They appeared on the narrow path on the steep slope of the Bald Mountain leading to the top. They ran all the way up and froze at the clearing staring at the battle going on.
The elvish warrior was a giant next to Geralt, but the Witcher fared well holding his ground. Imlerith's armor was covered in frozen mist like a diamond powder, frost covering the dark metal sparkled as the giant moved around swinging his club over his head while Geralt dodged and parried as if he danced.
Yrden gleamed in violet shining on the ground where Geralt tried to block the warrior's magic, but it didn't work all that well, for Imlerith knew where to avoid stepping. One of Geralt's arms was bloodied, every move was pain.
Imlerith swung his club at Geralt, making him stagger back and lose his balance for an instant – an instant enough to aim another swing.
Kain threw a hand up, and his club slipped out of his grip and rolled across the ground. Imlerith's attention wavered to it for a second, and Geralt used his chance to stab his sword through the elf's midsection, crying out from his own pain as he yanked the blade up to cut through his ribcage.
Imlerith, however, emitted a loud growl and slammed his fists down on the sword between Geralt and himself, breaking the blade with a ringing clang. He grabbed the Witcher by the throat and rushed toward the edge, making Ciri cry out.
Kain wrapped an arm around her waist stopping her while Imlerith's attention was engulfed by Geralt.
"Who taught you to fight like this?" he growled into the Witcher's face.
Geralt grimaced in pain, but his eyes shone with fury. "The witcher you slew," he spat, raising his hand, and a stream of fire blared into the black knight's face.
Imlerith screamed, staggering back, his fingers slipped from Geralt's neck as he tried to rip his red-hot helm off. When he did, his skin was red and bleeding, steaming and charred. He fell to his knees; Geralt approached him with his giant club.
"The war is over for you," Geralt said and slammed the club down at the knight's burnt head.
Watching Geralt fight the giant elf while clearly injured was agony. Ciri fought Kain's hold on her but only managed once Imlerith's face had melted like cheese left out in the summer sun. She ran to her father as he slammed the club down on the elf's head, wanting to embrace him but scared to do so, unsure where she could touch him, where there were injuries she could not see.
"Geralt," she whispered, one hand reaching for him but not daring to make contact with his skin.
Shivering from pain and exhaustion, the Witcher lowered on his knees in front of the slain elf, his club fell away from his hand.
His left arm was in agony and hung like dead weight.
He managed a meek smile for Ciri's sake. "I'm fine. It's all right." He tried to survey her searching for wounds. She seemed fine except for a few scratches.
Kain kneeled next to him, having approached so silently Geralt didn't notice.
"It's not broken," he said, regarding the Witcher's arm that Imlerith had treated with his club. "Dislocated though." He took a gentle but firm hold of the shoulder and looked a question at him - ready?
Geralt nodded, sucking in a short breath, and he yanked. Geralt cried out, momentarily blinded by a bright flash of pain; it spilt all throughout his arm and chest and into his side. It took a moment to pass. Geralt's cry of pain made a shiver erupt down Ciri's spine. Yet she knew he would heal. He had potions for this.
"Thank you," Geralt breathed. Kain helped him up, and they walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the land below.
While the two started walking for the cliff, Ciri stayed behind a few moments longer, surveying Imlerith's dead and broken body with a sick satisfaction.
One down, two to go.
She made a point to step of his hand with her boot as she turned and followed her two companions, catching up.
"We need to leave as soon as possible," she said, even if she knew they were all craving some rest. "The Hunt will know."
"It's all right to linger a few minutes longer," Kain said while Geralt sat down on the rocky ground on the edge.
"I'm a bit too old and need a breather," Geralt jibed, shooting Ciri a cunning look.
Kain stepped away to give them a minute, walking over to a tall campfire that still burned.
Ciri sat down beside Geralt, shoulder to shoulder, legs dangling off the edge of the cliff. "Are you alright?"
Geralt shifted his shoulder with a slight wince. "I am, no need to worry." He regarded her closely, "Are you? How did it go with the Crones?"
