The Elf stood, much like he had for the past hour, entirely still on a cliff overlooking the ocean below. His long blond hair was swept up by the breeze that suddenly arose, the air around him crackling with electricity signaling a portal was about to open.
Finally, he thought. He had never had much trouble with time, never been in a hurry. Aen Elle had forever, after all. But this last hour, this last day, had been absolute torment.
Geralt didn't want to talk when they arrived, but the tall silhouette of the elven Sage was approaching as soon as the Witcher gained the balance. Triss stayed beside him as if to support. It occurred to Geralt she didn't want to leave and was trying to postpone the moment. He went for a fallen log and settled on it, rubbing his face. He felt exhausted – strangely, emotionally exhausted.
Avallac'h approached the two travelers and after a moment's silence spread his arms wide, one brow raised in inquiry. "Where is Zireael?"
"In Larvik," he said simply, not taking his hands off his face. "Promised to come back here in the early morning."
"Ah," the elf said softly. "Promised, did she? Must be true then. We have no reason to doubt her word."
"I'm not in the mood for sarcasm exercises, Avallac'h," Geralt said. "She gave me her word. She's never broken a word given to me. That won't change now." He lowered his hands to his lap and looked up at the Sage slowly. Geralt's face expressed nothing like a blank canvas. "Are you satisfied?"
"I will be satisfied once the little Swallow is back at my side." Avallac'h's face darkened. "She is with him? How predictable. She always did have a… hunger for elves."
Triss blinked, unsure how to react, and turned to assess Geralt with a wary face. The Witcher rose slowly from the bench and stood in front of Avallac'h boring into his cold eyes.
"Go, Triss," he said, not taking his eyes off the elf. "Thank you for your help, I couldn't have done without you."
There was nothing of the warmth in his voice that could normally be there, but she knew why. She wanted to say something, but thought better of it and nodded, stepping back more and more, until she turned away and opened a portal to disappear into.
"Do I wait for your elaboration, or do I beat it out of you? I can do both." Right now, Geralt meant it fully.
Avallac'h smiled. It was not a nice smile. He preferred to save those for Zireael.
"She is of our blood. Aen Elle. The daughter of Lara Dorren. It is no surprise she favors our kind over dh'oine. It is only natural. Her genetic makeup, one could say."
Geralt gave a sudden nasty sneer of his own. "He's not an elf. He looks nothing like you. A human with fair hair and very human ears, at that. I don't think you're as aware of her preferences as you claim to be."
He shrugged, unconcerned. "You think the ears make the elf? Physical appearance means so little, Gwynbleidd. Blood matters more. Whether he is of Aen Elle or of our cousins, Aen Seidhe, he is still an elf."
Avallac'h fell silent a moment, then regarded the witcher with disappointment. "You should have brought her back. Kicking and screaming, if necessary. Now night has fallen and so Zireael will succumb to sleep. And who visits her then? Surely she has told you?"
Geralt had to make an effort to stand still and not throw a punch. Through gritted teeth, he said: "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
His lips twisted in a satisfied smile, pleased the girl had not confided in the Witcher. Perhaps they were not as close as the mutant thought?
"Eredin, of course. He enters her dreams at night. Or more accurately nightmares. I have not gotten a detailed look of what happens there but I have watched over her while she sleeps enough to know his aim. Eredin was always charming. Always manipulative. And our Zireael took an instant liking to him back in Tir Na Lia. Her body, how do you say, warmed to him.
"Every night I have been by her side, he seduces her. Even when we travelled to worlds where he could not follow. It mattered not. He was there, in her mind. Whispering. Coaxing. And more than once did she use her powers in her sleep. I had to subdue her so he would not catch on to our trail.
"While she is with me, I can keep her from leaping through space and into his waiting embrace. While she is with me, I can keep her safe. But now she is alone, with only the half-breed to help her. If that is even his true intentions. Mark my words, Gwynbleidd, as long as she is out there, she is in grave danger."
Geralt was afraid he was beginning to shake with all the helpless ire and disdain filling him steadily like pouring mead filled a tankard. It was hard to come up with any sounds to begin to answer that. He cringed at the idea of all the impossible, filthy intentions roaming those Aen Elle's heads concerning Ciri, but this was not the time, he reminded himself, to start a murder spree with the one before him.
He swallowed. "She seemed to have been doing quite all right thus far without your ever-waking watch, Avallac'h. Perhaps she needs no more of your intrusive presence she stands so little of she had to flee across the sea."
"It is the Elder Blood," Avallac'h said, once more unconcerned by Geralt's wishes the girl should only rely on him. "It is fiery and explosive. Defiant. She bristles when faced with the consequences of her actions. She is much like Lara Dorren in that way. But do not fool yourself – she needs me. As do you if you hope to defeat Eredin and his riders. In fact, you need all the help you can get."
He paused, brushing his flawless hair off one shoulder. "Were you successful in gathering allies?"
Geralt glowered at him, muscles bulging on his cheeks. "My friends will come and help us. Not many, but it's what you say – we need every single one we can count on. They will be there."
"Good," the elf said, absentmindedly moving for the cliff again. "Then, we wait."
"You threw Keira out of a window!" Triss yelled, eyes bulging, face red as she appeared in Yennefer's chambers, her hands defiantly fixed to her narrow hips.
Yennefer hadn't been able to sleep properly, merely resting, lying with a pillow tucked under her head, eyes closed for the sake of giving it her best effort. She knew she'd been wrong, that she overreacted, but she couldn't bring herself to be sorry about what she'd done to Keira or Lambert, and if Triss wasn't careful she'd be joining her mouthy friend.
"Where's Geralt?"
Triss's mouth snapped shut and for a time she looked like a fish out of water.
"The druid's camp in Ard Skellig."
Yennefer sat up abruptly, worried suddenly that something had happened to him – that something was the matter with Ciri.
"And Ciri?"
"That's why I'm here," she said, speaking tight-lipped. Triss motioned with her hand and every candle in the room ignited, doing away with the darkness. "You've replaced my bed."
A pointless observation.
"Threw it out the window and into the mist where it belongs," Yennefer corrected, narrowing her eyes, daring Triss to push her to another point as she was longing for a round two.
Yennefer could see in Triss's eyes that her anger at the situation with Keira had temporarily overridden any kind of culpability she might have expressed, even if it was hollow.
"Unless you'd like to join it, I'd rather you get to the point."
"What'd Keira do to deserve your ire?"
Yennefer pushed aside the covers and slipped out from beneath them. "She didn't know how to mind her own business."
"So you threw her out of the ground floor window? She broke her ankle! She has a cut above her eye."
None of the wounds listed moved Yennefer even a little. She helped herself to what remained of the mead.
"We're all gathered here to help Ciri and now you've gone and caused a conflict."
"I'm sure it's not the first time her tongue has got her into trouble."
"You broke her leg."
Yennefer set aside her mug, swiping at her lips. "Get to the point, Triss. What unfinished business did you have with Geralt that merited her coming in your place? And why isn't he with you? Where's Ciri?"
"That's why I'm here," she said, and Yennefer could tell it was the only reason she'd even considered leaving Geralt's side. Yennefer could see it on both her face and in her posture. "Ciri's fine, physically anyway, but there's this boy—"
Yennefer strode toward her clothes, plucking them off the chair, waving a hand that carefully materialized them to her frame, and then stepped into her books.
"Say no more. Where am I supposed to meet him?"
Triss looked forlorn and Yennefer could tell she wanted to argue more about what Yennefer had done, the fact that she'd reacted so wildly, but Yen wasn't here for it and nor was she going to let Triss push her into a corner.
"Druids camp."
"Feel free to make use of my bed tonight," Yennefer said, gesturing to it in its unmade mattress, the other hand raising to the air, recalling the golden shift of light that carried her from place to place.
