Ward of Kaer Morhen – Chapter 1
Geralt of Rivia cast a glance up at the night sky. A sliver of a moon peeked out behind a thick mask of clouds. He reached down to pat his horse's neck gently.
"Tired, Roach? We'll make camp in a few hours." Geralt murmured to the horse, rolling his own aching shoulders. The last three, no… four contracts had been tiresome and bloody work. A bruxa, a few drowners and one very unhappy wraith later, Geralt had found himself ravenous, cut up and ready for a good night's rest.
Roach huffed and shook her mane, continuing to clop down the path at a steady pace. This part of Kaedwen was vast and largely uninhabited save for the occasional rural home or tavern on the plains between the Kestrel mountain range and the city of Daevon. The dirt trail was barely illuminated by the sky, but Geralt's yellow-golden eyes picked out the terrain around him, a result of the Witcher mutation he underwent as a child. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The night was air was clear and still, almost as if the whole world had held its breath.
Roach lifted her tired head, she had noticed a large homestead west of the path. Something about it made the mare feel ill at ease. Her nostrils flared, a metallic scent rose up amongst other smells like livestock and pelts. Was there blood… in the grass?
"Roach, is there some reason we've left the path?" Geralt asked, eyebrow raised. His eyes scanned the property as they approached it, nothing seemed awry. He gently guided Roach back onto the dirt road. They continued onward, beginning to pass the house. Abruptly, Roach's ears pricked. She had heard a thud. Then came another. Again. Geralt groaned in frustration.
"Please, be something living," Geralt sighed, angling the reins towards the house and nudging Roach to quicken her pace. He swung himself off the horse as they neared the perimeter of the fence, unsheathing his sword quietly. The slow thudding sound was coming from the small stable adjacent to the house.
"Would you like to stand back perhaps?" He asked, noticing that Roach was right on his heels. Another thud sounded this time, louder. Roach let out a soft whinny. Geralt spun around to look at his horse incredulously.
"Make some more noise, see how you like being dismembered."
The thudding continued as the pair approached the stalls. They all seemed empty save for one.
"Well, well. Hello." Geralt stopped outside the fourth stall to admire the beast that stood proudly in it. He could make out the stallion's foggy breath and cocked front leg, ready to strike at the gate again.
"They've left you behind, have they? It'll be alright. Here…" Geralt reached over carefully and unlatched the partially destroyed wooden gate. The stallion snorted and pushed itself out, rushing past Geralt and Roach and out into the courtyard. Geralt readied his sword. The horse wasn't running away, which meant that whatever had been here had likely left. Still better to be safe.
He scented the air, the smell of fresh remains hung in the tall grass. Something had been here. Striding around the property, he discovered several mangled chickens and two smaller pigs, torn apart with limbs missing. The fence surrounding the homestead had been damaged in two sections, and the large front door was slightly ajar. The steps leading to the front door were slick with blood and some rather large, downy-looking feathers. Geralt moved slowly to enter the home, casting a glance back at Roach.
Geralt located a vial and downed it quickly, a cat potion. In the dark house, even his witcher eyes would have failed him. He waited a half of a second until his pupils dilated beyond the confines of his irises. From what he began to see, the homestead was clearly a functional one, that housed at least three or four people, all of whom were nowhere to be found. Above the mantle was a rich yellow and red tapestry and a peculiar horned animal head hung above the dining table. This was no typical rural homestead, but perhaps a craftsman or merchant family's second home.
The fire in the hearth had gone cold, and the trail of blood told him that the monster had escaped the house. But how had it been injured? He made note of the well-stocked kitchen for later and slowly made his way upstairs to the bedrooms to find nothing much except some deep scratches and lifted floorboards. He noted that all three beds were empty, and that the fires were long extinguished. Abruptly, Geralt snapped his head up. He had heard the slightest creak from the third floor… There was an attic.
He located and carefully climbed the narrow set of stairs to the uppermost part of the house. He could barely stand upright, the ceiling was too low for a regular person, never mind a man of Geralt's stature. The space was large but full to the brim with blankets, furs and folded hides. Some strong smelling spices and liquors peeked out from within crates stacked near the entrance, all of which were unfamiliar to Geralt. There was a collection of salted hams and sausages hanging by the small attic window. The creature must have gotten close enough to the house to pick up on the scent of this room.
A small workbench and pallet stood in the far side of the room. Although the smell of blood was the strongest in this room by far, it was clear by now that the monster was long gone. Geralt lowered his sword. The trail of blood seemed to begin in the corner of the room. He bent down to search under the workbench and jumped back as a long dagger swiped viciously at his legs. He cursed as he hit his head against the ceiling. There was some clambering, then his assailant stood to face him, dagger pointed directly at his chest. He caught sight of a face and tensed, it was a young woman. Her hair was braided behind her and she was injured, badly.
