Yennefer had moved from where she'd disposed of the hounds to Triss's side in a blink of an eye. There wasn't time for conventional methods of travel. Triss looked close to collapsing, her features deathly pale, blood coating her upper lip, dried against her skin, frost clouds expelling from her nose as if she were a bull.
"Rest," Yennefer said.
Triss didn't argue, grateful for the presence of her old friend on the battlefield. Even if personally they were at odds, professionally Triss trusted Yennefer enough to know that she'd watch her back and vice versa.
For a time, they remained on the sidelines, Yennefer tossing around temporary shields, anticipating attacks on those innocents she could help and her companions, anchoring of The Wild Hunt with magic until they could be properly dispatched of by sword, flame, or some spell from Avallac'h.
This went on and on until eventually she shifted closer, physically inserting herself beside the only elf on their side.
"Their forces are dispersing," the Sage said, his eyes on the market square. "The assault is almost over."
"We shouldn't let them get away."
"I don't believe any of the attackers did. However, it wouldn't be amiss to check the perimeter - around the city, as well."
"I'll make a sweep. Stay close to my family."
Yennefer didn't wait to hear Avallac'h's retort before stepping through a portal, carrying herself to the banks where she'd seen some Riders before. She didn't want to waste time giving them the opportunity to recoup or make their escape. If there happened to be any alive.
Avallac'h cast a lazy gander at the portal that opened and closed next to him, then returned his attention to the square. The battle, indeed, seemed to be over; Geralt and Kain coursed around the market searching for survivors. There weren't many among the Redanians.
Dijkstra made an appearance with three soldiers of his guard and seemed very preoccupied and angry.
When Fringilla found her way to Geralt and Kain, there were no more Hunt Riders left to kill and the two witchers were engaged by Sigismund Dijkstra. The Redanian Chancellor was very unhappy about the mess and destruction.
"All the wounded must be tended to immediately," Sigi commanded. "There are enough medic students at the Academy, I believe. You," he turned to one of his guards, "go there and make them move! There are people dying here!"
The guard bowed and galloped away; Sigi turned to approaching footfalls that belonged to Fringilla.
A wry smile creased his mouth. "Are you all here once it's over?" he inquired with an acrimonious rise of an eyebrow. "Where were you when it all began? All your magic was good for nothing. Have you left Novigrad undefended?"
Fringilla paid no mind to his mockery and nodded in greeting to the witchers. "Phil and Rita are there, as well as Zoltan and every soldier, witch hunter and temple guard left to defend the city. If there is anything to happen there at all."
"Oh, now you begin to analyze their cunning?" Sigi scoffed. "Charming." He sized Geralt up with a derisive glare. "Where is that elf of yours who should have enlightened us about their strategies?"
"I don't believe he likes to enlightened anyone about anything," Geralt said, folding his arms. "He was here helping us, however."
"Not that he helped much," Sigi noted. "You certainly fail at picking allies, Witcher. You always have."
"Don't let your poison give you an ulcer, Sigismund," Fringilla said, smiling sweetly.
Dijkstra pinched his lips and turned the horse around, trotting toward the main street.
Fringilla gave the witchers a cursory look. Both had scratches and cuts, the younger one's side was bleeding. "You need some medical attention. I can help."
"No," Kain said. "I'll do it myself."
"You better hurry," Geralt said. "It's a lot of blood. Your shirt is soaked."
"Been worse. It's not as bad as it looks. We have to check on Ciri and Dandelion."
Fringilla sighed. "I'll go see how Triss is. She's spent a lot of power."
"I suppose the attack is over," Geralt estimated. "You should take Triss back to Novigrad and aid her there."
"I'm sure she will be willing to aid the wounded here," Fringilla said. "When she feels better."
Geralt nodded and touched her shoulder. "Thank you."
Fringilla smiled warmly. "It's nothing."
She walked away, and the brothers headed for the Academy bridge.
"Is there anyone you haven't touched?" Kain asked, amused.
Geralt allowed the smallest of smiles. "More than you think. But we barely meet those."
"The world is too small for a witcher," Kain jibed and winced in pain as they laughed.