"One escaped," she said solemnly. "She took Vesemir's medallion."
Geralt frowned in sympathy. "Taking on all three of them at their own Sabbath in their domain was too risky and too brash. It's lucky you came out unharmed."
"Not sure I did. Think I might have swallowed an ear," she teased, gently nudging his good shoulder with her own.
He simpered and wrapped an arm around her shoulders drawing her against him.
"Don't be saddened by that Crone's surviving you. She's alone and weak."
"Not weak enough," she murmured, leaning into him. "Not until she is dead."
She tried to inhale his scent, but right now Geralt smelt mostly like smoke and burned flesh. Still, the fact it was Imlerith's burned flesh made her feel a little giddy.
"Thank you for coming with me."
"It couldn't have been different," Geralt said and kissed her temple. "I'll always be with you if you want it."
"Thank you," she breathed in relief. "I love you. You know that, don't you? Even when I am angry and stubborn."
He smiled. "I love you, even though you're angry and stubborn."
"I said when," she pointed out. "Not that I am all the time." She looked over towards Kain. "They cut his neck fairly badly. I should go check on him."
"He's the most adept one in healing among us," Geralt said, casting a glance at the boy's back - he was still standing at the bonfire. "He'll be fine."
"Are you saying that because you do not want me to leave?" she smirked, pressing a little closer to him.
He grinned. "Want to know all my little secrets, don't you."
"Have you secrets?" Ciri withdrew and playfully poked his side. "What are you keeping from me, hm? Spill it?"
He chuckled, then looked at her with sobered eyes. "I don't think I do. Not from you."
Ciri smiled. "Really? That makes me happy."
Geralt gave her a mock scrutinizing look. "What about you? Any secrets I'd die to know?"
"Can't think of any," she said truthfully. "I feel I have shared a lot with you since we reunited."
Geralt stroked a thumb over her chin affectionately. "I don't want you to ever feel obligated or pressured into such things. That would never be my intention or wish. All right?"
"I know that," Ciri said, pressing a quick kiss to the hand that had been stroking her face.
"Now go check on your friend. I'll start walking back down. You catch up."
He got up, flexed his arm and noted with a bit of satisfaction that it hurt much less.
Ciri got to her feet, gave him a last examining look, and headed for Kain at the bonfire.
"Be careful," she called over her shoulder. "In case that ancient bitch is lingering in a bush somewhere."
At Kain's side, she cast a glance from him to Imlerith and back again.
"How do you feel?"
Staring into the fire intently, Kain kept seeing the sneering Crone's face. That godawful eye with flies crawling in and out, that stench of decay and desperation and the sting of her claws in his neck.
And that voice seeping into the depth of his mind...
He blinked, turned to see Ciri's face. Her question came to him belatedly.
"I'm fine," he responded, and cast a glance back at Geralt who was walking away. "Is he?"
"He will be once he gets to his potions, I am sure," she said, still eyeing Kain closely, one hand moving to tug at his collar to examine the wound under his collarbone. "Doesn't look pretty. What did she cut you with? Please don't say her fingernails..."
"Her nails cut the back and sides of my neck - it healed. It was easier. For this one she used your medallion. But it's fine. When we're out of here, it'll heal, too."
Ciri winced because she could not even begin to imagine where those nails had been.
Of course, they had been partially submerged by fluid that could only be described as people-soup.
"Ready to go? We cannot linger too long. And I would like a bath in the near future."
"We all would like that."
He cast a last gander at the bonfire and turned away to leave with her.
When they descended to where the tents and fires were, Geralt was conversing with the older man who met them in the beginning.
"How can they be gone?" the man inquired. "Velen is a No Man Land. It cannot be without the Ladies! The land will die without them! We will also perish if they don't bestow their gifts upon us."
"It is your land," Geralt said calmly. "It's always been your land. And so you will do well without the Ladies or anything else you think you need. All you need is a bit trust in yourselves. And in your land."
