Hi all. Publishing on this site is a real pain :D you copy in a normal text and it transforms into html. Oh well.
The story is set somewhere close before the TV show, when Geralt was only a bit younger, reckless. Not too young though. Still inclining to be the white knight. There's no reference to the TV show. No Jaskier, sorry, perhaps next time. There is Nenneke though! I started writing the story after season 1, so my Nenneke is a lot different than the one in the show, (she definitely speaks faster :D and is more stern), she's more like from the books. She was fond of Geralt, knew him since he was a child and was something like a mother figure. In the books, she tended to him after the Striga fight and she was his voice of reason.
Not a native englisher and no beta, forgive me. The story is written, I'll update daily. Maybe :p
Hope someone will enjoy this.
x)
Mingled voices were coming from the Fox Hole Inn. One of the most unoriginal and stupidest names for an inn he had ever heard, the Witcher thought. Hoping the bad name wouldn't affect the quality of local ale, he stopped there. It would still take five more hours to reach the Temple of Melitele and after two days of travelling under the low set, autumn sun, he would appreciate the bitterness of ale. Besides, he planned to spend a week or two in the temple and they offered no such pleasures as ale. They offered others, though, more important delights.
He was tired after a long intensive season of monster hunting; his muscles and joints were sore from the lack of rest in the past weeks and his shoulder was still giving him a hard time after the last time he had an unfortunate clash with a drowner. Geralt was sure Nenneke would find a pleasant cure for his troubles.
So, a few pints of ale before his visit seemed like a good idea at that moment. The community there was apparently tolerative towards witchers, he did not receive any disdainful comments upon entering, just surprised looks. Other than that, the people in the inn returned to their business once he sat down at a small corner table for two. He ordered a tankard of ale and relaxed, his mind venturing back to the temple.
The witcher was very fond of his visits to Nenneke. The temple was something like a second home for him, a sanctuary. Place to go to recuperate. But not only. The priestess was nice, and motherly. She had always welcomed him with open arms and showed sincere care for him. Dozens of years ago, when he was a student of Nenneke, he became sort of a teacher's pet and he remained to be a favorite one till today.
Ten long months since he last saw her. He would rather deny himself the ale and travel non-stop, but he would arrive after midnight and Nenneke might not be that welcoming if he disturbed their peaceful night. So he decided to take a detour and spend a night in Fox Hole in a small town, Brillen.
The voices in the inn became unusually quiet for the number of people that sat at tables. The witcher raised his tankard and drank, swiping the inn with his eyes. It was the largest table across the room that seemed the most cagey. It hosted eight men. One or two glanced back at Geralt here and there, and then persuasively spoke to their comrade with thick ginger hair that sat in the middle. Geralt couldn't see his face, nor could he make anything out of their hushed conversation. He sighed again and hoped for no trouble.
Some time later the ginger man stood up and turned to look at the witcher, then started walking towards him, very hesitant.
"Master Witcher, sir," the man approached, his face sad and eyes shining with tears. His appearance resembled somehow the fox on the sign above the entrance to the inn. "I am so sorry to disturb you. My name is Renaud Croenn and you might be just the man I have been praying to the greatest Melitele to send me."
Feeling the eyes of everyone on him, Geralt put down the empty tankard and nodded at him to continue.
"My daughter Ella went for some herbs into the woods this morning and she never came back. I am worried she might have gotten lost in the deep forests, master Witcher. Since my wife Helen passed away, she is the only family I have, and I am starting to fear the worst." Renaud Croenn's voice was lost in the sniffle.
Geralt took a long time to answer. "Why aren't you searching for her then?"
"Sir, you see, me and my friends, we spent the whole day in the woods, looking for her, but master Witcher, I am just an ordinary merchant and I have no experience in tracking, neither do they. We had to stop our search when the dusk came, for the men feared outlaws and bandits. Townsfolk even say that monsters come out from their holes during night. And I-" Renaud started sobbing.
"What kind of monsters?"
"Time after time we hear wolves howling... Oh my poor little Ella," Renaud cried, a tear dropping down. "Please, master Witcher, help me find her, bring her back. I will reward you with a great sum if you bring her back to me."
"Hmm," the witcher replied, looking at his empty tankard. A search for a girl was not exactly how he imagined his night. He was sleepy and tired. Besides, contracts like this were the hardest. He could spend hours or days looking for the girl, killing multiple monsters on the way and still never find her. Or he might find her dead. On both of those ends, he would never receive any payment, only resentment.
"I'll pay even for trying, sir, please. My business is good, but without Ella," Renaud said when the witcher kept silent for too long. "Money means nothing. My Ella is everything to me."
Renaud started crying.
