Kain watched her go, making sure she was outside as she promised before he went back to the temple.
He stood in the middle for a while, eyes closed, and let his mind get quiet so he could search for Her. She was responding, but it was like calling out to a friend while a hurricane raged around you.
He called out to Freyja and the powers that dwelled in the temple before the beast came. He burned the paw first; it went in flames that flashed green, blue and red and then dissipated as if a mere vision.
He carefully lay the skeletons of the fallen priestesses on the floor and covered them with old curtains still hanging from the walls. Then he returned to the tree. The path led through the whole garden, and he took his time. The wolves were watching him, but wisely staying where they were. He took the sword off, lay it on the ground at the stony border of the clearing, then came up to the table. The blood staining it was dark, almost black, like a demon's.
Kain stood still, closing his eyes, and once again letting go of needless thoughts.
The druids taught him many spells; dryads had their own, just as humans and mages. He was making his own that didn't come into words or sounds, but rather weaved itself of energies interlacing and entwining each other and reaching further and higher and deeper. He didn't linger on images or visions, and they stopped, turned into mist and diamond dust sparkling and dancing like butterflies in the sun. He felt the power flow, he felt its pulse, the core still pumping like an eternal heart. He felt the rhythm. He knew the route now.
He blinked his eyes open, unclasping the wolf-fur jacket. He shrugged it off and lay it beside the sword. He pulled the blade out of its sheath and returned to the table, shivering both from cold and anxiety. His self-preservation screamed within him, willing to turn back, desperate to run.
Kain exhaled shakily and pressed the blade to his left forearm and slid it cutting the skin. It stung; blood welled up and trickled down on the table, crimson drops spilling over the black. He repeated it with his right arm, then let the sword drop in the dead grass.
Fighting the shivering, he stood before the tree, so close its bark was in front of his face. His breath came out in thin smoke against it.
Kain closed his eyes and put his palms on the trunk, feeling the blood trickle down his arms and to the roots around his feet that lay like heaps of dead snakes. He sought the route, sought out the core, the beating heart pumping the bad flow through the garden's veins. He felt the rhythm falling in sync with his heart as it went slower… and slower…
He reached out to Her, to the Great Mother whose arms invited for a warm embrace among the bed of flowers.
There was no more cold or stinging cuts, no more wind or wolves, no more thoughts or fears while he guided Her voice to the heart that beat in sync with his.
She sang… like my mother… closer…
… touching every string of love I had for her inside of me, one by one, like breaths of wind touching blades of grass in its wake…
and Her voice was entwining with the flawed rhythm like crystal water flowing into dark molasses to fill the chalice and push the darkness out drop by heavy drop. It was gentle but insisting and trickled in, through and around, filling and soothing and washing away the bitter dark like rain washes away the dirt from the rocks.
The wind grew stronger in sudden gusts rushing around and past Ciri and through the Garden like a galloping horse. It twirled and dashed and whistled, tearing through the knotted branches of the tree and ripping the dead leaves off; they whirled around and flew and fell on the ground. The clouds thickened above the Garden, lightning flashed once, twice, and then thunder cracked shaking the ground. Heavy drops of rain fell down quicker and quicker until there was a curtain of falling water thick as a fog.
The thunder roared another time and quieted in the distant mountains; the rain began to weaken and eventually stopped.
The table of white marble glistened in the timid ray of sun that peeked first through the dispersing clouds; it got brighter and shone generously over the tree that stood proud and lush with a thick green canopy of young leaves. Strings of crawling green ivies draped patches of the bark like decorations peppered with small white flowers. Not a drop of water on them – it all soaked into the ground from every surface it hit as if there was never any rain.
Among the roots lay the boy, his pale face calm as if deeply asleep; the bright green blades of new grass moved gently in the breeze around his body and outstretched arms still oozing blood and the blade of his sword that lay to the side, sunlight glaring brightly against the smooth metal. Gusts of wind played with the boy's white hair and the wolf fur of his jacket that lay at the stony arch.
Somewhere on the lower level, a wolf howled.
A shiver ran through Ciri like a foreboding. She found she did not like being so far from Kain. Not now, not while he was doing… whatever it was he was doing. But she stayed as she said she would.
She got to her feet once a powerful rush of wind flew her way, making her hair dance around her head. Her gaze drifted to the sky above the garden which had turned an ominous black. Lightening cracked and thunder roared a split second behind, rain suddenly pouring down by the bucketful, immediately drenching her.
She moved to the gate and curled her fingers around the wrought iron, attempting to see Kain but he was out of view. Her heart pounded and leapt in her chest, fear making her stomach clench painfully.
When the storm ceased and Kain still did not return, she threw caution to the wind and hurried back inside. She knew exactly where he was, could feel him like a pulsing beacon that drew her to him.
She barely even noticed the fresh and lush state of the garden, for her attention was solely for him. "Kain!"
He lay on the ground, eyes closed and arms bleeding. A sight that made her heart ache.
She rushed to him, tried to coax him awake with no success and reached for the dagger in her belt, shedding her cloak and cutting at her own shirtsleeves. She tied them tightly around his wounds to staunch the bleeding and pulled him into her lap, his back resting against her front as she wrapped her arms around him.
He was still alive, still warm, but for how long? If the blood loss did not do him in, whatever magic he had used here might. It had been too much.
What was she going to do? Her first instinct, as always, was to envelop him in her power and transport him somewhere they could find help. Even with the knowledge of what that would mean, it felt like it'd be worth it. She even felt the buzzing in her ears, the vibrations beneath her skin – a telltale sign of her power crawling its way to the surface.
She suddenly wished Avallac'h was here. He was an excellent healer. But would he even want to help.
No. She doubted he would.
What would Kain tell her to do?
She hugged him to her, shivering a little from the cold that had seeped into her bones after the heavy rain, her lips resting against the top of his head as she finally examined her surroundings. He'd done it. The Garden was restored with renewed life and love. This was a healing place… A healing place.
"Great Goddess Freyja," Ciri said, her eyes on the majestic tree before her, her senses reaching for that warm and comforting energy she had felt from the Goddess the night before. "Please save him. I beg of you, Merciful Mother. Heal your faithful son. Your blessings upon him, my obeisance to you." She closed her eyes and prayed further, attempting to cloak Kain with the love and power she felt emanate from the tree, whispering into his damp hair. "Please, please, please…"
There was a sudden sound behind her, catching her by surprise. A white cat trotted toward her. It approached, purring, and rubbed its head against Ciri's elbow, the bushy white tail tickling her arm as the cat passed, circling. It rubbed its head against the boy's cheek and returned to Ciri, staring into the girl's eyes with a bright blue of its own.
"Oh Gods... How is this possible?"
The women from the village slowly approached with the priestess in the lead.
"Child... What happened 'ere?"
The cat gave a loud meow and ran past the women and into the depth of the garden.
"It's a miracle," one of the women whispered. "Great Mother..."
Ciri followed the cat with her gaze as it disappeared between the leafy greens; and only when it was out of sight did she focus on the group of women. Freyja had answered her prayers. She was so relieved she could weep.
"He restored the garden," she said, shifting slightly beneath Kain's weight. "Cleansed it. But he is badly hurt. I can't wake him."
One of the younger women crouched down beside them and carefully lifted one of the makeshift bandages from Kain's arm, peering beneath it with an assessing gaze. "The bleedin' has almost stopped. But we must make sure the wounds do not get infected. Wait here," she said and straightened again, wandering off.
"Where is she going?" Ciri asked one of the others.
The Priestess smiled. Whatever animosity had been between them before seemed to have vanished. "Gatherin' supplies. The Goddess provides for her children."