The old man stared at Geralt, thinking hard over his words. People were gathered around, whispering between themselves as the trio approached slowly.
"No! They killed the Ladies!"
They turned in unison; the man with the crossbow stood behind them, his eyes blazing with tears of genuine righteous fury and horror.
"They killed the Ladies and all of us!" he yelled, the crossbow shaking in his hands, wavering between the three of them, as though undecided which one of them held more responsibility for their deities' destruction. "You KILLED ALL OF US!"
Kain saw it in his eyes. Something shifted - even though for a fracture of instant - and his eyes reflected a total dark when he fired his weapon. And in that dark, Kain saw the Crone's stare. The same stare boring into him down in their cave.
My sweet child...
The feedback of the bolt pushed him back a tad as if someone punched him in the shoulder. The bolt stuck from under his collarbone oozing fiery pain through his chest.
Kain grunted, and felt Geralt propping him from behind to keep him from slumping or falling.
It happened as if in slow motion and yet Ciri could do nothing to stop it. The bolt struck Kain in the chest and he fell back a tad, landing in Geralt's embrace.
Her mind wiped clean of everything and anything other than pure rage, and grief, as Vesemir's pale and still form flashed before her eyes like some horrible nightmare.
She had left herself again and was looking down at her own body from somewhere else, watching as the girl with her face reached out with both hands towards the owner of the crossbow. Her expression was contorted in something ugly. Something primal that did not seem like it belonged there. And a familiar tempting voice rang in her head.
Make them all pay. Make them all suffer.
The man dropped the crossbow, his face one of confusion and fear as his body lifted from the ground to hover a foot in the air.
Ciri watched her hands come together in one rapid blow and the floating man exploded, like the bricks back at Kaer Morhen had.
The feeling of his blood spraying her face brought her back to herself and as the people surrounding them screamed and fled, she swayed on her feet.
It was like a flash of some horrid dream or vision. When Kain looked at the man again, he was himself, just more horrified and confused. And then he saw Ciri; her power overflowed her, took over once again when her mind failed to keep the focus, and then the screaming, horrified man exploded like a wave clashed against a rock during a storm.
Crimson splatter rained down, people screamed and fled.
Geralt's grip on his arm tightened, same as his chest. Kain stood firmer and patted at the Witcher's hand. Geralt let go of him gingerly, then stepped toward the girl.
"Ciri," he ventured, reaching out to her shoulder. "We should go."
"Yes," she agreed, overcome by a pleasant kind of numbness. As if her outburst had temporarily drained all emotion from her.
"Let us get to the boat." She started to head that way, then paused, looking back over her shoulder to Kain to see if he needed help walking.
Kain felt a bit woozy, and it was harder to breathe. The bolt was as if made of fire spreading venom through his chest. Geralt walked next to him, attentive to notice if he would begin to falter.
The boat was still waiting for them. Geralt pushed it into the water, they got in. He took the paddles and began to row. His arm was still uncomfortable, but most of the pain was bearable. His eyes kept studying Ciri as if attempting to gauge.
"Let me do that," she told Geralt once they had pushed away from shore, reaching for the oars. "You are injured. Tend to Kain. Help him heal."
"I'll be fine," Kain said, getting a better grip on the bolt, but Geralt's hand drew his away.
"Grab onto something," he said, his fingers closing around the bolt.
Kain took a shallow painful breath and took a hold of the boat's brims. Geralt yanked the bolt out, and Kain's chest and shoulder burst in scalding pain. He let out a sound that was a mixture of grunt and growl, squeezing his eyes shut when his vision darkened. It took a moment to balance between staying awake and slipping into a luring numbness, but his mind held on to the former.
"Thanks," he breathed, peering at Geralt; the Witcher was pressing his palm to the wound, blood trickling between his fingers down the back of his hand like new red veins coming out.
"It might've pierced your lung," Geralt said. "What do you need to heal? I have Swallow, but you're not a mutant."
"No need. I just need a bit of time, is all."
"All right."