"Wait, wait… I'm not trying to hurt you." Geralt said, gruffly. The girl looked absolutely terrified, but said or did nothing. He looked down at her unusual outfit, a work shirt and trousers. A rip in the shirt revealed that her left shoulder was a wreck of torn flesh and blood, she was bound to bleed out or infect over the next day or two. He slowly sheathed his sword and raised his hands.
"See? No more sword." He whispered, the air around him suddenly seeming too still.
With the tiny bit of light from the attic's window, the young woman could just barely see the man's face. He was tall, with broad shoulders, silver-white hair and entirely black eyes without pupils. She inhaled sharply and took a step back, raising her dagger again.
"My name is Geralt. I'm a Witcher. My eyes… I've just taken a potion to see more clearly in the dark," Geralt said, picking up on her renewed fear.
It hadn't escaped his notice that the girl was strikingly beautiful. He had however tried to ignore this fact, seeing as the house was covered in blood and her left arm was basically falling off. In spite of that, he couldn't help but feel like she had the upper hand all of a sudden.
"Who are you? Why are you here alone?" He asked, scanning her face for answers. She didn't reply.
"Do you not speak?" The girl responded by blinking and shaking her head slightly, her dagger starting to waver.
"Do you know what attacked you? Was it a winged monster?" A slight nod.
"Something with a black mane, like a griffin? There are nests in the nearby mountains… The fledglings get curious sometimes." A nod.
"Very well, your wounds need to be tended to. Come." Geralt said, turning to leave, his head slanted awkwardly against the low ceiling.
He heard a soft clang, and the familiar jangle of heavy chains as the girl pulled forward to follow him.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He spun around, his eyes growing more stormy. She had a shackled to the corner of the room by her ankle. The chain itself was long enough for her to roam around the attic, but definitely not to follow him downstairs. Geralt had seen his fair share of mistreated wives and daughters in more rural parts of the Continent but this was a new low.
"Let me see that," Geralt growled, crouching to examine the shackle. He could see a red welt and some discoloration from the metal around her ankle.
"I think I can remove it. You'll have to sit down," He said, looking up at the frightened girl. She obliged him, slowly sitting cross-legged. He tore a strip of leather from a nearby hide, then grabbed a small vial from his belt and uncorked it between his teeth. He quickly slipped the leather between the shackle's lock and her ankle to protect her skin and then poured a little bit of the liquid onto the lock. The potion of acid would take a few minutes to corrode the metal. He held the strip of leather fast, not failing to notice that her breath sounded more labored. They sat in silence like that for a few minutes. Geralt kept his eyes focused on the lock to ensure the acid didn't burn through the leather strip.
"No offence, but your family seem like cunts." He muttered, his gaze still on her ankle. She let out a little breath, which could have been a laugh. The young woman swayed a little, likely starting feel the loss of blood. He had to get her into town to rest properly. Thankfully, the metal had warped and softened enough to be removed. He stood, helping her up and clenching his hands, which suddenly felt as if they were on fire. They made their way down to the ground floor carefully, where Geralt immediately started searching the kitchen cupboards for herbs. He found and picked up a roll of thick bandage fabric and a small bottle of clear liquid. The girl slipped on some boots and bracers. Geralt picked up two of the traveling cloaks by the door.
"You don't have any drowner brains by any chance, do you? I'll have to brew more some Swallow or find the ingredients for a poultice for your shoulder." He asked, noticing that she had managed to get blood all over her cheek and that tears had started to prick her eyes. She shook her head. The pain was likely getting worse, depending on what kind of wound it was. He hadn't detected any poison or infection yet but wasn't willing to take a chance on that either.
"Right. Let's go. I'm not leaving you here for another monster, or your folks." Geralt led the way out of the front door into the courtyard, where the two horses waited patiently. The stallion whinnied and trotted towards the girl, she let out a stifled sob and leaned into the horse's long neck.
"I suppose you're coming with us too." Geralt said, swinging a rope around the stallion's neck swiftly and fastening it to Roach's pack. Her horse would have to go without a saddle or a bridle for now.
"Here, this will help stave off infection." He fetched a jar of salve from his pack and turned to apply it to her shoulder, brusquely tugging the fabric to reveal more skin. She winced, tears starting to escape from under thick lashes.
"This will sting." He tore off some of the bandaging cloth and wrapped it around her shoulder and under her armpit. She pulled her shirt up over the bandage so that he could help her with her cloak.
"Can you make your way up?" He mounted Roach and held out his hand. Even in her state, he could tell that she was an adept rider, especially if that great beast was her horse. She slipped up behind him.
"Hold on, we'll make camp farther away from the mountains." Geralt nudged Roach into a canter. The girl turned to watch her own horse follow, wrapping one arm around him. He scowled into the night, feeling that same burn creep up his back and waist.