WRITERS' NOTE: ~ As our dear constant reader RedHood001 has pointed out, some of you reading might get confused with direct speech when there are new paragraphs within the same character's speech.
Here is how you tell the speaking people apart: the quotation marks are the key.
When someone is speaking – look for where the quotation marks close the speech. That means that particular character is done talking.
According to the punctuation rules English language has, every new paragraph of direct speech done by the same character starts with quotation marks. But only the ending ones show where the speech is over. Watch out for those.
Example:
/ " To indicate the original speaker is still talking," he explained, "the first paragraph is left open: no closing quotation marks are placed.
"To indicate that we are still dealing with quoted material rather than the narrator's prose, quotation marks are placed at the beginning of the second paragraph."
"Oh, I see," she nodded. /
Thank you so much for reading our story. It means the world and more to us who enjoys writing it.
Have a great time and stay safe! Bless your hearts. ~
The storm continued well into afternoon and it stopped raining only when people began to prepare for supper.
Kain and Ciri rode out after another meal that they swallowed in haste, worrying about making Geralt wait.
He was waiting for them a mile from the town. He had also used the storm for rest, and they decided to ride through the night to make it to another settlement sooner and rest there.
They travelled south down towards Ban Gleán where Kaedwen bordered on Aedirn. They followed the river and that was good, allowing the horses to stop for a drink when needed and the riders to refill their drinking-skins with frequent intervals.
It was already dawning when they reached their destination. "Same inn this time?" Ciri looked to Geralt. "Or are we splitting up again?"
"Splitting up is a better plan," Geralt said. "Still is. Even though your hair are still dark enough."
"All right," Kain nodded. "Doesn't matter if it's the same inn or not. But if it's the same one, we better arrive at different time."
"Same is better," Ciri said. She liked feeling Geralt close by. Safety in numbers. "You go first." She gestured to her mentor. "You'll draw enough attention. They won't even pay us any mind."
Geralt had to laugh. "I see how it is, young lady. Very well. Hide your griffin while I'm at it."
She grinned, even though she had not meant it in a malicious manner. "I am just being practical." She looked to Kain at the mention of the griffin. "Is he alright? Lonely?"
Kain looked up again and saw the griffin fly down to land.
"He'll be fine," he said. "He knows I haven't abandoned him."
"Good." Ciri followed the griffin's descent with her gaze, a sad thought striking her. "You said his mate was killed. Does he still feel the sorrow of that?"
She had learned much about various creatures and beasts from the witchers, but mostly their strengths and weaknesses. Motives. Their emotional capacities… Not so much.
"He grieved for a long while," he said, stroking the beast's neck when Griffin approached. "But it's been six years, he's adapted."
"Yes, I suppose we have to eventually." She smiled at the creature as he extended his neck for Kain to stroke, then looked over her shoulder at where Geralt had trotted off moments earlier.
"It's how it is," Kain said. "You either lie down and die or get busy living."
"Where is he going to hide while we sleep?"
"He prefers caves where it won't rain. He can find a cave without me. He doesn't depend on me for anything other than company."
"Guess we will just wait then."
And so they did, until they agreed a sufficient amount of time had passed since Geralt left.
Ciri fished some coins out of her bag to add to Kain's so he could get them a room while she made sure the horses got watered and fed at the inn.
Of course, the taverns weren't all the same, but there was something similar in all of them. Like a spirit of an inn.
In this one the keeper didn't give them the key, either. They looked at the room, then went downstairs for a meal.
Geralt was across the room eating his. He barely spared a glance our way.
It was hard and unnatural for Ciri to be in the same room as Geralt and not look at him or sit close by. It felt utterly wrong and she felt a little insulted he seemed to do it with such ease.
Due to the early hour breakfast food was on the menu. She ordered them hard boiled eggs and bread and took a seat opposite Kain.
"Think people still believe us siblings?"
He shrugged. "I don't know what people think. But I guess you and I look more alike with our natural hair."
That was their only physical similarity, in her opinion.
She took a look at whoever else was at the inn this morning. Not many. A few men sitting near the bar counter, seemingly struggling with their balance. They had probably been here a while.
And there was a young woman seated at one of the tables with a man Ciri assumed to be either her husband or father. She looked tired. Maybe they were travelling, as well.
And then, of course, there was Geralt. But she tried not to look too hard at him, even as her heart called out from the other side of the room.
Kain watched her with a mild amusement. "He's still your Geralt. He's merely better at pretending than you are."
"Yes. I don't like it," she said, partially teasing. "I want to see the longing on his face."
She turned to Kain to focus on him instead, smiling when they were served food and water.
Kain took a gulp of water and picked up the fork. "Are you after the elf or the three witches, as well?"
