THERE ARE ALWAYS EXCEPTIONS
This story is based on the Geralt de Rivia Saga, by Andrezj Sapkowski.
He always had the same effect when he entered a tavern.
Geralt paid with indifference the disapproving looks, the murmurs pregnant with unpleasant comments about his condition, the threatening gestures of some gentlemen when caressing the hilt of their steels . He reached the bar with a firm step, oblivious to the suspicious look of the innkeeper, undaunted.
" A beer, please" asked to the man who was drying a glass with a clean cloth.
As the man expended his time, Geralt took out some coins to scare away, at least, the suspicions of insolvency.
The brightness of the coins seemed to decide the tavern keeper, who hastened to serve him the drink in the hope that he would swallow it in one gulp and get out as soon as possible. He was wrong.
" I'm a witcher" said Geralt. "Is there any work for me in the village, that you know?"
"Maybe there's something," said the man, betraying his desire that the witcher leave his business. "Go to the mayor."
Another man then entered the tavern, going straight to the witcher. The man was dressed in the latest fashion, although his clothes looked a little worn. He took off the hat, which carried a striking pheasant feather, and left it on the counter.
"A beer, good man" said to the innkeeper with a broad smile. "What, has there been luck?"
"The usual, " replied the witcher, "I have to ask the authorities."
"Something is wrong here, Geralt, I smell it. And you know how accurate my smell is."
"That's what you said in the previous town, Jaskier," Geralt said with a frown. "And in the three before that."
"Well, it's better that this time I'm right" said Jaskier, "because our purse is already in the red…´´
"As usual."
Geralt drained his jug and wiped himself with the back of his gloved hand.
"Could you tell me where I can find the mayor?" he asked the tavern owner.
"At the end of the street, he has a sign on the door: there is no loss" the man responded with relief.
"I'm going to see" he said to the poet. "Wait for me here."
The witcher went out into the street. A stream of filth came down in the middle of the dusty road, parallel to Geralt's path. The air smelled of boiled cabbage, excrement, and sewer. Geralt was sure that Vassen was the dirtiest town, if not of all the Kingdoms of the North, at least of Redania. In a habitat like that, it would be strange not to find howlers, scavengers and even some cocatrix; This time, probably, Jaskier had been right.
He reached the house where a dingy wooden sign announced the headquarters of the mayor's office, with half-painted letters that seemed to highlight the lack of resources of the place. Rotten luck, the witcher thought as he went through the door.
He always had the same effect when he entered an official establishment.
The clerk sitting before a table cluttered with papers, focusing him with a nervous glance behind a pair of glasses; the guard tensed his muscles and went to his person without even trying to hide the repulsion that his face transmitted.
"Can I help you?" this one intercepted him, trying in vain to intimidate him.
"Good evening. I am a witcher and I come to offer my services. Would there be any work for me in the village?"
"Recently another witcher passed by here" said the clerk from the table. "He freed us from the howlers that disturbed the population."
"Another witcher?" Geralt was surprised. "Could you describe him to me?"
"I did not see him well. He was wearing the hood of his cloak."
Geralt stood for a moment observing the clerk.
"I'm sorry I made you waste your time. Good Morning."
The witcher turned around and went back the way he had come.
"Has there been luck?" Jaskier said cheerfully.
"No. But you're right, something is wrong here" Geralt ordered another beer and took the jug and the poet to an empty table, away from other people's ears.
"What led you to that conclusion?" asked the poet intrigued, depositing his inseparable lute on the table.
"The clerk told me that another witcher passed through here recently."
"I know you are few, but that is within the probable ..."
"He said he was hooded. And witchers, when we negotiate work, we always face each other."
"And, why the hell would they want to cheat you? It would have been enough to tell you that you were not necessary."
"Because, for some reason, they want me to believe that the town is clean."
"Very suspicious... Do you think maybe ...?"
"Triss!" exclaimed almost in a whisper the witcher getting up from the chair.
Jaskier, listening to the name that came out of Geralt's mouth, forgot the interruption and turned around.
A hooded woman had just entered the tavern, and was on her way to the staircase that led up to the rooms of the inn. The witcher reached her in quick strides.
"Triss ..." he called, placing his hand on the lady's shoulder.