Geralt narrowed his eyes. Noting that many eyes were still aimed at them and even the whispers died out in dramatic silence, Geralt released a long breath through his nose. He felt for the begging man, he looked completely broken. And to the point. Temerian forests were nothing for little girls. Renaud was right to be worried.
"Sir…" Geralt spoke over the man's sobs. "Renaud," Geralt said louder when Renaud didn't react. "I will help you. Stop crying." The witcher really didn't want to help him, but he knew his sense for doing the right thing wouldn't let him ignore the man's pleading. Or a child in trouble. Besides, could he really refuse to help this man and his daughter with an audience like this?
"You will?" Renaud looked up at the witcher hopefully and sniffled. "Oh, master Witcher, thank you, thank you so much!"
"Sure. Let's go." Geralt stood up. Maybe he would find the girl in an hour and still get a few hours of sleep. "Just show me which way she went," Geralt said and headed to the door.
He heard Renaud thank again and bless him. What those thanks did not reveal though, was the devilish grin on Renaud's face.
Temerian forests were not completely unfamiliar to the witcher, he had stayed many nights there and traveled through it on many occasions. But Temeria was large and so were its forests. Save from its expanse, the land was far from flat, which made it much harder to search for something in it.
Renaud Croenn pointed him in some direction, but the witcher couldn't find any tracks. Not a scent, not a sound, not a piece of clothing, nothing.
"Won't find her in one hour then," Geralt said to Roach while looking up at the moon. An hour had passed and there was no trace of anyone. Not even a deer. The forest was still and silent.
He returned to the forest road and with the area being only mildly steep, he decided to ride slowly half a mile forward. Then he entered another dense part of the woods and walked, stopping once in a while, silencing Roaches snorts. Drawing in a deep breath and closing his eyes, Geralt furrowed his brow and listened. He blinked.
"Stay," he whispered to Roach and stepped away a few paces. Even when she was perfectly still, standing next to her, he could hear her breathing, hear her organs work and it interrupted his focus on the sounds he was trying to listen from afar.
Geralt held in a breath and repeated the process, fixed on something very distant.
There, voices.
Maybe two or three, males.
Geralt knew it still didn't mean anything. It could have been just travelers or bandits; without the girl he was looking for. But after several hours, it was finally something.
"Don't even think about running back to your father, you brat," a huge, bald man said and spat into the fire.
Next to him sat a little girl, her curly red hair shone against the flame that revealed her dirty face. Her cheeks were painted with irregular lines formed by the tears she must have cried a while back.
"I won't," the girl replied and sniffled. "My father is a twat."
"Ohoho, you nasty minx! Such strong words coming out of your little mouth. You're gonna do well with us," said the bald man and laughed loud together with the two others around the fire. "You will make a perfect bait!"
Geralt listened from behind a tree, confused.
"That's crap. She's gonna bring us nothing but trouble," said the third one, who sat aside and did not laugh.
"Shut up, Hugo."
"You are a fool if you think this is gonna work. Best case they arrest us in the next town for stealing the lass. Worst case, she'll make up we raped her, and they'll hang us all," Hugo grumbled.
The huge and bald man snorted and slowly turned towards the girl. He put down a log he held in his left hand and placed the hand around the girl's thin neck.
"She wouldn't do such stupid thing," he said, pulling her closer.
Geralt clenched his jaws and without a creak slowly drew his sword.
The girl widened her eyes and shook her head as much as she could. She whimpered softly, but couldn't make out any words, his frightful tone muted her.
"Good," the bald man smirked. "Otherwise, her lies might just become reality." To make a point, he squeezed his fingers around the girl's throat, not enough to choke her, but enough to intimidate.
She widened her eyes further, but not for the squeeze. She stared behind him.
"Release the girl," Geralt snarled. "Now." He shifted from behind the tree so swiftly that none of the sitting men were able to apprehend it and before they managed to put their hands on their weapons, Geralt's sword was pointed at the nape of the bald man's neck.
The baldie froze and squinting his eyes, he looked behind. Sensing the tip of the sword, he glared back at the girl and let her go with a growl. She backed out on her four, blinking between the two men in terror.
Geralt retreated an inch and let the baldie get up and turn around, following his neck with his sword.
"The girl," baldie said, "is mine."
Geralt tilted his head together with the sword blade. "Her father would disagree."
Baldie smirked. "Her father is happy to be rid of her. And his debt to me. It was an honest trade," he revealed. "The girl. Is. Mine."
Geralt scowled, not keen to trust the man, huge, bald, and threatening bandit. Hardly. "Bullshit."
"He speaks the truth!" Hugo interfered. "The fucking merchant sold her to us. But it's bullshit nonetheless!"
"Shut up, Hugo," baldie said, eyeing the witcher.