And then, she left.
Avallac'h stood unmoving for a long time, ignoring whatever activity happened behind him at the druid's camp, and the witcher who was glaring daggers at his back. When another rush of energy alerted the elf to a new arrival, however, he turned his head. "Your sorceress is coming."
"Where is she?" Yennefer asked, easily having managed to hook onto Geralt's energy and to locate him, her gaze fixating on the Elf rigidly stood nearby.
Geralt heaved a sigh. "She's not here, Yennefer. Not here."
Avallac'h did not even deign to turn and face them both. His hands casually clasped behind his back, he spoke towards the ocean and allowed the wind to carry his voice back to them both. "She is in Larvik. With a half-breed elf she refuses to leave behind. You could go there, try and talk some sense into her. Perhaps you would have better luck than your Witcher."
Geralt's energy concerned Yennefer greatly. She speared a heated look at the back of Avallach's head, unconcerned with his manners or lack thereof, thankful at least that he'd explained.
"Does he have her under some kind of spell? Is she safe? Who is he?" Questions she directly solely at Geralt.
Geralt pressed his lips together for a long moment while he tried to squelch all the things wanting to be spilt addressing the Sage. When the urge dimmed, he gave Yennefer a tired look.
"He's that boy she met here in the woods. Apparently, they met by accident once again when she fled from under Avallac'h's supervision and stayed on Hindersfjall. She says she trusts that boy. She asked to stay there for one final night, promised to come here in the morning."
Her expression hardened, shifting to Avallac'h, wanting him to explain why Ciri would have run from him in the first place when they'd been this dynamic team for so many years.
Was it as Yennefer thought: had Ciri stayed with him purely because she had no other options?
"She wants to stay with him to do what, precisely? Does she… does she have designs on the boy? You're going to have to clear things up for me a little, Geralt, we're at war here and as entertaining as a sleep over can be with the opposite sex, we're not at a point where it should be an option. She knows that."
Geralt spread his arms. "What do you want me to say? She knows what you know, but she insisted on spending that night on the island with him. She didn't elaborate on what precisely she will be doing."
Yennefer had no idea what to say to that. She only had one concern. "Is he a danger to her you think? Did you meet the boy?"
"Only briefly – he made a quick escape when we came in. I have no idea whether he's dangerous for her. But he's dangerous in his own right, given his Brokilon past. And as fleetingly as I saw his face, it seemed oddly familiar, but I'm sure I couldn't have met him anywhere."
Yennefer had no idea what to do with the information they'd given her.
Every cell of her body said that she should go over there, snatch Ciri away, and bring her back, but another—the part of her that felt they'd never had to deal with this kind of revolt from Ciri in regard to anyone but them—made Yennefer want this for her, to realize that it was possibly just a bit of adolescent rebellion and freedom.
"What do you want me to do? You've spoken to her, measured of the situation, if I go over there, demand she come with us now and start a pre-battle with the boy, how bad is it going to be?"
Geralt slowly shook his head. "I don't think you can change anything for the best if you go there. She begged me to let her stay. I couldn't rob her of what she said she really needed to do for herself before her life could end."
He spread his arms in mute what-are-you-going-to-do and went toward the hill to see if he could lie down on the grass and try to doze off.
Then Yennefer wasn't even going to try.
He wouldn't have left Ciri there if he thought for a second that the boy was going to do some terrible harm to her.
That, however, didn't diminish the fact that Geralt appeared to have a lot on his mind.
Yennefer cast a glance at Avallac'h's back, and followed Geralt over to his designated patch of grass. She eased onto the ground and lay down beside him.
"You want to talk?"
Geralt closed his eyes. "No. I don't think I can… right now. For now, I just wish to forget… for at least a very short time we have left."
Yennefer positioned his arm beneath her head, curling up against his side, an arm resting on his chest, hand coming to rest on the side of his face, stroking his jaw lightly, mutely encouraging that he sleep.
She knew she wouldn't.
It hadn't escaped her that despite the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about her, that she wasn't part of his life, anymore, or in the way that she'd wanted, he'd sent Triss to retrieve her. She hadn't told Yennefer in so many words but Yennefer knew. And for what? To drag Ciri back by her hair? To comfort him? To provide Geralt with a shoulder? Triss could and would have willingly done all that for him, and more.
When his breathing evened out, a small smile touched her mouth and a hint of peace that had been disrupted earlier at Kaer Morhen finally seemed to bow back in.
Ciri did not find Mousesack or Kain outside. She doubted the latter would have remained amongst the throng of people celebrating the Goddess with songs and drink, and therefore went in the direction of the cave.
Even though she had been there before it was hard to find in the dark. The moon allowed her just enough light to reach her destination, however, without tripping over roots and shrubbery.
She entered the cave cautiously, not wishing to startle the griffin and have him bite her head off. He was lying in the same spot he had occupied the night before, cleaning his feathers and watching her with shrewd eyes. He did not seem threatened by her appearance, though.
Kain was nowhere to be seen, but she assumed he had just been here or would return shortly judging by the fire still burning brightly.
She shook out of her cloak and sat down, warming her hands and feeding a few pieces of wood to the crackling fire.
Kain didn't bother with the jacket's clasps once again, merely hurrying to the cave so he could warm up after the cold bath, his wet and wrung out shirt in one hand and the sword in its scabbard in another.
He froze in his tracks for a moment when he saw the girl sitting at the campfire when he entered.
"Don't tell me you came all this way just because the goodbye at the tavern was not sufficient to your liking."
He lay the sword down at the satchel and spread the shirt to dry on the rock he'd used the night before. TheCat medallion was freezing against his wet chest, but he saw no reason to take it off. She had seen it, along with too many other things.
"Absolutely," she said, with a hint of teasing. Though, in truth, there was some honesty there, as well. "Tomorrow I will face The Wild Hunt. I hope and believe I will come out of it alive and in one piece, but one can never truly know. And so I wanted to tell you, thank you, not for your help that I have thanked you for before. But for the experience.
"It has been a long time since I met someone new who did not try to harm me. I was starting to believe there was no hope of that ever again. Making friends." She glanced at him with a slight smirk. "As much a friend one can make in a few days, anyway."
Kain settled against the griffin's side and reflected on her words a moment, then nodded. "It's a rather touching speech, I surely admit that. It's been years since I've let anyone live and with two legs as close to me. And to be honest, I don't know why I did now. I just did."
"The reason doesn't matter," she said with a small shrug, smiling. "What does is that it happened."
She shifted a little where she sat before observing him again.
"I told my people I would meet them tomorrow, when we are ready to set off. Do you mind me staying here for the night?"
A fleeting smile fluttered over Kain's mouth. "I'm two days late to mind that, am I not."
His smile, however faint, sent a thrill of excitement through her. "Of course not. I bring trouble and dramatics to your life," I said with a small smile of my own. "If you wanted no part of it, I would completely understand."
Kain looked at the fire for a bit, contemplating.
"I rarely question things that happen to or around me," he said eventually in a quiet pensive tone, "because I came to learn that everything happens for a reason, be it obvious or unknown to me. Fighting or resisting things that happen like that is about as useful as trying to make the sea tide stop."
Ciri questioned things always and supposed it was part of her curious nature.
She lay down on her fur cloak and propped her head up with her hand and elbow. "When I told him I wanted to spend the night here, Geralt looked as though I had slapped him. And then kicked him repeatedly in his… manly bits." She frowned. "And yet he spent the last two days away from me, even though I asked to come."
Hiding a faintly amused simper at her choice of terms, Kain gave a lazy shrug. "He's worried, angry, scared, which is a nasty combination for a human, but even more so for a witcher. His emotions feel too strong for someone who's actually been through the mutation. He might not be fully aware of how to deal with them. It's not in a witcher's habits to explode and throw fits, and suppressing everything one is not supposed to be feeling at all is a hellish job, like fighting wildfire with your bare hands."