She turned to some of the other women. "Mira, Ingunn, go back to the village and bring a horse and cart. And send for a healer. We will treat the boy's injuries here but he will need plenty of rest in a warm bed after."
The two women disappeared, as well.
Ciri did not relinquish her hold on Kain even as the first woman returned with leaves she could not identify and some sort of mud. Ciri held him as she and the Priestess tended to his wounds, smearing the mud like paste over the gashes before sealing it with the herbs, wrapping Ciri's sleeves back around his arms to hold everything in place.
"We have more supplies back at the village," the Priestess assured when Ingunn and Mira returned a short time after, and they were cautiously carrying Kain's body from the garden. Ciri climbed onto the cart they'd brought and the women deposited him into her embrace again. They walked beside her, leading the horse back to the village.
The priestesses brought their guests to one of the huts in the village with a warm hearth where fire crackled and herbs hung along the walls and on the balks in bound bunches drying. It smelled of hay and herbal tea.
The women put the boy to bed in another room, covered with furs to warm up, and offered Ciri some hot tea and a bowl of soup.
"We wondered what the storm was," the oldest woman, who the hut belonged to, said, feeding logs to the fire. "But we was afeared to go look. Thought ye newcomers upset the Goddess again…" She clucked her tongue. "But then the storm cleared and Mother sent us a sign, brought us to ye. Tis a miracle, child. Mother be praised."
Ciri sank into a chair. Someone removed the cloak from her shoulders and hung it up to dry by the fire.
"Yes. I prayed. She listened," Ciri said, her gaze on the doorway of the room they had put Kain in. She did not like the distance between them. Not when he was unconscious and weakened.
She absentmindedly stirred her soup with a wooden spoon but did not eat. Hunger was not on her mind in the least. Nor was the cold. "Is he going to be alright?"
The woman gave Ciri a meek smile, a bit apologetic. "I'm no healer, child, I can't know. But Mother takes care of her children. She knows.
"Ye gotta eat. Ye need yer strength and warmth. These lands are stark, so must ye be. Eat, and then rest."
Ciri ate, without gusto, forcing herself to devour the soup because she could not bear their concerned attention being on her when it should have been on Kain.
"Thank you," she said once finished, managing a smile for them. It was genuine.
Then she stood and made her way into Kain's room, pulling a chair from the corner towards his bed so she could sit beside him and hold his hand with hers. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb and closed her eyes, trying to transfer some of her strength to him so he would recover.
The sun barely began to shift from its zenith when the door in the hut opened and let the druid in.
The older woman set her fishnet she had been fixing aside and greeted him, then stood up and left while he headed into the room.
"Ciri!" Mousesack called walking in. His eyes skimmed her as if searching for injuries, then focused on Kain in bed. "What happened to you here?"
Mousesack's voice cut through the silence, startling her. Ciri immediately stood, for a moment uncertain if he was actually here or if she had fallen into another dream. "Mousesack..." she looked from him to Kain. "He cleansed the Garden of Freyja, cut himself quite deeply in the process, lost a lot of blood. He hasn't woken since. Help him. Please, help him."
Mousesack's face flashed with surprise close to shock, then a flicker of understanding. He bent over the bed, peeling away the furs covering Kain to his neck to examine him. He checked the cuts, as well, sniffed at the ointments the women used, then carefully pulled the furs over him again.
"Silly... so silly... So alike..." he muttered into his beard, looking preoccupied as he exited the room.
"What?" Ciri asked, having caught only pieces of his murmurings. She watched him leave the room but did not follow, her gaze returning to Kain. She quickly but gently pushed his bangs out of his eyes and felt his forehead with her hand. He did not feel like he had a fever, but she knew that could change quickly.
Mousesack returned later and occupied the stove, sorting through baggies and vials while the water boiled in a small pot. He picked, sniffed and threw ingredients together, then stirred for a long moment before taking it off fire, and covered it to cool down.
"Cirilla," he called and waited for her to come out. He fixed her with a stern look and shook his head reprimandingly. "Why are you even here? Why in the name of Gods have you escaped with him?"
His call brooked no argument and she reluctantly left Kain to speak to the old druid. He looked at her was though he was a disappointed father. She got that a lot from people lately.
"I did not escape with him," she said. "We ran into each other at the tavern in Larvik."
She folded her arms across her chest, unafraid – for now – of his stern and piercing gaze. "I left Kaer Trolde because Avallac'h insists on treating me like a prisoner. I will not allow it. Not from anyone."
Mousesack scowled, "Ran into each other…" He shook his head again, this time with a lament. "Oh, my child... I know Avallac'h's methods of working with you are not too gentle, it is so. But he means to help you, Ciri. He has less patience for whims on your side. I know it must be rather hard on you to be confided - you have never liked that. But the circumstances are grave. And that outburst of power..."
He sighed deeply and stroked his beard, pacing slowly across the room.
"So silly..."
"A prison built with love and affection is still a prison," she pointed out. "The circumstances have always been grave. Just because no one but me was around to witness it…" She frowned, watching him move across the room. "It wasn't mine. The outburst – that was not me. I have not guided Eredin back on my trail."
"I know, I know…" Mousesack muttered, frowning deeply. "But still…"
He checked the pot, stirred again, then turned to Ciri.
"It's not safe to be on your own, Cirilla. You cannot afford it right now. You need to go back to Avallac'h or - if you prefer - to my camp. Where you won't be alone and so vulnerable."
"I am only vulnerable until The Hunt finds me," she said. "Once they do I have free reign of my powers." She eyed the doorway to Kain's room. "I am not leaving him behind. Not while he is wounded. And I pity the man who tries to make me."
"He was raised by druids, Ciri," Mousesack said. "He's not as helpless as you think. It was a very reckless endeavor, and he spent too much power on it, but I can help with it. You cannot. When he wakes, you will leave with me. Are we in agreement?"
Not as helpless as me, he meant. That filled Ciri with derision. She tried to push it aside.
"Heal him. Save him. And I will go with you when he has recovered."
Mousesack sighed. "For me to help he should be able to drink. For now, he is on his own. With whatever powers that guide him. We have to wait, child."
"Then we wait." She turned and headed back for the bedroom, taking her seat beside Kain again, finding his hand with hers.
"You haven't told me why you came here," the druid pointed out, entering the room. His sharp eyes scanned Ciri and Kain's hand in hers.
"To Lofoten?" she shrugged lightly. "You know I was here before, with Avallac'h. When The Hunt came there was a man from this village who helped me. Risked his life. I wanted to see if he was still alive. To thank him."
"I assume you haven't found him among the living," he said, and hemmed with a sympathetic look. "Almost everybody was slain that day." He waved a hand in Kain's direction. "He's been with you all this time? I would expect the opposite from him. That is strange."
"He died. Not by the Wild Hunt's hand but by the shunning of his own people," she stated bitterly, then turned her gaze to Kain again. "Why is it so strange? Because he is a loner? Perhaps he has just not met 'his people' yet."
Mousesack chortled softly. "He's not always been alone. It's what he chose eventually. For the best for all."
"You speak of him as though he is some sort of monster." She narrowed her eyes at the druid. "Why?"
The druid looked at her with pensive scrutiny. "Do you consider Geralt a monster? And yet many do. Many call him Butcher of Blaviken instead of by name. Does it mean that only your opinion matters and theirs does not?"
"No. But I when I choose who to care for, who to spend my time with, then my opinion matters most."
Mousesack sighed. "That is it, child: Geralt you know, but this man you do not. They are not the same."
Ciri fixed him with a look. "And so I should shun him? Fear him because I do not know him? He has yet to give me a single reason not to trust him."
"It amazes me how you are so open to trust a loner you do not know after everything you've been through." The druid stroked his beard, pondering. "Avallac'h attempted to find you but failed. Do you know why, perhaps? Had he known about your new companions, he would be here before me."
