A/N: A bit of a short one this week. Apologies, but sometimes the story divides up this way. Didn't want to launch into the next act cos we'd be here all week. ;) I hope you're still enjoying my little random story, plenty still to come and a chapter I think you'll all be interested in that I've just written. I'll see you all in a week, please read, review and enjoy! :)

Chapter 19

Ellie managed to duck out of the way of the wooden training sword just in the nick of time. She heard the whistling sound of it passing above her, the air shifting from the force of his swing. Straightening up, she took several quick steps back to put some distance between her and Vesemir. The old witcher grinned at her, holding his sword up in front of his face in a defensive position as he advanced.

The moment of shock from his abrupt attack past and Ellie instinctually lowered into her fighting stance. The familiar weight of the bow staff in her a hand a comfort. She watched Vesemir as he moved towards her, his steps assured but slow. He was getting a feel for her, not wanting to charge in without knowing what she was capable of, and she was similarly inclined. She studied his foot work as he moved towards her in a wide arc, he walked carefully but there were no signs of stiffness or lethargy that Ellie would expect from a man of his advanced age. Unlike the other three witchers she had travelled with, she had never seen Vesemir fight. In fact, in her short time in his presence she had only seen him walk, and that wasn't enough to get a bead on his movement.

Vesemir was only a few feet from her now, easily within striking distance. Ellie remained in place, wanting him to come at her. She needed to test his mobility and strength before she decided how to tackle him. Even as she was thinking this, the witcher flashed toward her, his speed astounding, his strength even more so. As he swung down on her she lifted the staff to block his wooden blade, the loud clack echoing across the empty yard. Ellie's teeth rattled inside her head as her arms locked, stopping the sword from reaching her skull. Pain shot through her elbows and she could feel the raw power behind Vesemir's attack. Deciding she'd done enough research, she used her legs and pushed up against his sword, twisting to the right as she did.

The sudden imbalance tipped Vesemir's blade off of her staff, causing him to step to the side allowing her space to skirt around him. Darting away, Ellie reached the other side of the yard before turning back round to face him. To her alarm she saw Vesemir was already nearly upon her again. The old man unusually spry for his age. She hadn't been moving at her quickest by any means, Lambert's warning of using her powers still ringing in her ears, but she thought she'd still given herself enough time to analyse her next move.

The old witcher flew towards her, the wooden sword raised above his head. It left him extremely exposed to attack and she could see several ways to unbalance and floor him. However, Solomon had pulled same trick when he had been training her. Leaving himself vulnerable to see where she would go, before closing the door at the last second and knocking her to her ass. Should she take the bait and risk him getting a hit in, or play it safe and dodge?

With no more time to decide Ellie went with her gut, the trusty instinctual compass she normally let herself be guided by. Straightening up slightly she made to strike at his unguarded left side as he got within reach. Vesemir acted as she assumed he would, switching the sword from its attacking position to a defensive one, moving to parry her blow. Before their weapons connected however, Ellie redirected the staff to his left leg and tucked herself low to the ground, moving past him. Using his own momentum against him, she hooked the pole under his foot and attempted to trip him as she flew by. There was a brief noise of surprise from above her, then Vesemir was stood where she had been seconds before, still very much upright and unphased.

Skidding to a halt, crouched low, Ellie looked back up at him in disbelief. The guy could really move. Vesemir gave her a small smirk, his amber eyes now twinkling with barely supressed glee. 'Nice try, but you're holding out on me girl.'

Indignant frustration flooded through her. Lambert had told her not to push herself while here, and she got the distinct impression Vesemir knew that. Giving her no time to breathe, he launched towards her again this time sending a flurry of blows her way. It was all Ellie could do to parry them, her staff flashing right and left blocking each of his frenzied attacks. He moved in a blur but there was a controlled calm about his actions that betrayed his superior knowledge of the sword.

The last few fights she'd had with a witcher had been scrappy and desperate. A life or death circumstance with both parties ending up on the back foot. This was different. This was a match between two consenting fighters, the playing field even, the odds balanced. It was because of this that she was becoming fully aware of just how strong and fast these strange, enhanced humans were. Vesemir was old yes, but he was also the teacher of all three witchers she knew, not to mention the hundreds more he claimed to have trained here. Each cut and parry was precise, and delivered with a bone rattling force that drove her back relentlessly. She would've been impressed had she not been the focus of such a monstrous attack.

It was looking less and less likely this fight would last much longer without her using her full abilities. She could just give in, accept he had won and honour her promise to Lambert, but something told her Vesemir wouldn't be satisfied with an easy surrender. A little voice in the back of her mind pondered whether he was doing this deliberately, to scope out her true potential danger. It wouldn't be a surprise, all of them at one point or another had looked at her like she was a specimen under a microscope. Why not the man that had trained them also?