"No!" Hugo yelled. "Do you see it now, you idiot? Not even away from the neighborhood and she already causes trouble!"
"Shut the fuck up you son of a bitch!" Baldie yelled back, still staring at the witcher while the other men slowly got off the ground and grasped their swords tightly.
The group of bandits wasn't brainless, Geralt had to grant them that. But he saw through their trick to distract him and slashed his sword to the left even as Hugo yelled another no. The man on the left blocked the attack but couldn't counterweight the force in the strike and his wrist twisted painfully. With two quick half turns, avoiding the fire in the middle, Geralt ended up next to Hugo, who was preparing to lay a blow. Geralt dodged, stepping to the side. He caught Hugo's wrist and held his arm away to prevent an attack while disarming his other hand from a small but sharply looking dagger.
Hugo cried out as the Witcher's sword hit him flat over his fingers and dropped the dagger immediately. Geralt ducked down and hurled the handle of his sword into Hugo's stomach. Hugo made a choking sound, bent down, and opened his back to another hit. Flat again. He fell next to the fire with a cry and stayed down.
Geralt glanced next to the baldie for a split second and saw the girl running away. Good.
Hugo's writhing body now blocked the way to the baldie, who meanwhile found his sword and seemed determined to cross over the fire to get to Geralt faster. Twirling back to the first man, Geralt attacked him again from below, digging the tip of his sword into the bandit's leg. His blood sprayed on Geralt's hands as he withdrew the sword from the tissue. Without a break, he turned to the opposite side and delivered a deep sting into the shoulder of the fourth bandit.
He was almost too late to block the baldie's sword aiming at his head. Kneeling, Geralt held his sword above his head with both hands. His shoulder protested against the force, and he couldn't get the man to balance off. Biting back the pang of pain, Geralt released one of his hands to punch baldie into the stomach. The bandit saw it and reacted quickly, kicking Geralt to the side. He fell with a grunt but got back on his feet just in time to block another swing.
For a moment, the witcher didn't want to end the fight. He wanted to fight with the bandit furiously. The man pissed him off and he wanted him to feel his rage. But there was no time, the witcher couldn't hear the girl's footsteps anymore and he didn't want her to get really lost. So, when their swords met the next time, Geralt pushed to slide his sword down with a sinister screech, and then tilted the sword just to stab it into the baldie's neck.
With the leader of the group dead, the remaining, wounded bandits ceased to make any efforts and Geralt let them escape. He wiped away the blood from his sword and waited till he couldn't hear their wailing and then set off to go after the girl.
At first, he wasn't sure where she was, but as he went in the direction she ran, he caught on her accelerated heartbeat. She had climbed high up a tree. Clever, Geralt thought and smiled for himself. If it wasn't for his witchery senses, he would have no chance to spot her in the darkness between the branches. He walked to the tree and looked up at her. The girl covered her mouth with a palm in shock when she realized he discovered her.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. You can come down."
She put the palm away from her mouth and kept silent. As if she tried to become invisible.
"How can you see me?" she said finally.
"I just can," Geralt brushed her off. Admitting he was a witcher could have scared her even more. "Now get down, Ella."
The girl gasped. "How do you know my name?!"
Geralt rolled up his eyes. He wanted to be away from the woods as soon as possible and she wasn't making it very easy. "Your father told me your name. Now get down."
"No!" Ella said with strong determination.
"Get down from the tree right now!" Geralt snarled through his teeth and then regretted it immediately, because she started throwing cones down at him. Geralt was impressed, her aim was pretty much perfect and every single one landed on his head or his shoulders. He hissed a few times, too tired to avoid them. His patience all gone, he shielded his face with an elbow and looked up.
"Stop it!" he commanded, the cones still coming. Where the fuck did she get so many?
"Go away!" she yelled and threw one last time, visibly disturbed that she ran out of ammunition and had nothing to defend herself with.
Geralt took a deep breath.
"I promised to your father that I will get you back to him. Unharmed. Now get down before you fall and break your neck." Geralt tried hard to sound kind, but it really did not come out that way.
"No!" Ella shouted so loud that Geralt was sure the running bandits could hear her. "I don't wanna go back to my father. Just go away and leave me here!"
Geralt punched the tree and growled. He was getting nowhere, and the conversation drained him more than fighting four men at once. He stepped aside from the tree a bit and thought. Ella kept silent.
"Ella?" the witcher addressed her after a while. "Were the bandits speaking the truth? Did your father really sell you to them?"
Ella's lips twitched downwards. "Yes."
"Fuck," Geralt cursed silently, rage building inside his chest. He was so stupid.
"Okay, Ella. I am sorry I yelled at you. I won't take you to your father. I promise," he said. "Now get down, please."