And how do you know what I have been through? He didn't. Not everything. No one but Ciri knew that.
"He's special," she said without truly knowing why that word had come to her. It was true, though. She could feel it in her bones.
The fact Avallac'h had been searching and had failed, brought the slightest of smiles to her lips.
Freyja will provide. "Of course, I know. And he would be here regardless, Mousesack. He fears he is losing his hold on me. That I am slipping through his fingers."
"Are you?"
She shrugged. "Perhaps. To a certain degree. I do not wish to be his captive. Only to stand beside him as his equal as we enter this upcoming battle. I tire of having no say in what happens to me."
"If he ever saw you as his equal, Cirilla, I would be very surprised. Doesn't matter what you are capable of doing and how amazing it is. Elves are just not seeing things the way humans want them to."
"Does not mean I will allow him to walk all over me. He is not my father, nor my guardian. I am a grown woman, for fu–"
Kain stirred subtly, gaining Mousesack's attention.
"Try to wake him, I'll bring the brew."
As Mousesack exited the room, she gently cupped Kain's cheek, cautiously attempting to rouse him. "Kain? Can you hear me?"
Kain winced, trying to get his wits together, and opened his eyes enough to see the girl's blurry image. Keeping them open was too hard an effort, and he didn't bother. He felt utterly drained and barely awake.
Her questions reached him belatedly.
"I... can..."
"You are safe," she said because he needed to know. "Mousesack is with me. You need to sit up, just a little. So you can drink. Will you let me help you?"
Not that he had too much of a choice.
Her voice blurred into just a sound and Kain could no longer make out any sense.
He felt someone's hand lifting his head and something pouring into his mouth. It was warm and tasted strange; he smelt and felt something familiar that made him struggle to search his memory.
Mousesack.
It felt like a dream, all of it: the Garden, the druid... and the girl...
When Mousesack lowered Kain's head back on the pillow, he was asleep again.
"Couldn't drink it all," the druid said, peeking into the mug, "but that should do. He should get better."
"Good," she breathed, hovering behind the druid. "Good. Thank you."
She took a seat again. All in all today had been emotional and draining, and she was starting to feel it.
"How long until we should be able to see improvements? Hours? Days?"
"I've never seen him like this," said the druid. "I cannot judge. Time will tell. But I believe you would benefit from rest, my child."
Ciri ignored that advice for now, because another thought had struck her. "His griffin… Do you think it will feel what has happened? Will he continue to stay out of sight?"
"The griffin will be fine," Mousesack said on his way back to the stove. "It knows what's safe and what isn't."
"Right," she murmured. "Of course."
She leaned forward in her seat to straighten the fur-covers, pausing when she felt something hard and angular upon his chest. Something beneath his shirt. A necklace judging by the chain around his neck, one she hadn't actually noticed whenever he wore his cloak.
She gently pulled the pendant from its confines and stared when she found, in her palm, a witcher amulet.
Cat School.
She frowned, eyeing Kain with confusion as if hoping he'd wake up and provide answers. "Mousesack," she called eventually. "Is he a witcher?"
A pause. "No, Ciri. His only mutation is that he is a half-blood."
What did that mean then? Had the man he killed been a witcher? Had he taken the amulet as some sort of trophy? Like Bonhart had done with all the witchers he had murdered?
Or was it something else? Had he spent time with the Cat School witchers? Trained with them like she had with the Wolves? It was not impossible. And she was absolutely certain the amulet was real and not some cheap trinket sold at the markets. She could feel its power.
She swallowed thickly and tucked the amulet back in Kain's shirt, leaning back in her seat.
Mousesack returned a few moments later and considered Ciri with a contemplative look. "No need to sit by his side at all times, child. He's perfectly fine on his own. There is the Mother Goddess celebration in Larvik tonight. It could lift your spirits. I shall accompany you."
"I thought we already had this conversation," she said, a slight edge to her tone because she sensed that more than anything Mousesack simply wanted her as far away from Kain as possible. "I am not leaving him. You got your deal. Now stick to it."
"What are you afraid is going to happen to him here? Under these women's supervision? If not for you, he'd be alone in the woods somewhere with that griffin, and he'd still come out all right. You have nothing to fear, child. You have my word. I merely wanted to help you feel something other than 'being a prisoner', as you called it."
"I don't feel like a prisoner here, with him. So until he tells me to piss off, or wakes up healed and well, I'll stay. Whichever comes first." It was more than just a desire to be by his side. It was instinct – deep and primal.
Feeling she had been a tad harsh with the druid, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, smiling a little.
"You should go enjoy the celebration. I suppose you go every year?"
"I came here for you, child," he responded patiently. "I was worried something might have happened while Avallac'h has not been able to help and protect you. Your running off brought us both a lot of worry. More so to him now, for he still doesn't know what happened to you."
"What do you think of him?" she asked. "Avallac'h?"
The druid reflected. "I believe Geralt is right in his assessment of the elf. Avallac'h is not fully on anyone's side but his own, not following any agendas other than his own. There are some beneficial things he can grant you, my child, but one day, there would be a price. You have to be careful with him and his kin. They do not like to share anything with anyone freely, be it knowledge or power. Aen Elle never share power."
"I know," she said softly. They were a lot like mages that way. Even Yennefer was reluctant to share information until she absolutely had to – even with Geralt.
Ciri did, of course, also wonder what would happen should she manage to stop The White Frost. Would he have more demands of her? Would he attempt to take her back to Tir Na Lia? Only time would tell.
"If you insist on staying here, I shall go converse with the priestesses and come see you later. I shall hope you will be safe and will not venture anywhere alone."
He nodded and went out of the room, closing the door slightly, leaving it ajar.
Ciri nodded, then turned her focus back on the sleeping Kain. Her backside was starting to hurt, so she got up to move, slowly pacing the room to get some blood back in her lower body.
She adjusted the angle of the chair and sat down again eventually, finding Kain's fingers with her own.
She was prepared to wait for however long this would take. And she did. Though in the end, she slowly drifted off.
Kain woke with effort – the sleepiness was tugging him back into the dreamless rest as he surfaced from its depth, slowly and reluctantly. He felt something on his hand and raised his head a bit (with effort) to see.
The girl was sleeping hunched on a wooden chair that looked anything but comfortable. She was going to ache all over. Her fingers were interlaced with his.
He considered freeing it, but didn't need to do it right away. He carefully freed the other hand from beneath the furs and rubbed his eyes, trying to get more awake.
He felt tired, bordering on exhaustion, and as if he could spend another day or five just lying without moving. It alarmed him, nudging him to get out of the hut and run back to the woods. It was unsettling to be under a man-made roof.
But he was so tired…
He heaved a sigh, casting another gander at their hands, then at the girl. She seemed to be slowly slipping sideways. Another minute or two, and her weight would land her on the floor.
He gave her fingers the subtlest of squeezes and said quietly, "Chairs are the worst to sleep in."
Ciri jerked awake as though someone had smacked her, groaning at the soreness she immediately felt in her neck.
Still, she smiled, because her discomfort didn't matter now she saw he was awake. She gently squeezed his fingers in return before releasing him, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her thighs. "Hey… How do you feel?"
"Like I've been carrying Griffin on me for a week."
He stretched and shifted, both wishing to get up and stay down. Had it been the cave, he'd get up with less trouble. As always.
"The priestess and her women came. This is their house," she said, and in case he hadn't caught on before. "And Mousesack is here. He's quite, um, peeved. At the both of us, I think. Mostly he just mutters under his breath."
Kain nodded knowingly and pushed the furs off to sit up, slung his feet down, stilling to stave off dizziness that covered him and filled his vision with momentary blackness.