Was he telling the truth about that or did he just not want to concern them, Ciri wondered. A pierced lung was not nothing.
She eyed Kain while she rowed in a steady rhythm, her arms eventually starting to ache from the repeated strain. But she did not stop. It was a tolerable kind of pain. Most physical pains were. Preferable to the devastating thoughts trying to enter her mind, trying to remind her how close she had come to losing him.
It took them a good chunk of time to get to the village where they had left their horses at the inn, and by then Geralt had done some more rowing of his own, as well.
When they neared the shore, Kain opened his eyes and moved his shoulder. The bleeding had stopped, the wound had skinned over, but some inner pain lingered. It would take some more time to get over the aftereffects.
At least he hoped so. Unless the Crone had been prepared and made the man poison the bolt with some filth Kain hadn't detected yet.
Either way, time would tell.
They returned the boat and checked on the horses, then went to the inn for a meal. None of them were particularly hungry, but appreciated a chance to relax.
Kain touched a hand to Geralt's strained shoulder and rid him of remaining pain and damage from the club. It made him more tired, but it was worth it. Geralt didn't have to take his potions and wait through their side effects.
"We'll take a few hours of rest," Geralt said when their baked potatoes arrived, "and then go on to Novigrad."
"Yes. I will have the innkeeper prepare us baths. We could all use them." Especially Kain and Ciri. They both smelled strongly of death and blood.
She dug into her potato, taking quick little bites to get the eating-part of the night over with. At this point it was simply something that needed to be done and finished.
"I better take a swim in the river," Kain said, sending a piece of potato into his mouth.
"I've had enough cold swims for one night and would prefer a warm one this time," Geralt said.
Ciri finished before her companions had even gotten halfway, and rose to her feet. "I will take care of it."
She headed for the bar counter. They had already purchased rooms for the night, so it was no trouble having the innkeeper's daughter provide them with warm water and soap.
She went to tend to it immediately and Ciri followed to help, attempting to make the process go quicker.
As soon as his meal was finished, Kain went to get the horse he supposed he could consider his now and went north from the settlement. He knew Griffin was there waiting.
While the beast was cleaning his feathers sprawled on the shore, Kain made a campfire, left his clothes at it and went for a swim.
It was a lucky day with no drowners around to spoil his bath. He warmed the water around him and rubbed his skin until he felt clean of all the dark sticky magic of the Crones and their special place on the mountain.
He half lay with his back against the griffin's warm side, watching the fire and absentmindedly brushing his fingertips over the place where the bolt had been earlier. Something inside still ached dully, but it wasn't his concern.
He kept thinking about the Crone's words.
Elder Blood...
I'll take thee as my tribute and you'll get them back for me...
Ciri undressed the moment the innkeeper's daughter was out, lowering herself into the bath and sinking down beneath the surface to truly rinse every inch of her.
That numb feeling was still there and for now she reveled in it. It offered no concern, no guilt, no fear. It was just her and the warm water, the most at peace she had felt for a long time.
The warm bath did Geralt good, helped him relax and feel there was no remaining pains or discomforts. Kain could heal for sure.
Could he heal himself as perfectly, the Witcher wondered. The Cat still seemed a bit rundown when he left after the supper.
Geralt's mind returned to the Crones and Imlerith, his biting words about Ciri.
'Sooner or later, he'll get to her, and when he does, she'll be spreading her pretty long legs to welcome him as her master. You cannot change this, nor that she desires him deeply. She never told you, did she?'
'The Sisters saw your return in the waters. They told me you'd come.'
When Geralt went outside for some fresh air, the sky was already dark and stars were twinkling all over it. Kain's horse was still absent. He wondered whether the Cat was going to spend the night alone away from them. Ciri wouldn't like that.
Ciri remained until the water turned cold, then climbed out and wrapped herself in one of the bed sheets. She moved to stand by the window, eyeing the street outside. It was fairly empty, not much to see.
Kain had not returned. She could sense as much. She probably should be out searching for him, making sure he was all right like she always did. But she suddenly felt so very tired.