"Geralt?" she was surprised. "Geralt!"
The woman took her hands, happy, and placed a kiss on the man's scratchy cheek.
"Come, sit with us."
"Hello, Jaskier" greeted the poet, who was waiting for her standing and with a chair ready.
Triss Merigold sat down obediently. The sorceress uncovered her head, revealing her wavy, reddish-brown hair which she stirred to unleash it, as well as her beautiful features.
Jaskier offered to bring her a glass of good wine from the bar.
"How long, witcher! I heard a strange story about you and a young princess from Caingorn: if I didn´t know you, I might have believed it ..."
"I don´t want to talk about that" cut her off Geralt, frowning.
They looked each other into the eyes.
"Oh ... you must be kidding ..."
He said nothing but she saw the pain in his eyes. Triss looked at him with a mouth open of surprise and disbelief.
"Did you ... marry a princess? You? You, who have never been able to hold a woman for more than three months?"
"There are always exceptions, Triss. Even for me."
"I also heard that she died ... I give you my condolences, Geralt".
"Triss ..." the witcher hissed, sounding as a warning.
"Fine, I'll shut up. Matter settled."
Jaskier returned with the sorceress's glass of wine and left it in front of her. Then, as he sat down, he did the question that Geralt also had on the tip of his tongue.
"Tell me, Triss, what does a sorceress like you do in a place like this?"
Triss tasted the wine with little desire to respond.
"It's not your business".
"That's for sure", murmured Jaskier, annoyed.
"And you?"
"I'm looking for work, as always, "replied the witcher." It is more and more harder to find..." said the white-haired man.
"This world is crazy, Geralt".
"You would be surprised of the things that we have seen, sorceress "said Jaskier, who was not given to keep his mouth closed too long. "People no longer fear monsters as they used to. And what is worse: nobody is willing to sacrifice some coins, because the money does not run for war rumours with Nilfgaard."
"Yes, these are bad times" agreed Triss. "Look at the case of this village: until not long ago it was a prosperous town. Its mayor was a man with commercial vision, a nose for business and a gift for attracting money. But the good man died prematurely: he fell off the horse and broke his neck ... Since then the town has been declining by leaps and bounds, in an unprecedented recession. Until recently, the town reached a dilapidated state that made it fear its abandonment.
"Until very recently?" asked the witcher.
"Yes ..." Triss seemed suddenly uncomfortable. "The new mayor seems a man with as much talent as the one who made it prosperous ... and things seem to go better."
Geralt and Jaskier crossed a look of complicity, while the sorceress drained her glass of wine.
"Is that why you're here?" the poet insisted. "For some kind of assistance?"
Triss thought slightly of the answer, which accentuated the aura of mystery that was so unusual in her.
"Yes ... let's say something like that ... I'm going to retire to my room, the innkeeper must have my bathroom ready. Are you going to stay overnight in Vassen?".
"Of course" said Jaskier, looking out of the corner of the eye the witcher, who looked surprised. "But in the other inn, whose prices are better suited to our meagre purse."
"Very well", said the sorceress getting up, the two men did the same. "See you, then ... Good evening".
Triss went to the staircase and climbed it with a quick step, until she was out of sight. The two men took a seat again.
"Why did you say that, Jaskier? I thought you would not want to stay in this fucking town ..."
"A bed instead of the hard floor will be a great exception. Were not you the one who said there are always exceptions?"
"To you don't give a damn the alternative of a bed, if there is not a woman in it. It's because of Triss and her mystery that you want to stay, that's what corrodes you. I know you, poet, and I know how much you like to stick your nose in the affairs of others."
Jaskier smiled from ear to ear, he didn´t give a damn too that the witcher had guessed correctly.
"You're not curious?"
"I do not live of curiosity, Jaskier, and here there is no work. I'm not interested in what Triss is up to."
"But I live from my poems, from my stories ... And maybe from all this comes a great song. Come, let's go to the inn to rest, because the night has already fallen and I'm tired of riding all day."
Jaskier and Geralt stood up and looked for the exit. The innkeeper called them, with bad manners.
"Hey, you, you can´t break the curfew!"
"Curfew?" the poet was surprised. "Why is there curfew and why did not you tell us before?"
"The curfew is a matter of the major; I did not say anything to you because I thought you were going to use the services of the inn, just as the lady stay here ..."