When it passed, he bent down to pull his boots on. The Cat medallion slipped out from the neck of his shirt, dangling. Well, hiding it was too late, then, wasn't it.
"So," she said casually once his medallion slipped from his neckline. "You have a witcher amulet but you are no witcher. Like me. Does this mean you have a Geralt of your own?"
"No." He pulled on the second boot and cast a quick peek at her as he straightened up to wait out another bout of lightheadedness. "It only means I was trained like a witcher. There is no… Geralt."
Ciri nodded, accepting that explanation. "Stranger and stranger, all these coincidences that befall us," she murmured, getting to her feet and lifting the chair back where she had found it.
He gave a small scoff of amusement, carefully getting up, holding a hand to the wall for certainty. "How many are there?"
"The hair, the magic, the animals, the witcher training, elven ancestry, the fact we are both charming and insanely gorgeous," she grinned, mostly at that last part, before she sobered again, watching him. "Sure you should be moving? Worried about the griffin?"
"I'm not worried, I just can't be playing corpse for too long. Especially in a bed. It's… strange." He looked around. "You know where they put my jerkin?"
"Might still be out on the cart. They treated your wounds in the garden."
Kain only just remembered about his cuts. He looked down at them with confusion and began to peel one of the bandages off. Now that he remembered, it stung a little, though the healing had already begun.
He wiped the mass they had applied to the cuts with the bandages and tossed them into fire as he passed by the hearth on his way to the door.
The air was chilly and fresh, coming from the sea.
She headed out towards where she'd seen one of the woman leave the cart earlier while she freed the horse, lifting the heap of furs there they had prepared for Kain for the journey back from the garden.
She found it soon enough, grateful one of the women had thought to bring it because Ciri had not. Her attention had solely been on Kain.
"Here," she said, heading back for the main doorway.
"Thanks." He pulled the jerkin on, not bothering with the straps yet. "And the sword?"
"Inside," she slipped past him and headed for the kitchen where his sword stood leaning against the wall. "They cleaned it. They're very grateful for what you did."
She handed it to him and stepped back, looking for any signs of Mousesack amongst the small cluster of abandoned houses.
Kain slipped it on behind his back and leaned against the hut's wall, taking in the rocks in the sea in the distance. "So it worked, then… in the garden."
"Yes," she smiled. "The garden is restored. And Freyja thanked you by sending us help."
She looked towards the direction of the crags, surprised it did not carry the scent of decay to the village. "Do you think Skjall is… Would I be able to touch him now?"
"If the Garden is as it should be now, then it's safe to try the water. It should cleanse him – in theory."
He detached from the hut and began to walk the path leading back to the garden.
"Wait," she said the moment he started to head off.
She dashed back inside and fetched a leather bottle, one meant to carry water on journeys. They'd need it.
She fell into step beside him moments after, their course set for the garden. She could have worried about his ability to walk that far so soon after he'd woken up, but decided not to. He deserved to see it, the lush green that had come alive once more.
Kain still felt tired and drained – as much he figured while they walked. A few women staying around the village stopped them to thank once again and wonder whether he should be up, and he put on the best acting face to convince them not to chain him down in a shed somewhere for the next few days.
On the way through the forest road, however, he felt it all. He felt like lying down somewhere in the shrubs and stare at the sky until he passed out. But going back to bed didn't feel like an option at all. For too many years he hadn't been comfortable letting himself sleep among strangers.
"This could wait until tomorrow," she told him, his exhaustion not going amiss. "If you want to head back for the cave, get some real rest?"
Her logic almost made him smile. They weren't as alike as she might be thinking, after all.
"I don't know what happens tomorrow, or whether it comes. I have now. I live now. So whatever I do, I do it now."
"Even if it means running yourself into the ground for something I asked of you?"
"Lying in bed when you're not dying is worse than extending the limits of your body a little," he reasoned, grateful to see the outline of the Garden wall ahead as we walked along the stream.
Ciri could agree with that. "A prison is a prison," she murmured.
They were silent until they reached the garden. Even now that daylight was waning, the change was evident. It had been dead and desolate before, like harvest had come too quickly and withered both grass and leaves. Now it felt like spring.
The gates were open this time, and there were four priestesses lurking about and cleaning the garden of fallen wolves' bones, remains and skeletons, getting the temple in order and lighting candles there. They gathered around the two briefly as they entered, and it was the rehearsal of what the women back in the village had said.
After all the courtesies they went to the tree where they sat down Kain told them about the man named Skiall's fate. They listened, and none interrupted or showed any distrust. They listened, gasped and shook their heads with sorrow plain in their faces.
"Tis so sad a tale," one of them lamented. "We ought to ask his soul to forgive our faulty judgement. His grave shall be among the honored. We will remember. North will remember its heroes and kind hearts. We thank ye both for opening our eyes. We thank ye for everything."
They went back to their chores and we descended the stairs to the lower level. Kain beckoned the girl and stopped at one of the fountains. The water in the white stony basin was clean as a tear now.
"Look." He shrugged the jerkin off onto the ground, took a handful of water from the basin and poured it over his forearm. As the trickle ran over his skin, the red cut began to turn paler and eventually it was unblemished skin as if he never cut it. "It's not my magic," he added, repeating it with the right arm.
Ciri did look and grasped his arm for closer examination, marveling at the wounds that healed as though they had never been there to begin with. "Amazing," she whispered, already feeling touched by how he had managed to convince the priestesses of Skjall's innocence. It meant the world to her. She was not sure she would ever be able to repay him.
She pulled the cork from her bottle and gently lowered it into the fountain, letting it fill.
"Will it be enough to cleanse him?" she asked Kain, holding the bottle up for him to see.
"There's only one way to find out." He pulled the jacket back on and led the way toward the gate. He gave the Garden a parting glance before exiting to stroll along the path back to the village. He was feeling better after they were sitting down and he sat against the tree. It filled him with the stamina he needed to see this through.
Kain seemed in better spirits and they made it back to the village a lot quicker than Ciri had assumed. They did not stop there this time, heading straight for the crags where they had left poor Skjall's body. He was still there, seemingly untouched by animals for now.
"His head and face?" she asked, crouching beside the corpse with her bottle in hand. "We don't have to, um, undress him, do we?"
"No need," he said, and winced subtly. "Not if you wish to pull his shirt off with what's left of the skin. Just pour it all over him."
Kain stuck the shovel they had picked from the shed in the village into the ground and glanced around.
"Where do you want that grave?"
"Away from the crags," she said, looking at their immediate surroundings, "He should not have to rest eternally beside such filth."
She uncorked the bottle again and poured the water all over Skjall's body, watching him as if waiting for some big magical revelation to appear. It did not. Not for her.
She looked to Kain. "Is it working?"
Kain observed the body, then nodded. "Yes. Spread it on the ground."
He handed her the heap of a discarded sheet of a sail they had found in the same shed, and stepped closer to help her unwrap it next to the corpse. When they managed, he carefully placed the body on the sail with magic. It took a longer moment to get his pulse back on track – using powers was still a bit of a stretch – but had they dragged him, they could have ended up with two pieces or more. The preservation spell was wearing off quickly.
They wrapped him up, and Kain gestured for her to get the shovel. "All right, show us the place, princess."
Ciri grabbed the shovel and gestured to their right. "If I remember correctly, there's a patch of grass and weeds not far that way, with a view to the sea."
Like expected it did not take them long to get there, but it was a sufficient distance away from the crags. She shifted some rocks aside with her boots and begun digging, grateful the ground had not yet frozen. Otherwise they'd never get him in the soil.
