By the time Ben's cart came to a halt, it was once more in the middle of the night. Since the attack, the rest of the journey had been spent in silence as the sun sank beneath the treetops and made way for the moon. At first, all that could be heard besides the creaking of the wagon and the hooves of Ben's horse pounding against the road were the crickets and birds and an occasional wind. After the had sky darkened, they gave way to hooting owls and ribbiting frogs whenever they passed a creek.
"You sure you dun wanna stay the night?" Ben asked once they stood beside him on the ground. "'tis the least I could do…"
Ivor shook his head even before the man could finish his sentence. "Thanks for the offer, but we'll be all right. We've loitered around for too long already and really need to get going."
With a nod, the farmer tipped his hat towards them. "Thanks again. Now you two be careful out there."
And just like that, he disappeared off towards his farm. The two of them watched his wagon disappear into the dusk, neither one of them moving from the spot. Only when they could no longer see him did Ivor release a sigh before he began to walk. Gwen followed him like a dog on a leash.
The elf had barely even looked at her after his scolding, though she wouldn't have noticed it to begin with. Both of them had retracted into shells neither of them knew they had, keeping them from communicating with each other. Gwen found herself in some sort of catatonic state, shocked by the anger Ivor had shown towards her. Whatever Ivor was thinking now, however, she could not imagine.
She hadn't slept at all since the attack. Partly because of her previous dream and partly because she feared what nightmare her mind might conjure next. She did not want to think of what would happen if she dreamed of Ivor's anger.
It wouldn't take long before they arrived in Vergen, however, and so she continued to drag her feet along with her and force her eyes open no matter how much they begged to be closed. Soon, she would have a proper bed to lie in. She would have her answers. She would be surrounded by likeminded people. The proximity to humans was doing her no good, she found. The lies and paranoia would have been exhausting even if she hadn't been with child.
Night time proved to be a relief exactly because of that. Though the stars begged her to find a cosy spot to fall asleep, the lack of traffic at this time was a kind of salvation in its own right. Just her, the cool darkness and her silent comrade. This was as close to peace that she was going to get any time soon.
Far too soon, the moon receded and the sun began its climb again, bringing with it the sweltering heat of yet another summer day. The discomfort was interrupted only when the sight of Vergen's mountains and high walls finally came into view. As if forgetting their fight, Ivor's hand found and squeezed her arm in wordless celebration.
They passed mostly deserted stalls on the way to the gates that would lead to the heart of the settlement. Though they had heard of King Henselt's assault, details of the attack had been sparse, leaving Gwen to imagine what had happened. The scars left behind told a lot, though.
Blood still covered parts of the walls and ground where the rain hadn't been able to reach just yet. Here and there, scorch marks pointed to small bombs that had exploding. Foot prints covered most of the area, but they could also belong to the survivors who had to clean everything up. There were no bodies, no armour, no weapons. The whole place had been stripped bare of physical reminders of the conflict that had taken place. The armour and swords could be re-used and a Ghoul infestation right before the gates of Vergen seemed like something the inhabitants needed the least right now.
Gwen hadn't even passed through here last time. She stopped to look at where she had been pushed to her knees before the almighty King Stennis, the first of his name. Now scuff marks covered it from where either poor Kaedweni souls or survivors had scuttled about.
Speculation about what had happened was pointless, however. Whatever they had to learn, they would by speaking to Saskia. She led this place and Iorveth had held a great deal of respect for her, the way he had dropped everything to come to her aid. It was only natural that she of all people could tell them more about what had happened. That is, if they could even find her. It wasn't like there was anybody around whom they could ask. Though the word on the roads was that the Pontar Valley had finally gained its freedom, it sure looked like they had just lost a war.
It did not take the two of them long to find the local tavern, made easier by the fact that this was the only place a handful of people had gathered and actually made noise. That stopped when the duo stepped in through the entrance and found seven pairs of eyes staring at them. Some of them regarded them with apprehension, while others took them in with curiosity. One of them even glared at them whereas another looked too drunk to register anything at all.
"Is there anything I can get you two?" the bartender asked, a tremor in his voice betraying his weariness.
By the time Gwen opened her mouth, Ivor had already started speaking, "We are looking for Saskia, actually."
The very moment the name left his lips, the air in the room changed, as if it hadn't already been tense enough as it was. A couple of the guests looked away, but they all refused to utter a response.
Finally, the silence made something inside of her snap and Gwen asked, "What happened here? Last time I was here, you were preparing for a war to fight for your freedom, and from what I've heard, you won."
The sentence hung in the air for a while. The half-elf didn't really expect a response at this point.
Then, a sigh. "Ye can ask Saskia herself. You'll find her in the keep where she holes herself up these days," one of the dwarves offered. A couple of his friends nodded, but they did not add anything else.
"Right. Thank you," Ivor murmured before turning on his heels and leaving.
Gwen lingered about, hoping for some elaboration. When she took in their frowns and glares, she thought better of it and followed the elf out. He had already begun his way up the hill on which the town had been built. He had been here before, so of course he knew where to go.