"And so he secured the money ... "Geralt murmured. "Let's go, Jaskier."
The two men came to the door and opened it, ready to leave.
"Hey, the curfew!" the tavern owner repeated.
"My friend shits in the curfew as much as in your usury, good man. Goodnight."
And they closed the door behind them.
At night, Vassen made shivers. All the shutters of the houses were closed, preventing the light of the candles and wax light from reaching the outside; the lamplighter had not lit the few streetlights of the town, perhaps because of the curfew. But all this made the village a place that seemed abandoned of life, strangely uninhabited and silent. Or where life was hidden ...
Jaskier shivered wrapped in his cloak, clutching the witcher's shoulder with one hand, unable to see anything. The witcher guided him, for his vision was adjusted to the darkness. Geralt watched the deserted and dark streets as he walked, with a sense of growing uneasiness.
"This is very strange, Geralt ..." commented Jaskier with a thin voice.
"Shut."
"Why, what happened?"
"You, shut up!" Geralt reprimanded him.
The witcher had all his senses deployed, attentive to the night. A couple of streets away they found the door of the inn, but no matter how much they pounded it, no one opened them.
"Shit!" spat the poet. "So, what can we do now? It is obvious that they are not going to open us ..."
"Let's look for a shelter in the outskirts. Maybe there is a barn where to spend the night."
The two characters returned to the dark streets, while a ghostly fog began to rise. Geralt stopped suddenly.
"Geralt ...?" Jaskier sighed, his teeth chattering.
"Silence!"
The witcher had heard something. Then he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, just as his medallion of the wolf with its open jaws began to shake abruptly. Reacted immediately.
Geralt shoved Jaskier away from him and grabbed the hilt of the silver sword, protruding from his right shoulder, and extracted it from the scabbard in one quick movement. He kept it ahead of him, menacingly, scanning the darkness and with his ears alert to any sound. The attack did not take long to arrive.
It rushed at him with a force of a madman, in a calculated charge, but the other expected it and quickly departed: the attacker did not imagine that its victim was a witcher. It rolled on the ground and stood up with a terrible roar, in a demonstration of reflexes and intelligence that discarded many creatures: Geralt's mind was working at full speed trying to discern what monstrosity it was, to adapt his fighting style, while trying to anticipate the next movement of the creature. When it faced him again, he knew what it was: a hexus.
Of all possible aberrations, this was by far the most dangerous. The hexus, similar to vampires except that they ate meat instead of drinking blood, were artificial, created with magic from a corpse. Nor did they possess the characteristics of hypnosis or transformation of vampires, thanks to the Gods; but they did have fearsome claws and sharp teeth almost as big as the strigas. With all this, it was a difficult enemy to abate, with which it was necessary to treat with great prudence.
The hexus did not move. It remained watching Geralt, breathing agitatedly, limbs flexed, ready to attack. It roared, trying to intimidate its opponent.
The witcher was also watching it, sword held in both hands, legs apart and all his muscles tensed. His face seemed carved in stone, concentrated and implacable, for him nothing else existed than what was before him.
A slight noise caught the attention of the creature: Jaskier had slipped into a nearby hall, trying to go unnoticed. The witcher also heard it, and as the hexux looked towards his friend, he knew what was going to happen.
The movements of both were simultaneous. The monster jumped up against the poet, and Geralt ran with a war cry, hoisting the silver sword, in the same direction, trying to save his friend who was struggling helplessly.
The hexus bit the arms that the poet raised in pathetic defense, while it nailed its claws in the unprotected body; Geralt launched a cut that should have opened its entire back, and that only caused it a slight cut. The Hexus were immune to silver, and was much harder than other monsters.
At last the creature left the battered Jaskier and confronted the witcher, in a frantic fight in which the sword bit flesh and the claws reddened again; the witcher jumped back, because the short distance favoured the monster.
The hexus misinterpreted his movement, believing that it was a retreat, rushed after Geralt carelessly, error that the witcher took advantage of throwing a cut that sliced its arm. The hexus gave a deafening bellow, and when the witcher raised the sword to thrust it deep into its chest, it turned and fled, losing itself in the night.