"The elf," she said, cracking her egg and peeling it. "Though I suppose, should the crones be within reach…"
"It's rather ambitious. The Crones are very serious foes, a bit beyond the mortal elves."
"I suppose. Though if they are nearby, it is likely they will attack."
"If provoked," Kain reasoned. "They like to stick to their own business. If they find some benefit in attacking you - they might."
"They did before, so I would not put it past them to do it again. They are not why I am going to Velen. But I will certainly keep an eye out."
"Best to not alert them to any plans or your location." He chewed on the eggs, feeling more inclined to nap than snack.
"I was not planning on alerting anyone to my location. Except Imlerith right before I drive my sword into his cold heart."
Kain took a swallow of water, peering at her. "You believe Geralt will let you fight him alone like that?"
"No. But a girl can dream about slaughtering those who have hurt her, can't she?" She stuffed the rest of her bread into her mouth.
"Slaughtering leads to more slaughtering and rarely brings peace. Maybe it never really does."
"Shall we let him live then?" she asked, feigning consideration. "We could. Of course, I would have to leave this world and spend the rest of my life on the run."
"I didn't say that. But he's not Eredin, either. He's merely one of Eredin's weapons. And until you face Eredin and win, any weapon is replaceable."
"But in order to get to Eredin, we must peel back the layers of his protection. Imlerith is one such layer."
"The Crones are not, though. And they're very vindictive. Aen Elle alone are a serious enough problem to deal with, given our numbers."
Ciri frowned. "Imlerith is not a crone."
"I mean we shouldn't touch the Crones, even if they are there. Better play it safer."
She arched a brow. "And if they try to cut off my feet again?"
"Not if they don't know about your being there."
He finished his meal and washed it down with water.
"They will know the moment we set foot on their land. And we will have to in order to get where we are going."
She rose from the table and gestured upstairs to their purchased room. Kain followed her, thinking about the Crones and ways of 'masking their scent'.
Ciri shrugged off her coat and finally gave into the temptation of removing her boots as well. Even though they had been riding for most of the way, her feet were aching. She sat down on the bed and pulled her legs close, rubbing the soles of her feet through her stockings.
"Did Geralt say a time we should move on?"
Kain closed the door and locked the latch. "He didn't specify anything. We catch some sleep and be on our way."
"Strange how so much sitting can make one so tired," she murmured, laying down.
"Riding and sitting are not the same activity," he smirked, toeing his boots off, and began to undo the buckles on his jacket to shrug it off.
"But it has sitting," she murmured into her pillow, hugging it beneath her head.
He didn't respond, lying down beside her. It felt as if the mattress was too soft and he was sinking into it. He closed his eyes and felt drifting away.
Ciri drifted off to a state of half-sleep as well, instinctively moving closer to Kain for warmth and comfort, fingers gently curling in the front of his shirt. And then, she slept.
Their last push before the final part of the way was to the Inn at the Crossroads. They had arrived there in the late afternoon a day and a half before the event they were aiming not to miss. They allowed themselves three hours of rest before riding to Lindenvale to rent a boat. They had discussed their options of arriving to the Bald Mountain, and reached the decision of traveling by water. The river and its flowing waters provided just the right natural magic of disguise for them to sneak right up to the Crones' lair.
Geralt rented a boat, they left their mounts at Lindenvale with a good pay for three days, and set out. It was a long journey in itself: they had to pace it carefully without making any stops and switching between each other for the rowing.
They arrived to the Bald Mountain around the late afternoon with about five hours to use for seeking the right path to where they needed to get. Geralt and Kain pulled the boat on the shore and hid it in the bushes.
Geralt looked up at the cliffs of the mountain, catching his breath. "I guess we almost made it, after all," he said, and peered at Ciri. The duo's hair were back to normal white and ashen, and it was hard to not recognize her if she pulled her hood off.
"Almost?" she questioned, looking up at the tall mountain ahead of them.
In the distance she could hear the sounds of a party. The inhabitants of Velen were celebrating the Sabbath, as well.
"Let's go. We still need to find the way to Imlerith. He will not be down here with the humans."
"What is your plan, Ciri?" Geralt asked. "To walk in there openly and stab him in the heart?"
"If that is what it takes." She shrugged, making sure her hood was still covering most of her hair. "It is likely he will be alone. Or surrounded by whores. Avallac'h said he uses these Sabbaths to satisfy his desire for female flesh."
"What it takes is cunning more than open confrontation before you even get to where he is," Kain reasoned. "We can't come as enemies. We should come as travelers, pilgrims for the Sabbath."
"That would be smarter," Geralt agreed. "Let us see how it is and where we can find him."
Ciri gave them both a look. "Well, obviously. I thought you were asking what to do once we find him. I never intended to go in and let everyone know our true intentions, wave my sword around and such."