She lay down atop her bed and gazed out the window, trying to count the stars.
Kain snapped his eyes open with a sharp inhale. Griffin croaked softly as if in question.
The crossbow man's face right before he was no more than a blood rain still stood in Kain's inner eye lingering from the dream.
"She killed him because of me," he whispered. Griffin clacked his beak. "If she loses control because of me, how can I stay around? I don't want her to kill because of me. I shouldn't have stayed."
Griffin croaked softly. He had no answers. Nor had Kain.
Ciri woke the next day and found Kain was still not back. She did not even feel his presence at the inn. Did that mean he had left? For good? He had only said he would come to take care of Imlerith, had not promised anything beyond that.
She slowly got out of bed and found her clothes, pulling them on. Most of the inn seemed to still be asleep. Geralt probably was, too.
She found Kelpie outside in the stables and climbed atop her.
"Find him," Ciri told her. "You know where to go."
The sky was clear and the sun was stroking his face when Kain woke up.
He squinted, sitting up, and stretched. Griffin stirred and got up, too, stretching like a cat. The horse was grazing not far from them. The stallion didn't mind the griffin's presence so close, anymore.
Kain splashed the river water in his face, then stood and winced moving his shoulder. The dull ache was still there. As well as the clear memory of the Crone's face so close to his, and the crossbow man's terror before he died. Kain winced again and glanced after the griffin that took off to hunt.
The stallion raised his head to look at the creature fly off, then returned to grazing.
Ciri found him easily. Turned out he had not strayed too far from the village.
She slipped off Kelpie's back and approached Kain cautiously, looking him over. "Are you leaving?"
"Leaving where?" he asked. She seemed more like herself now, and that eager searching in her eyes when she looked at him had returned.
"Leaving me? Us?" She lifted her head, searching the sky for the griffin but she could not see him.
A bit stupefied, Kain reflected on it a moment. "Why do you ask that?"
She thought on that a moment.
"Scared," she admitted. "I don't want you to go."
His inner conflict tightened his chest. "Why are you scared? You're not alone. You won't be alone."
Not scared to be alone. Scared to be without you.
She couldn't tell him that. Could tell no one that.
"I suppose that is true." She looked to her feet. "Are you coming with us to Novigrad?"
He was studying her with a subtle curious squint. There was something she wasn't telling, and he couldn't insist.
He thought about the Novigrad, averting his eyes to the river and the glaring spots of sunlight reflecting off its surface. A part of him wanted to leave, felt it was the best time. Maybe the only time he would be able to. There was another part reminding him he had made a promise to help.
(… Elder Blood… my sweet child…)
A wince crossed his face; he pushed the thought away and peered back at her. "You want me to come because you believe they're after me? Because you think I can't be alone, anymore, while they can hunt me, too, now?"
She nodded, watching him from under her eyelashes.
"That is one of the reasons," she admitted. "The other is… purely selfish."
He frowned, "Selfish, how?"
"Because having you close makes me feel good. And I think it might be one-sided, so… Selfish."
"Feel good? What do you mean? If it's safety - I'm sure Geralt makes you feel the same."
She could not help but laugh. "How I feel about you and how I feel about Geralt are two very different things."
And she hated that he was making her say it, making her feel so vulnerable.
"Beyond the pull of mysterious powers, beyond the fact you are an extremely valuable asset to our cause, I… I like you, Kain."
He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Like... I helped you, so you like me. Because we're friendly. It's the very base reaction. Nothing unusual about it."
"No," she said, drawing out the vowel as if she was speaking to someone in need of extra time and understanding. "I. Like. You."
Kain kept peering at her with the same expression, since his reasoning still stood.
She threw her hands in the air, frustrated and unwilling to humiliate herself further. "Never mind. Are you coming to Novigrad or not?"
He looked at the river pensively. "I don't know if I should. I'm not sure what I should do. Nor do you know, apparently. No one does."
"I want you to come. I think I have made that very clear," she said seriously.