By all human standards, Kain had to dig it himself. But from any elf descendant's point of view, she was an equal who was to not be treated as a weaker kind. He sat down on one of the rocks and watch her work.
'Each buries their own,' as one druid sage once said to him. He meant something a bit different, but this fit here.
When she was done and stepped away from the hole, panting, Kain dragged the body to it and they tried to lower the bundle into the grave as gently as they could manage.
He straightened up, uncertain if there was any more appropriate customs of her people she wanted to attend before finishing it.
Ciri was slightly out of breath once she'd dug sufficiently and lowering Skjall into the hole actually made for a nice break. She did not speak, immediately pushing the soil back in, stopping only once the open hollow looked more like a mound.
Wiping sweat from her brow, she stabbed the shovel into the ground next to her and lowered to her haunches. She placed a hand on the newly turned soil and inhaled deeply. "I thank you for your kindness, your hospitality, and your sacrifice, Skjall. May you find your wings to the Goddess."
She sat a while before finally getting back on her feet, fixing Kain with a small smile. "And thank you. I don't know how I will ever repay you your kindness and hard work. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please, do not hesitate to ask."
"There wasn't much of hard work or kindness," he said, taking the shovel, and turned to go back to the village to return it. "I did what felt right at the time."
"Not comfortable with gratitude?" she asked, slowly trailing him, wiping her hands on her thighs.
"Not used to it," he shrugged, approaching the shed.
Kain left the shovel in the corner where they plucked it from, then went toward the sea to wash his hands before returning to the cave. He missed the griffin, and there were a couple of hares to catch for dinner, unless he opted for the tavern again.
"How did it go?"
"He will not allow his troops to fight under command of the witchers."
"Oh…" Triss's hand found his as they walked the outskirts of Vizima, putting more distance between them and the palace. "That was to be expected."
"He still orders to bring her. I don't even know how to bring it up with her, let alone bring her here."
Her hand squeezed his. "You don't have to think about it right now, Geralt. We have a battle ahead of us. Everything else is beyond surviving that. Forget about him for now."
"You're right."
"I think here will be fine." She stopped behind one of the sheds of the village outside Vizima. It seemed to be secluded enough to open a portal and get out of there. "Where to now?"
"Kaer Trolde, Skellige. We have to get Ciri and Mousesack."
"And Avallac'h," Triss added softly. "Is he doing better after the curse?"
"I assume so. We haven't been sitting down to catch up."
"Skellige, then. What about your horse? Is it still in Novigrad? We could-"
"Vesemir took her with him. She is probably already at the keep with them."
"All right." She raised her hands, concentrating, and a swirl of golden lights yawned open in front of them. She took his hand and led him in.
The sun was already gone from the sky over the Northern Isles, and only a patch of reddish pink over the sea horizon marked its exit. They observed the village from the cliff hanging over it, then hurried to the town gates.
"Hjalmar and his men are on their way already," Crach said. "I'm so sorry, Geralt, but I can't spare any more warriors. We need them here in case of the Black Ones' attacks. Forgive me. You know how I feel about our little Cirilla. She's like a daughter of mine."
"It's all right, I understand." Geralt smiled. "She knows it, too. Do not beat yourself up."
"We all do what we can," Triss drawled in a gentle tone, smiling subtly.
"Aye, aye…" Crach pondered something, then focused on Geralt again. "You'll want to see the elf, I assume? He's been restless, the maids say. I'll have sent for him." He grinned and stepped into Geralt with a bear hug. He pulled back and nodded, "Best of luck to you all. May the Gods watch over you and help drive these demons off our earth. Be safe. And don't forget, you can always count on us here, you and Cirilla, and Yennefer, of course. Bring the girl here if you need, she'll be kept safe."
"I thank you, it means a lot," Geralt said.
When the elf caught up with them on their way to the stables, his usually unreadable expression was cracking under what Geralt could only interpret as anxiety of the highest order.
"Is she with you?" Avallac'h demanded in a soft voice that still managed to sound highly authoritative, his blue eyes flashing with concern and anger.
Geralt stopped dead in his tracks, his heart sank. He stared at the elf. "You lost her? I left her in your care and you lost her?!"
Triss peered wide-eyed between them.
"Zireael has taken to sneaking out at night," Avallac'h said through clenched teeth. "Like an impetuous child. Typical of your race. She has not returned since last night."
The Witcher's mind races with possibilities of what could have happened to her, his eyes boring into the elf's with growing ire.
Triss's hand found his again, sobering him a little.
Geralt squeezed it unwittingly.
"How..." he attempted, swallowed, then took a long breath to continue. "What did you do to her?"
"Do to her?" Avallac'h lips curled for the briefest of moments in a sneer. "I assure you, Gwynbleidd, the girl needs no other reason than to push boundaries. Perhaps had she been better disciplined during childhood…"
"You don't dare say anything about her childhood, Avallac'h," Geralt said. His voice didn't rise, but the tone and the glare accompanying it were downright deadly. Triss's fingers twitched around his as if to spare him any possible thing he could regret later. "You have no right to say anything right now because I come back and you've lost the very one we're trying to save. It's not her failure – it's on you. You failed to make her feel safe and good enough to be by your side."
"She's probably at the druids camp," Triss said. "Nowhere else to go around here."
"Do you think I have not already searched this entire island?" the elf asked, his tone neutral again as if having remembered what was truly important. "The druids have not seen her. And my magic cannot locate her. I believe she is with the boy. The boy she continues to run to as if he is her destiny." He scoffed derisively. "The folly of youth."
A faint grimace of disbelief creased Geralt's features. "The boy? Her destiny? What— How can you even say that? What did she tell you? What about that damned boy? When I was leaving, she wasn't going to pursue him. I was certain of it from the way she spoke."
The folly of youth. Geralt could laugh if the situation wasn't so grave – the elf put it very on point, the Witcher had to give it to him.
Geralt rubbed his face with a hand, sighing. "I should've known… I should've taken her with me to begin with."
"She said nothing. Refused to. I have other means of finding out. She set off to Undvik in the middle of night and returned here soaked, freezing, and with torn clothes stained with her own blood." Avallac'h inspected his immaculately clean nails. "She never did feel the need to go off on her own during the years we have travelled together. Then two days with you and the sorceress…"
Geralt raised his eyes to him, once again in a deadly glare. "The sorceress and I are her only family, Sage. The closest people she has. This is why she'd never have escaped from us. You, however, are another story. Your constant attempts to push her further snapped the last of her patience, and she reacted. And now none of us even know where to look. So yes, oh great Aen Elle, you failed! Entirely."
"She couldn't have left far," Triss said. "She wouldn't use her magic, which leaves the boats? We should ask in the docks if any boats went missing or… or someone helped her. Someone must know something."
She tried to tug his arm to go, but Geralt was rooted in place, his eyes locked on the elf's in a battle of its own. He wasn't done.
"I assume you asked her what happened to her shirt and why she was bleeding. Speak."
"It would not matter. On the topic of the boy, she will not speak. Like I said, I have other methods."
Avallac'h met Geralt's glare with no intimidation at all. In fact, he was watching the Witcher as though Geralt was something unpleasant that had stuck to his shoe.
"Sirens," he added eventually. "She was attacked by sirens. And the boy put his healing hands on her. Who knows what else he did." The elf's gaze shifted to the steadily darkening sky. "She must be found before night comes. Without my protection, she is in more danger when asleep than awake. Her mind is not her own then."
Geralt felt his anger surpass the limits of allowed steaming and enter the dangerous road of seething. He sucked in a long breath, longing to squeeze his hands around the Sage's throat until his cold eyes bulged out bloodshot and panicked.