Even as she felt herself being herded back towards the dummies, Vesemir's focused eyes locked onto her as he delivered another barrage of blows, she couldn't see any malice or ill intent behind his expression. There was a curiosity yes, but nothing more than that. She suddenly got the impression that he simply wanted to see what she could do, for his own amusement.

The wall of dummies was almost at her back. If she let him keep pushing her, she'd end up cornered and that was not an attractive prospect. Her attack approach relied on speed and mobility, if she really wanted to fight him on her terms she'd need to decide now. Gritting her teeth, Ellie blocked another hit from the wooden sword. Sensing he had all but subdued his opponent Vesemir drew back, pausing in his constant hits and flourished his sword deftly in one hand. It reminded her immensely of Lambert, and the more he attacked her the more she could see all three of the witchers styles rolled into one.

The old witcher gave her a sly grin, before launching into a pirouette that would likely send her sprawling across the ground, defeated. That wasn't going to happen though, and right at the apex of his jump, she channelled all her strength into her legs and exploded past him in a flurry of movement and dancing snowflakes. She skidded to a halt on the opposite side of the yard again, this time the power and adrenaline surging through her blood. Turning back, she felt a swell of satisfaction at Vesemir's partially shocked expression, his grey eyebrows raised high as he took a moment to regard her. Then the smirk was back and he readied his weapon again.

'Now that's more like it.' He said, and Ellie couldn't help grinning in response. This time she went on the offensive, sprinting towards Vesemir to catch him off guard. She was moving fast but he still reacted in time to bring his sword up, parrying her upward swing to his torso. Not stopping to let him regroup, she darted around to flank him, twirling the staff back and down towards his legs again. This time Vesemir wasn't quick enough to avoid it. The staff struck the back of his calf and swept under him, taking his leg with it. The old witcher came crashing to the ground on his back, letting out a loud huff as the air was knocked out of him and a low curse as he sprang back to his feet. Ellie had already danced a few steps away, her grin now splitting her face.

'Come on old man. I thought you wanted to make this interesting.' She was giddy from landing the first real hit of the fight and felt her inhibitions lowering. Instead of looking angry or frustrated Vesemir chuckled, flourishing his sword and assuming his fighting stance.

'Bold words girl. We'll see if that grin's still there in a minute.' And he lunged forward once more.

They fought for the better part of an hour. Sometimes Ellie gained ground; tripping Vesemir twice more and landing a few good blows to his arms and legs, and sometimes it was Vesemir winning the upper hand. Driving her back and keeping her too preoccupied with defending herself to mount any kind of attack on him. She was pretty certain that if she couldn't heal he would have left a fair number of hefty bruises on her skin by now. She could see the sweat beginning to bead on the old witcher's forehead and his breathing, although still regular, was coming in slightly more laboured bursts. Likewise, she could feel the toll constantly using her powers was having on her. This was the most she had exerted herself in a long time and her body was actually starting to protest.

At one point he caught her in an arm lock that stopped her from using the staff or getting away without disarming herself. He had smiled at her benevolently, ready to accept her surrender, but it had been wiped from his face as Ellie let go of the training staff, releasing her from his grip, and managed to catch the falling weapon before it hit the ground. As she circled away she had seen him nod ever so slightly in response, his amber eyes darting up towards the keep to look at something. Not wanting to be distracted she hadn't followed his gaze and the fight had continued.

The cold morning air was filled with the sound of wood hitting wood. The resounding clack of their weapons echoing off the walls of the keep. The snow was coming down a little heavier now, but neither party seemed perturbed by the changing elements. In fact, Ellie could feel the growing wind begin to move with her, pushing her forward to increase her speed and guiding her staff as she moved through her forms in battle.

The more they fought the more Ellie drew on her hidden powers to get by. What had started as a friendly spar had somehow turned into a desperate fight. There was no stake involved but the more she fought the veteran witcher, the more she didn't want to lose to him. Past experiences of training with Solomon came back. She had looked up to him and loved him more than anyone, and yet every time he had knocked her on her arse she had wanted nothing more than to get back up and beat him at his own game. It had been a long time since she had felt that competitive streak, and yet here she was.

After pushing her back for the hundredth time against the wall of the keep, Ellie felt her energy waning. Gritting her teeth and tightening her grip on the staff she launched forward in a last-ditch effort to knock the witcher down. As she moved she felt the wind pick up around her, and the snowflakes which had been steadily getting thicker seemed to solidify. A thin crust of ice formed where her hands held the rough wood of the staff and she leapt in the arm, arching over Vesemir and striking down with all her remaining strength. She saw his eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected height of her jump, the wind picking her up and carrying her further. Then her staff connected with his shoulder and he stumbled forward from the impact.