"I suppose so. I have some… anger issues myself, or so I've been told."
"You're not bound by any mutations," he pointed out unnecessarily. "And Elder Blood is just a gene with some attributes. It's not a rabid trait, nothing that adds to your temper. You'd be the same way you are even with solely human blood. Anger is tricky to learn to tame. It takes years of constant efforts, much like with taming one's mind and teaching it to go where and when you want it to."
"That is not what the Aen Elle thinks," she murmured, laying down and resting her head atop her folded hands. "But I am still practicing. Avallac'h is making me meditate. I am not a fan."
An unwitting chuckle escaped him. "Not everybody is. But each seems to eventually find their own way to achieve the needed goal, which is usually levels of concentration. I wasn't fond of sitting still doing nothing, either. But druids don't take that for a serious excuse."
"It's hard to imagine you as a child," she confessed, watching him with something close to affection for a moment. "You appear as though you have always been an adult."
Another amused sneer creased his mouth momentarily. "I had my moments. But mostly those who raised me have been treating me as their equal, at least trying to. They explained things as they would to an adult and expected me to behave accordingly. Let's just say, you don't always feel like throwing tantrums when you realize the reason behind some things you have to do despite hating it or being bored."
"Perhaps if I had the same experience my grandmother would have needed to spank me less," she smirked. "Were there other children where you grew up? Did you get to play?"
"Yes, there were, and we did. Not that I remember much of it now. All games stopped after I was five. I was sent to the Cat School."
That's sad, she thought but did not say that out loud. He seemed fine with his past and present. Who was she to make him feel otherwise. "There were no other witchers in training at the same time as you?"
"There were many, boys and girls. The Cat School accepted both."
"I was the only child at The Wolf School," Ciri smiled at the memories. "And they were all men. Not too knowledgeable on the little nuances of how to raise a girl rather than a boy."
Kain cracked open an eye, concealing his amusement. "There are nuances? Like the obligatory stroking of their hair when one of her opponent whacked them over the back with a wooden training sword?"
"More like how to adjust combat techniques for someone growing breasts and to be aware of a certain week each month that her body is an aching, hormonal mess," she smirked, straightening the flap of her cloak beneath her to get more comfortable. "Strange how tongue-tied a group of rough burly men become when feminine issues are brought up."
"That's because you haven't gone through mutations. That solves the monthly problems for girls according to their own account. As for the body structure and built – I don't recall a single girl at the school who's ever had any issues or complaints about that, either. If anything, it was beneficial for them to have nothing fragile between their legs when it came to sparring sessions."
"Not fragile but highly sensitive," she smiled into her cloak, closing her eyes. "Did they all make it through the mutation process? The children you trained with?"
"Almost all the girls did, except three or four. Boys didn't fare as well – five or six out of ten died."
"Did that scare you? When you were still young enough not to know if they would try the mutations on you as well?"
"I knew from early on that I wouldn't be going through that. I had been warned countless times that I had to work twice as hard to compensate for it. I never found much to compensate for, however. Except for healing all the bruises - it was a great practice to get better at what I'd been taught before."
"You are extraordinary," she murmured with a smile, half-asleep already. "Beautiful. And powerful. In charge of your own fate. I hope… I hope I will still be alive come night tomorrow. And that I can start to live… more like you…"
Kain opened his eyes to look at her. He didn't think of himself like that, nor that he could seem like it to anyone else.
Other than Her… that green-clad beauty with fierce eyes…
He sighed quietly and let his eyes close again. Her face flickered in the mist of his inner eye while he drifted off to sleep.
Don't move… Don't move…
Eredin's found her, like he always did. They are in a corridor in the palace at Tir Na Lia, surrounded by exquisite art and marble floors and walls. There are doors, blue doors, on either side, the hallway stretching as far as the eye could see.
"This is different," she remarks. "New. I have never dreamed of this place before."
"Who says this is your dream?" Eredin asks smoothly, eyeing a painting of a beautiful eleven woman on one of the walls. "Your ancestor. Lara Dorren. Avallac's betrothed."
He turns to look at her, curiosity gleaming in his green eyes. "And you still trust him? The man who forced you to bed our King? I told you, even back then, Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha is a liar. He was never going to let you go, luned. Not even if you gave him what he wanted. Lose the closest replica he would ever come to his beloved Lara? Never."
Ciri should not be here. She knows that much. She should not allow him access to her mind. She needs to wake up. She needs to escape.
She moves down the corridor and begins opening doors, searching for a way out. But every door she opens only reveals a pile of corpses.
"Nor would you, though you made the same promises," she tells the elf. No matter how far she moves down the corridor he is still right beside her. "You tried to hinder my escape as well, with a very sharp sword, if I remember correctly: 'I won't kill you. But a few weeks in bed, in bandages, will certainly do you good.' That is what you said."
She opens another door and screams. It is Geralt. And Yennefer. Dandelion, Zoltan, Hjalmar, Triss, Vessemir, Eskel, Lambert… All in bloodied, mutilated pieces.
Oh, Gods no...
Eredin moves up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist, and rests his chin atop her head, staring at the horrific scene in front of them with nothing but serenity.
"That was then. This is now. Though I promise you, Zireael, once you join me you will not wish for anything else. We will go wherever, whenever, fighting, riding, feasting… Everything you have desired for so long."
It takes her a moment to find her voice again. When she speaks, it sounds hoarse and raspy.
"And my family and friends would be dead. As would everyone else."
"Not necessarily. We will need slaves."
She inhales sharply, her body trembling beyond her control. "Fuck you."
Eredin smiles like the predator she knows him to be. "Come to me, Zireael, and I will not hesitate."
Kain was on his feet, rubbing his eyes to open, before he knew what was going on.
A scream.
He woke up to a scream.
He kneeled next to the girl whose face creased anxiously in the meek light of the dying campfire. She winced and muttered under her breath.
The griffin croaked behind him, staring in alarm, his scruff bristled.
"Ciri?" He shook her shoulder, tapped her cheek with his hand. "Wake up. You hear me? Wake up, princess, wake up, come on."
Ciri shakes free of Eredin's hold, frantically moving further down the hall, ripping open door after door only to find the same heart-wrenching result she's seen earlier.
"Where are you going, me elaine luned?" Eredin asks, lazily trailing her with no urgency at all. And yet, he manages to always stay just a few paces behind. "Why do you deny yourself the freedom and happiness you crave? The freedom and happiness I offer you?"
She laughs. It is a humorless, defeated laugh. "You offer no such thing. You offer me a life in chains, a life where my loved ones are suffering or dead."
"That is what The Fox and your little friends will tell you. That does not mean it is the truth. They tell you to control yourself. To remain calm. To hide while they fight your battles. They think you weak and frail, Zireael. But I know you are anything but. You have not even begun to discover the power within you and the things you can accomplish. I would never want to suppress those talents. I want you to use them freely. I want you to be yourself."
Lies. Pretty lies.
Eredin captures her chin with his long, cold fingers and forces her to meet his gaze. "I am not lying. I give you my word."
Doubting someone's word is a serious insult to the Aen Elle.
"Ciri?"
A new voice from behind her. Kain. She whirls around to find him, her beautiful Archer, standing in the corridor, his face pinched with concern.
"Wake up. You hear me? Wake up, princess, wake up, come on."
He is right. She must wake up.
But it is too late. Her gaze drifts from Kain to Eredin, the latter who is watching the newcomer with a shrewd and calculating gaze. His full lips split in a shark-like grin, evil glinting in those green eyes.
No, no, no… He has seen him... Eredin knows...
Terrified, she throws herself in Kain's direction, her fingers locking around his wrist. And in a flash of green they are gone.
Kain couldn't see it coming this time, and therefore couldn't prevent it.