She gave Geralt a playful nudge with her hip, then set off up the path she assumed lead to the merriments up ahead.
"Avallac'h told you where to find that place?" Geralt asked as they ascended the path. Soon enough there were stony steps instead of slippery soil beneath their boots.
"Of course not. He would never give me information I could actually make use of," she said, climbing the stone steps with a brisk pace.
"Some very interesting relationship you two have," Geralt commented.
She shot him a glare before continuing on her way. When they made it to the top of the slope, they were met with a crossbow pointing their way and two men seemingly arguing about whether or not to shoot them.
"Should I shoot?" the man holding the crossbow asked his friend, the flower wreath on his head quivering ever so slightly.
"No," the other one said. "The white-haired one once served the ladies."
Ciri glanced at Geralt, surprised. "What now?"
"Not now," Kain whispered, touching her hand. The villagers shouldn't suspect anything.
"I have," Geralt nodded. "We came to honor the fest."
"Who's with you?" the younger man with the crossbow asked.
"My friend - also a witcher," he waved a hand to Kain; the Cat pulled his hood off. They noted the hair and his sword. "And my apprentice," Geralt added about Ciri.
"A woman," the crossbow man grimaced in doubt.
"We're from the Cat School," Kain said, pulling his medallion from under his shirt. "Females are a rightful part of it."
The crossbow man exchanged a glance with the older one, and upon getting a nod of confirmation from the latter lowered the weapon.
"There are fires lit and feast prepared," the older man said. "Will you join us?"
Geralt smiled subtly, "Of course."
For a moment Ciri found it hard to let go of those stunned thoughts that rose within her mind at the villager's suggestion and later, Geralt's confirmation, he had "served" those filthy, murderous Crones of the bog. What did that mean? What had he done? What had they made him do?
Her brow deeply furrowed, she barely registered Kain and Geralt's lies about them all being from the Cat School and that they had come to pay tribute. And yet, as aggravating as it was to play this game, she did not argue.
They sat down on wooden benches around the campfire, Ciri nestled between Geralt and Kain as though they worried she would suddenly try to launch herself up the mountain.
"Ye haven't come expectin' to be chosen, have ye?" the younger man with the wreath of flowers asked, his expression taunting.
"Don't be silly," the other said, chiding his friend softly. "Only young'uns are chosen to go up the mountain to see the ladies."
"Ah," she said, unable to help herself. "And do these young ones ever return?" Or did the Crones devour them then and there, leaving their parents and family to believe their children had gained some sort of divine blessing? That they lived with the Gods now?
"Of course they return, all happy and radiant," the older man said. "But they never stay in Velen - all eager to see the wide world."
"How do they get to the Ladies?" Geralt asked.
"The gate is closed," the crossbow man said, still looking displeased. "No one gets through."
"Only three young'uns can pass through the gate," the older man said. "If they are chosen."
"Chosen by whom?" Kain asked. The two villagers considered him.
"You wanna be the Chosen one?" the older man asked. Kain nodded. "You should go to the tent and stand before Thecla. She is the one who decides who goes through the gate."
They rose from their seats, though part of Ciri was eager to know why this Thecla had been given the job of choosing those who were allowed to approach the crones. She supposed she would find out.
She gave the two men a curt nod and continued up the slope, past a few houses and workshops, with Kain and Geralt in tow.
When she came to a sudden halt, Ciri pointed at two small creatures merrily whispering and chatting together. "Look… there are the children."
"No, they're godlings," Geralt specified. "I know them, Johnny and Sarah."
One of the godlings went away while the trio approached, and another one turned to regard them.
"Oh hey, White One," the creature said, his round yellow eyes studying them sharply. "You're back. I see you found your lass!" His gaze flicked from Ciri to Kain, and his thin lips creased in a simper. "I see where she snuck away from you. Can't blame her, yer old."
The godling's comment about her sneaking away made Ciri briefly shoot a glance Kain's way, because what the little creature was insinuating made the back of her neck feel abruptly hot.
Geralt chortled into his fist. "Nice to see you, too, Johnny. How are you?"
"Nice," the godling said. "Very good. Health is perfect, voice is honey. And Sarah makes it all even better! So I thank you for sending her my way."
"Happy to help," Geralt said.
"Why you here?" Johnny canted his head sideways.
"We need to get to the summit."
Johnny's eyes got bigger like saucers. "Why would you want that? It's impossible. Better turn back."
"We can't, Johnny. We need to get in. Can you help?"
Johnny scratched his head. "I know how stubborn you are, won't even try to talk you out of it. Is your lass as stubborn as you are?"
"Even more so," Ciri promised.
He sighed and scratched his head. "Path up the mountain starts t'other side of the gate. You'll need the key. Old Thecla only gives it to those she deems worthy of the ladies' presence. The young and beautiful."