Feeling victory was close at hand, Ellie landed and whirled around instantly, ready to deal the finishing blow. But where he had been a split second before - on his knees and injured - now there was just an empty space. As her brain tried to catch up she felt a presence behind her. Spinning, she lashed out with the staff but she was off balance and caught off guard. She saw a flash grey hair and a pair of burning amber eyes, then a hard band of wood collided with the back of her legs and she felt them being swept from under her. The breath left her in a rush as her rear connected with the frozen ground. The staff clattering off to the side of her. Then the wooden tip of a sword touched her chin, lifting her head up to look her opponent in the eyes.

Vesemir smiled down at her with that same benevolent smile, he remained unruffled by the whole ordeal, although there was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and a few strands of grey had escaped and were floating in the wind. He raised an eyebrow as he regarded her, that gleam of excitement shining brighter than ever in his eyes.

Ellie let out a sigh and held up her hands. 'I yield.' She said, her tone defeated. Vesemir moved the sword away from her throat, letting out a chuckle as he did. She watched as his eyes flicked up to somewhere behind her again, his smile quirking at the corners. Turning his attention back to her, he tossed the training sword to one side and held out his hand. Taking it, she looked up at him sheepishly but he gave her a wink back as he lifted to her feet.

'Not bad at all…kid.' He said. The hair on Ellie's arms rose, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. In that moment she wasn't looking into the wrinkled face of Vesemir, she was looking at the smiling eyes and rigid expression of Solomon. Vesemir released her hand and walked away, leaving Ellie standing shocked in the middle of the training yard. Eventually she retrieved her senses enough to watch as he made his way back towards the main keep. As her eyes travelled with him she saw three figures watching from near the archway to the second yard.

Two of them turned to greet the old witcher as he approached them, but one remained staring down at her. Lambert's expression was hard to read from this distance, but she felt her insides churn all the same. She had just done exactly what he'd told her not to do, she had broken a promise. Would he hate her for it?

The other two figures of Geralt and Eskel were now deep in conversation with Vesemir, Eskel looked over and grinned down at her. But Ellie was only focused on Lambert and that strange unwavering look he was giving her now. After a few moments he turned and began walking back towards the keep, ignoring the others…and her.

Lambert was confused. He was the most confused he had been in a very, very long time. He was currently carefully measuring out portions of saltpeter and optima mater to mix together for dimeritium bombs. The process was intricate and dangerous, as one wrong move could cause an explosion to level the small storeroom he was in, not mention set off all the other bombs in his stash in the aftermath. He was hoping it would distract him from his swirling thoughts, and the fight he had watched earlier.

If he was being honest, the last thing he had expected when Eskel had come running up to them telling them to come outside, was his old teacher clashing with the demon girl in the middle of the training yard. At first, he had thought about stopping it, believing Vesemir was going back on his word and attacking her. Then the familiar sound of wooden training weapons crashing together reached him. He was…sparring with her? The last time he had seen Vesemir using those wooden swords had been when Ciri was still only knee high. He watched on in confusion as the pair had danced and parried around each other. His two brothers also looked on in silence, and he would have given a dozen crowns right then to hear Geralt's thoughts.

The White wolf had been sour towards Blue eyes from the moment he'd met her. Part of Lambert – the selfish part – was glad that was the case. There was something about the thought of that smarmy whoreson seducing her, like he did with all the ladies, that made Lambert want to tear that snow-white hair off his head. The other part, was more concerned that his brother in arms didn't trust her, and was secretly plotting to harm her in some way. This thought put Lambert very on edge, and he found himself watching Geralt a lot more than he had before.

Lambert finished the batch of dimeritium bombs he was making and gently put them to one side. He was sat on the floor, his materials and equipment laid out haphazardly around him. He rubbed a hand over his face, still trying to get the image of Blue eyes leaping around in those leather trousers out of his mind's eye. He hadn't seen her fighting with a weapon, and with an unobstructed view he found himself hypnotised by the fluid, sinuous way she twisted and moved around the training yard. The staff she was using was just a simple bit of wood, but the way she wielded it made it appear as deadly as a real sword. At one point he had been certain she was actually going to win, but then the old coot had pulled one of his irritating manoeuvres, dodging round Blue eyes to knock her down.