As she made her way up the stairs after Ivor, who still hadn't spared her a full look since his outburst, the sole of her foot cramped together. Gritting her teeth, the half-elf pushed through and took another step, only for the pain to amplify and run up the length of her leg. She sank to a knee and began to yank at the laces of her boots. She'd been wearing them for far too long, though going barefoot with these cobblestones did not seem like that good of an alternative.
Almost as if nothing had happened, Ivor knelt beside her, hands pushing trembling digits to the side to take over their work. With him on the case, it took mere moments before Gwen's feet left the confines of their shoes and found the cool ground once more. Though the cramp remained slightly, it had dwindled to such a level that she could walk.
The keep was as small and pitiful as the town itself. With little to no ornaments decorating the building, it looked more like a stack of stones than anything else. Which made sense, all things considered. Vergen was a dwarven town, and what would a dwarf need a proper keep for? Give a dwarf a tavern and a mug of ale and he would be set for life.
"Great defence," Gwen muttered when they stepped through the entrance of the keep without meeting anybody nearby.
Ivor snorted before he went on to climb a set of stairs to the right. In here, the sun from outside barely reached. Each step they took farther into the building echoed against the stone walls, reverberating until it sounded like there were twenty of them instead of two. And with every step, the knot in her stomach wound itself even tighter, until she thought she felt bile rise at the back of her throat.
She ignored it, however. If Saskia told her Iorveth was dead, then so be it. She wanted to know for certain. Even though she might think she didn't want to know, she knew that in the end the not knowing would gnaw more at her than the knowledge of his death ever would.
Ivor took a turn here and there. Sometimes he tracked back, passing Gwen as he sought his way through the building. Caldrons filled with burning coals hung from the walls. They looked like they needed replacing sooner rather than later, offering the visitors but little light to go by. Winding tunnels seemed to hide most of the keep from their view. Gwen feared the day she got lost in here, although Ivor mostly seemed to know his way around.
For a place where the sun did not reach, it was surprisingly warm. The combination between the warmth and the trapped air made for a horridly musty smell that made it difficult to breathe. Since the red tapestries that had been hung intermittently throughout the corridors most likely didn't get cleaned on a regular basis, dust hung in the air like a thick blanket. Gwen almost longed for the sweltering heat from outside.
Ahead of her, said elf pushed a set of red doors. Without waiting for her to catch up, Ivor entered the room beyond. The walls on the other side of the door seemed brighter than they did out here. Perhaps the cauldrons in there were regularly filled?
Voices floated from inside, too muffled by the thick walls to make out what was said. From the tones she could hear, there were only the two of them: the shooting lilt of Ivor and the higher, harsher note of what could have been Saskia.
"…would meet again," the woman said, the words becoming clearer as Gwen neared the entrance.
Entering the room, the half-elf immediately took in the round stone table that filled most of the room. Ivor stood in front of her with his back towards her, shoulders relaxed and arms crossed.
At the other end of the table stood the woman who must have been Saskia. She stood tall, her back straight and her chin held high, though a frown seemed to belie her confidence. Dark blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail that rested against the nape of her neck, a red and white band wound around her head pressing any loose strands of hair to her temple.
Her eyes lit up the moment she caught sight of Gwen, eyebrows rising and lip curving as she smiled at the woman. "Ah, you must be Gwenfrewi."
The way she spoke the half-elf's name, it felt like they had known each other for half their lives. Gwen, however, was quite sure she had never seen this woman before, though she knew who she was.
As if reading her mind, Saskia held out a hand. "Unfortunately, circumstances did not allow us to meet last time you were in Vergen. My name is Saskia. I have heard a lot about you from Iorveth, though. The man speaks quite highly of you. I must admit, it is something I had never expected from him."
Both Gwen and Ivor stilled. The half-elf held her breath as she mulled over the words, whereas the elf beside her stiffened. He had spoken of her? Did that mean he was alive? Or was that… before…?
But… why would he speak highly of her after selling her off to the man who most likely wanted her dead?
"Where… is Iorveth right now?" Ivor asked. "Is he… all right?"
The following silence lasted perhaps a heartbeat, but to Gwen it felt like she had lost a year of her life. Saskia's brows rose even higher and she lifted a hand to her mouth.
"You think him to be dead? Apologies, I had not realised that possibility weighed on your minds. No, that crafty old elf is still up and running. Bruised, perhaps, but as busy as ever. The only reason he is not by my side at the moment is because he had some Scoia'tael business to take care of."
The world around Gwen stopped moving as she placed a fist to her stomach. Alive. Iorveth… was alive. Pressure she had not even realised was there disappeared from her chest and she breathed in deeply for the first time since hearing of what had happened at Loc Muinne. Iorveth was alive. She would not have to go through everything alone. She…
…why had he betrayed her?
He spoke highly of her.
After throwing her away like an old rag. Without batting an eyelash, like he hadn't actually known her.
After…
Why?
A hand found its way to hers, fingers squeezing her and dragging her mind away from those thoughts. She stared at Ivor but found that he had not looked away from Saskia.