The screams of Jaskier, the roars of the monster and the cry of Geralt must have awakened the whole town, but everything was as deserted and dark as before. The witcher rushed to the vestibule where Jaskier lay covered in blood. He was alive, although very badly wounded. He carried his body in his arms and, without thinking that the hexus could return, ran to the inn where Triss was staying, ready to throw the door down if necessary.
The sorceress left the room and closed the door behind her. The witcher was standing, leaning against the wall, and when she appeared he sat up and took a few steps forward. Triss looked somewhat tired, and also furious.
"How is he?" He interested.
"How is he? He lives by pure miracle, Geralt! Why the hell did you come out of the inn?"
The witcher looked into her eyes with a questioning and suspicious look.
"You know what's happening here", he claimed.
"If they have hired my services, it will be for something", she snapped.
"We are the witchers who kill the monsters, the sorcerers never liked to stain their hands. What's happening, Triss?"
"I will not give you any explanation, witcher, as soon as Jaskier gets better enough, get out of Vassen. Go without asking questions, because nothing that happens here is your concern".
"It was not, but now it is. That hexus almost took Jaskier out, so do not tell me it's none of my business."
The sorceress paled, and her hard gaze turned into a wistful look.
"Geralt, please ... Do what I say, if you appreciate me at all!"
"I esteem you enough to warn you, Triss: I don´t know how you relate to what happens in Vassen, but you're playing with fire."
"I'm not a novice, Geralt. Leave me alone."
She started toward her room, sparking.
"Triss! "Geralt called her grabbing her by the arm.
Triss looked at him reproachfully.
"You did not answer my question. How is Jaskier?"
"He will be well" she replied shaking her arm to get rid of the witcher's grip.
Her footsteps echoed against the wooden floor, while Geralt stared at her with a thousand questions in his head, until she went into her room and slammed the door. The witcher then entered the room of his friend, who slept in a dream product of Triss's magic, and settled into the adjacent chair after shedding his swords. It was going to be a very long night.
Jaskier moaned slightly and the sheets whispered barely, but it was enough to wake the witcher. He got up shaking off the remains of sleep, to the head of the bed where the poet lay. He woke up.
"How are you?"
"Rotten luck, witcher ... "he whispered." What the fuck was it, Geralt?"
"A hexus."
"I told you. Something very strange happens in this town ... Where are we?"
"At the inn of Triss."
"She took care of me?"
"There is no other sorcerer or healer nearby."
The poet closed his eyes long enough for the witcher to believe he had fallen asleep. Then he opened them and fixed on his friend, with a serious expression on his face.
"At this point, I suppose you've noticed that the hexus and the presence of a sorcerer can´t be a coincidence ..."
"She saved your life."
"And I appreciate it. However, if the hexus had not existed, she would not have to have saved it."
The witcher sighed impatiently.
"I don´t know, Jaskier. Or maybe yes, but she is my friend."
"A hexus loose around town is very serious, Geralt. So serious as to hire a dozen witchers, if necessary. Why does nobody do anything? They just hide as soon as night falls ... But you know that will not be enough, witcher, you know. As soon as hunger will be unbearable ... who knows what will happen."
Geralt went to the window and looked through the dirty glass. He seemed terribly restless.
"In fact, I know, but what about them?"
The witcher lowered his head, uncomfortable. He was faced with an ethical dilemma. He didn´t wanted to know what Triss was up to, because I did not want to have to turn against her. But his mission in life was to protect men from any kind of monster. For money, of course, whenever that was possible.
He could more his training, a lifetime of training since he had use of reason. He went to the door and took his steel sword, which was waiting for him hanging from a hook. After placing it on his back, he threw on his cloak.
Jaskier was watching him without saying anything.
"I'm going to see the mayor."
"Make him come to his senses, and, if possible, collecting ..."
He went out into the hall and closed the door behind him, striding in the direction of the stairs. As he passed the sorceress's room, he stopped. He hesitated a moment, then discreetly knocked on the door. Nobody opened it.
"Triss!", he insisted. "Triss!"
The sorceress was not there. He continued his way to the mayor's office.
As soon as he set foot in the room, the same guard from the previous day came out to him, backed by two more guards. The witcher knew, as soon as he saw the reinforcement, that they were there foreseeing his visit; that, rather than intimidating him, only increased his determination.
