Chapter 17

Lambert watched as the two sorceresses stood over the inert form of Blue eyes. She was still, her arms and legs strapped to the fucking abomination that was 'Sad Albert'. Her chest was motionless, and for the first time the fact she didn't need to breath unnerved him greatly, it made her look too much like a corpse. The only sign of life was her permanently furrowed brow, her face pulled into a grimace of discomfort, her eyelids fluttering as if she were in the middle of a particularly bad dream.

The images of the dream, usually hidden in the most secret parts of the person's mind, were now being projected above her for the gathered party to see. Merigold and Yennefer were focused on the girl strapped to the table, but everyone else was looking at the floating cloudlike apparition above them. It reminded Lambert of Yennefer's megascope. That crazy contraption that allowed her to see and talk to people across the continent. The figures in the projection looked like they were underwater, their forms rippling in the air above, their voices reverberating around the main hall.

Lambert was stood a few feet from Blue eyes and the bitchy sorceresses, his fists clenched, his posture rigid as he stared up at the flickering images, hypnotised. He had watched Blue eyes training with another demon, the horns and tail had been a surprise seeing as she possessed neither of them. He had seen, like the others, the trial and the branding. Her becoming the Gatekeeper she had told him about. Then he had watched as she had faced off against a huge, boar like monster, that had been devouring people in a strangely lit market of food. Her teacher had killed the beast with one shot from an odd explosive stick. He'd have to ask her what kind of weapon that was, and where he could get one.

What followed was a quick assortment of other encounters with different types of demons. A few of them held a marked resemblance to monsters from his own world, except they were all set against an alien backdrop of over bright lights that were every colour he could imagine, and strange, geometric stone structures that seemed to hold an endless amount of people.

When the memory of her teacher dying appeared, Lambert's eyes reflexively moved to Blue eyes. She was still unmoving, her body surrounded by the purple aura from Yennefer's spell. Her face however, was now puckered and troubled. The crease he had grown so familiar with, tucked between her eyebrows. Her mouth pulled tight in a grimace. His muscles twitched at the sign of discomfort, his subconscious screaming to go to her, but he knew if he stopped the ritual right now then Vesemir would never listen to reason. Her request for help would be dismissed.

The memory faded and Lambert could sense the atmosphere shift slightly in the main hall. Glancing over he saw Vesemir looking up at the apparition, his old brow furrowed, his amber eyes troubled. Obviously, the sight of Blue eyes howling over the dead body of her teacher hit a nerve with the old bastard. Good. He had wanted to see her truth, now he was seeing all of it. Lambert felt a stab of anger at having the girl's deepest thoughts and feelings displayed for these strangers to view like so many portraits in a shitty gallery.

He turned back in time to see a gathered crowd looking up at her, a kind of ceremony. They were humanoid in appearance but all had the subtle tells of being not quite human. These were demons, all of them, and this was the city she had been talking about. An old man, with whiter than white hair and a thin moustache stood next to her. He smiled, but his dark, almost black eyes didn't change as he addressed the gathered demons. Above was a star filled sky, around them were abodes of differing designs. Some looked like the strange settlements in her previous memories, some buildings looked like they could belong in Novigrad or Oxenfurt. It was a hodgepodge of sizes, styles and materials, but the buildings only held his attention for so long before the various expressions of the up turned faces caught his eye.

A large proportion of them were indifferent, staring blankly up at whatever formality was happening in front of them. Some of the ones in the front looked respectful, one or two even happy, but those were not the ones to draw Lambert's attention. In amongst the indifference were expressions he knew very well. They were ones of disdain, disgust, outrage, suspicion, prejudice. They were the expressions he saw whenever he entered a new village or town. They were the expressions he saw when he came to collect payment from some poor, inbred farmer or ealdormen. They were the expressions he saw when he wanted a moment of companionship or peace in the local tavern or brothel. That was until he paid them, money could cure all ill thoughts it seemed.

One particular face stood out. Near the front, it was the horned demon that had insulted Blue eyes at the start, the same one that had hated her victory over him in the trial. He glared up at the girl with hate filled eyes, her focus fixed on him too making it hard for any of them to miss what he did next. The memory was a true reflection of what Blue eyes and seen and heard when it was made, so no sound came from his moving lips as he spoke. But the gathered witchers were keen eyed enough to understand what he had said to her, in that moment of applause amongst the gathered crowd.