She wasn't waking up, more fear saturating her aura, her face; and then suddenly her hand clasped around his wrist like vice, and everything turned glowing green.
Cold, piercing cold stung his chest and face, his fingers felt like he dipped them in icy water. The wind whipped their hair around their faces, howling hollowly among the tall columns around them.
He gaped, unable to believe it. But the cold was real. Her hand slipped off his, and he pulled his jacket closed for warmth, clasped the buckles quickly with freezing fingers, still looking around, still finding it hard to believe.
It was the Tower on Undvik. She took them to the Tower.
Ciri gasped awake and found herself lying on a cold stone floor. She pushed herself onto her elbows and found Kain, wandering around her with wide eyes and a pale face. They were no longer in the cave.
It did not take her long to understand what had happened. Fear stabbed at her heart like a dagger and she hurriedly scrambled to her feet, some part of her unwilling to believe she had just teleported them here.
"No, no, no..." Ciri whispered, despair evident in her voice.
He would find her now. Eredin would find her. And worse, she had condemned Kain to a fate similar to her own, one where he would have to run, not just from his human pursuers but a bloodthirsty army of Aen Elle.
"I am so sorry." She was whispering still, as if struggling to find her voice. "I've killed you."
She was trembling but not from cold. Loose rocks that had crumbled from the tower over the centuries it had stood here, shot across the space between them, shattering against the walls. She inhaled sharply, trying to calm the telltale buzzing in her ears, the vibration that made her skin hum like electricity. She needed to calm down. She needed Avallac'h. She needed Geralt.
From what Kain saw the other night, that electric energy soaking the air around her before he woke her up - it was the same reaction to something that frightened her greatly in the dream.
Only this time he didn't succeed in stopping her. And she jumped—
He snapped his eyes back to her, feeling the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck bristling again. That power of hers was stirring.
In three steps he was before her, holding her face in his hands, their eyes locked.
"Listen to me, you need to calm down now. It's all right. We're alive. You didn't drop us in the sea or off a cliff somewhere. You hear me? It's fine. Breathe. Deep. Breathe. You're all right."
Ciri nodded once as much as his hold on her would allow, eyes fixed firmly on his as she inhaled and exhaled in trembling, but calming breaths. Her hands rose to rest on his wrists, finding the skin-to-skin contact to be grounding, keeping her in place, stilling her racing heart.
What was this magical hold he had on her? What was it about him that dimmed her fear and brought courage and determination?
"We have to get out of here," she said once she managed to speak in coherent sentences. "We need to find Geralt and Avallac'h. Soon enough, The Hunt will know where we are."
When he felt her buzzing energy subside, he let her go and cast a glace around.
"It'll take us a while to get to the shore on foot, and then... there might be no boats. It's Undvik. We're stuck here."
"We'll have to jump again," she said, moving to the very edge of the tower as if her meaning had been quite literal. She could not see Kaer Trolde from here. The islands were too far apart. But she knew Geralt was there. He had said he would be. And Avallac'h, too. "Chances are they will find us quicker then, but there is no other choice. Stuck here, you'll be dead and I'll be…"
What would she be, exactly? A slave? A prisoner? A woman condemned to death as soon as she did what Eredin needed her to do?
"Well, it's cold, but I don't feel dead yet," he approached the edge and surveyed the landscape beneath the half-moon.
He drew a deep breath, trying to relax despite the biting cold wind, and closed his eyes, sending his mind to travel across the sea.
He was anxious and antsy, Kain felt it and smiled a little without noticing. He sensed the pull; he knew where to go now.
Ciri watched him a moment and without asking knew what he was doing. There was only one explanation. Unless he could summon portals as well and had decided not to share that information with her.
Kain blinked and looked at Ciri in the passing as he walked away from the precipice.
"We'll have to wait here. Come, it's colder where you stand open to the wind."
She hesitated a moment before she trailed after him. The cold did not bother her. She was already numb with the realization of what she had done and the price that would now needed to be paid.
"He knows you now," she said, looking up into Kain's eyes. "He saw you. Given the chance, he will use you. Torment you. Because he knows you are important. I am so sorry, Kain."
Kain frowned in mild disbelief. "How could he have seen me? It was a dream, and I was awake. And no, I'm not important enough to bother looking for me. You worry too much because you're scared. Again. No one's here, so don't be."
"You were there," she said. "I heard your voice and then you appeared. He saw! He knows!"
Kain did not understand. Did not know how Eredin worked.
"You're important… to me. And so he will come for you if he cannot find me. He will use you to draw me out. Like he did with Geralt."
"Geralt is a much better bet," Kain reasoned. "You met me two days ago, and Geralt is... whatever he is for a lifetime. It's stupid to put any bet on someone like me with sure options lying elsewhere."
Ciri simply shook her head, but knew at that moment she would not be able to convince him otherwise.
She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, waiting for their winged savior to come.
Rubbing his shoulders for warmth, Kain wandered the expanse of the hall and studied the arch once again. And once again, he felt he didn't want to touch it.
"How is he even able to find me after just a glimpse in your dream?" he turned back to her. "Is he that good a wizard?"
"I don't know," she said softly. "I don't know whether it is he who does it, or if there are mages under his command he uses for such purposes. But he always shows up at the least convenient times. After everything I've seen, I'd be an idiot not to believe he can find you too. To believe you are safe."
Kain pondered, and shrugged. "Either way, if you spend your time being afraid of something that hasn't happened, he's already won. Why would you hand it to him so easily?"
"Because it is all that ever happens. Every day, The Wild Hunt is the focus. And when I try to think of something else, distract myself, living my life as though I am not hunted, the people around me see it as rebellion. An act of selfishness. As though I am a petulant child pushing the boundaries her guardians have imposed on her."
"It is a rebellion of sorts," he agreed. "But a natural one urging to fight confinement and chains. You chained yourself to that Hunt and it's not a life, anymore. It's existence."
"Which is why, at times, it seems tempting to just end it," she confessed, tucking her hair behind her ear and setting her sight on the dark sky, searching for signs of an approaching griffin. She was a lot more eager to get away from here than she had been the last time.
"And that is not just letting him win, it's discarding all the efforts made by all of you." He nodded in afterthought. "But I do understand."
"I'm not saying I would. Only that the thought occurs at times."
She looked at him. "I tried once before, you know? Before The Hunt. But I couldn't go through with it. I think, deep down, it's not in my nature to lie down and die."
"I don't think it's in anyone's nature. Nature has it that life fights to stay alive. That's natural."
"I suppose so," she agreed, shrugging.
It took about an hour or some more before Griffin's flying silhouette appeared in the sky. He screeched approaching and landed on his quiet cat's paws, claws clicking against the stony floor as he ran a few paces in momentum.
Kain stroked his chest, then hopped on and held a hand for her. They didn't linger.
"We go back first," he told her. "Your sword and cloak are still there."
"Yes," she said once she had climbed up behind him. She could not do this without Swallow. The blade had always felt as though it had been made just for her.
This time, she wrapped her arms around Kain and rested the side of her head against his back, no longer as shy or timid as she had been in his presence during their first flight.
The cold was starting to register now and the journey was freezing. Still, they made it through and arrived back at the cave relatively unharmed some time later.
After slipping off the animal and giving him her thanks, she headed into the darkening cave. The fire was close to going out, glowing embers all that remained.
She found her sword and put it on, then repeated the same process with her cloak, trying to warm her hands beneath its comforting fur.
It was much warmer in the cave even with the campfire barely alive, compared to the winds in the tower.
Kain strapped his sword on, pondered, and then took the satchel with the cloak and the bow and quiver, as well. It had been a lot of flying, and Griffin would have to rest a day in the druids woods before they returned.
Just a bit more, he thought stroking the beast's neck, then beckoned the girl.