"At least some vagabond boy seems to be doing the right thing healing her wounds," the Witcher said through gritting teeth. "Since her rightful guardian no longer knows what and how to do." He turned and let Triss lead the way to the docks. "We have to find her before the night ends."
Avallac'h followed at a distance, his hands behind his back, towering over every single inhabitant of Kaer Trolde. Most of whom quickly got out of his way.
All the way through the docks Geralt was thinking how great would it have been to have failed turning Uma back into this waste of space and Ciri's time. All the purpose of those thoughts, of course, was in concealing his own guilt at leaving her behind. She wanted to come with, and Geralt had all the chances of having a constant eye on her at all times. But… Damn it. Damn the elf and his horseshit trainings.
Triss was way ahead, already charming some sailor. He was eagerly telling her something, his arms flailing to emphasize the tale. She turned to them after a few moments.
"He saw a white-haired girl boarding a small ship that was Larvik-bound. It was last night. She might still be on Hindarsfjall. I can take us to Larvik… I mean," she looked between them sheepishly, "one of you with me."
"I'll go," Geralt said. "Let's waste no more time."
Avallac'h narrowed his eyes at the thought of letting the witcher be the one to catch up with Zireael but as of now he had little choice. And he was still confident the girl, no matter how petulantly angry she was, would not go to battle with Eredin and his riders without him.
So Avallac'h simply let them go.
Ciri washed her hands in water drawn from the well, looking after Kain as he went. There was still no sign of Mousesack. Was it possible he had gone to Larvik, after all?
"Have dinner with me," she offered Kain once they met up again. "My treat this time. I told Mousesack I would go back with him if he healed you." She smiled a little. "He kept his end of the bargain."
"I'd be fine without him, too," Kain said, then shrugged. "Very well, dinner it is."
"Of course." Ciri gestured he lead the way. "Are you saying my "sacrifice" was entirely in vain?" She was teasing now. Partially, anyhow. "And that I should not have cut up my only shirt in order to staunch your bleeding?"
He threw a confused gander at her. "No, you shouldn't have. The nature would have restored me if it was needed had you left me there. I didn't go there fully believing I would die in the process. I knew there was a chance, but I like to let the powers-that-be decide. I'd be fine either way."
Ciri smiled. "I shall remember that for next time. Would the same apply had I found you unconscious, wet, and bleeding in a place that was not a sacred garden?"
"It would," he said seriously, but a faint smirk passed over his lips, nevertheless.
"Well, if the situation is ever reversed I demand bandages and to have my hair stroked until I heal."
Nature had never provided for her the same way it seemed to do him. Then again, she had never had much faith either.
"I've failed those demands twice already. But you're still alive and well."
Her lips quirked in a crooked smile. "Ah, yes, but you have magic on your side. And as everyone seems so keen to point out, I am apparently a true damsel in distress without mine."
"I saw those dead drowners, so I'm not all that inclined to agree."
"We've been separated for a long time; I think most of those I know still see me as the child they knew. Not the woman I've become." She smiled to herself, glad he did not seem to agree with them. "I fear that won't change no matter what I do."
"People that know you from the early age form a certain image of you they never let go of," he said pensively. "Unless they want to let you grow."
"I don't think they want to hold me back. Not Geralt and Yennefer, at least. The rest I am not so sure of.
"Mousesack helped raise me, you know? He was part of my grandmother's court. I suppose it is hard to see a child you used to put over your knee as an adult." She paused in thought. "Doesn't make it any less annoying."
"No, it never does. But then again, no one ever put me over a knee, so I can't know it."
"No?" She eyed him curiously. "Who raised you as a child?"
"Many people," he replied vaguely, grateful for the village gates approaching. "Druids, witchers."
"You were an orphan?" She knew he'd said he had a mother, but had thought something might have happened to her later in life.
"No, I knew my mother."
There was music playing in the village, and most of the population was drunk when they arrived. There were clusters of people laughing and cheering and playing games. The horses were relocated for the upcoming race, and some villagers crowded around them preparing the saddles and stirrups.
A tall figure detached from one of the groups and met them at the tavern. "I'm glad to see you are once again in good health, my boy," Mousesack said, his eyes going to Ciri. "Decided to race, after all? It is good to celebrate with people. Good for the soul."
Ciri was curious to know more but was not able to ask before they were interrupted.
She shook her head. "No, I'm passing on the race this time," she said. "We are here for the food mostly."
Mousesack clucked his tongue. "I shall leave you to it, then. Find me when you're ready to go, Ciri." He nodded to Kain in parting and went away. People met him with smiles and eager discussions; he was respected on all the Skellige Isles.
The druid seemed disappointed, igniting a flare of annoyance within her. Why did the men in her life always take it so personally when she did not indulge their expectations?
Kain pulled the tavern door open and held it for her before following inside.
We headed inside and she ordered their food at the counter — roasted meat and potatoes. She paid at once and took a seat at the table Kain had claimed. The tavern was a lot more crowded tonight than it had been during their previous visits.
There were a lot of customers, and they had to wait for their meal. They brought them water at once, however, which was good. Kain was thirsty.
People laughed and screamed their jokes and ordered more mead and wine, getting louder the more loaded they got. But a brawl was yet to happen. Unlike in big towns, a village could catch a break on that front.
Because of their chaotic surroundings, a conversation could not be easily overheard. Ciri leaned in a little after taking a sip of her water. "Tell me of your mother?"
Kain regarded her, frowning subtly. The instinct and habit of his whole life rejected the idea of opening up about anything too close and personal.
But she had been trying to save his secret back in the woods where they first met. He couldn't discard that, either.
"She was a druid. Her circle helped raise me. They taught me most things about how the world works. How magic works."
Ciri rested her chin in her hand, watching him. "And that is where your power comes from? Your mother's bloodline?"
He shrugged. "I never questioned where it comes from. For as long as it does, it's a part of me I never considered separate. You probably never questioned why you have two hands and feet? Magic's been as natural to me."
"Oh, I always knew why. Both my parents had two hands and two feet as well." Another jest, though she was not making light of the fact he was sharing. "Did you know your father?"
"No. Not that I ever asked, either. I never felt I was missing anything that could have been there."
Ciri nodded. If what he told her was true, and she had no reason to suspect otherwise, it sounded as though he had always been very logical and even minded. A stark contrast to her own childhood self.
"What about you? Has your grandmother managed to substitute for the parents you lost?"
"She tried her best. I certainly loved her. But I think being a queen does not leave much time for parental chores. I was mostly raised by nannies and other members of the court. Also, she tried very hard to keep me away from Geralt.
"She died when I was eleven, during the Slaughter of Cintra. Jumped to her death rather than submit to the invaders."
Kain nodded in acknowledgement; the corners of his mouth twitched in furtive amusement. "Not so easy to keep you away from people, is it. She merely didn't want you to become a mutant robbed of a normal life, is all. Geralt's been just a symbol of what she feared you'd have to be."
"I've been told I'm stubborn," she shrugged with a small smile, taking another sip of water. "Perhaps that was her reason. Of perhaps she simply did not want her only heir to relinquish the claim to the throne?"
Funny then how her father now seemed eager to put her back on that path.
"If she loved you, throne would come second after you and your needs and wishes. Being a witcher and being an heir are two vastly different things.
"You might have heard that before, but for a girl becoming a witcher is twice as hard as for boys. There were significantly less girls, but almost all of them survived the mutations. They became more vicious at killing than men more often than not. Some of the elders said it had to do with nature where many female species are more vicious and aggressive than males. Stripped of reasons for aggression – such as protecting their offspring – they threw that inner rage at whatever they had to face with a sword in hand."
"Perhaps it is a good thing then that they never attempted the mutations with me." Ciri tilted her head, watching him. "Nor you, it seems. What was the reasoning for that?"