'Filthy half breed.'

Lambert felt the insult as if it had been him receiving it, and then all of a sudden it was him, as the memory shifted and she stood in a recognisable village in front of a shouting crowd of peasants.

'Freak.'

'Mutant.'

'Witcher scum.'

The shift was jarring, and it took Lambert a moment to understand what he was looking at. This memory was clear, the ripples calmed so it resembled a looking glass rather than a pool, and in that looking glass he saw his own reflection staring out at the rioting village folk. Except this wasn't a perfect reflection, this was how Blue eyes saw him. He felt his neck flush with heat as he gazed upon his too strong jaw, his shoulders broader somehow, his eyes a burning amber. His stance was defiant and proud, but not the jealous pride he so often exuded. This was a man who did not know his greatness. Stones and clods of earth bounced off of this stranger, his face set in a stony mask of indifference.

It was bizarre watching a memory he shared play out in front of his brother wolves. Now he felt exposed in front of them, as Blue eyes turned her attention to the advancing lout, what had been his name? Rika, that was it. He heard the terrifying roar coming from Blue eyes and Rika falling back in fear. An ominous feeling came over Lambert as he snatched a sideways look at the witchers stood next to him. The furrow on Vesemir's brow had deepened, Eskel was looking up with wide eyes, and Geralt….Geralt was looking straight at Lambert with a granite hard expression.

Lambert turned away quickly, not wanting his brother to know he was worried. He was just in time to see Blue eyes fall to the floor, his sword held above her, covered in dark, dark blood. He heard the peasants' screams morph into cheers but was unable to see any of his surroundings anymore as the girl's dying vision zeroed in on him and his worried expression.

As the memory faded Lambert felt six pairs of eyes swivel to him. The heat around his neck intensified but he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of seeing his embarrassed face. That last memory had revealed more about him than it had about Blue eyes' intentions. What it had also done was highlight their shared experiences. Whomever or whatever she really was, it appeared she had faced her fair share of hatred and isolation in her time. A pang of guilt and hurt speared through his already strained chest, and Lambert found himself watching the still form of the girl he had brought there rather than her memories.

It was for this reason that he saw the dramatic change in the previously still girl on the table. She went from being relatively relaxed, if not a little troubled, to rigid as a plank of timber. Her hands which were strapped to 'Sad Albert' tensed into tight fists, and her lips pulled back in a snarl of pain.

'Hey, what the shit are you two-' Lambert began, and then he heard the desperate crying of a young child. The scene floating above them now was hard to make out at first. Largely because it was so dark and Blue eyes was obviously struggling to see. Lambert noted that in previous memories when training or hunting rogue demons it had been equally dark, but the details had been clearer. It was almost as if she couldn't see as well in this particular memory.

As her eyes adjusted they could make out the trunks of trees and dense undergrowth. Her legs were bare and shone pale in the dim moonlight, they were scrawny and oversized. The legs of a child. The crying grew in volume and lambert wondered with a sickening feeling if it was Blue eyes. Then a young boy's voice cried out between heaving sobs.

'Ellie, slow down. I can't keep up.' She glanced back at the boy, his face hovering down by her hip. A round pale moon of its own, tear stained cheeks framed by a shock of curly dark hair. He stumbled behind her, his feet catching on roots and brambles.

'Not this.'

Lambert's eyes snapped back down to the older girl in front of him. Her face was still frozen in its mask of pain, but it had been this version of her that had spoken. He was sure of it. It had come out in a growl of defiance, laced with an immense strain almost as if she were fighting someone. The two sorceresses were staring at her face too, Merigold's muddled in confusion.

'What's happening?' It wasn't Lambert who had asked. Vesemir took a step forward, his eyes trained on the them.

'She's resisting. She's trying to stop us from seeing this.' Merigold's own voice was as strained as Blue eyes' had been. Lambert felt a warm feeling of satisfaction that she was at least giving them a hard time. He had hated the thought that all the fight had been sucked out of her in that grim shit pit Vesemir liked to call a prison.

'What is she trying to hide?' The old witcher murmured.

'This is an old memory. One she's kept buried deep. Her subconscious defences are particularly strong here.' Yennefer replied in her usual cool tone. Unflustered by anything, above everyone, it made Lambert's blood boil.

'Then continue.' Vesemir said with a grim nod, stepping back. Lambert glanced sharply at him.