"I'm here to see the mayor", he said in a glacial voice.
"The mayor is not there, and in any case you should make an appointment. Although I doubt that the mayor wants to waste time talking to a vagabond."
The three guards carried the naked steel in their hands. And they looked at him with contempt, animosity and mockery. Geralt did not care about this, but he had resolved to meet the mayor and nothing was going to alter his will.
"Get out of my way."
The guard looked at him in disbelief, so sure he felt with the support of the other two guards. Then his face contracted with anger.
"You dare to give me orders, wretch? I will show you who gives orders here!"
Before he had raised the sword, the witcher had unsheathed his and struck him on the temple with the flat side. The guard fell unconscious like a sack. The other two attacked on both sides and at the same time; the witcher gave two quick half-turns in one direction and another, stopping the steels that sought to pierce his body. He took two steps back and waited for them. The guards, somewhat frightened by the speed of their opponent, did not rush now. In front of the witcher, on both sides, they swayed slightly with swords in front, legs apart and flexed, waiting for the moment to attack. But Geralt was in a hurry, not for games: he took the initiative and attacked. Wielding the steel with both hands, he threw himself at the one on the left, and when he stopped the thrust, he lifted his leg and kicked him in the scrotum that knocked him out of action. Before the guard even complained, the witcher made spin around that placed him in front of the other guard, stopping his attack that was about to begin. The force of the impact blew sparks from the steels, and Geralt saw the fear reflected in the other's eyes as they held the crossed swords in a pulse. Not wanting to prolong the fight against such pathetic opponents, the witcher suddenly ceased to exert force himself and withdrew; the soldier lost his balance and went forward, falling to the ground. Geralt took the sword from him with a kick and crouched down beside him.
"If you're smart, you will not get up", he suggested.
The guard did not say anything, and as he was apparently smart, he did not move.
The clerk raised both hands, shrugged and trembling, but he didn´t give him a single glance. He passed by him, holstering the sword behind, to the door at the back of the room. He opened it without bothering to call.
He almost collided with Triss Merigold, who was alerted by all the commotion. Triss looked at him with the same surprise he felt for her, an expression that immediately changed by another that did not suggest a welcome precisely.
"Geralt! This starts to be irritating!"she snapped.
"I'll talk to the mayor, with or without your approval".
She looked at him for a moment, after which she moved away.
The office, crowded with bookshelves in which old books of accounts, census and taxes accumulated dust, looked like a ragpick's den. The room was rather small and the large table, even more crowded with papers than that of the clerk in the anteroom, made it seem uncomfortable and suffocating; even more so when there was not a single window
Behind the desk, the mayor looked at the witch in a strange way, impossible to qualify. The man did not conform in any way to the stereotype of mayor who he used to find: corpulent and muscular as a labourer, browed and with long and abundant sideburns, the mayor looked at him with intelligent eyes that belied the vulgarity of his appearance.
"All right, "said finally. "Take a seat, please, I'll speak with you".
The witcher refused to sit down and instead let that single chair to the sorceress, cause he was a man of chivalrous and obsolete habits.
"As you know, we have a hexus in the village, yes" the man continued, leaning his elbows on the table and joining the fingers of both hands, unequal fingers. The mayor seemed to have a congenital defect in one of his hands." I appreciate your concern, but we are already taking care of it."
"With a sorceress? Without intention of devalue her, that is not a valid option, "said sharply Geralt "This is a work for a witcher".
"Triss is capable enough to handle the matter".
"I am afraid, Mr. mayor, that she has no idea what she is facing, and therefore you are badly advised. A hexus is not a pet at all that can be tamed to bring the shoes. They are intelligent and ingenious, and as lethal as a striga. As soon as hunger becomes unbearable, it will find a way to kill."
"That will not happen, Geralt" Triss intervened, very sure of herself. "We will neutralize it much sooner."
"Neutralize? What do you mean by neutralize?"
"To stop being a threat".
Geralt leaned with both hands on the desk and let his head fall forward, so that his white hair hid his exasperated features. Then he sat up suddenly, very angry.
"I will not say more", proclaimed. "On your consciences will remain what would happen".
And, indeed without saying anything else, he left the asphyxiating little room with office airs.