Kain took another sip of water. "They decided that my set of skills could be developed without mutations and could still work. I couldn't do their signs, but I could do my own versions of Igni, Aard, even Axii. I could hear and see and smell better than average humans, so the need for potions witchers take for it also fell away. Perhaps they viewed me as an experiment, wanted to see what could come out of it compared to those they changed."
"I could never work their signs either," she admitted. "Do you take contracts? Paid work as a witcher?"
"Not for a long time now. I gave up the silver sword and contracts."
"You did not like it? Killing monsters for coin?"
Kain gave her a small ironic smirk. "I travel with a griffin. What do you think?"
Ciri shrugged. "You did not seem to have a problem disposing of nekkers. So you clearly do not feel the same emotional bond to all the creatures of the forest."
She cradled her cup in her hands. "I have never taken a contract. Never even paid it much mind. When Geralt first brought me to Kaer Morhen it did not even fully register they were training me to kill monsters and save people. I thought they were readying me to kill, period. That one day they would unleash me upon the world to have my vengeance on all those who had harmed me."
Kain hemmed in acknowledgement, pondering it. "Witchers and vengeance are not supposed to be put together. However, given how many Cats led their business, I can't judge. We can all be trained in the same custom and within the same rules, but in the end all that matters is a personal choice."
"Geralt set me straight. Refuse me my sword and training until I put those thoughts aside. I yielded eventually, but these days it is hard not to reclaim those feelings.
"How did you end up with The Cats? Were they on friendly terms with your druids?"
"The Cat School accepted both humans and Aen Seidhe, treating everyone on equal terms, so maybe that is how I ended up there. I was five, and all arrangements went without my consent. I went where I was needed to go."
"Yes. We do what we must," she agreed, leaning back in her seat once their food was finally served. They had made the meal look a lot more appetizing tonight, probably due to the festival.
They attacked their meals with suddenly found appetite, and for a long moment were busy solely with putting a dent in it.
People at one of the tables behind them began a song, and soon others supported the effort. Not all of them had an ear, nor voice for it.
The song was hideously performed and yet Ciri still smiled slightly in watching the people around enjoy their night. They had troubles, like everyone did, of course, and yet they managed to seem so unconcerned in these moments. Ciri envied them that.
She pushed her plate away once she'd polished off her entire meal, unbothered by the fact she ate with the appetite of a man. She always had. Even at Calanthe's court.
"Do you plan to stay here on this island for a while?" she asked once the songs died down and allowed for conversation again.
Kan washed the last bit of meat down with water and nodded. "I'll stay for now. No one's waiting for me anywhere. Time is my own."
"When was the last time you were recognized? Do you have wanted posters?" It was common in the larger cities, anyway.
"No. People who wanted me dead needed no posters. Later on the Black Ones have probably made some. I have no idea if there are any now. I don't really care to know, either."
The Black Ones. Emhyr. Her father, apparently.
She wondered if she should tell him. Hell, she wondered if she were to meet with the Emperor, she could use her position as his daughter to have his men stop hunting Kain.
The door opened letting in two travelers that immediately caught the majority's eye. A woman with a heap of wavy reddish hair followed by Ciri's witcher, Geralt. His eyes shot and locked on Ciri's head, then jolted Kain's way as they approached. Kain sensed his set of mind pretty clearly. Mutation did little to his emotional scale.
The white hair on the boy sitting across from Ciri astonished Geralt. Even if he was a halfbreed, it was a rare trait to come through. His face… there was something that sent a faint, unpleasant thrill down his spine. As if there was something Geralt couldn't quite place yet.
He barely opened his mouth to talk when Triss slipped forward, calling, "My sweet girl, oh how I've missed you!" She threw her hands around Ciri, peppering her cheeks with kisses. Geralt had a moment to rearrange things and dim the fear-fueled ire a bit.
Ciri immediately tensed the few seconds it took her to recognize Triss and the feeling did not exactly abate once she turned to find Geralt staring down at them with what Ciri read as mingled anger and fear.
"Triss," she said once she found her voice, slowly getting to her feet. "It is lovely to see you, too."
Her gaze drifted from Kain to Geralt, and stayed on the Witcher.
"Mission complete?"
Kain got up from his seat, as well, and brushed past the two newcomers and Ciri. "I'll go join the druid," he said to Ciri, squeezing her shoulder gently as he passed by in a gesture of mute support that he couldn't for the life of him explain or justify.
He felt the urge to cast a parting glance at her before he exited, but forced himself to just go outside and head to where he said he would go.
Ciri did not like Kain leaving but completely understood why he did. None of this was his problem. "Be safe," she said, a phrase that seemed to be the standard whenever they parted.
Geralt stepped aside to let the boy pass; it didn't escape Geralt's attention how his hand slipped off Ciri's shoulder when he walked away and to the door. There was a kind of closeness already. It was alarming the Witcher more than he could understand the reasoning for. It made him shiver inside.
"Gods, my darling, how are you?" Triss cooed, immediately settling in the boy's abandoned chair and gazing at Ciri with sparkling eyes filled with joy and enthusiasm. "Thank Gods you're all right! We were so scared to not have found you, and Avallac'h… He's very upset and rather scared himself, I would dare say." She giggled quietly as if Ciri had pulled the best joke of the year.
"How could you have run off like that, Ciri?" Geralt asked in a quiet metal tone. "Why would you do it?"
Ciri turned to look at Triss as she spoke. She was clearly in a better mood than Geralt. It was him Ciri felt a need to address first.
"Run off like what?" she asked calmly, not loving all the attention currently on their little group. "Like a woman in charge of where she goes and who she spends her time with? Is that such an outrageous thing?"
A very strange and dismaying thing happened in his mind when she said that. Geralt suddenly wished he had Avallac'h standing next to him so the elf could start his usual horseshit lecture filled with reasoning and urging and take her blame for it all instead of the Witcher. Geralt wasn't sure he could shoulder any more of her disappointment in how he handled things where she was concerned.
He heaved a sigh and attempted to soften his expression. It wasn't going all so well. He felt like an overly strained string of Dandelion's lute that was about to snap and hurt somebody. Somebody he loved more than anything in his life.
"Had it been any other moment – I'm entirely on your side. But right now – given things that are coming and things that keep you in constant danger – no, Ciri, you couldn't decide entirely freely for yourself. You don't even know that guy, and you seem to trust him more than people who have been with you for years. Why?"
"Geralt," she said with as much patience as she could because surely he already knew this. "Those dangerous moments are all I have. There is nothing else. Hasn't been for a very long time. If I want to live, this is the time to do it."
Triss was blissfully silent, allowing her to continue.
"Who said I trust him more than any of you? I don't. But I enjoy his company, getting to know someone my own age, someone whose life has similarities to my own."
Triss and Geralt exchanged quick surprised glances.
"What similarities?" he asked.
"Well, we're both hunted for, one. Living in hiding. Running." Information she was only willing to point out because she knew Mousesack had already told him. "But even if it was not for him, I still would have left."
"Where to?" he asked with a hint of helpless annoyance. "I understand your motivations when it comes to Avallac'h – he can crack the sky with his shenanigans. But Mousesack – why wouldn't you stay at least with him? He raised you!"
"And he still sees me as the five-year old I was back then," she pointed out with a sigh. "I did not come here for K–...for the half-elf. I did not even know he was on this island. I came for Skjall."
She watched Geralt, wondering if he recognized the name.
Geralt frowned, not immediately catching up who she meant. "Another friend of yours?"
Triss was smirking as if privy to a secret.
"Freyja's garden?" Ciri hinted, hoping he'd catch up. "The man who helped me escape The Hunt here in Skellige?"