He had felt a moment of pity for the girl, memories of his own posterior getting dumped in the mud at Vesemir's feet sharp in his mind. Then, the old man had offered his hand to her and Lambert felt a sting of jealousy. He wasn't certain if it was aimed at Blue eyes or Vesemir, all of a sudden he was aware of being on the outside looking in on something. All of his life he had been the black sheep, whether it was his father beating him bloody and giving him up to the witchers, or the other witchers shunning him for his abrasive, and often times, insulting personality. Lambert had always felt other, not wanted. With Blue eyes it had been different. She had looked at him as a man, not a child stealing witcher, and she had even seemed to enjoy his company. When the others had joined them, he had hated the way she'd preferred Eskel's company, the only saving grace being Geralt's lack of trust towards her.

Now as he watched Vesemir smiling down at her and her answering grin, he found his insides twisting uncomfortably. The walls beginning to reform around him, shutting him off from the others. She had turned and looked up at them, her blue eyes radiant even from a distance, the gentle snowfall collecting in her hair, and he had stared back, unmoving. He had been through this before, having feelings for someone that was beyond his reach. The best bet was to distance himself and let the others help her instead. After all, he had fulfilled his promise. He had got her to Kaer Morhen, his job was done and she didn't need him anymore.

Lambert sifted through what he had left in front of him. If he was clever he could stretch the last of his saltpeter to make a few more grapeshots as well. He was just measuring out the necessary portions, when the sound of light, quick footsteps reached his ears. His muscles tensed as the smell of sulphur hit his nose, but he kept looking down at his work even as the door to the storeroom opened.

'I thought I smelt you in here.' Her voice sent a jagged knife through his chest. Fuck sake Lambert, get a grip, he chastised. 'What are you doing hiding in here moping?'

'I'm not moping.' He snapped reflexively. 'If you must know, I'm busy making bombs.'

'Really?' Her voice perked up, and he felt the air shift next to him as she crouched down in the open doorway. 'Can I watch?'

'No.' He said abruptly, and he saw her flinch from the corner of his eye. The jagged knife twisted cruelly, but he'd had enough of being cast aside and he wasn't about to let it happen again.

'Oh. Okay.' Her voice had lost all of its previous enthusiasm, and there was a heavy sadness in it that Lambert hadn't heard before. She straightened up, her legs only a few feet from him. 'It's probably for the best. Don't want to accidently blow your hands off with me gawking at you.' The words held no life. It was almost like she'd been deflated. Great, fucking idiot like always Lambert.

She turned to leave him, but paused in the doorway. He could feel the atmosphere was heavy with something unsaid, that tension he had become so used to on their rides crackling in the air. 'I just came to tell you…'. Her voice was still sad, but there was a finality about it that made Lambert look at her for the first time since she'd come to him.

He immediately regretted his decision. Her eyes were a shimmering sky blue, her features filled with a heart wrenching sorrow. It made every nerve in his body scream out for him to stop being a stupid, prideful ass and just hold her. Before he could give into the urge, Blue eyes spoke again.

'I think you're right, it's best we keep this…civil, from now on.' The knife disappeared into his chest to the hilt, and the walls slammed up behind it. Cast aside, once again.

'Yeah, sure. That's fine.' He said bitterly, feeling his mouth pull up into a sneer. 'Probably better this way. You'll be gone soon anyway, so no reason to make it any harder.' For a brief moment he thought he saw her wince at his words. Like her own invisible knife had stabbed her, but it was gone before he could be sure and her face settled into an emotionless mask. Her eyes darkening to a deep-sea blue.

'Exactly. I'll be gone soon.' Her words sounded bitter but Lambert wasn't sure why. She had been the one to tell him she wasn't interested after all. She stared at him a moment longer, dithering in the door as if she wanted to say more. Then her mouth clamped shut and she turned to leave him again.

Lambert felt his eyes drifting of their own accord to her rear as she walked away. Gods, why did she look so damn good in those leather trousers? Even though there was less of her on show, he found the soft material hugging her form to be even more revealing. The thought didn't help his rapidly darkening mood, the image of her ass walking away the new image now burnt into his mind's eye.

He stared after her for a second, then in a burst of anger he leant forward and slammed the heavy oak door shut. It let out a thunderous boom which had probably echoed around the keep alerting everyone within a five-mile radius of his tantrum, but Lambert found he didn't care. They were all used to his unfavourable attitude. Blue eyes had been the only one that had made him feel even the slightest bit desirable, and now, like so many others she had gone off him as well. He wasn't surprised, he had been expecting it even, but a small part of him had still hoped for something more this time.

He turned his attention back to the only thing that remain constant in his life…bombs. He tried to continue measuring the saltpeter but found his hands were too tense and gave up after a few minutes. Left alone with only his thoughts for company, Lambert let out a heavy sigh and proceeded to bang his head against the stone wall behind him, in a desperate attempt to get that image of her walking away out of it.