'But she's in pain. Look at her face.' The old witcher gave him a measured look, his eyes devoid of emotion.

'If you what you claim is true, then no physical harm will have a lasting effect. She can't be killed, correct?' In that moment Lambert wanted nothing more than slam his fist into the old man's stoic face. He felt his hands shaking as they remained balled at his sides. Both Eskel and Geralt turned away from the apparition to give him wary looks, but even with his hot-headed temper he knew better than to cause a scene. Any disturbance in the ritual might hurt Blue eyes, despite Vesemir's blasé attitude towards her abilities.

The child let out a harsh cry and everyone's attention switched back to the floating cloud of memories. They were still running; the trees had thinned and Blue eyes was now streaking across a moonlit meadow, the tall grass and flowers swaying in the breeze. The peaceful surroundings completely at odds with the desperate sounds of the children running from gods knew what.

As if answering Lambert's unsaid question, she glanced behind her and appearing from the darkness, as if they were made of shadows came a group of men. There was four of them, all sprinting after the two children, their faces obscured and nightmarish. The boy Blue eyes was dragging behind her stumbled and fell, his small body disappearing momentarily in the tall grass. She stopped and shoved her hands into the meadow grass, lifting the boy out by his arms and hoisting him onto her hip. She began to run again, although drastically slower, and Lambert felt his gut constrict in fear.

Now he was in the brighter moonlight they could see the boy was in a strangely patterned tunic. His curly hair sleep tousled, his wide eyes filled with terror and a familiar shade of blue. It didn't take much to summarise he was related to Blue eyes, and Lambert made a good guess that he was her brother. He was looking over her shoulder as she carried on across the meadow, his gaze fixed on their pursuers.

What were a group of men doing chasing these kids through a wood at night? Somehow Lambert thought he knew the answer, he also suspected why Blue eyes didn't want them to see this.

She hadn't uttered another word since her initial protest. Now she was still again, although her muscles were tensed against the restraints, her face still fixed in a pain grimace. He watched as Merigold leaned closer to her forehead, sweat dripping off her face in exertion. The children ran on, until they reached the other side of the meadow, plunging back into the tree line, darkness swallowing their poorly dressed forms once more.

'Are Mum and Dad going to be okay?' The little boy wailed. Blue eyes hushed him, but he took one podgy hand and pulled on her wayward hair. 'I want to go home. Take me home.'

'We can't…go home Jamie. Home…is gone. We need…to run now.' Her words came in bursts, as the effects of running bare foot through the countryside with a small weight attached to her, began to take its toll. Lambert felt helpless watching the children frantically try and escape whatever horror they had left behind. Their parents likely dead judging by Blue eyes' comments, and the men who appeared anything but friendly catching up. There was no more talking as she pushed her way through the dense undergrowth, Blue eyes focusing all her energy into getting away, but it was no use.

They caught up as the children reached a large fallen tree, its trunk covered in broken branches. Blue eyes attempted to jump it, but failed. Winding herself as she slammed into the tree, and sending the boy sprawling into the dirt. Before she could collect herself, a dark shadow fell over her, and a large hand pulled her back off the trunk. She fell back into the dirt, giving them all a distorted view of their pursuers.

It was still hard to see with the darkness and her poor eyesight, but Lambert could just make out a towering, broad shouldered figure. A dark sweep of beard across his chin, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight as he grinned down at his quarry. 'Gotcha you little bitch. Trying to run from us were you?'

His accent was unrecognisable to Lambert, his clothes the same tailored cloth as Blue eyes' short trousers. In the background he could hear the boy screeching as one of the other men grabbed him. Blue eyes tried to shoot to her feet, rushing to her sibling's aid.

'Oh no you don't missy.' The man that had grabbed her said. He swung one meaty hand and landed a hard slap to the side of the girl's face. Lambert winced. He had seen men like this on the Path many times. They had even come across some of them on their journey here. They were scum; picking on the weak and taking pleasure in it. If it was his world he would have Axiied the lot of them, and made them slit their throats.

The shadow of a man stared down at her for a moment, his gleaming smile widening. Then he leapt at her, pressing his body on top of hers, pressing her further into the dirt. Blue eyes cried out in fear, and Lambert felt his nails begin to cut into the flesh of his palm. Roiling, hot bile filled his mouth as the man laughed, scrabbling to pin the girl's hands down as she kicked and struggled beneath him. Off to one side the boy's screeching grew in volume and Blue eyes turned her head away from her assailant just enough to see the fate of her brother. Two men were attempting to hold him still, but the little tyke was giving a good fight. One of them cursed and slapped the other away.