"One wish is not always enough to choose a path," he murmured. "There should be... something more. And I don't know what."
She knew she was asking a lot of him. Staying with them was close to a death sentence. But him out there alone… It might not be better.
His words stung and before she could stop herself, her insecurities showed once again. "Am I not enough?"
He turned back to her, both baffled and surprised. He searched her face and knew she didn't mean to spill it, but the emotion got a will of its own. It meant it was genuine.
But what it was... The thought scared him.
He pondered a moment and asked: "If you had to leave everything you know and are used to and leave with me into the unknown, would I be enough for you to do that?"
"If it was temporary, yes," she said. "I am not asking you to abandon what you know and love forever. I am asking you to stay with us until we have defeated The Hunt. Until we are all…" Safe was not the right word. "Safer."
The Hunt had nothing to do with her 'am I not enough' argument, but Kain felt no wish to pry or even remind her of having used it.
A part of him hoped she didn't mean it. That he didn't hear it right. That it was safe to dismiss it altogether.
"All right," he said finally and went to the black stallion still peacefully nipping at the grass. "I'll help you with the Hunt."
She breathed a sigh of relief even as she could feel the guilt of pushing him into it begin to seep through her defenses.
"Wonderful. Let us hope Geralt is up by now. We should not linger too long in this area."
He hopped on the horse. "He's still asleep. It's been a long haul from the mountain back to the village"
Ciri frowned as she climbed back into Kelpie. "How do you know? Have you bonded that deeply already you can sense if he is awake or asleep?"
Kain shrugged, sending Onyx into a trot with a gentle press of his heels. "I just know. I might be wrong. We don't have to be bonded to understand each other. We come from the same place. Brought up the same way - well, almost."
After arriving back in Novigrad – what was waiting for Yennefer was a note from Triss. In it she stated that she was going to infiltrate the Radovid's prison and try to gain information on Margarita Laux-Antille. She didn't explain her reasoning but Yennefer assumed it had to do with the fact that Triss felt responsibility about being the cause of her demise.
Yennefer crumpled the note, tossed it aside in rage, irritated that Triss had recklessly decided to hand herself over to the enemy and that she couldn't wait to let them discuss her plans.
That had been a day ago.
Trying to save her had proven useless, but finding her surprisingly easy.
Only Yennefer hadn't been able to get into the fortress or find a means of getting in that would mean that Yen would be able to safely get out, as well.
Yennefer settled for an alternative, a mind altercation of one of the soldiers. That had worked for all of a passing of the gate, of seeing where Triss was kept. And then her 'spy' was caught.
That would have been fine, only it had made the situation worse as after a thorough investigation and torture, they'd discovered his head had been tampered with and he couldn't remember anything beyond what he'd been told to do for the redhead by freeing her.
Yennefer should have been more careful, but her options had been limited.
Radovid's men and his assigned hunters now freely roved the streets of Novigrad, citing war, plucking anyone from their midst that showed even the slightest inkling of magic use.
Ciri climbed the stairs to Geralt's room and knocked. Just in case he was naked.
Geralt groaned, flipping lazily onto his back.
"Ciri..."
She entered at the sound of his grunting and closed the door behind her, eyeing her mentor in his bed. "How do you feel?"
"Sleepy." He cracked an eye open at her with a sardonic smirk.
"Mhmm, and other than that?" She took a seat on the edge of his bed.
"I'm fine, you have nothing to worry about. What of you? And your friend?"
"I'm fine. Kain seems fine. We are ready to ride out."
"Fine. Go get us some breakfast, and then we shall. It's a few hours ride if we don't hurry to spare the horses."
"Get dressed," she said, rising to her feet again and heading for the door. "We will be downstairs."
She found the innkeeper and ordered all the breakfast they were serving that day before sitting down next to Kain at a table. "He'll be here soon. Unless he falls asleep again."
"He deserves more rest if he needs it," Kain said. "Are we in a such a hurry that another hour is vital?"
"I would rather not be here when The Hunt arrives."