"She's young," the female godling said from the short distance she was hovering, looking to Ciri and then Kain. "And him."
"But he's not!" Johnny gestured to Geralt.
Ciri bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking.
"It's different for witchers when it comes to judging age and youth," Kain said. "Geralt is not the oldest amongst witchers. Not yet and not for a while."
Johnny shrugged. "Tis for Thecla to decide. She is old and wise. Blind as your bum but she sees beyond what eyes see. She shall judge. Good luck to ye witchers."
"Thank you, Johnny. And Sarah." Geralt bowed his head ever so slightly.
"See ya," Johnny nodded. "Sometime, I hope."
Sarah laughed and waved her hand.
Geralt led the way toward where they said the tent was; the youth followed.
They found the woman named Thecla in a large tent after they'd crossed a bridge, alone except for the younger woman who'd been sweeping outside when they arrived.
They stepped inside and though Thecla's eyes clearly no longer worked, she sensed them approaching.
"Hm… who's that?" she called and before any of them could answer, she added, "Well, c'mon, come closer, girl."
Ciri stiffened ever so slightly, taken aback, but hesitated only a moment before stepping close to the old woman. Her hair was short and brittle, missing in places, and her face seemed to carry signs of having been damaged, either by an injury or perhaps foul weather.
"Aye. What's she like?" Thecla asked, and from behind Ciri the younger woman joined them. She looked Ciri over with a critical gaze.
"Narrow hips, sparkly eyes – a strikin', feisty lass."
As far as descriptions went, Ciri supposed that was not the worst.
"Never had a man?" Thecla asked, and once more Ciri stiffened, her mouth falling open. Once more, Ciri was unable to say anything before she continued. "Never mind," she sniffed. "Got me answer."
Ciri's cheeks flushed pink and she dared a look at Geralt and Kain on the other side of the tent, hoping they had both somehow missed this part of the conversation, though she could tell by Geralt's expression that was not so.
"I choose you, girl. This night you shall see the Ladies."
Kain felt the bristly vibes wafting off Geralt at the old woman's assessment of Ciri. The Witcher cast half a glance at him, as if unwittingly, but then narrowed his eyes at the women next to his ward.
"Ciri?" he raised his eyebrows in a mute continuation of the question.
"Of course, I will go," Ciri smiled. "That is why we came." I turned to the older woman again. "What of my companions?"
Geralt stepped forward; the old woman hemmed pensively and turned her blank face with unseeing eyes to her female assistant.
"Let's see what else has the cat dragged in, hmm?"
The assistant surveyed Geralt, her upper lip curling upward subtly. "It's grey and far from youth, and his eyes are like a viper's."
"Aye," the old woman drawled, and drew a deep breath through her nose, sniffing the air. "It stinks of clotted blood and corpses. It's old and infertile. I reject ye. What of the third?"
The assistant's eyes seized Kain up. "White hair like the old one, but young and pretty. Like the lass's brother."
The old woman sniffed the air again, making Kain's stomach churn lightly. A cunning little sneer curved her wrinkled lips. "Aye… young, fertile, full of spirit. Nay… not her brother. Ye don't want him as a brother, do ye, lass?" She laughed softly. "It fits. Ye can come with her."
Ciri narrowed her eyes at the old hag when she spoke of her intentions for Kain, but did not try to object. What would be the point? Ciri'd only offend her.
"Geralt should come with us," Kain said. "We come as three. We ascend as three."
"You misjudged me," Geralt added. "I'm worthy as anyone."
"Hmm…" The old woman frowned, pondering, then her head snapped toward Ciri. "Girl?"
Ciri gestured to Geralt. "He's sprier than any youth and only smells of corpses because he slays monsters. And he'll kill any who stand in his way."
Thecla took on a contemplative expression. "Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps there is life in 'im yet?"
She lifted her face towards Geralt. "By ancient rite, you may appeal my choice. But to do so you must best the challenge."
"What challenge?" Geralt asked.
"Ye must descend into a cave and bathe in waters below the earth," the younger woman said.
"The waters there are deep and murky," the old one added.
"I accept the challenge," Geralt said.
"Very well," the old one nodded and got up from her chair with effort. "Follow us."
Ciri frowned, she and Kain following behind the rest as they left the tent.
"That's not a challenge," Ciri whispered to the half-elf.
A point that was made clear once they reached the wooden scaffolding over a cliff. The waters below were indeed dark and murky.
"Look this over – a coin from days of yore," Thecla told Geralt. "Falka burns on its reverse, so they call it the Defier's Oren."
Ciri stiffened and shared a brief look with her mentor. Falka. What significance did that have?
Thecla pulled a coin from her skirts and held it out for Geralt to see. Then she dropped it into the water.
"Now bring me the coin," she said, sneering.