'Enough. Just kill the little shit.' He growled, gripping the young boy by the throat. His screeching cut off abruptly and that was when Blue eyes really started to scream.

At first. Lambert thought it was just the vision letting out the piercing, harpy like sound, then he looked down and saw the demon girl's mouth was open, her back arched as she screamed out her fury and defiance in the main hall of the keep.

'Stop this Vesemir.' He half spat, half pleaded to the witcher beside him. 'We've seen enough.'

But Vesemir didn't acknowledge Lambert, he was fixated on the apparition. His old brow furrowed even more deeply. Lambert cursed as he turned back to the nightmare unfolding in front of them all. Her brother was in silhouette. His small shadow being held aloft by a much bigger, stronger shadow. His little legs kicking in a futile effort to escape his grim fate. Cowards. Scum. Lambert thought, the blood he had drawn dripping from his fists.

Blue eyes continued to scream even when her brother's legs had stopped moving and the man that had strangled him to death had dumped him in the dirt next to her.

'Shut her up will you. We'll be crawling with cops if she keeps going on like that.' His killer said.

The man on top of her gave her another hard slap to the face, but apart from a brief pause it did little to stop the out pouring of horror from the girl. 'Shut the fuck up!' The man shouted.

'Just end it. We're finished here.' The child killer said. The man on top of Blue eyes let out a snarl of frustration. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and half lifted, half dragged her across the floor of the woods before shoving her back down with all his weight.

There was a sickening, wet sound. A harsh thud and the unmistakable noise of flesh tearing. Blue eyes stopped screaming then, and her gaze flickered down to her chest where there was now a dark, jagged spike sticking out through her thin nightdress. A similarly dark pool began to spread from the area and it took Lambert a moment to connect the dots. The bastard had impaled this child on a broken branch sticking out from the fallen tree. It had lodged itself straight though her heart. Knowing all he did about killing - monsters and men – he knew this would be a slow and painful death. The worst kind.

Satisfied his job was done the grinning man turned away with his cohorts, disappearing into the shadows of the woods. Leaving one dead little boy and one dying young girl behind.

So, this was how it happened? With as much of a choice and free will as he'd been given. Lambert had never felt a rage like it. He prided himself on being the man that could deal the same level of torture and punishment to those that inflicted it. Now all he could do was watch…and wait.

He wasn't sure when the Blue eyes in the main hall with them had stopped screaming, but suddenly the silence pressed in on him. With only the soft, choking sounds of the dying girl to break it. Four witchers and two sorceresses were frozen in the fading light of the main hall. Lambert's muscles were stiff from being stood for so long, the ritual had taken all day, but still he stood like the others, watching and waiting.

He wasn't sure how long it was from the time the men had left her, but it was around the point when her dying breaths had become barely audible that the atmosphere in the woods shifted. Before the trees and plants had been blended into an indistinguishable mess of blacks and dark greys. Now the whole wood seemed to lighten, until the trees stood out distinct in the dark, the undergrowth surrounding them shining with night time dew. It reminded Lambert of what the world looked like when he drank a dose of Cat. Blue eyes let out a sad sigh, resigned to her fate. Then a warm voice drifted out of the quiet woods, straight into her ear.

'Such a sad state of affairs. I do hate to see such waste.' A pale, glowing hand appeared on her shoulder, then a face materialised above her. The girl, near to death, turned her head languidly towards the stranger. Stranger to her, yet Lambert recognised the face as the same well kept, elderly man that had been stood with Blue eyes in front of that crowd of demons. He smiled now. A benevolent, comforting smile. He had a friendly wrinkle lined face, and the snow white hair that looked almost translucent. The thin moustache turned up as he beamed at her.

'I know it hurts Eleanor, but life is like that.'

'Who…are…you?' Her voice was barely more than a breath, but the man heard her clearly.

'That doesn't matter. I am the one who helps the souls wrenched violently from their hosts. The young ones with so much more to give.' His voice was like heated honey. Slipping around them, warming them even through the filter of a memory. Lambert felt a shiver as he looked at that face. There was a power in those dark, nearly black eyes. A seductiveness to his voice that promised the world. There were no horns on his head, no marks on his face but this was what he had imagined a demon would look like.