Jaskier was asleep when the witcher returned to the inn. He closed the door quietly and made sure the sword did not clink when he pulled it out to hang it, wrapping it in his cloak. He sat in the uncomfortable armchair with a piece of cheese and a quarter of bread and ate breakfast while meditating.
The poet soon woke up.
"How are you?" the witcher asked interested.
"It seems I feel better. So much that I would even stoop to share your cheese..."
"No need, I brought a ration for you."
Geralt brought him his loaf of bread and cheese and then returned to the armchair to finish uncomfortably, but after all sitting down, his breakfast.
"How about at the major´s office?", asked Jaskier after swallowing a big mouthful of bread.
"Fuck them", the witcher said with a sullen expression.
The other was left with the gesture of taking the cheese to his mouth and looked at the witcher with a frown.
"What the hell happened?"
"They are idiots: they have not listened to me. They say they have everything under control. That damn hexus will be biting their ass and they will not even give in".
"Why do you speak in the plural? Who else was there, besides the mayor ...? Oh, no, do not tell me. Triss, of course."
The witcher growled something unintelligible. The cheese of Jaskier continued its way to the mouth.
"What are you going to do, Geralt? Are you going to take down the hexus, in spite of everything?"
"Fuck the hexus, too. Tomorrow, if you're better, we'll leave this shitty town."
-If you had brought a measly glass of wine, we would have toast for it ..."
Geralt, still chewing his last piece of breakfast, stood up and brushed the crumbs from his lap.
"You're right. Now I bring it."
He left the room and went down to the tavern. In spite of not being still noon, the place did not lack clients. The witcher observed that many of them were merchants soaking business with good wine, and he was surprised that the rumours of the monster's presence had not scared them away ... If it had transcended, which he began to doubt.
He picked up the two glasses of wine and climbed back up, wondering how something so serious could be concealed successfully.
Late in the afternoon, Triss appeared around the room. The sorceress wore her cloak, which indicated that she had come directly, without going to her rooms. He coldly greeted the witcher, uncovered the poet, and examined his wounds. Thanks to her, the cuts had healed very well and it could be said that Jaskier was almost restored. After covering him again with the blanket and ordering him to keep in bed until the next day, Triss faced Geralt.
- Come with me, witcher.
It was an order, not a request. So the witcher, taciturn, obediently followed her to her room.
"I can´t believe what you did today!" she admonished him as soon as he closed the door behind him. "Do you have any idea what it cost me to convince the mayor not to arrest you? You set up a tavern brawl at the very headquarters of the mayor's office!"
"I did what I had to do, Triss. I said what I had to say, and from that point on is your problem. Tomorrow morning, Jaskier and I will leave."
"It's the only sensible thing you'll do since you showed up" she snapped as she hung her cloak.
"You're not the best person to talk to me about good sense".
The sorceress sighed and seemed to relax a bit. He approached the witcher.
"If I could explain, you would understand. But I can´t. I've sworn to keep the secret."
"No explanation will change my opinion. Do you think I do not know what's happening here? I'm not a fool, Triss, and I've seen it with my own two eyes."
"I don´t have you for such, Geralt, but from there you know nothing ..."
"I've seen the mayor's hand" he cut off her. "It's the same mayor who made the town flourish, right? The one who died naked, according to your words".
The sorceress stared at him intently, surprised.
"But how …?"
"I cut the arm of the hexus myself. It is not difficult for a sorceress to make a hexus regenerate it. That's what you were doing when I broke into the mayor's office, right?"
Triss licked her lips nervously.
"Of course, witcher, you're smarter than I thought. And don´t think I set the barr low ..."
"You can´t transform what it is, Triss. You can run spells like mad to change its appearance, but it will always be a hexus. Somehow you have managed to make it who he was during the day, but you will never get it to be totally. It's a hexus, sorceress, and not all the magic in the world will change that. And it will cost lives".
"Maybe you're right", she conceded after a moment's thought. "But I want to try. If I do not get it, I promise I'll destroy it before any life is lose."
"Try not to be yours".
Geralt turned around, intending to leave the room.
"Eh ... Geralt ... " she stopped him. "You are a good person, witcher. And I like you ... more and more."
The sorceress approached him, until she clung to his body.
