. "She can't. Not after all this time. She's too important to my people".
"She will if you keep standing there like an idiot. Tell Yen where you keep your potions".
Ciri seeing his hesitation barked like an enraged mabari. "She was in a pit surrounded by demons! They were clawing at her, trying to tear her to pieces! That's why she's covered in blood! The red-eyed elf that healed my mother stayed behind to distract them! He told me to flee with her back to our world before we were followed!"
"Zireael".
"He sacrificed himself to save us!" she spat at him – incensed. "You weren't there! You didn't see the darkness she was mired in! It was a world burned to ash under a veil of ice and snow! There were skulls, bones, wraiths, and demons everywhere!"
Ellana's head lolled against her shoulder, heavy on her neck like a ball on a string. She groaned in pain, grimacing at the loudness of Ciri's voice. Her words like knives in her ears, even if she barely heard what was said. The descendant of Lara Dorren panicked, calling to her stepfather for help. She ignored Avallac'h, nodding when Geralt gave her a short and sharp command.
"We need to lie her down!"
"At once!"
"Bring her over here!"
The witcher swept an arm across Avallac'h's table, knocking aside the sages' books and papers. Ink-stained pages fell onto the floor, alongside several volumes of obscure elven texts. Avallac'h didn't care a wit when he ushered Ciri over along with her charge. Ellana never protested when she was eased down onto the tabletop. Geralt saw her wan face, sweat-licked forehead, and the unfocused glazing of her eyes.
He slid a finger under her lid to reveal the white sclera beneath.
"Eyes are rolling, red-veined. Pupils are dilated". He laid his calloused palm upon her forehead, hissing through clenched teeth. "She's running a fever. Breathing is laboured".
Ellana's chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes rolling under her lids. She twitched, head lolling on the tabletop as if her neck might snap. Her lips were tinged blue, the veins across her face and neck bulging. She was close to falling unconscious, the stink of something acrid on her breath.
Geralt grimaced, nose wrinkling when he got a whiff. "She's poisoned all right". A cursory look at the bloody lacerations on her arms worried him. "Those aren't mere scratches. They're deep, red, and purpling along the edges even if the cuts are clean. Whatever had a hold of her didn't want to let go. Cuts are oozing too. I'd take a sample, but we need to get that Golden Oriole in her quick".
Ciri's lip quivered, the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "She's fading. I can feel it".
"Damn it". Geralt glanced across the table at Avallac'h, his cat-eyes narrowing. He didn't care where Ciri had gone in the span of moments. All that mattered was finding a way to ease her sorrow. "Where do you keep your potions?"
"Unshackle me".
Yennefer lost her temper. She didn't ask for Avallac'h's cooperation or his permission. She barged across the room, grabbing his face between her hands. She turned his head, forcing him to meet her gaze. He knew what she intended the instant she penetrated his mind.
"Neen!"
It was over in a matter of moments, though the effects were brutal. Avallac'h staggered when Yennefer let him go. He was pale and shaking. A line of red dripping from one nostril. He fell back into the chair he'd vacated, blood splattering his nightshirt.
"You utter fool", hissed Yennefer while Avallac'h shuddered, his shoulders hunching. "Your bedmate's life is worth more than your bruised pride".
She marched away, graceful as a swan in her borrowed cloak. Her bare feet soft and soundless on the rugs underfoot. A creak of wood, the squeak of a hinged door and she soon returned with a handful of flasks. Each sealed by stopper, wax, and spell, the dark glass containing a yellow liquid. She gave Avallac'h a scathing look, disgusted that he'd think himself more important.
"Here, Geralt".
"Thanks, Yen. Hold her down, Ciri. I'll take care of the rest. This'll get messy. Ellana won't want to swallow a potion she didn't make herself".
"How do you know that?"
He shrugged. "You had to be there".
He was right.
Several hours later Geralt sank back into his chair with a sigh – wrung out. He exhaled a weary breath, shoulders slumping – glad that it was over. Each of Avallac'h's purloined flasks were empty, cracked or smashed. The rugs on the floor stained yellow, the bits of broken glass swept away. Even Yennefer's many scouring spells hadn't rid the room of that acrid stink.
He'd dealt with worse than an elf retching on him.
Burns, claw marks, broken bones, shredded skin, and poison. The last more common than the first if he'd imbibed one witcher potion too many. Yet he was glad that his patient was alive. There she lay on his daybed, asleep though her dreams were troubled. She twitched on occasion, cried out and wept as if she'd seen something distressing.
Yet she breathed, chest rising and falling in that deep and even rhythm of life.
Gone were the short and sharp gasps, sometimes laboured as if she were suffocating. Yet she moaned as if she were in pain. Keened as if she were cradling a friend that'd died in her arms. Never once had the nightmares subsided. The eyes rolled beneath her lids, brows furrowing as she relived terrible memories.
Ciri was slumped in a chair beside that daybed, exhausted in mind and body.
She slept too. Her face drawn and tired, kohl smeared upon her pale cheeks in lines of watery black. She'd spent the last few hours weeping and upset, certain that the closest person she had to family would die. Yet Ellana had pulled through, though Geralt wasn't sure for how long. The red-eyed wraith that'd healed Yennefer had remarked on Ellana's lack of claws.
Geralt sniffed like a hound, brows furrowing.
"Still the same?"
He sighed when a manicured hand gripped his shoulder. Yennefer's dulcet tones a welcome relief from the eeriness Ellana had brought into his life. There lay Ciri, slumbering under Yen's borrowed cloak. Yet beside her on a bed of handmade cushions lay a half-elf without the half that'd made her a draconid. She lacked horns, fangs, claws, and that reptilian muskiness tinged with fire and ash.
"Yeah".
"That elf said that she'd die without her dragon's blood".
Geralt grimaced, loathing that outcome. "Yeah. He still gone?"
Yennefer exhaled a weary breath. "There's naught but puddles of water and sludge where Avallac'h's bed used to be. No elf, wolf, or spirit of any kind. I've scried, doused, and tested samples of the residues there. I can tell you that in a span of moments, Ciri took him and your half-elf to another world".
"But?"
"I don't know where, Geralt. Ciri came back without him, bearing that woman in tow. We spend a day trying to save her life. She survives poisoning from an unfamiliar substance. A substance neutralised by you forcing four flasks of Golden Oriole down her throat".
He shrugged. "Could still die".
Her fingers tightened upon his shoulder hard enough to hurt. "Geralt. You've performed a miracle".
"Won't matter if she doesn't get her dragon's blood back. She can't survive as half of what she is, Yen. I can cure the poisoning, but I can't find the part of her that's missing. All we can do now is wait and hope that Ciri can find her out there in the dark. Your plan had better work".
They glanced at the manacled elf across the room.
There sat Avallac'h, ashen-faced, worried and still wearing his dimeritium shackles. His wrists cuffed in silver, bound by a thin chain. He sat back in his chair, hands cradled in his lap – uncaring of the bracelets he now wore. That his bedmate yet breathed was a relief, though even he was uncertain if she'd wake whole and hale again. Their only chance of success lay in the ashen-haired woman slumbering beside her bed.
"I have faith in Zireael".
"If she gets hurt".
"I cannot guarantee that she won't, Gwynbleidd. The world of dreams is a dangerous place. Either Zireael will find Elaine and bring back the part of her that's missing. Or Zireael will wake to find her aunt a pale lifeless corpse. All our hopes now rest upon her and Elaine's willingness to face her past and the future".