Kain didn't like it any more than Ciri did, but Geralt saw it for what it was: the only way being offered. He wasn't giving up on it.
The Witcher unbuckled his armor, pulled off his boots, left them next to his swords, then dove head-first into the pool beneath. The waters closed over him as if having swallowed him.
Ciri jerked next to Kain as if ready to jump after him; he grabbed her arm to keep her from it.
"It's all right," he whispered. "Let him handle it."
It took Geralt a long while – long enough to make Kain doubt his own words – but then the Witcher finally breached the surface and swam toward the lower steep rocks on the side of the pool to get out. A minute later, he was before them, cold water dripping off his figure. He picked up his clothes, began to put them on.
"Wasn't too hard," he said and tipped a wink at Ciri while buckling up his jerkin.
Kain's fingers around her wrist was the only thing keeping Ciri from jumping after her father. But his touch soothed her ever so slightly and she managed to contain herself until Geralt returned.
She gave him a relieved smile and watched as Thecla approached him for the coin. She took it and sniffed.
"It reeks of sludge," the old woman commented.
"Nothing I can do about that," Geralt said. "So is that enough for you to keep your word?"
"I always do, my boy," the old woman said. "Show that coin to the gatekeeper beyond the threshold. He'll know the meaning of it. Marica will open the door for ye. Now go."
The old woman left the tent, and her assistant gestured for them to follow. They did.
They went back down the trail they had come but before they could reach the houses, they slinked off to the left and up towards the mountain. Before long, they were faced with a large set of double doors carved into the rock wall. Marica stuck the key in and twisted.
The doors opened and revealed a wide tunnel leading further into the mountain. When Marica turned and headed back, Geralt, Kain, and Ciri slipped inside and started walking. After less than two minutes they dropped down from a ledge and into a cavernous space illuminated by torches, a loud booming voice echoing through the walls.
They all came to a sudden halt once they saw it. Some type of… beast? Demon? Monster? Ciri could not rightly say. He was large and round, blood-red in color except for a few black stripes, with horns on his head and cloven feet.
He eyed them, Ciri in particular, and then he spoke. "Hm. What's your name, girl?"
"What's yours?" she countered immediately, not too eager to give him any kind of relevant information.
The beast grunted. "Your name don't matter. Atop the peak you'll lose it and get another. You may go."
He turned towards Geralt and Kain. "And you?"
"My name doesn't matter," Kain said. "Thecla let me pass, and so shall you."
The creature threw its head back, laughing. "Feisty's nice," he approved. "Always nice for 'em to break. You may go." His yellow eyes flicked to Geralt, gauging.
"I passed the trial," Geralt said, producing the coin, and flipped it through the air toward the creature. "She said you'll know it."
"Hmm," the creature frowned. "A Defier's Oren. A death sentence." He slipped off the stoop he was sitting on, his hooves clanked loudly against the rocky floor.
Geralt sighed pulling his sword out almost lazily. His eyes reflected knowing. He wasn't surprised.
But Ciri was. She'd believed the old bitch.
Another name to add to my list, she thought, gritting her teeth pulling her sword as well, taking a few steps back as the red giant advanced.
He went for Geralt first, swiping his huge paws at the witcher as though he was a furious cat. Geralt managed to dodge, so the brute came for Ciri instead. Her sword was poised and ready but became useless as he hurled a ball of fire her way.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly just before she rolled out of the fire's trajectory.
The creature kept his eyes on Ciri, for she had her sword out, but his main target was Geralt, and it was the Witcher who had to roll away from his frequent fire attacks. It had to be a fair fight, but the old woman had deceives them in the best traditions of old and dark fairy tales, so Kain had almost no reservations when he pulled his own sword out to join Geralt's line of defense.
Even though the horned creature was heavy and didn't look particularly agile, he managed to keep them all occupied with dodging and parrying. He got a few deep cuts from Geralt and Kain, a slice or two from Ciri, but it didn't slow him down much.
Not until he opened his mouth to breathe fire at Geralt and they ventured to roll away in opposite directions while sliding our blades across his significant belly.
The cuts were deep enough for his entrails to push from the gash; a foul stench saturated his slowed moves. He growled in fury, preparing to sweep Geralt off his feet, but Geralt's sword was already buried deep in the demon-like being's chest.
The creature's yellow eyes widened, he opened his mouth to belch fire in Geralt's face when Kain slid his blade through his neck. The horned head fell off and bounced a little, then stopped on its side. The yellow eyes rolled, his tongue fell out between his parted lips like a dead slug. His headless body slumped and went down heavily when Geralt yanked his sword free.
A sense of relief washed over Ciri when the creature's head thumped to the floor and she had to admit, watching Kain slay the beast in defense of her loved one made her feel something else, as well. A tingling, fluttering sensation she decided not to dwell too long on.