'What…do…you…want?'

'I want you Eleanor Blackwood. I want you to join me and live on. Become something greater. Tell me, do you wish to die?' There was a long pause.

'No.' His smile widened.

'Good. But wanting to live, unfortunately, is not enough?' His smile fell. The sudden hunger in his eyes making Lambert's hand twitch towards his swords. 'What is it you want to live for my dear?'

Another pause, this time longer. Then, so quiet it could have been mistaken for the breeze through the leaves. 'Revenge.'

'And so, you shall have it, but everything comes at a price.' The man said, his eyes becoming flat black. Exactly like the eyes of a certain demon girl when she was at her most powerful. 'I hope you survive this, none have so far. But, I get the feeling you will be my greatest achievement…young Ellie.'

The man lifted his hand from her shoulder and held it just above her chest. Right over the branch still stuck through her. From that point a brilliant white light began to shine. So dazzling it made it hard for Lambert to look directly at it. The man's fingers closed slightly, forming a claw over the light and slowly, ever so slowly, he began to drag the light up towards the girl's mouth.

This time the scream that came from both the girls spoke of an indescribable pain. It sounded like her innards were being pulled out through her nose with a rusty hook. Lambert had heard this type of scream echoing off these walls before. As if to reinforce the memory, the real Blue eyes suddenly jolted. Her spine arching off the table, her arms straining against the metal bonds around her wrists. He saw the table groan under the strain, the metal creaking as she pulled against it. Above her, the blinding light flickered and pulsed, beating like a heart. The old man's face twisted into a grimace as whatever he was doing took its own toll on him. The closer the light got to the girl's face, the louder she screamed.

As an instinctual reaction Lambert moved his hands over his ears, stopping the horrendous sound from damaging his over sensitive hearing. He half turned to look at the witchers stood beside him and saw Eskel and Geralt copying him. Vesemir was the only one of them with his hands lax by his side, his face was set in a blank mask. To an outside observer he would appear calm and unaffected by the girl's torturous cries, however Lambert knew him better. The old witcher's usually ruddy cheeks were alabaster white, paler even than the White wolf's abnormally bleached skin. His amber eyes were locked on the apparition, a deep pain evident in them as he watched the events playing out.

'Stop them Vesemir!' Lambert heard himself shouting over the noise. The scream coming from Blue eyes was harrowing. This was the first time he had ever heard her make this noise, but it was exactly the same as the one in his nightmare. The old witcher still did not react. The other three were all staring at their leader expectantly. Even Geralt, who had been against the girl from the start was looking at his mentor imploringly, but Vesemir said nothing.

'Fuck it all! Stop this now!' Lambert tried again. Merigold and Yennefer were still deep in concentration, but both had concerned expressions as their subject thrashed and fought against her restraints. 'Sad Albert' let out another groan as the muscles in the girl's arms tensed. Lambert even swore he saw the metal give.

Above them all, the light had grown in strength. Reaching a peak just as the sound of screaming did. The old man performing the torturous ritual on Blue eyes pulled his hand back abruptly and the light condensed and exited the dying girl's body through her open, screaming mouth. It hovered a few inches below the man's hand, which was held like a claw, holding the glowing, firefly like ball. Lambert had never seen anything like it, and he had very little context for what was actually playing out in front of him. However, the ball of light gave of a familiar warmth, the gently pulsing rhythm emitting an air of calm serenity at odds with the violent scenes seconds before. He wasn't sure how he knew but, in that moment studying the strange orb, he knew he was looking at the detached soul of Blue eyes.

'Well done girl. You're still breathing.' The old man said. His previously composed demeanour ruffled. 'Now to finish the transition.' He made a sweeping motion with his hand and her soul blinked out of existence, vanishing into nothing. Suddenly, the woods were plunged into an intense darkness, and Lambert felt his gut twist as the old man took out a vial of dark burgundy liquid. Without hesitation he unstopped the vial and poured its entire contents into Blue eyes' gasping mouth. She made a choking gurgling noise as the liquid blocked her airways, then her whole body began convulsing.

The old man laid his arm across her chest, pinning her down and stopping the worst of the movement. However, the real Blue eyes didn't have quite the same resistance and there was a loud, jarring screech as both of the metal restraints around her wrists were wrenched away from the table, freeing her arms in a whirl of motion.