"If you wanted to forget that stupid Yennefer you and I could be very good together, Geralt ..."
Triss kissed the witcher on the lips, gently at first, avidly afterwards. The witcher let himself be carried away, and finally embraced her; He opened her cleavage while continuing to kissing her, and searched her breasts while she struggled with the buckle of his pants. Geralt helped her and then abruptly rested her against the wall and, with an urge that almost verged on brutality, the witcher possessed her standing there, holding her leg against his hip. But Triss was demanding and did not let it end; she pushed him to the bed and undressed him before doing it herself, then she got over him.
"Take your time, witcher: we are in no hurry. You're going to give me what I need until you have no strength left ..."
And the witcher took his time and gave the sorceress what she needed.
Right at the end, when the darkness had spread in Vassen, a sharp scream echoed in the street.
"I think your hexus has already gone for a walk and has met someone" the witcher ironized, while arranging clothes in a hurry. I must to go to aid the victim."
"Wait for me, Geralt!" She exclaimed, buttoning her cleavage with skill.
"I'm going for my sword. If you're not ready when I leave, I'll leave without you", he warned as he left the room.
The desperate cry of a woman resounded in the empty and dark streets. Geralt and Triss had no problem finding her, guided by their laments. When they appeared, the woman jumped and got up, throwing herself into the light that Triss had conjured, trembling and dishevelled, her skirt stained with mud as she dropped helplessly in the middle of the street.
"Please help me! It has taken my child, that monster has entered home and has taken my little girl ...!"
"Get in your house, ma'am. We will look for her" said the sorceress.
"what direction has it gone?" wanted to know the witcher.
"Towards there" the woman pointed. "I don´t know if it has turned on a street, I couldn´t see nothing in the darkness ..."
Witcher and sorceress threw themselves down the street, leaving the citizen to her fate. Geralt pushed Triss into a dead end, dark and empty.
"It would be better to turn off that light" he ordered while taking out of his pocket a bottle.
"What are you going to do?"
"Watch while I drink the elixir."
He opened the bottle with one finger and brought it to his mouth. He emptied his content into it and then waited for the unpleasant first effects. The convulsions soon appeared, and Triss gasped in horror when she saw, before the light was extinguished, the wizard's terribly pale face furrowed by death-black veins, standing out against the bones that seemed visible in such an extreme pallor. Everything passed in an exhalation, and the witcher sat up with all his senses extremely sensitive, and his muscles more agile, strong and hard.
Silent as specters, they left the alley and continued attentive to any sound.
Geralt heard the voice of a girl. A girl who, although the witcher could not understand what she was saying, did not seem scared at all.
"Towards the west" he said to the sorceress, while he pressed the step.
When he entered to the alley, he saw them. The hexus was sitting before the little one, who was also sitting on a wooden barrel. The witcher looked at Triss in astonishment, not knowing if she was seeing the scene. She saw it: the smile that showed on her face proved it.
"He's talking to the girl!" she said in a whisper that seemed to the witcher thunderous.
And to the hexus too.
The monster jumped up, facing them. It opened its mouth showing its teeth menacingly and roared, standing there before the girl, shielding her.
The witcher drew his sword.
Flexing the legs, the hexus jumped like a spring and planted itself before him, throwing its right claw in a semicircle that pretended to crack the witcher; but the witcher was no longer there, for with an agile leap he moved away enough to avoid it. Taking advantage of the inertia that the failed blow had printed in the hexus, destabilizing it, Geralt gave it a kick in the face that launched him a few meters back. It stood up again, shaking its head and then looked at him angrily. A trickle of blood was crossing its face. It waited for the witcher who took the initiative, who made the mistakes. And the witcher began to move around him, crossing and uncrossing his legs, the light of the moon shining on the edge of his sword extended towards himself, eager for its blood.
But then, a small figure came and placed herself at the front of the hexus and facing the witcher.
"Don´t hurt him!" said the girl.
The hexus pushed her away carefully, with an improper care of any monster.
"He have a sword ..." she protested.
Triss also appeared in the witcher's field of vision.
"Angus?" she called the hexus. "Angus, do you know who I am?"
The hexus looked confused, but ended up nodding.
"We don´t want to hurt you, Angus. Who is this girl?"
A terrible guttural sound came from the creature's throat, but nevertheless everyone understood perfectly what it said.