"They're not in a hurry yet - they are certain that they'll win. Though, when they find out about Imlerith - who knows."
"That Crone could have already told them." Ciri leaned back in her seat, trying to relax.
"Perhaps." He frowned thinking about things the Weavess told him.
Why would she say that…
"You look worried," Ciri noted. There was a crease between his eyebrows that had been there since yesterday. "Are you still in pain?"
He pushed the annoying thought away and shook his head. "No, not really. It's probably nothing."
Probably nothing? That did not sound like Kain. He was always so certain of his own self Ciri had never known him to use words like probably.
She turned toward him with a mild frown of her own. "What is it?"
He met her eyes firmly. "Nothing important. Witches say nasty things when they're angry."
"So do I," she admitted, temporarily worried it was her he was talking of. But that made no sense. She was not really a witch.
She was silent a moment, thinking. "The Crones?"
He nodded. "Seems like she believed I could somehow get her sisters back. I would guess, she had ideas how to make it happen."
That was interesting. "Really?" She paused, eyeing him curiously. "Could you?"
Kain grimaced. "I wouldn't touch anything resembling necromancy, and no, I don't believe I can bring them back. But what she meant was that she knew the how part, and she wanted to use me somehow. Not for knowledge, but for power or whatever else.
"If she knows ways to bring her sisters back, she can find a way. If she does, they will do everything to make you and Geralt pay for their demise."
"Perhaps we should have burned their bodies," she muttered, falling silent when the innkeeper came over with their breakfast.
Kain shook his head slowly, contemplative. "I don't think those bodies are important for bringing them back. Hardly they would reuse them."
"You don't think they were their original bodies? Why would anyone choose to look like that?"
"They're not of this world as much as they rather visit from another dimension. So those bodies could be recreated if a certain magic is used.
"As for the looks, their perception of it was not like a human's. You know what they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It's subjective, personal. They're not human, and their perception is different. Their bodies allowed them to change their looks to play with people's perceptions and minds manipulating them."
Ciri understood what he was saying but she still struggled with believing anyone would find The Crones appealing enough to even approach.
"Right." She ripped off a piece of bread and put it in her mouth. "Are you scared she will come looking for you?"
"No, I'm not scared for myself. I merely wondered about what she said."
(...Elder Blood... My sweet child...)
He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. That man, though, - he didn't deserve to die. She possessed him to make him shoot. It wasn't his fault, he was just scared out of his mind. The whole world as they knew it crumbled. Those people lost their base, their religion that kept them going and made the only sense they knew."
Ciri froze, his words buzzing around her mind in a confusing cacophony.
"What?" she asked, looking at him in horror. "What did you just say?"
He peered at her in mild alarm and confusion. "What?"
"He was possessed?" Her arms fell into her lap, eyes wide and pleading. "How do you know?"
Kain almost regretted saying anything, seeing her look. "I saw it in his eyes. They changed when she entered and then he fired the bolt. She made him shoot me."
Her gaze fell to the table in front of her. It became harder to breathe and a cold sweat began to lace her forehead. She was silent for a long time, trying to process. And then…
She jumped up and broke away from the table, making for the front door. She was going to be sick.
She ran for the stables and stopped once she could hide from public sight behind one of the walls, supporting herself against the shoddily built building, trying to steady herself. Bile was rising at the back of her throat and she was trying hard to not let her measly breakfast come back up again.
She closed her eyes and wept silently.
"Dammit," Kain hissed under his breath and went after her. The keeper's wife was on her way to their table with their breakfast, and she stared at him with saturated reprimand. "We'll be back shortly," he assured her. "Just leave it there, please. I'm sorry."
He found Ciri at the stables; her shoulders were shaking making his heart shrink. A part of him wished he didn't bring it up, but deep down he knew she had to know. She had to think about it, so some other poor fellow wouldn't die like that in the future.
Silently, he approached and gently pulled her from the wall into his arms.