"I'm glad to hear that. Ever since we first heard of what had happened at Loc Muinne, we have worried about his fate," he said.
Saskia nodded, hands now on hips. "I can only imagine what you must have gone through. Although what happened at Loc Muinne has not been good for anybody, safe perhaps Nilfgaard."
"Yes, about that… What even happened there?" Ivor asked with a gesture of his free hand. When their host did not respond, he said, "I happened to notice the lack of people in Vergen. Does that have anything to do with…?"
He dared not speak the words, although they were clear enough. Saskia only sighed, shoulders slumping as she pressed a hand to her forehead. "You are partially correct. To answer your question: Temeria remains its own country, and the Conclave of Mages will be reformed. Then Philippa, who had cursed me beforehand, used me to turn me into my original form. To clarify, I happen to be a dragon with the ability to take on this human form."
Saskia paused, eyes downcast, and Gwen couldn't help but stare at her. The dragon from Cedric's prophecy… That had been Saskia?!
"Although Geralt of Rivia managed to lift the curse, the damage had been done – people knew that Saskia the so-called Dragonslayer was, in truth, a dragon herself. We arrived here only a few days ago, but I decided to be truthful to my people and in return many of them left. Those that remain are either Scoia'tael or wary of me. I fear it is but a matter of time before all we've worked for will have been for naught."
The look on her face, the emotions she must have felt, reminded Gwen of herself. Here stood a woman, an outsider, who had been disillusioned by her own entity and the way others would react to it. Hopeful. Like a certain half-elf, too, had been so many years ago. No, like a certain half-elf had been yet again only a few weeks ago… Gwen clenched a fist and held it tightly in the other hand, fingers biting into skin.
Ivor, ever the optimist, said, "I am sure they will come around, my—"
"Please, call me Saskia. One could call me neither lady nor lord with how things are at the moment."
"Saskia," Gwen spoke through grinding teeth as she took a step forward. "I… I need to speak to Iorveth as soon as possible."
The other woman studied her face for a moment. "It doesn't take a being such as myself to sense the fury inside of you, and it doesn't take a scholar to figure out who it is directed towards."
Whatever sympathy Gwen had felt for her dissipated. She wouldn't forbid her from seeing him, would she? Behind her, Ivor shifted and suddenly she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. His grip was loose; he only wished to comfort, but lately he had done that far too often.
"I understand the situation has more depth than I first realised. Still, you must know, everything Iorveth did, he did for a reason. Everything he ever does is for a reason. I advise you to not let your emotions rule over you, although I know I am currently the last person who can lecture you on anything." Saskia rubbed her forehead, her shoulders sagging when she released a breath. "In any case, I will not stop you from seeing Iorveth. And… please do tell him as soon as possible."
The half-elf stared at her as though she had grown a pair of siren wings. "What… what are you talking about?"
"About the unborn child?" Saskia asked. Her eyes widened and she placed a hand over her mouth, muffling her next words slightly. "You… you did not yet know?"
Gwen waved a hand at her. "No, I mean, yes… But how did you know?"
"I sense it inside of you. I am a dragon, after all." Saskia shot her a small smile. "Do not fear, I will not tell anybody of this. But such matters must be discussed sooner or later."
"I… I know," Gwen murmured, fisting the material of her tunic until her fingers hurt. Until now, there had been only the symptoms. The nausea, the dizziness, the mood swings. Hearing it like this… It threw her off balance, though she hadn't had much of that left to begin with. Even last time she had gone through this, she could only truly believe it when she started showing.
A dwarf with a beard that reached well past his chin and a shaved head entered, huffing and puffing as he came. "Saskia! Iorveth is back, he–oh!" A dwarf burst into the room, but he froze when he laid eyes upon them. "'m sorry, Saskia, I hadn't thought you'd have visitors…"
"It is no problem at all, Yarpin. In fact, I believe one of our guests would be most pleased by this news." Saskia turned only to find that Gwen had stepped farther into the room and turned around to stare at the dwarf in horror.
Sheer panic had sprung up from the flame of hatred nesting in her core. It dug its tendrils into every part of her body, causing her heart to beat loudly and her limbs to tremble. "No, no, I'm not… I can't… Not yet…"
Whatever feud had found its way between Ivor and her dissipated for the moment when the elf rushed to her side and held his hand in front of her forehead. When she rested her head against his palm, he removed it so he could both of them against her cheeks.
"All this time, you have been talking about Iorveth and giving him a piece of your mind. Do you really want to pull back now that your goal is within reach?" he asked without letting her break eye contact.
Regardless of what her decision might have been, Saskia stepped past the two of them towards the dwarf. "Let us go and give that elf a proper welcome, then."
Eyes wide, Gwen stared helplessly at Saskia's receding back, feet refusing to move. In that moment, as she watched the woman disappear beyond the entrance to the keep, a stillness covered her like a blanket. In its indecision, her mind froze, the blankness almost a welcome break from the usual chaos that filled the space there.
Ivor disrupted that moment of calm by disentangling her hands from her tunic. Offering her a small smile, he dragged her along with him. "Come."
And so she went.