Yennefer made a systematic check of the area around Oxenfurt, finding that some of the travelling merchants had been caught in the crossfire, their wares spread out on the road, their horses dead beside them.
She sorted through their belongings for anything useful and then returned to town, catching up to Kain and Geralt on the bridge.
The structure had not taken damage, thankfully. As it seems the Wild Hunt's main objective was to massacre as many people as they could.
They'd certainly succeeded.
The part that baffled Yennefer was how it had ended and why they'd pulled back without an appearance from Eredin. What had happened?
"How many have we lost?"
Geralt looked at her, bewildered. "You think we had any chance to count? It's the first time we get to catch our breath."
"It's a lot more than we can count in one go," Kain said. "You should've seen it yourself from the rooftops. Civilians and soldiers alike. Elves are better fighters."
The inner yard of the Academy was not in a better state than the market square they had left behind. Lots of fallen soldiers lay next to fallen Riders and their hounds. Statues and benches cracked and broken.
"Ciri," Geralt called, catching sight of her and his friend. "Dandelion!"
Ciri turned her head to look at Geralt once she heard his voice, a smile automatically claiming her lips. He looked unharmed for the most part. She hobbled over to him and gave him a quick hug, seeking out Yennefer next.
Yennefer frowned, fussing over the damage to Ciri's leg. "How bad is it?"
"Taken care of," Ciri said, and shrugged. "Mostly."
Dandelion had trailed behind Ciri to join them as well. He didn't move to embrace Geralt but he did grin.
"You missed a performance of a lifetime from me. Both on and off the stage." He imitated throwing one of the bombs, his lute bouncing on his back as he grinned at his friend. "You guys made it in a nick of time, too. Kain and Triss were doing all the heavy lifting, but we were biting at the bit."
Ciri's gaze fell on Kain. "Let them help you now," she said, gesturing to Shani and the medical students. "At least allow them to clean your wound before it gets infected."
"There's no point in anyone else doing anything when I'll do better," Kain responded, and looked down at her leg. "I'll do that one first, though." He surveyed the court. "Where is Triss?"
"Back in the city," Geralt said. "Helping the wounded." His eyes met Shani's when she approached and stood by Ciri, smiling. He smiled back with recognition, "Shani! Long time. I'm glad you're all right."
She beamed. "Geralt, still the charmer. I'm more than all right, have my own Clinic in the city - if it still stands... And reading lectures here at my alma mater. I have to tend to the wounded and make sure no one's left forgotten." She smiled apologetically at all of them. "I'm very glad to see you all unharmed, um... relatively."
She reached to Kain's side, and it took an effort on his part to not step back.
"Oh, it's still bleeding," she said. "We need to tend t—"
"No need," Kain said firmly. "I heal with magic. You should help Triss with others."
Shani looked surprised and a bit doubtful. "If you're certain… Find me if you need my help." She gave both witchers a charming smile and went away.
"Don't be daft," Ciri said. "I'll not permit your aid until you have healed yourself. I refuse to be the cause of you losing consciousness and probably dying.
"Besides, I have already been patched up by Shani." She looked to Yennefer to reassure her. "It is nothing. Just a flesh wound. Are you alright? Geralt?"
"I'm fine," Geralt assured. "Just a few scratches. I've arrived near the end. I wish we could come sooner."
"Either you want me to help you or you want to be bedridden," Kain argued, peering at Ciri. "It went down to the bone. You can't walk if you want to live."
"He's right, Ciri," Geralt said. "We need to find you a bed. Or better take you back to Novigrad." He looked to Yennefer.
"And yet, I am not the one still bleeding," Ciri argued, eyeing Kain's side pointedly.
Her voice softened slightly. "Put yourself first for once. Please."
"How can we be sure that Eredin won't attack there next?"
"It depends on where Eredin is," Avallac'h said, approaching. "They shall not act without his command."
"Where did you take him?" Kain asked Ciri.
"Somewhere dark, cold, wet," she said. "I don't know the name of the world. A rock in the middle of a black ocean. A place I have never been to before. It will take them some time to find him."