"Consider that our warm-up?" she breathed, sheathing her sword and taking a step closer to them all to examine the beast more carefully. "What is that creature?" she asked Geralt, assuming he would know. "Some kind of demon?"
"It's a sylvan," Geralt said, sheathing his sword. "A rather big one, at that. They're impish like fairies, can be either neutral to you or a foe. Depends on each sylvan individually."
"We go to the Crones next?" Kain asked. "They probably already know we're coming. They will be prepared."
Geralt nodded. "Even so, Imlerith is a more serious foe. I'll head for him, and you two take the Crones."
"Isn't it smarter to stick together? You don't know what really awaits you here on every turn. Might be not what you expect."
"There is no way I am letting you go face Imlerith on your own," Ciri argued angrily, stepping toe to toe with Geralt so he could see how serious she was about this. "The Crones are not our priority."
"If they're in cahoots with the elves, we can't leave them unattended," Kain reasoned. "Not when they know about us."
Geralt gestured to him, "That's right. I'll find Imlerith, and you'll join me when you're ready."
Ciri rounded on Kain, arms crossed over her chest and a look of disbelief on her face. "We should not touch the Crones, even if they are there. Better play it safe. That is what you told me not three days ago when we discussed this. Why have you suddenly changed your mind?"
"If we could sneak in unnoticed, we wouldn't need to," Kain responded. "But now that I know how things are here, it's obvious what course of action benefits them most: siding with Imlerith and handing you over. If we don't find them first, they send more servants your way."
Something Ciri had known all along and had attempted to point out to him earlier.
She sighed, deciding further arguing on this topic would do no good. "Fine," she said eventually, looking between the two of them. "But if you die," she pointed to Geralt here, "I will never forgive you. You hear me, old man?"
Geralt scowled at her with fake reprimand, "That hurt."
"I can take Imlerith while you two deal with the Crones," Kain suggested with a light shrug. "I'll kill him."
"I know you will," Geralt said. "But it's a bit personal for me."
Geralt's scowl etched onto Ciri's face like a mirror image, only hers was not feigned as she regarded Kain. He talked about The Hunt as though they were nothing. Mere flies to be swatted away. She did not like how he and everyone else continued to underestimate them.
If that is what they believed, what did they think about Ciri who had been running from them for so long? That she was weak? Incapable of protecting herself? A princess?
That hurt.
"Let's go," she said, gesturing for the ledge the giant beast had been occupying once they entered the cave. "Avallac'h believed they would be beneath the giant oak tree so we will need to go further underground. As for Imlerith… I am not sure. But if he is not in these caves writhing with whores like a nest of snakes, I say the top of the mountain is a good place to start."
Geralt and Kain exchanged quick glances, and Kain followed Ciri while the witcher went for another tunnel that would lead up to the path for the mountain top.
"You're mad," Kain stated, following a little behind her. "Don't be. They'll use it against you in the fight."
"I'm not!" she argued, coming off a little more vehemently than she had intended.
She took a breath, climbing onto the top of another ridge before she admitted, "I'm just tired of everyone else having to fight my battles for me. For once, I'd like to be of some use."
Kain grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him.
"You're a witcher in the making, you're royal blood, ancient and powerful magic so mighty you could save this whole world. You are not just of some use - you're a hero, Ciri. Do you understand? You've been through what others couldn't survive. And you're here. You've been fighting alone for a long time, but now you're not alone, anymore. You have to let your family help you. It's all it is - his love for you. Not because you're too weak. Just because he wants to protect you. Because all this time before he couldn't."
He let go of her arm, searching her eyes for understanding.
If he had looked very, very closely he might have seen her lips begin to tremble. His words evoked some kind of feeling in her, a feeling that made her want to weep into his chest. A mingled mess of sorrow and appreciation.
"Then why do I feel like I am a child again?" she whispered, her gaze intently on his. "Why do I feel that way in his company, their company?"
"Because you were robbed of that life, of the time with them that would allow you to grow and them to see you grow. It's that time that became a gap between you and them. It takes time to adjust, and you've been trying to do that, but it's been all battles and no calm."
Ciri inhaled and nodded, somewhat soothed. She took his hand in hers and led him further into the cave, releasing him once they had to descend off a ledge and down onto the rock below.
She could hear running water now, almost like the sound of a waterfall or rapid river. It was not long before they found the source. A large opening in the floor where water poured down in generous amounts.
"I suppose that is our path," she said, adjusting the weapon on her back so it would not dislodge. "Ready?"
"Yes."
He squeezed her hand in his lightly and they stepped off the edge.
The flight was short; they hit the water. It was a deep pool of cold water that didn't look murky, but there was no bottom in sight.
They swam toward a small arch of a tunnel and climbed onto the rocky floor.