"You just said you promised to my father to take me to him. How can I trust your promise then?"
The witcher almost slipped again and growled, but kept it cool on the outside, only dug his nails into his palm and sighed. The girl was smart. And he was so stupid.
"I will deal with the promise I made to your father after I have dealt with the one, I am now making to you. Alright?"
Ella didn't answer.
"I am heading to the Temple of Melitele, you can come with me and seek refuge there."
The girl took a moment to think it through. Then finally put her foot on the branch below and carefully started climbing down. The witcher closed his eyes with relief even as the medallion on his chest vibrated. He shot his eyes open.
"No! Get back up! Quickly!" he called, flexing his hand up as if to keep her atop in safety. He though he must have pissed the universe but didn't really have time to ponder over it. He turned his head to the right and left to search for the danger his medallion had warned him about.
"Watch out!" Ella yelled; voice squeaky.
Geralt heard the heavy thudding and turned around just in time to see the monster with a massive upper body and swerved horns charge at him.
A howler. Fuck. So Renaud Croenn was lying even about the wolves, although this lie was actually the least ominous. The merchant probably couldn't have known the difference between a howling wolf and a howling howler. A fucking huge howler.
It wasn't in the power of anyone, not even a witcher - especially a tired and annoyed one, to avoid the charge. The howler collided with his side and sent him flying several paces away where he was stopped by a broad tree. He landed with a thump, withered pieces of tree bark falling down on him as the impact of his body shattered them.
Too many long seconds it took to convince his lungs to take in life giving oxygen again and as soon as it did, his left side flooded with toxic pain. It spread up into his head and the witcher fought to stay conscious. Through the haze, he saw the beast getting close, its claws scattering the muddy soil around. Sitting up with difficulty he formed the Sign of Aard into the howler's face. The beast flew backwards with a howl. It bought him some time, just enough to reach into his waistband pouch with elixirs. Drinking it eagerly, he got on his feet with a grunt.
As his eyes filled with darkness, Geralt outstretched his hand to unsheathe his silver sword, a movement he knew would spike up the heat in his side, but he had no other choice but to bury the pain. The howler was again preparing to charge and the witcher couldn't get hit again, already worried some of his ribs cracked with the first collision. He patiently stood still and waited for the right moment to jump aside, leaving the howler to crash into the tree behind him.
More bark and wood fragments dropped out.
The witcher did not hesitate and lunged forward to whack his sword at the howler, who was momentarily dazed. The blade left a mark, but it seemed only to anger the beast and it started smashing its claws around violently. Geralt dodged with precise semi-circles but didn't get a chance to strike at the beast again, using his hand and sword to block.
The witcher's advantage was that he was much more agile, so he rolled on the ground away from the beast and then quickly jumped to the side and staying ducked down he moved forward to attack from the side. The beast howled loudly, when his sword tore the flesh, but his stunt movements caused the throbbing in his side to resurface, and pain flashed through him anew. Not able to catch a breath he forgot to watch his back and the beast smashed him with its claw over the middle of his back, it went through his shirt and cut the skin open. The witcher gritted his teeth and crawled away.
Casting the Sign of Queen to gain some stability on his feet, he reached for the potion of Swallow and took a greedy swig.
The beast attacked furiously into the shield in vain while Geralt gathered his strength. Staying at one place was a mistake. The howler flung his talon at the witcher's head disintegrating the shield with the force. The shield absorbed some of it, but the witcher felt the claws graze his forehead.
Cursing, he fell to one knee to avoid another talon and thrust his sword into the beast's chest, then quickly swept away. The sword didn't go deep, the beast was huge, and its anatomy was a freak of nature. Yet, the howler roared with pain and Geralt used the chance to strike again, then quickly dodged and ran away into a safe distance. The next time he attacked, he had to parry the beast's talon first, then making a quick pirouette he thrust his sword again, conveying a deep gash into its side. The beast screamed and swayed with its huge head at the witcher.
Geralt was careful this time and avoided the huge pointy horn in time. Repeating the mechanics of rolling away and then lunging towards the beast with swift moves, he was able to inflict several cuts on both sides. Disgusting crimson blood poured down in multiple streams.
The beast, however, still didn't want to die and Geralt was exhausted. His muscles and joints protested against every move. He risked draining his last resort of strength by forming his fingers into the Sign of Igni. A fire launched from his hand and as the blood reacted with the fire, the beast burst into flames. Geralt collapsed, overwhelmed with fatigue while the cries of a howler filled his ears. It wasn't dead yet, but it was soon going to be.
As he laid on the ground, breathing hard, fighting with the spikes of pain it had caused, Geralt prayed the beast wouldn't come at him again. It didn't. It was done for.
TBC