"Try the front row," he said, helping her onto the griffin. He settled behind her, leaning forward into her coaxing her to hunch over so they didn't fall.
Griffin croaked, trotted, leapt and flew up. Kain felt the effort - it took more strain. But only a shorter distance was left to cover.
Sitting up front gave the illusion she was the one in control and it made for an exhilarating flight. As much as her guilt and fear allowed her to feel, anyway.
Ciri reveled in the sensation of Kain's body pressing against her back. It was very different to be held by someone she actually liked than the nightmarish creature in her dream. Pleasant. Comforting.
With one hand gently buried in the griffin's feathers, the other came to rest over Kain's hand on her waist, squeezing him lightly as though she could take strength from his presence. She did.
They landed a short distance from the camp, which was the smart choice. She knew of at least one person there who would not take kindly to a griffin suddenly descending amongst the sleeping men.
She slipped off, waited for Kain, and then set off to the camp with urgent footfalls, already trying to seek out Geralt in the darkness. Had he retired to Mousesack's cave? Or had he made use of one of the few tents standing around the campsite?
Kain gestured for Griffin to fly, for he knew the place and where he would have to hide. Griffin looked forward to some sleep. He took off lightly without the burden and flew straight over the camp for the woods. Kain could only hope Ciri's friends were asleep or indoors.
They weren't.
As she went to find her friends, he picked a round detour to deposit his satchel, bow and cloak in Mousesack's cave under the tree for picking up later.
When he emerged from there, the camp was no longer dead-quiet.
Sleep claimed Geralt for a short time, as though a few minutes' worth of dozing off over a half-empty tankard when you've had too much.
He lay still not to wake Yennefer who seemed to be sound asleep next to him, and stared at the starry sky, jerking involuntarily as a huge black shadow passed over it and toward the wood.
His instincts wiped the memory of Yennefer from his mind as he jumped to his feet, his hand reaching habitually over his shoulder to the sword.
Yennefer was awake now, too, getting to her feet, inquiring what happened.
"She's here," Avallac'h said, approaching. His hand pointed, Yennefer and Geralt turned to see.
"Ciri?"
The first person she saw was Avallac'h. He was standing upon a cliff overlooking the ocean, quiet and calm even as he turned to face her upon hearing her footsteps. Ciri could not read his face. It was never easy to tell with Avallac'h. Joy. Anger. Constipation. It all looked the same on the elf's face.
When he spoke, Ciri noticed two figures getting up off the ground. Geralt. And Yennefer? When had she gotten here?
Ciri inhaled deeply, approaching them with a solemn expression. "I messed up."
Avallac'h's jaw clenched ever so slightly and he raised his head, watching her without any surprise, whatsoever. He'd expected it.
Geralt didn't see her face too well in the dark, and the torches were far enough, but he sensed her distress through the way she moved and stood. It was enough to make his own anxiety expand at once.
"Ciri, what happened?" he asked, hurrying to her. "Are you all right? Did he do something to you?"
Ciri blinked up at Geralt, needing a few seconds to understand who "he" was. "What? No. Of course not." That seemed silly. "I– …"
"You jumped," Avallac'h cut in calmly. "In your sleep."
She watched him, shame rising from the pit of her stomach, and eventually nodded her confirmation. "Yes."
Their attention was on the girl, and Kain needed to get going. On quiet feet, he picked a route for the forest, giving the group a wide berth, but then some alien power zapped through him like a jolt of lightning, stunning momentarily, then pulling him down to his knees.
He jerked to free himself, but there was a thin chain wrapped around his torso, ensuring his arms were tight against his body, and his ankles pressed together.
A tall figure detached from the group to make a few steps toward him. He saw a sharp face with angular features and a pair of cold elven eyes scrutinizing him. "You are not that fast this time," the elf said in a listless tone.
Ciri turned her head just in time to see Avallac'h capture Kain with some sort of spell, her eyes widening in surprise and shock at the scene unfolding. Avallac'h never used force or violence. It was something he reserved for their enemies.
Yennefer took the opportunity to feel out the boy's energy, to gauge for herself if he was some elusive threat and to put an immediate end to it if she had to. "We need to get back to Kaer Morhen."
Ciri spun on the spot, fear and incredulity sending her heart and her hold on her powers into overdrive once more. She ran for them and kneeled beside Kain. "What the bloody hell are you doing, Avallac'h?" she demanded, instinctively attempting to slip her fingers beneath the thin chain encircling Kain's body, forced to pull away almost at once because it stung and burned her skin. "Release him!"
Peering up at the one Ciri called Avallac'h, Kain was calculating his chances. The smartest way seemed to be playing it quiet.
"What is actually going on here, can anyone explain?" Geralt demanded, approaching the Sage.
"If he's got nothing to hide, why would he be escaping?" Avallac'h reasoned calmly and tore his assessing gaze off the boy to consider Ciri. "I do not threaten him, Zireael. Yet."
Trust an Elf to make perfectly tense situation tenser, thought Yennefer.
"We don't have time for this. Release the boy, Avallac'h."
"Because he wants no part of this!" Ciri hissed, eyes blazing with fury as she shot to her feet. "This is not his battle. Let him go, so that we may go."
Avallac'h's face didn't change, he stared at Ciri with the same listless attention. "Having wandered alongside him for mere two days among some rocks doesn't mean you know him, Zireael. Or would get to know anyone, for that matter. What you do know is not necessarily true."
"What do you plan to do?" Geralt butted in, his mouth creased in displeasure. "Questioning and torture? Ciri's right, we have no time. If she used her powers, it leaves us barely some hours, if we're lucky."
Avallac'h gave him a nonchalant look, his mouth curving the tiniest of bits in ironic amusement. "I do not hold you back. You three may go. I shall join shortly."
Ciri closed the distance between them until they were almost chest to chest, glaring up at the elf with a sense of betrayal. "You and I go together," she said in a deceivingly soft tone, one he had taught her, soon followed by an uncertain whisper meant for his ears only. "Why are you doing this?"
They'd fought before. Time and time again. But he had never done anything like this. They fought, then made up. There had been no other ritual. Now… everything was out of balance.
No reaction passed through Avallac'h's features; only the corners of his mouth twitched again.
Like a fox smelling the chicken that is soon to end up in its teeth, Kain thought.
"You cannot teach me how to do what I know needs to be done, Zireael," Avallac'h reminded. "You need my help. Always. And I tell you to go to the keep now – if you want all your friends to be best prepared for what is coming. For what you have summoned with your reckless choice."
"What is up with you and this boy, Avallac'h?" Geralt said. "We have the Hunt coming. We need to go."
"Indeed, you do," the Sage said. "All of you. Zireael cannot take more than two."
Ciri appreciated Geralt and Yennefer's insistence Kain be let go as well, but it seemed to have no effect on Avallac'h's choices. "Oh, but you need me, too," she reminded him, playing the same card he had chosen to put on the table. "And I pity whoever tries to make me leave against my own will."
"What in the name of Gods is this?"
Mousesack was approaching agilely from around the hill.
Ciri moved to look past Avallac'h at the sound of Mousesack's voice, feeling a sliver of hope. Surely he would convince the Sage to let Kain go. The Archer was under Mousesack's protection, after all.
"Avallac'h has decided to bind, question, and possibly torment an innocent man because I defied his orders," she said for the druid to hear, for was that not what was happening?
Given everything that had happened tonight and could still happen Avallac'h was lucky that Mousesack had arrived, as Yennefer was getting ready to intervene on behalf of Ciri.
The sorceress didn't like what had happened tonight, either, the fact that Ciri'd put herself at risk accidentally, but the way he was talking to her and currently treating her was as if he was trying to deal with an errant slave.
"This boy is under my protection, Avallac'h," Mousesack said, stomping his staff in emphasis as he came to a halt next to Ciri. "Release him."