Recognition dawned on him; his face darkened slightly. "I see. He died shortly after you were gone. I'm sorry about that. I owed him a debt I could never repay."
"I know. I buried him not two hours ago." She tucked her hair behind her ear, hoping to turn the conversation away from Kain and her and onto other topics. "What happened in Novigrad?"
"Nothing big," Triss put in, and smiled at Ciri, still feasting her eyes on the girl, listing all the changes, no doubt. "Geralt visited some possibly allies. Some turned out more ready to help than others… but it's nothing we haven't expected."
"I've been to your father's palace today," Geralt said. "He wanted me to bring you to him, stated he could protect you. I reasoned that the Wild Hunt would not look good strutting through his domain, and he offered some soldiers under his general's command. I couldn't agree to it. They wouldn't know what to do. They'd all be dead before anything truly started. I saw no point, nor possibility for us to use people as cannon meat.
"He was not pleased and still demands to have you returned to his care."
Ciri's head snapped from Triss to Geralt at the mention of her father, heart sinking. "I'm not going to Vizima," she said immediately in case that was not clear. "He had his chance at caring for me and squandered it by faking his own death so he could ascend to the throne. I do not need him. I already have a father."
A statement that was cemented with a firm look at Geralt.
Geralt made himself smile. "As much as it warms my heart, Ciri, you might want to give it a bit of further thought whether or not to just see him and tell it to his face. But only after the major problem has been dealt with. Not before. I believe he realizes it now as clearly as we all do."
"Don't worry, my sweet, we would never make you do anything you don't want to," Triss said in her tender tone, reaching over the table to squeeze Ciri's hand. "You will be your own mistress as soon as we rid you of that deadly shadow on your trail."
"Mousesack said you promised to go with him tonight. We could all go and spend a night at their camp and depart for the keep at first light."
"You remember this is the man who wanted to put his baby in me?" Ciri asked, shuddering at the thought. "I doubt he cares very much what I think, or what is best for me."
As for Triss' promises, Ciri knew they were not true. After the Hunt, there would be The Frost, and then… something else would crop up. She simply knew it.
Still, Ciri squeezed her hand in return for the least she could do was make the sorceress worry less.
"If this is my last night before the battle," Ciri said, and tried to keep her voice soft because she did not want Geralt to think her decision had anything to do with not wanting to be with him. "I would like to spend it with… him. It is unlikely we will get to see each other again. And there are things I need to say, things I need him to know before we part."
With the bouquet of things that invaded his mind and began wrecking havoc there, Geralt meekly hoped his face remained on a decent level of calm when he spoke.
"Ciri, are you two... How close have you gotten?"
Triss smiled a little, but she still looked flabbergasted and curious.
Ciri averted her gaze the moment he asked, cheeks flushing pink. It did not feel natural discussing these things, the things he was insinuating, with Geralt. Or anyone else, for that matter. Even Yen and Triss.
She folded her arms across her chest and forced herself to look at him again, face burning. "We… We're friendly. We talk. We've shared a few meals."
It wasn't the firm enough answer he was looking for. But it felt like she could burst into a fit if he was to dig further.
"How much does he know about you?"
"Not everything, but a lot," she admitted.
Geralt tensed. "I would like specifics. And also your reason to let him in on what we can't afford any outsiders to know."
When he tensed, so did Ciri. As if bracing herself for an oncoming fight. "He knows who I am. I did not tell him. He put it together himself. And you know what?" she shrugged. "He doesn't care. He doesn't care who I am, or what I am capable of. And quite honestly, it's a damned relief."
Geralt winced in disbelief. "If he says he doesn't care, it doesn't mean it's true. And how on earth could he have put anything together without your help? Is he a sorcerer? A seer? And what of his friend? You told me he had a friend he was protecting."
"He never said it. The proof is in his actions." And she firmly believed it. "Who he is, is of no matter. Nor his friend. I know you all find it hard to believe I can keep myself alive without the help of my elders; that I am naive and too trusting; selfish." It was what Avallac'h had insinuated and she feared Geralt felt the same. Because no matter how hard he'd been trying this past week, Ciri was certain he still saw the girl he had brought back from the Brokilon forest. And she did not know how she could change that. "So let me remind you: before we found each other again, before Avallac'h, I was entirely alone. For years. And the most awful things happened to me during that time. Things I will never–"
She quieted herself, forcing the angry tears to recede.
"But I survived. I am not as fragile and helpless as you all think I am. I do not trust easily." Ciri pointed at the door Kain had exited a few minutes earlier. "He is the exception. You are right, I do not know him well. But that does not matter. I am drawn to him for a reason. I may not know that reason yet, but I am putting my faith in it. Because it is the same feeling I had when I first saw you. I knew you and I were meant to be together. And there is something similar about him that makes me feel…"
She inhaled and exhaled deeply, unable to find the words to describe it. Ciri was not sure there were any.
She closed the space between Geralt and herself and took his clean-shaven face in her hands, making sure he looked at her. "I love you. Always. And I miss you. Always. But this is something I have to do. For myself. One night, that is all I demand."
Geralt's heart shrunk in deep-rooted sorrow of how much he had missed and how much was there she might never let him know. How much else would she gather along the way and never even try to share because she had lost the habit of opening up to him? How could he ever go back to that place where they didn't keep secrets and knew that there was always an understanding between them that couldn't be broken? Where would he even begin fixing everything that was broken when so many things were?
Geralt took in a breath and let it out, a bit shakily. His throat felt blocked; there was a lump that made it hard to breathe. He could only give a curt nod. He couldn't voice letting her go, for it felt as if he was losing her. Again.
Again.
His sadness did not go amiss and all at once there was a lump of guilt deep in her stomach. And the difficulty was Ciri did not know why he was so sad, what she had done to put that look on his face. Was it the grieving of a parent who finally needed to accept their child was growing up? Or something more?
He did not make the initiative this time, so she did. She hugged him to her, standing on the tips of her boots in order to fully wrap her arms around his frame, her cheek resting against his. "I will come find you early tomorrow at Mousesack's camp.
"I love you," she reminded him again before she released him, slowly parting before heading out the door.
Geralt didn't say anything – there was nothing else he could say or felt he could utter, for that matter, as he reciprocated her embrace, feeling the lump grow some more.
He didn't turn to watch her go away. He could not. He didn't feel he could do anything for her while she seemed to be consciously widening the gap between them.
We all have failed her.
I have failed her.
And now there was that renegade half-blood doing gods knew what to her mind…
Or body. Of course it was Avallac'h's voice adding his bit of poison to his head.
Geralt lowered heavily onto the chair she had vacated and put his face in his hands. The chaos of laughing and singing bothered him no longer while there was a buzz of chaos going on inside his head all by itself. He wished Yennefer was with him now. He didn't know why, but the wish was so strong he could have screamed her name.
But it was Triss's hand that found his forearm to squeeze. "She'll be fine, Geralt. We're here, and Mousesack is. This boy hasn't hurt her, and she will be with us again tomorrow. We should go back to the camp and get some rest."
"Yennefer should get here to see her in the morning," he said, lowering his hands on the table, peering at her.
Her smile died out rapidly, there was hurt in her eyes.
I've hurt another friend. Seems it's all I can do these days.
"If you hope she'd change Ciri's mind about—"
"Even if she could, it's too late to find out," Geralt said tiredly. "But she might be the one Ciri could actually… feel less defensive with. Now that you and I achieved nothing on that front.
"I don't mean it to offend you, Triss. You're a part of Ciri's circle, as rightfully as any of us. But I want to try everything I possibly can before anything goes wrong before or during the battle."
"I understand," she said quietly, withdrawing her hand. "As you wish. But let me bring us to the camp first. Come."
They got up and went for the exit.