"That would be very beneficial for us," Geralt said. "I hope they never find him."
"I would not count on that," Avallac'h commented.
"They'll find him," Ciri agreed. "But not today."
"Then it's over for now," Yennefer stated.
Dandelion looked relieved by the news. They looked around, listening to some of the people crying as they were tended to, taking in the aftermath of the chaos.
"That's a relief," Dandelion said, breathing at as if he'd been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I'm going to stay – help with whatever I can."
"Fringilla Vigo stated the sorceresses of the Lodge shall help rebuild," Avallac'h shared impassively. "They were discussing it with Triss Merigold as I passed. I assume the Redanian Chancellor has tasked them with it already."
"Yennefer, please, take Ciri back to Novigrad and make sure she lies down," Geralt said, eyeing his ward with a mixture of worry and admiration. "We shall stay a bit longer to make sure everyone is tended to and there are no stray Riders left."
Ciri made a noise of objection and pointed at Kain. "What about him? He shouldn't be out wandering the streets and swinging swords any more than I!"
Geralt smirked, "No one lets him swing any swords, don't worry."
"You don't look much better yourself," Kain shot him a look with a ghost of mocking.
Geralt pretended to frown defensively, "It's the potion. It'll pass."
"Oh, please," Ciri scoffed. "If that were me," she pointed to Kain again, "you'd all have strapped me into a bed already and would be force-feeding me soup right now. Shift some of that attention onto the wounded one, will you?"
"I'm fine," Kain repeated. "I wasn't stabbed to the bone and continuing to jump around swaying swords. I can manage it."
"No. You were just slashed by a huge sword and had your legs frozen," Ciri countered, her annoyance growing the more Kain refused to admit he was actually hurt.
"Let's stop arguing and turn to the more important tasks," Geralt said. "Yennefer and Ciri return back, and we here shall lick our wounds and help others."
"Sounds reasonable enough," Avallac'h agreed.
"There's no need for us to go back as of yet," Yennefer argued. "We can help."
"Ciri needs to lie down before she rips the stitches," Kain said.
"I shall tend to her upon my return this night," Avallac'h promised.
"Let's go," Ciri said, her eyes narrowed in anger, looking to Yennefer before limping to the place she expected a portal would be opened.
Yennefer made no move outright to produce a portal, giving Kain time to trail after Ciri to explain and apologize for brushing off her concerns. Which he didn't do.
"If anyone needs to return home to rest – it's Triss." The last time Yennefer had seen her she'd been near death. She also knew Fringilla was taking care of Triss but wanted to check in herself.
"Give me five minutes."
With that, she broke away from the small group in search of the redhead.
Geralt caught her by the arm. "Fringilla helped her, she's fine now. You need to take Ciri to the inn, she can't be allowed to walk any longer."
"I'll take myself," Ciri interjected. "Find Triss and make sure she is alright."
She vanished in a flash of green before anyone could argue further, and appeared in her room at the inn. She cautiously lowered herself to her bed where she sat, undoing her weapons and the clasps on her armor. The streets outside were still eerily silent. They wouldn't be for long, she suspected.
Geralt sighed, releasing Yennefer's arm, and looked at Kain. "Let's go back. You need to heal and we should check the perimeter."
Kain nodded, and they started away after Dandelion who got ahead.
When Yennefer found Triss, the latter had her head bent close to Fringilla as if the two were whispering, when in actual fact they were sharing energy.
Similar thing that Kain had done for Yennefer at the Nilfgaardian prison and after.
"We're heading back to Novigrad," Yennefer informed them, unperturbed when they didn't break apart or acknowledge her presence.
"What about Oxenfurt?" Triss asked.
"Ciri put Eredin somewhere dark so the Wild Hunt shouldn't be back for a while."
Triss's features filled with relief and she removed her hands from Fringilla's, allowing the other sorceress to start a bit recovery of her own so that she'd be able to travel. Yennefer helped Triss to her feet, looked her over and then dismissively stepped aside, summoning a portal so that she could go after Ciri.
"I'll see you back in Novigrad."