"Is his beast under your protection, as well?" the Sage asked, his eyebrow rising ever slightly.
Kain sighed, gnashing his teeth to remain quiet.
"What beast?" Geralt asked, then pondered a moment, and looked at Ciri; a knowing look seeking a confirmation. "That thing – it was a griffin? I remember the sound, I just couldn't put an image to it until now. No one has ever tamed a griffin—"
"Geralt," Mousesack put in. "Please. This is not—"
Geralt shot him an angry look. "How hard was it to just tell me, to begin with? It's not a joke."
This was getting out of hand. Ciri could feel it. And Avallac'h did not seem eager to back down, even going so far as to add extra conflict to an already dire situation.
Her eyes sought Kain's, though she was not entirely certain he was able to look at her from his current position. She did not know the extent of his powers. Ciri knew he could not open portals or travel like she did. But surely he had some tricks up his sleeve on how to get out of magical binds? Unless Avallac'h was too strong?
What chance did a youth have against a centuries-old highly trained mage?
The longer she looked at the binds snuggly restraining Kain, the more she listened to their argument, the more her blood boiled. She could feel it coming… Coming quickly… That exhilarating anticipation that made her whole body tingle and tremble with unspent power… Flashes of green in her periphery…
She was going to snap. And then they would all be done for.
She strained visibly to contain herself, one hand balled in a fist, the other flat against her stomach as though it reminded her to inhale and exhale.
"Please let him go," she breathed, her words in the tongue of the Elder Speech, the usual means of communication between Avallac'h and herself. "You have made your point, Crevan. I was wrong to leave. Wrong to disobey you. I have made a mess of everything. But don't take it out on him."
Avallac'h gave the tiniest of smiles. "So eager for him to leave, Zireael? And here I thought you yearned for his company. I already told you, I do not threaten him. But I do execute my precautions as I see fit."
"The griffin shall not harm anyone," Mousesack said. "It hasn't done such thing as of yet, but if you insist on threats, Geralt, and you, Sage, there is no way to guarantee anything."
"How can a creature even be controlled?" Geralt argued. "It does what it wants, protects its territory and what it considers as such."
"He understands much more than you think, Witcher," Kain said through gritted teeth, unable to bite his tongue on this one.
"He," Geralt repeated. "How well does 'he' listen to you?"
"I don't command him," Kain said. "He's free."
"It makes 'him' dangerous," Geralt concluded. "As any creature of that size and levels of aggression that settled close to human villages."
"What precautions?" Ciri asked Avallac'h before switching back to her mother tongue, regarding Geralt with a pleading look. "The Griffin is not a concern. He does not attack unless threatened, like any of us."
This entire scene was out of control and people were beginning to lose sight of the actual problem here as Yennefer saw it. And it wasn't the boy or his griffin.
Yennefer understood where Geralt was coming from, that it was natural for him to question its appearance, its aggression, but it was still secondary to what was most important right this very second and something they could deal with later if it came down to that.
"Geralt," she tried, squeezing his shoulder, attempting at least to get someone to see reason although she'd thought that Mousesack would be the one. "Forget the boy and his stupid bird. We need to take Ciri and go."
Geralt reflected for a long moment, then looked at Mousesack over Ciri's shoulder.
"All right," he said. "I have but one question, then. Why did he need to hide in Brokilon? They harbored criminals of their blood wanted by the human world. What was the crime?"
Mousesack cast an uncertain, apologetic look at Kain.
Kain spared him the dilemma. "I killed a witcher," he said, glaring up at Geralt. "To save a griffin."
Ciri had suspected as much, so his confession did not come as a big surprise to her. She knew it would not make Geralt and the other witchers favor him, though.
She shifted her gaze to Avallac'h, trying to make some leeway with the stubborn elf. "What precautions? You still think he means me harm?"
Yennefer's hold tightened reflectively on Geralt and her eyes narrowed on the boy as if to spear him with a warning that suggested he didn't get any ideas or say anything any further. "Is it really the best time to be having this conversation?"
Geralt stood still like a statue for a long moment, then slipped his hand down Kain's jacket's neck, and it came out with the Cat medallion.
Geralt scowled deeply, letting the pendant go as if it scalded him, his eyes locked on Kain's.
"It's you. That renegade Cat."
Kain made no answer. Mousesack muttered something into his beard. Avallac'h seemed rather content with how things were going. His attention was consumed by Geralt and Kain, and he was ignoring Ciri's pleas as if she weren't there.
"It was a big thing six years ago," Geralt said, eyeballing the prisoner. "A Cat witcher killed one of his own with his silver sword during a griffin contract, and ran off. The griffin also disappeared. However few there were left of the Cats still doing their job - all of them were looking for him. Even other schools did. It's the foulest crime to kill a brother, more so with silver like one of the demonic things we hunt."
"I've never been proud of it," Kain said quietly, still holding Geralt's eyes with his glare. "But I'd do it again if time traveled back for me to reconsider."
What did surprise Ciri was that Geralt seemed to have heard of Kain through stories and rumors, It shouldn't have. But it did. Of course, the witcher schools would share such information with one another. They were brethren, after all.
"Why did someone take out a contract on the griffin?" she asked Kain. "Had he harmed someone or was it simply because he was not human?"
The human kind did have a tendency to attack whatever might be a threat, without actually assessing whether or not the threat was real.
Yennefer glared at the boy and his stubbornness, massaging at Geralt's shoulder, moving to sandwich herself between them as if she expected he'd try to launch himself at the boy despite his calm.
"This is not the time to debate the potential right or wrongs and whether or not his actions were justified." A tone she'd directed at both Geralt and Ciri since she'd decided to interject and add to the situation. "There'll be plenty of time for that later, to revel in all of this with stunning clarity and to deal with it as needs be. But for now—could we start making plans to get to Kaer Morhen?"
"He killed two people," Geralt responded in Kain's stead. "Ripped them to pieces right in the village. People were so terrified they were willing to pay two witchers for killing it, even though it was more than they could afford."
Muscles bulging in his cheeks, Kain kept quiet. Geralt did not.
"And during the fight one witcher killed his partner instead of the beast. Villagers found his body still clenching his silver sword, another one ran through his heart. No sign of griffin or the killer." The Witcher's eyes narrowed with a hint of disdain. "The witchers said your nickname was White Cat, after one of the best students of their school from the Tournament times, Gwyncath."
"Not after him," Kain said, holding the Witcher's glower with his. "I'm Gwyncath of The Cat School."
"Eh Gods…" Mousesack muttered, rubbing his face with his palm, head shaking. "So silly…"
Geralt's face was one he would have had if a lightning speared suddenly through him. "It's impossible."
Ciri opened her mouth to tell Yennefer she was going nowhere until Kain was freed from his bonds, but Geralt cut her off.
"What are you talking about?" Ciri had been understanding everything up until the tournament and that is where they had lost her. Why was that of such importance? "What is impossible?"
"The Tournament between our schools was held fifty-five years ago," Geralt said, unable to look away from Kain. "He'd be my peer if it were true."
It was Kain's turn to stare. It had just flipped over into a nightmare territory.
"Shortly after it The Cat School was sieged and destroyed, and later came our turn," Geralt added. "Decades have passed."
"Just fifteen years," Kain said, hearing his own voice as if it belonged to someone else he didn't know.
"Drop the plot now," Geralt demanded. "You'd look not much younger than me right now. You barely look eighteen."
Kain set his glower back on him. "I bested Frank of the Wolves, and then they put him and Gweld against me together, which ended in our win in the tour with the Wolves' loss of points."
Geralt paled significantly and looked like a ghost in the moonlight. "I was going to fight next tour," he murmured. "Alongside Gweld… he said we'd beat that Cat together, he and I… as always…" He blinked, as if coming out of a deep reverie, his eyes sharpened. "It can't be. Someone told you stories—"
"None of us ever spoke of that," Kain said. "Neither did your school, I'm sure."