Lambert was next to her in a heartbeat, half shoving Yennefer out of the way earning him a venomous glare, but he didn't give a shit. He recaptured her arms, holding her wrists in a tight grip, but even with all his strength he struggled to calm her violent spasms.

'Gods damn it all! Fucking stop this shit show before she hurts herself…or someone else!' He felt Yennefer's eyes on him as he fought against Blue eyes. The purple glow was still surrounding her body and he could feel his flesh prickling where his hands were gripping her, but he didn't care. All that mattered was stopping this torture. He had been too young and scared to step in as his friends were ripped apart during the Trial of the Grasses, their own screams haunting him whenever he returned here. At least now he could do something, anything.

'Step back you idiot. You'll do more harm than good stood there.' Lambert shot Yennefer a look, his lip curling in disgust.

'Fuck you. You're doing the most harm by letting this carry on.'

'I can't just break the ritual off without Triss' consent. The result would likely kill them both…permanently in the case of Triss.' Lambert narrowed his eyes at the sorceress, but didn't push it any further. He knew Yen well enough to know a direct argument would get him nowhere.

Blue eyes thrashed against his hold and his attention was momentarily drawn to her. Unable to free herself from his grasp she slammed her hands down on the edge of the table, her fingers gripping the metal so hard he could hear it bending. Above them, her younger self was also fighting against her captor. The old man's teeth were bared from the effort, but his eyes were focused on the girl trapped, writhing beneath him and glimmered with an excitement that made Lambert's skin crawl.

The screeching of tortured metal now started to increase in volume. Looking down Lambert saw the edge of the table begin to twist up as Blue eyes pulled against it. He could see small rivulets of blood seeping through her fingers, the jagged metal cutting through her skin. He tried prying her hands free, but the force of her grasp was beyond anything he had encounter previously. A low curse broke from him as he was forced to use his body weight to hold her down, another spasm making her arch off the table. The sound of screams now making his head ring.

Triss wasn't paying attention to any of this. She was still touching the side of the girl's head, her forehead dripping with sweat under the strain. She looked pale and distressed, but deep in concentration. 'Merigold! Hey, Merigold!' Lambert shouted.

The sorceresses blinked her green eyes lethargically and looked up at him. 'Stop! We've seen enough!'

She stared at him in a daze and he felt the anger flare inside of him. He was just about to reach across the table and grab her by the throat when another voice shouted over the cacophony of screams and breaking metal.

'Stop this! Enough!'

Lambert was sure he'd never been so glad to hear the old bastard's voice. Merigold turned her head towards Vesemir, and then back to Yennefer. 'Do it slowly Triss.' The other sorceress said. Nodding slowly, Merigold took a breath then gradually withdrew her hands. A small shining thread of light connected her middle finger to the temple of Blue eyes. The thread shimmered and then snapped as the sorceress took a step away before collapsing.

Instantly Yennefer released the apparition, the cloud hovering above them dissipating. Lambert looked up just in time to see the old man holding an unconscious Blue eyes, her nightdress stained with a bright crimson blood, her mouth covered in a much darker substance. The purple glow surrounding the real Blue eyes disappeared and the body beneath his hands stilled. The muscles relaxing, her hands loosening their hold on the table.

There was a brief moment where the cold fingers of fear began to close around Lambert's heart as the girl's eyes remained closed. Then, with a stuttering gasp she lurched awake, her face becoming panicked when she met with his resistance. Relief flooded through him as he looked down into her startling blue eyes, not a trace of darkness in them.

'Lambert?' She croaked, her voice hoarse from the screaming.

'Hey there Blue eyes.' He murmured back. Lifting his weight off of her so she could sit up slightly, he took her chin carefully in his hand, turning her head so he could examine her. It was a pointless endeavour considering any physical wounds would have already healed by now, but he couldn't help himself going through the comforting process of checking her for injuries.

'Give her some space man. Girl can't breathe with you on top of her.' Lambert tensed briefly at Eskel's annoying tone, but then the realisation of how close he actually was and his dramatic attempts to come to her aid just moments before hit him. With an awkward cough he let go of her face and took a step back. Fortuitous that he did, for as soon as he had cleared her personal space Blue eyes leant over the side of 'Sad Albert' and hacked up an impressive amount of the same burgundy liquid they had all just watched her drink.