Yennefer disappeared and arrived back in Geralt's room within a minute. She gave the room a once-over, moved toward the window to make sure the city wasn't on fire or frozen over before she went in search Ciri. Yennefer made her way to her bedroom, rose a fist to the door and—unlike other times—knocked gently.
"Ciri?"
Ciri had managed to remove one boot. The other was more complicated as leaning over her injured thigh proved to be quite painful.
She bit back a groan of pain when the knock sounded on her door and lifted her head.
"Yes?"
Yennefer entered the bedroom, forgoing closing the door behind her since there was no one else in the inn. She crouched down in front of Ciri and helped her remove the boot she'd seen her struggling.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine. A little sore." Ciri leaned back, hands braced behind her on the mattress. "You?"
"Fine."
Yennefer wasn't referring to her injury. That was life for them.
"I meant Eredin. You teleported him. Alone. You want to talk about it?"
Ciri frowned subtly, unsure of what Yennefer was fishing for. "We jumped, we landed, had a scuffle, I left. Not much more to say really. I didn't even speak to him."
Yennefer measured Ciri's answer, nodding lightly.
"That was perilous. I thought the plan was to steer clear of him – why the change of heart?"
"He had Kain," Ciri said simply as if that explained everything.
Yennefer wasn't happy with her answer, but given what she knew of Ciri's feelings toward him, she understood. "Are you hungry?"
"A little," Ciri admitted, shifting where she sat in order to pull her trousers off. They'd become stiff with dried blood and would need to be mended before she could use them again. "Wouldn't mind some wine." She paused, peering at Yennefer. "Have you seen Zoltan? Is he alright?"
"I haven't been anywhere but here. I'll grab you some wine and bread and then go out to check on Zoltan."
He wasn't in any immediate danger as it was.
"Yennefer," Ciri called as the sorceress headed for the door, gifting her a grateful smile. "Thank you."
Yennefer didn't need to search for the dwarf, because Zoltan was in the kitchen rummaging through the sacks of potatoes and carrots and onions, intending to throw together dinner.
"Oh, Yennefer, yer back? How is everyone?" He turned to her, worried. "No attacks here. Not even a hint of anything. The guards all over the city are bored out of their thick skulls."
"So you decided to come back to the inn to start dinner?" Yennefer didn't wait on his answer before continuing. "Everyone is in one piece. They're helping with casualties and making sure are no more of the Wild Hunt around. The Redanians aren't going to be bored much longer."
"I'm starvin," the dwarf admitted and went back to digging for vegetables. He got more and threw them together in a basin, then reached for the barrel with water to wash them. "How many casualties? Was it bad? We should've gone with ye, but who knows, maybe those bastards would come here, too." He rubbed the dirt off the potatoes rinsing them in water, and looked at the sorceress. "Think they would come? The Elf went after ye, far as I saw."
Yennefer found a knife and since they were talking, began to help him peel the vegetables as he washed them.
"That was my concern, too. Ciri took care of Eredin by teleporting him elsewhere in the middle of the battle, his mages fled afterwards, and we took care of the rest." She set aside the first potato, reaching into his bucket for another. "Avallac'h, too, seemed to have arrived in time. Are Philippa and Margarita still out there?"
"Aye, still there… wherever they sit like hens on perches." Zoltan scooped the peeled vegetables and began to cut them quickly like a professional cook. "Is Ciri all right? That bastard didn't hurt her?"
"He did," Yennefer concluded. "But she was reckless in what she did. I'm only glad Ciri wasn't captured." She reached in for another potato, slicing at it more intently, and then moved onto the next. "Do you know if there is any wine left?"
"Aye, wine's in the cel— Wait, what?!" Zoltan stared at her, wide-eyed and angry. "What did he do to her?"
"Stabbed her in the leg. They've tended to her wound so she's upstairs resting it off."
Yennefer regarded the remainder of the potatoes, finishing them off, using the task as a means for a little self-reflection, and then moved to wipe her hands clean. "I'll go get the wine. I assume there's still a bit of fresh bread left?"