Vesemir had told Ciri during one of their history lessons that twenty-three witchers and forty students had called Kaer Morhen their home at the time of the attack. Only he and the witchers on the Path survived the massacre executed by angry fanatics.
It was as Geralt said – decades ago. Vesemir was old as dirt.
So why then did Kain seem to think these events had happened so recently?
In the back of her mind, something familiar prickled. A voice telling her she should know. But she didn't. Couldn't put the vague puzzle pieces together.
She kneeled beside Kain, tired and confused and frustrated. "Why could you not speak of it?" She looked from Kain to Geralt, searching for answers to the questions that were making her head hurt.
Geralt was the one to answer once again. His voice was hollow like a ghost's. "Because it was The School of Cat who betrayed us all chasing power promised by the king who betrayed them just as they did us. Royal troops attacked killing everyone in their path. Very few escaped after the Tournament. Mousesack helped me. My best friend Gweld died in the massacre." The Witcher turned to the druid whose face was like a stormy sky. "Did you help him, too? Do you recognize him?"
Mousesack hemmed reproachfully. "I only had time to help you, Geralt."
"He didn't help me," Kain said. "I escaped with a small group of three, and we parted afterwards."
"How old are you?" Geralt asked. "Do you know?"
"Thirty three."
Geralt snorted. "You lie through your teeth."
"Think whatever you want," Kain snarled.
Geralt paced a short bit to calm, then stood before him once again, looking grim. "Whatever it is with the Tournament story matters less than your crime that is fully confirmed and real. It has no expiration, you do know that. There's barely a trial for it other than a chance to give your side of the story. I'm still a witcher, and it's my duty to take you to Kaer Morhen for the trial." He brushed a hand over Ciri's shoulder, "I'm sorry."
"Geralt," Mousesack began, but Witcher raised his hand and looked at Yennefer.
"Take him to the keep, will you?"
Geralt didn't have to ask her twice. Yennefer wanted the conflict over. Her concern was Ciri, and although Yen knew Ciri wasn't going to be happy with her decision – for right now – this move was for the best.
She'd help Ciri once they were there and more was revealed.
Although a lot had already been said.
Ciri stood, unable to help a narrowed-eyed gaze at Geralt when he uttered the command. She was torn. Torn between wanting to protect Kain and respecting, to a certain degree, the witcher protocol and Geralt's responsibility.
At least she trusted him with Kain more than she did Avallac'h.
"Don't hurt him," she told Yennefer before her portal swallowed them up.
Yennefer hardly gave the boy time to protest as she engulfed him in a sheen of gold and then stepped into the portal after him.
When the magic faded and silence reigned once more, Ciri placed her hands on her hips, studying the three men surrounding her with a fierce stare, bracing herself for whatever storm they would throw her way now the other object of their anger and frustration was gone.
Avallac'h stood like a figure cut out of stone, glancing listlessly between Ciri and Mousesack, while Geralt slowly paced along the hill preoccupied with dark reveries.
"I'm so sorry, child," the Druid said to Ciri. "I didn't want all this to happen and tried to keep you two apart for a reason. I'm sorry I failed."
Ciri watched Geralt pace and only turned to face Mousesack once he addressed her directly. "Not your fault," she said, glancing at Avallac'h pointedly. That had no effect on him, whatsoever.
"We need to go now," Avallac'h reminded coldly. Mousesack nodded and went for Geralt. "You're with me, Zireael."
"You're with me," she amended because she was the one with the actual power to transport them anywhere. Sh grabbed the elf by the arm non-too-gently like he would have done her had the situation been reversed, and muttered under her breath as they disappeared in a flash of green, "A d'yaebl aép arse…"
There was a fleeting dizziness as Kain stepped out of the swirling gold, rubbing his arms where the chains disappeared as soon as the portal swallowed him. The sorceress came after. The keep lay right ahead, its old wooden gates open across the barely holding up bridge over the ditch. Kain couldn't help but stare before she urged him to walk on.
It felt like there was an eternity between his memories and what had become of the place.
"Tell me something," Yennefer began, climbing the stairs behind the boy, gaze glued to his back. "Why'd you kill the witcher? Was it out of some sense of moral outrage? Was he tormenting the poor creature and you happened to have a soft spot for it? Or did it go deeper?"
"What difference does it make to you?" he said, ascending the endless stairs on the way to where he remembered the heart of their keep was.
"Ciri has known you two days and for some reason she is fighting for you. I'd just like to know if what she is fighting for is decent or if you're a cold blooded killer."
Yennefer wasn't judging him, she didn't know much about him, and while she had the opportunity, she wanted to know that if she set herself on the line later, stepped in to help her defend him, that it would be for a reason.
"She'd be better off fighting solely for herself," he stated, watching someone on the top landing next to the doors leading into the inner yard of the keep. "Protecting me is pointless. I did what I did. Not in cold blood, but consciously. I knew what I was doing."
Yennefer agreed with him on that front.
Unfortunately, even if he was trying to push her in that direction, it had come to Yennefer's attention in everything that had happened on that hill, that he'd become part of her daughter's self-discovery. That, aside from Geralt and her family, Ciri found someone outside that she wanted to fight for and was doing so with recognizable vehemence Yennefer wasn't even sure she was aware was likened to passion.
Was that what Geralt had noticed?
The two witchers that had been conversing at the gates were staring at them as the two approached.
"A friend of yours, Yennefer?" Eskel asked. Coen was silently scrutinizing Kain.
"For the time being," she stated. "Coen, you should get him set up with a place to stay."
"I think it's best to ask Vesemir about it," Coen said, looking uncertain. Eskel nodded, and he waved a hand at the gate. "He's inside, probably still talking to Triss. We can't help you, we have our chores. Not much time left for preparations, as they keep telling us. Traps and bombs won't make themselves, as Lambert likes to repeat."
Yennefer expelled the softest of sigh and encouraged the boy to keep moving.
"Do yourself a favor and keep the 'I killed another witcher' talk to a minimum," she began, purposely keeping her voice low and determined. "In fact, hence forth, do yourself a favor and don't mention it, period. We need every hand we can when it comes to the Wild Hunt and although you didn't plan for it – as you can see – we're intending for battle and need all the hands we can get."
"Geralt won't keep it secret – I'm here to be tried for it, and it's not something you or Ciri can prevent."
Kain pushed the gate and went in with her following him. There was a couple – a man and a woman with short blond hair – were busy in the corner of the yard, they barely spared them a glance, arguing as they were. But there was Geralt waiting on the next level of stairs. He walked with them.
"I'll take him," he said. "Thank you, Yennefer. You should go back to preparations."
"Geralt," Yennefer began, imploring in her tone, grabbing a hold of his arm, trying to forestall his intention and to draw him aside, away from the boy that so that she could speak to him privately. "Before you do or say anything – let's just talk for a minute."
Geralt gave her a firm look, stalling for all but a moment. "I'm not doing anything wrong. We shall talk later. I need to go see Vesemir now."
He nudged the boy forward, and they went up the stairs for the keep doors.
They appeared in her old room inside the keep a mere second later. Ciri released her hold on the Elf as soon as it was done, but allowed herself a moment to look around.
Her bed was still there. As was the rat skin nailed to the wall that she had taken great pride in once upon a time. Other than that it was pretty bare.
Avallac'h looked disgusted. "Why have your brought us to a broom closet?" he asked, wrinkling his nose at the sight of the rat.
Ciri didn't spare him another look. Everything felt awkward and wrong with him now. Broken trust. "This is my room," she said and headed out in search of the others.
She descended the stone stairs with some urgency, Avallac'h in tow. The kitchen was empty but someone had lit a fire in the fireplace that separated this room from the main hall.