The roots snaked down the walls of the stony corridor and coiled from the ceiling like tentacles ready to catch the prey.
Up ahead there was light in a red hue. They crept that way, taking care to be as quiet as possible.
The roots eventually gave way to a large open space. The floor was covered in bloodied water, a crimson red, and severed body parts floated here and there like macabre ducks.
Around a grand witches' cauldron were three naked, beautiful, young women. They were speaking amongst themselves, too low to catch their exact words. But their voices were easily recognizable. The Crones. In their more flattering forms.
The one stirring the cauldron poured some of its contents out into the water, and the roots surrounding them came to life, embracing and caressing the witch like an old lover.
"Ugh," Ciri murmured before sharing a look with Kain, leaping down behind them and landing nimbly on her feet.
The trio turned immediately and, upon seeing her, shed their current good looks, taking on their natural form: old and saggy, with skin like decomposing corpses.
"Welcome, Child of The Elder Blood," the one with a cloth covering her face said.
Her one eyed sister continued, "We knew you would return."
And the morbidly fat one immediately joined in, "Your taste lingers on our tongue."
Ciri tried not to gag and pulled her sword. "Enough talk." Nothing they had to say would interest her.
Kain took a moment before following Ciri down and focused inside of him gathering strength. He couldn't draw from the earth directly - not around here where every bit of rock and soil was soaked with their own magic. It would poison him rather than help.
"Oooh," the Weavess with one eye cooed when he joined Ciri. "You brought a friend! Very good, very good. Guests should always come bearing gifts." She cackled.
"He looks very delicious," the fat Brewess remarked. "Such a nice offering for our Sabbath that we could even let you go, little girl."
"Mmm, can't wait," the Whispess added rubbing her hands.
"I'm not going anywhere," Ciri said, watching Kain out of the corner of her eye before focusing on the Crones again. "And I don't share."
She lunged for the one nearest her, Brewess, and sliced her sword across her belly. Like with their previous opponent upstairs, that was not enough to bring her down. Even if a fine mist of blood showered the air in her wake.
The three sisters shrieked and all flew into action.
"Naughty, naughty girl!" one of them chided, but Ciri paid no heed to whom, too busy dancing and twirling out of their reach whenever they made attacks of their own, and diving back in to deliver cuts to their deceivingly frail-looking bodies.
As soon as Ciri attacked, Brewess produced a vial with some elixir – with such a quick movement Kain barely noticed it before she puffed something into Ciri's face. It looked like a powder of black and silver, and Ciri staggered back shaking her head. Her movements became sluggish, her head hung like she dozed off for a moment.
He yanked her back before Weavess had her claws in the girl's hair, his sword stabbing her belly between the two thin child-like legs that looked awfully, sickeningly misplaced. She cackled and dispersed into a bunch of croaking crows flying around oozing black smoke as they did.
Ciri landed back on her ass, water splashing around her waking her up. Brewess didn't move much, being the least agile from the trio, but Whispess was aiming to get to Ciri. Kain put himself between them while Ciri recovered, but as soon as Whispess began her dance around them, his head felt simultaneously tight and woozy. Voices filled his mind, whispering, laughing, chortling, disorienting. She was each voice, and she was everywhere, all around and inside his head. She was good at parrying, but when he sliced his blade across her back, her screech busted inside his skull eliciting a cry from him. It was so loud it was blinding; blood was flushing dangerously in his ears as if he burst a vessel.
The scream was ear-piercing. Ciri though for a moment her eardrums had exploded.
But she was further away from Whispess than Kain, and managed to get to her feet, rushing at the old hag's back and tackling her into the water.
Ciri had her sword ready to pierce her head but she vanished beneath the girl before she could act, leaving Ciri straddling nothing but water.
Water, which soon became of a boiling temperature when Brewess stomped her foot and uttered a chant. Ciri gasped and rolled towards her, slicing at her fat ankles, making her stagger and curse.
Ciri was on her feet again before the Crone could recover, and drove her sword through her back, taking the time to cut up towards the heart. She spat and gurgled, falling to her knees.
"Naughty girl must be punished!"
Ciri did not know which of the other two uttered the cry. She only saw a red blur charging for her before something hard and heavy knocked her over.
The noise in Kain's head drowned in a shriek, and through a pulsating veil, he saw Whispess lunch herself at Ciri who had brought the fat sister on her knees.
His sword went through the Weavess's chest, and once again it was like he cut through air – the crows flew around croaking and screeching. Through the black cloud of feathers and smoke, he rushed for the Whispess and skewered her through the back.
She shrieked, bursting a ball of agony inside his head, and released Ciri's shoulder; the cuts from her claws turned red on Ciri's jacket.