"It's ... it's my ... daughter ..."
Triss imprudently approached the hexus, ignoring the witcher's protests. The monster did not move, not even when she laid her hand on its sweaty hair; the only reaction to her gesture was a kind of lament.
"You're healing, Angus, I think we're getting it. No hexus, except you, is able to recognize anyone ... "the sorceress encouraged it with a velvet voice.
The monster approached the little girl and let itself be hugged by her.
"Save the sword, Geralt. You will not need it."
The witcher watched the scene, distrustful, unwilling to sheathe his steel. The sorceress went back to the hexus.
"Angus, the witcher don´t trust you. Tell him you don´t want to hurt us."
"I'm not going ... to hurt you ..." he managed to say with effort.
She approached the man.
"You see, Geralt? This is what I was working on. And I seem to be getting it, thanks also to the fact that Angus was always an exceptional human being in every way".
Geralt looked at the hexus, which looked like a gentle kitten in the hands of the girl.
"Maybe you're right, Triss. Maybe in this case you get it. Who knows. There are always exceptions…"
"Soon, as soon as I improve enough, we will not even need a curfew. Oh, Geralt, I'm so happy!"
The sorceress approached the hexus, who was caressing its daughter's hands.
"It's enough for today, Angus: now we will take the girl with her mother. You scared her to death, by the way".
The other nodded.
"If you want to see your daughter, I'll bring her to you. Soon, when you are fully restored, we will make public your recovery and you´ll even go back to your home."
Triss took the child by the shoulders, pushing her toward the main street. The witcher followed them, watching not very convinced the hexus. The monster remained motionless for a few seconds, and then turned around and disappeared in the opposite direction to them.
Geralt took the bag of coins to pay the innkeeper the rent of the room, while Jaskier waited by his side. Triss appeared upstairs, hurried down and went by them.
"Hey! Are you leaving without saying goodbye?", she said.
"No, by a long chalk we are", said Jaskier. "But first we have had breakfast, to let you sleep a little more."
"Their bill to my account, sir", she said to the innkeeper.
"Triss ..."
"Shut up, Geralt. And, Geralt ..." she said, approaching the witcher's ear to whisper. "Better Yennefer don´t know about ... you know what, or she'll take my eyes off..."
"Yennefer don´t have why to be angry. It's been a long time since we've seen each other."
"Even so, witcher ... I know what I'm talking about."
"Don´t worry. Thanks for everything, Triss ..."
Triss kissed him lightly on the lips, in front of the impish look of the poet.
"Goodbye…"
On the royal road, Jaskier was thinking about everything the witcher had explained to him. They were parallel, the brown mare Roach, and the poet's gelding, Pegasus. He remained so quiet that Geralt feared they had rushed to leave, that perhaps his injuries were not as good as they seemed.
"Geralt, do you think she will really transform the hexus completely?" He spoke at last.
"No I don't think so".
"Don't you believe it? But, then, why did not it attacked you?"
"With her magic, Triss has managed to slow down the loss of human memories and feelings. But the hexus will end up forgetting".
"But how pessimistic you are, witcher. You, that at all time you are saying that there are always exceptions ..."
"What Triss has achieved is already an exception. But nobody can´t change the nature of a monster, and sooner or later the human being that was will vanish completely. The greed of the landowners of Vassen has not hesitated to resort to magic to recover their best manager, and all the people agreed. But when there are victims, things will change radically."
"Are you sure?"
"I've seen it before. People who do not resign themselves to losing a brother, a son, a husband, and hire a socerer to revive him. And in all cases, the same result: everything ends up hiring a witcher to returns to death what belongs to it."
"But Triss must know ..."
"I don´t think so," the witcher interrupted him. "If she has heard about it, it would be in very vague way. Sorcerers do not usually brag about their failures."
"Then, how do you think everything will end?"
"Triss will have to finish it. I don´t think in more than a month".
"But you did not tell her about this ..."
"No, of course not, Jaskier. All sorcerers suffer from an extraordinary pride, and she would never have believed me, even less after that little success. The lesson will be good for her".
" Ah, witcher, how good that money would have come from having done you the job ..."
"Fuck luck ..."
"Yes, fuck luck, for fuck sake ..."