Ciri didn't have to open her eyes to know it was Kain. Good thing, too. If it had been anyone other than him or Geralt, she would have kicked them in the groin.
She leaned into him, her hands covering her face, and cried until she had nothing more to give, until she felt drained and her head ached.
He held her while she let it all out, her body shaking against him. He felt every bit of her suffering as if they went through him like cold needles, piercing and leaving a freezing residue of desperation.
When her weeping eased, he stroked a hand up and down her back.
"There are buckets with rain water under the shed," he said quietly. "You can wash your face before we return. Geralt might be down already."
She nodded, not quite ready to talk yet.
She gave his arm a squeeze in a mute thanks and pulled away, making her way over to the shed in question on shaky legs. She found the buckets and leaned down to splash water on her face, washing away any sign of tears so they could go back inside.
Kain let her have a moment alone while he returned inside the inn to find Geralt settling at their table. The keeper's wife shot Kain a look as if he were a weird one, and served Geralt's plate.
"Where's Ciri?" Geralt asked.
"She's outside for some fresh air, going to be back in a minute." He sat down and picked up his fork.
Geralt was scrutinizing Kain in open disbelief. "What's wrong?"
Kain sighed. "I told her the man she killed was possessed by the surviving Crone. It upset her."
Geralt frowned, "And you did that, why?"
"Because she has the right to know. With the kind of power she possesses, she has to know responsibility. You know that. It might help her learn to not lose control when emotions run high. I would guess it's what the elf is trying to teach her."
Geralt poked his eggs with a fork, scowling in thought. "I understand your point. But I don't want her to suffer. She's had more than enough of that. She was afraid for you and reacted. You can't blame her for caring so much."
"I don't blame her, Geralt. I blame myself for being the reason of that man's death. It could be either of us, but it happened to be me. And I did nothing to stop her."
"You couldn't. Nor could I."
"Maybe I could if I tried harder."
Geralt sighed, his head shaking twice. "Oh, Gwyncath…"
Ciri returned some time later and reclaimed her seat, helping herself to a sip of the tea we had been served. She wasn't all that hungry anymore, but forced herself to eat, nonetheless, avoiding eye contact with Geralt and Kain both.
They ate in silence. Geralt regarded her a few times, but she never raised her eyes to either of them while she ate with no appetite.
Kain finished his meal, then his water, and took his plate and mug to have an excuse to leave the table. He left them on the counter and exited the inn, adjusting his sword as he went for the stables.
Geralt sipped his tea, watching Kain go, then looked back to Ciri, concerned.
"You feeling all right?"
She still did not meet his eyes, but nodded. "Yes. Or I will be. In time."
It hurt him deep inside his heart. "Ciri, you know you can talk to me about anything when you need to. I want to help if you need it."
"And I love you for that. But not now. Let us just get on the road. How long do you think it will take us to get to Novigrad?"
"Three hours or so if we don't push the horses much."
She nodded again. "That is good. Three is acceptable. We can get some decent rest once there. You and Kain will need it with your injuries."
"My injuries have healed. I feel good. If our companions have arrived there already, I will be busy, I foresee."
"Rest is still needed," she argued. "We have not had much recently."
And she had run out of Mousesack's sleeping draught. She would have to ask Yennefer for help.
"Ready?"
Geralt nodded and got up, waiting for her to follow her outside. He left the pay for their breakfast on the counter as he passed by, with a nod of thanks to the keeper and his wife.
Kain was at the stables' rack, stroking his horse's neck. The stallion's nose was propping the boy's arm as though in a gesture of tenderness an animal could show to a human it served.
Geralt whistled for Roach; she paid absolutely no mind. He sighed and went to pull her away from the feeder. She tore away from grain reluctantly and snorted while he mounted.
Kelpie came to Ciri as soon as she stepped out. Ciri climbed into her saddle, waited until they were all ready, then set off.
She did not speak until they could see the city walls in the distance.
"Will the griffin stay close by? Out in these forests?"
"He'll be where he sees best," Kain said. "He knows to stay safe and move when it's dark."