Brewess wasn't giving up just yet. She had managed to get back on her elephant feet and whirled, knocking Ciri off hers with a fat arm hitting the girl in the back.
Kain yanked the sword he had buried in Whispess upward, cutting through her dense body, making her emit another horrid shriek that would make one's ears bleed; with another hand, he pulled his hunting knife from the sheath on his belt and threw it at Brewess. It stuck in the side of her head; her immense body staggered and began to slump down.
Whispess cried out; so did Kain, his knees giving way while he lost his balance in a wave of torment drowning his head.
His vision turned murky with dark red spots pulsing and dancing around while she screamed and the crows of her sister kept screeching; but Kain saw that shape of blood-hungry energy, he sensed it, and he gnashed his teeth and struck.
His sword went through Whispess's neck, and her scream turned into a gurgle.
Ciri ached all over from having been batted around like a cat-toy by the three sisters, but nothing too important had been damaged yet.
The shriek made the walls tremble, and once more Ciri feared for her ears. But Kain had the Crone. He got her.
Ciri rushed at Weavess, the only one still standing, while she was preoccupied watching her sisters fall to their deaths.
Like with Brewess before, Ciri drove her sword through her back, aiming for her heart. The Crone crumbled to the water with a feeble whimper and lay still.
Breathing hard, Ciri approached her, step by step, tentative. She nudged the body with her boot. The body did not move. It was limp. Dead.
Wincing while the headache reluctantly eased its clutches on his temples, Kain rinsed his sword in the reddish water, washing the black blood of the crones from the silver blade. Fighting headache, he tried to focus and look around. It wasn't easy, the fight and their tricks took a lot out of him. Everything around them was still very much soaked in their magic. A murky red shine still lingered around the last crone's corpse.
"Watch out!" Kain cried when Ciri turned away from her, but he was too late.
The Crone was on her feet, her knotted hand clutching Ciri's neck as the other ripped Vesemir's medallion off her chest.
"Naughty, naughty girrrrrl," the Crone growled. "You shall pay dearly!" She threw Ciri across the cave; the girl hit the cauldron and went down with it overturned.
Within an instant, Weavess was before Kain in a whirling cloud of black smoke and feathers and screeching crows. She pushed him against the stony wall, hitting the back of his head so hard he saw red sparks dance around her disgusting face like falling stars.
"It's you!" she yelled. "If not for you we'd be feasting upon her sweet, sweet flesh already! But it's you! YOUR FAULT! NAAAAAUGHTY!"
She cut the medallion sharp edge under his collarbone and licked the blood off it.
"Ooooh," she cooed, the smell of decay and death hitting him with a nauseating breath. "Elder Blood! Sweet child," her claws sunk into his neck, her fingers squeezing. She was like a solid rock keeping him pinned to the wall. Kain couldn't move a finger, and her stench was suffocating him along with her vice-like grip. "My sweet, sweet child…" she whispered. "I take thee as a tribute… and you bring them back to meeeee…"
Ciri was flying and the sudden landing was highly unpleasant. She toppled over with the cauldron, its contents soaking her along with the water that reached her knees.
She spat and swept severed limbs aside, her gaze set on the bitch and her hold on Kain.
Something brewed inside her, something dangerous and uncomfortably hot. Ciri's face twisted in an expression of pure fury as she reached out towards the Crone. It did not matter that the distance between them was too wide for her to touch the Crone. She did not need to. A power from inside the girl grasped her, wrenched her hands off Kain and hurled her across the cave to land in the water with a splash.
The Crone quickly got to her feet again, Vesemir's medallion dangling from one hand, the other at her sneering mouth as though she was savoring something.
"Naughty children," she hissed, looking from one to another.
Ciri snarled and reached for Swallow in the water, hurling the sword her way with a feral cry.
Weavess dispersed into a murder of crows just before Ciri's weapon could find its target and all of her, each and every bird, flew up and away, through a hole in the ceiling.
She was gone.
Kain coughed, clutching at the wall not to sink down into water when the witch was off him. He watched the crows ascend and fly out of the hole like some overgrown black moths. His medallion stopped humming eventually, signaling that she was gone.
"I should've gone for Imlerith," he said, only partially joking. He rubbed his neck, trying to get rid of the lingering sensation of her hand on his skin. The scratch beneath his collarbone stung and oozed blood.
"You and me both," Ciri breathed, staggering to her feet and wading through the filthy water to reclaim her sword. "Are you alright?"
"I guess so."
He approached the two dead Crones and was disgusted to find their bodies had begun to disintegrate, as if now that their magic was gone there was nothing to hold their flesh together.
He looked up at the hole in the ceiling, assessing the height. "Think you can get us up there with your power?" he turned to Ciri. "Geralt might need our help."
She nodded and found his hand with her own, her mind solely on Geralt as she transported them away in a wake of emerald light.