'Well, that was certainly…enlightening.' Yennefer said, gingerly stepping back from the wet puddle now spreading by her fancy black boots. The words were flippant but Lambert was surprised to see the usually unflappable sorceress eyeing Blue eyes with a wary respect. Similarly, taking a glance around the room he could see the mood had shifted from mistrust and apathy, to quiet shock and awe.

Vesemir was the next to speak, and the drastic shift in his demeanour nearly floored Lambert. 'Come down off there child, it can't be comfortable.'

He stared at the older witcher with wide disbelieving eyes, but Vesemir didn't return the look. He heard the sound of Blue eyes clambering down off the table, the high groaning creak of metal making him glance at her. She was unsteady on her feet, but he could tell from her determined expression that attempting to help her would only resort in refusal. She was a stubborn little thing.

As Blue eyes staggered toward them, the twisted remains of 'Sad Albert' were revealed. The table, which had survived hundreds of years of trials, had not it seemed survived a half demon. The sides were warped and bent from where Blue eyes had been gripping and pulling in the last moments of the ritual. The metal restraints, he now realised, had been torn off both by her arms and legs straining against them; the cuffs still attached to her wrists and ankles as she moved away. There was a large dent in the centre of the table, and three of the four legs had buckled.

Eskel let out a low whistle from somewhere behind him. 'Never thought 'Sad Albert' would go out like that. Rather fitting if you ask me.' As annoying as Eskel was most of the time, he had to agree with his brother on this. After his shared history with the horrendous piece of witcher memorabilia, Lambert couldn't say he was sad to see its demise.

'Well, it served its purpose at least.' Vesemir grumbled. The girl that had defeated 'Sad Albert' stood shakily in the centre of their group. Lambert could see her knees shaking and was reminded of when they had first met. The difference this time was that he was concerned rather than highlighting it as a weakness.

'Am I still under suspicion?' She asked, her voice still rasping from the strain. Vesemir's gaze flicked to Merigold who was leaning heavily on the ruined table, her red hair in disarray. She glanced over to him and shook her head.

'No. It appears we are satisfied with what we saw.' He took a step towards her, his voice growing softer. 'We would like to offer you an apology child. You've lived a hard life and had to relive some of the more painful moments of it.'

'We?' Lambert scoffed. Vesemir shot him a warning look, then continued as if the other witcher hadn't even spoke.

'We will do our best to aid you and find out why you are here. I'm sure Yen and Triss can also assist in finding a way for you to get back home.' Blue eyes gave him a weak smile. It didn't quite reach her eyes.

'Assuming I have nothing better to do Vesemir? How inconsiderate of you.' Yennefer said.

'I only offered your services, it's up to you if you accept or not.' He retorted, eyeing her reproachfully. The dark-haired sorceress shrugged, her violet eyes fixed on the demon girl.

'Luckily for you, I was at a loose end when you called, and this…girl is rather intriguing. I'd like to find out more about her.' Lambert narrowed his eyes at her. He had known Yennefer for half his lifetime and he still didn't trust her. She always had an ulterior motive, or hidden agenda, like most magic users. It was a mystery what Geralt saw in her, or any of them in his mind.

Don't be so quick to judge now. His subconscious prodded, nudging his attention back to the strange, wobbly looking girl stood in the main hall.

'Thank you. I am grateful. Now if you wouldn't mind, I need to lie down somewhere less…public.' Blue eyes said, wearily attempting to walk back the way she had come.

'Where are you going El?' Eskel asked, blocking her way and holding out his hands in case she collapsed into him.

'Back downstairs.' She answered. Eskel looked up at Vesemir, his expression incredulous. The old witcher shook his head.

'No need for you to return to the cells. You have proven yourself…for now.' He looked at Eskel. 'She can stay in one of the dorm rooms upstairs. Show her the way.' Eskel looked relieved and in that moment Lambert really wanted to punch him. In fact, he really wanted to punch a lot of things. Watching the girl he had brought here be put through that torture had made him feel an anger he hadn't felt in a long time. He could still feel it pulsating in his gut, urging him to move, to break things. A heavy round in the training yard might go some way to relieve him, and as he watched Eskel escort Blue eyes towards the stairs that was where he directed his feet. Without a backward glance to the others or that accursed table.

A/N: Well, hope you all enjoyed that, I'll see you next week. :)