She didn't stop to sneak some extra food as she might have done were she still a child in training here. She headed out instead.
Vesemir and Triss were sat at the wooden table on the other side of the fire, sharing a conversation. Vesemir always looked more happy in Triss's company than Yennefer's. Ciri had never fully understood why.
She didn't stop to greet them and they did not appear to see her. For now.
She made for the front doors, Avallac'h still on her heels as though he had her in some invisible tether.
"Is this going to be our new thing? Never parting?"
He did not say anything. He merely continued to follow.
Ciri pushed open the heavy front door and stepped out in the darkness. She already knew where Kain was, could feel that strange bond between them tugging her steadily closer to him.
And there they all were, the three of them, the closest thing she had ever had to parents and… whatever Kain was.
Important, said the voice in her head. Important.
"Where is Mousesack?" she asked immediately, blocking the entrance with her body. "If you are to give him a trial, he deserves a witness. Someone who can vouch for him. Someone who knows him."
"There won't be any trial right now," said Geralt. He sounded very tired. "We all should get some rest and resolve our matters in a couple of hours. I believe we have a day or so before the Hunt is here, is that so?"
"Approximately," Avallac'h said from over Ciri's shoulder. "You might have until the next dusk."
"Fine," Geralt nudged Kain again to walk.
"I'm sorry," Ciri mouthed to Kain once their eyes briefly met, needing him to know but unwilling to humiliate them further by making some grand and heartfelt declaration in the presence of the people she loved. And Avallac'h.
She reluctantly let them pass but stayed right on their heels, with the Sage still hot on hers. She wasn't going to let them shut her out of the 'adult' conversations the way they had done when she was a child.
Vesemir rose from his chair, a smile beginning on his lips until he saw Kain. He frowned, his eyes went to Geralt with a question.
"It is White Cat, Vesemir," Geralt explained, barely glancing in Triss's direction, his focus on his mentor. "He killed a witcher during the contract six years ago, one of those Lambert knew."
"I do remember," Vesemir murmured, scrutinizing Kain in deep thought.
"I know the time is most unkind to us, but this matter has to be resolved by the code."
Vesemir's face slowly shifted from confusion to shock and disbelief. He stepped closer to Kain, his eyes searching his face. "Dear Gods… is this… how? Gwyncath? But… it's impossible…"
"Vesemir," Geralt said, taken aback. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"
Vesermir's hands came to rest on Kain's shoulders, his eyes wide and still disbelieving. "But how," he kept muttering, "how?"
"What is going on?" Triss ventured.
"How can it be, Gwyncath?" Vesemir asked, not having registered Triss's curiosity at all.
Kain merely shook his head, shocked how much older Vesemir looked. As if…
Over fifty years have passed…
"I don't know," he said helplessly. "I don't know."
"But…" Vesemir blinked, sobering up, and glanced between his student and Kain. "What about that murder? It… it was you? Truly you? All this time…"
Kain let out a shaky breath, and gave a curt nod. "I killed him. I did kill him, Vesemir. I do deserve to be tried for it. Geralt is right."
"Oh gods." Vesemir's face darkened with dismay and sorrow. His hands slipped off Kain's shoulders, he heaved a long sigh, then turned to Geralt. "It indeed should wait at least for two hours. We have a room to put him in. Follow me, Geralt. And you, Gwyncath."
Ciri had stayed a few paces behind, watching the exchange with wide and fearful eyes. Their conversation meant more than she could truly understand, and for the briefest of moments she doubted every decision she had made concerning Kain the past few days.
But then sense was knocked back into her skull. He had not lied to her. He had not deceived her. He simply had not told his whole story. Which was fair. She had held back from him, too.
None of her arguments had made any difference with Geralt or Avallac'h earlier, and she doubted that would change now. Vesemir might look softer on occasion, but she had felt the sting of belt several times before and knew the witcher rage in him had not faded yet.
"Don't hurt him," she said once the trio set off, a final plea, for she knew not what else to do. "Please don't…"
"What is this all about?" Triss asked again, this time setting her wide eyes on Ciri, since Yennefer had removed herself before the exchange was over. She had a talent of quiet disappearances – just as she always knew how to make an appearance with a bang and then some.
"The boy Zireael has found on Skellige Isles appears to have quite a history with her witchers and some others," Avallac'h said.
"Oh," Triss said, glancing after the retreating witchers, then back to Ciri, concern in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, my dear. It's horrible."
Ciri watched them go, unable to tear her eyes off the retreating three. Even unable to accept the sympathy Triss was offering her. It had been so long… Comfort? You could count on no one for that. Ciri had only herself.
A sudden humorless laugh escaped her as she stared at the doorway they had just gone through. "I've condemned him to death. Twice."
It was not funny. Not at all. And yet she laughed. Because she should have known. Every friendly person she had encountered over the years when she was on her own had met an untimely death shortly after getting to know her. Why should he be any different? Perhaps she was cursed.
Ciri wandered in the direction they had gone, intending to make her way back to her room where she could have some privacy.
Avallac'h caught her arm before she got far, holding her back. "Zireael…"
She tugged herself free of his hold, coldly staring up into the eyes that had once made her feel safe. "Next time you touch me I will break your nose."
She turned on her heels and continued with her mission, leaving an unreadable Avallac'h and a highly uncomfortable Triss behind.
They led Kain to a small room that was barely any different than the one he lived in at The School of Cat.
Over sixty years ago.
He sat down on the dusty cot, shivering at the thought. It was just like Vesemir kept putting it: impossible.
"How can it be that he's my age?" Geralt asked.
"I don't know," Vesemir scratched his cheek with grey stubble. "They believed Gwyncath had perished with many others during the massacre."
"I escaped with two others, and then we parted," Kain said. "More chances for each to hide somewhere. I don't recall much – it was chaos. There were soldiers on our trail, unwilling to let us go alive. I killed the two following me, and then I just… I had a few wounds by then, and was beginning to feel woozy. I probably passed out, because I woke up in the woods and stayed there for a few weeks before venturing out. And when I did, there were no soldiers hunting us down, anymore. I still went to Brokilon where I stayed for two years before I left. Then I met a group of Cats, and they offered to work with them. So I did for some years. Dirk, Aiden—"
"Vienne, Hammond, Lund, Selyse," Geralt listed with a grim mien. "Jad Karadin. A group of assassins."
Kain winced. "All I ever did with them was share some contracts, big ones like griffins, wyverns, some huge nests that needed more than one sword to play it safer. I never asked them what they did in their own spare time, nor was I ever a part of this. I minded my own business for the most part even then."
Geralt studied him with pensive doubt. "Even so," he concluded. "You ended up on their list, and not by wrong. Did you have anything to do with Aiden's death?"
Kain narrowed his eyes. "I only now hear from you he's dead. Dirk was the closest I've been to. Others didn't try to become buddies. None of us Cats ever have."
"For the life of me, I cannot decipher how you could be at the Tournament, and then begin to live after fifty years," Vesemir said. "Where have you lost all those years, my boy? And your age? Any age…"
Kain leaned his head back against the wall, sighing, his eyes closing in helpless weariness. "I don't know, Vesemir, I swear, I don't know. I… it was just fifteen years for me. Only fifteen. Not fifty. I don't know."
"All right," Geralt said, running a hand through his hair. "We shall solve one riddle at a time. First thing is the murder. It has to be done. Lambert… I shall talk to him when he wakes."
"Yes," Vesemir said. "Better do it alone. This matter – if we have to do it as soon as we will – shall be resolved in a closed trial. It's our case. Witcher matter. No one else needs to be there. Everybody has their tasks as it is. After the trial we hold council concerning the Wild Hunt."
"Agreed," Geralt nodded. "Get some rest," he added to Kain before they went out the door.