"It ain't fresh," Zoltan scoffed, cutting the remaining potatoes and throwing them in the pan with warmed oil. "Fresh needs to be baked and we've been too busy. Get the wine, and I'll bring the food when it's ready. Tell her we'll get his arse kicked for what he did to our girl."
The dinner came together rather swiftly, even though expanded to three people instead of the intended one. Zoltan brought two trays upstairs, balancing them comically, almost making Ciri laugh. He gave her a hug, reassuring her the bastard elf would get an arse-kicking of his eternal lifetime, then left the two alone.
He ate downstairs as fast as he could and returned to the streets in case the elves showed up for their arse-kicking immediately.
No one did, and the sky began to lighten up.
Yennefer finished off her meal, waiting until Ciri had polished her own and then carried the trays downstairs to the kitchen.
She didn't want to leave Ciri all alone at the inn, and returned to Geralt's room, giving the girl time to herself so that she could rest.
Kain made only one circle around the hills and fields surrounding Oxenfurt, but the land seemed clear. Perhaps the Riders truly called off whatever remained of their troops when their leader and his mage disappeared. Kain certainly hoped so. He directed Griffin to land, then slipped off the beast's back and gestured for him to go back into hiding. The smart animal was reluctant to go this time. He'd never failed to listen before, but now he croaked in protest and kept close. He smelled Kain's blood and it made him too anxious to leave.
Kain was conflicted between annoyance fueled by fear for Griffin's wellbeing and being deeply touched. He stepped into his friend, leaning into his chest and stroking his feathers and fur. The Griffin stilled, nipping at his shoulder affectionately.
"You can't stay," Kain murmured into the feathers. "I can't let you get hurt again, all because of me. You need to go." He closed his eyes, relaying the silent message to follow the words the beast did not understand.
When he detached and stepped back, gesturing up once again, Griffin shook his head, croaking, but obeyed and took off. He circled around two more times before finally departing in the direction of Novigrad. To his cave.
I never took him to battles before, Kain thought, watching the griffin turn into a dot on the dawning sky. There hadn't been too many battles, either, except for troubles around Brokilon.
Despite how it had turned out in the last battle Kain fought for Brokilon, he never regretted not taking Griffin to it. Losing Morénn was bad, but losing Griffin would have been impossible.
Because it'd be my fault.
He strolled past the village huts toward the road lying between two hills, then stopped for a moment, surveying the fields to the right. It seemed empty, no dark figures lurked in the small sea of gold the field would look like under the sun. It was a quiet moment of the night when it barely crept into the dawn, and birds had not begun to wake up yet. The small village on the narrow isle between the city and the land was very quiet and dark, too. Simple people knew to stay indoors until the storms passed and the sun came back to the sky. Luckily, the main attacks had been aimed at the city itself.
Kain turned and went along the shore to the left, away from the fields. The walk took a bit; he strolled slowly, trying to make the steps as quiet as possible. Something was bothering him, and he couldn't put a finger on it. The patch of land east of Oxenfurt wasn't particularly rich in forests, but the steep hills with trees on and around them made the area a difficult one to scout. On one of the hills, there was a herbalist's hut.
The hut was dark, quiet. As if abandoned. However, there was a cart under the shed, and the flowerbeds around the blue house were clean of weeds.
Kain almost turned to be on his way when he sensed it, first in his feet, then up in his legs, as if hands of invisible ice stroked his bones making them ache. Just like when the Mage cast his Frost spell.
Kain pulled his sword out in a swift habitual motion and watched a pair of hounds emerge from behind the hut, snarling, their spikes bristled. The ground where they walked misted with frost, the flowers turned stiff and broke like thin glass beneath their paws.
The third mutt growled, stalking from behind the nearest bush, when the door opened and a small, sobbing figure rolled out and over the threshold as if kicked. The crying figure resembled a child, only it wasn't.
"Please, please!" the halfling implored, weeping and cowering in the dirt. "Please don't kill me! Please! Mercy! I beg you!"
A Rider stepped over him coming outside, another followed, and another. More approached the hut from the surrounding trees, another pair of hounds with them.
Kain suddenly felt so tired he could just fall down next to the desperate herbalist and pass out. It would be a bliss! His side was gnawing and nagging, his muscles ached from the previous extensive workout. Flexing his fingers on his sword handle, he admitted to himself he didn't have it in him to win this.
Not seven Riders and their five hounds against one witcher. Not at this very moment.
He heard a chuckle, a strange sound coming from a heavy helmet, muffled, and yet hollow.
"You aim to die?" the Rider asked, his head canting in either amusement or interest. "You are to surrender, or this one dies." He pointed his sword at the cowering halfling. The latter cowered into a tighter ball, howling in terror. The hounds snarled.
The scene smelled of a dream. Something was ringing distantly in Kain's ears, and there was a strange light feeling within his head, and something pressed on his temples from the inside. He squelched the urge to laugh at how stupid this all was. How stupid he'd been.
He began to lower his sword.
Dandelion caught up with Geralt as the Witcher was finishing his reckon stroll along the western side of the city.
"Geralt, the students are helping carry the wounded to the clinic. But any pair of hands is useful - too many wounded and lots of dead. Almost all the Redanians fell. Dijkstra is raging - his face is red and bloated as the setting sun."
"All right. I'm coming. How is Triss?"
"She's fine, Fringilla helped with her magic. They're aiding the most dreadfully wounded ones, and the rest are on Shani and her assistants."
Geralt smiled. "Shani barely changed."
Dandelion shrugged. "Six years have passed. But you're right. Must be her knowledge of herbal medicine.
"Where is Kain?"
"He went to check the eastern shore and heal his wound."
"And you didn't go with him?" Dandelion looked at the Witcher in wonder. "If it were Ciri, you'd never let her out of sight, especially wounded."
"It's different, Dandelion. He's never been my responsibility, and she's been my ward."
"You don't worry about him?"
"I do, but he won't appreciate my imposed worry."
They reached the market square where the medic students were tending to the wounded ones and carrying the dead away to prepare for burial. Dandelion stopped next to him. "What?"
Geralt's eyes were set at the street leading for the Novigrad Gate. His brow furrowed.
Something was amiss.
"Geralt, what is—"
"I think you were right, Dandelion," the Witcher muttered and set off running down the street, leaving Dandelion staring after him.
"Geralt! What's going on?!"
After a moment's thought, the troubadour ran after the Witcher.
Ciri was close to finishing her bottle when there was a soft knock on her door. Whoever was on the other side did not wait for her to invite them in. Though cloaked by darkness in the corridor outside, Margarita's face registered on Ciri's mind.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, not scared of the sorceress' presence, but ever wary.
"The dwarf said you had been injured. Did not mention you were bedridden, though," Margarita said, slowly entering the room. Unlike Triss, Fringilla, and Yennefer who had all been forced to partake in the battle in various ways, Margarita's appearance was pristine.
"His name is Zoltan," Ciri said groggily.
The sorceress did not seem to have heard. "Triss and Fringilla are not yet back."
It wasn't a question and yet Ciri thought she detected a hint of concern in Margarita's voice.
"They're alright," Ciri assured her, falling back against her pillows with a wince. "If they are not here, I assume they are helping the wounded back in Oxenfurt. There were a lot. Where is Philippa?"
"Elsewhere," Margarita's lips curved up in a secretive smile, her eyes soft in the semi-darkness as she examined Ciri on her bed. "The king did that to you?"
Ciri grunted a confirmation.
"Strange. I would have thought he wanted you unharmed."
"Alive. Not unharmed."
Margarita's smile turned thin. "We would have never done that to you. If you had accepted our offer and joined us, The Lodge–"
"Please don't start that again," Ciri sighed. "I'm tired and in no mood."
To her surprise, the sorceress did not persist.
Instead, Margarita gestured to the bandage strapped around Ciri's leg. "Would you like me to look at that for you? I might be able to offer some relief."
She'd started towards the bed but Ciri held out a hand.
"No. I mean… no, thank you."
Margarita stopped in her tracks. "You don't trust me." Again, it was not a question.
For some reason, a reason that could come from nothing else but her royal upbringing of always being polite and gracious, Ciri felt a twinge of guilt. But it was the truth.
"No. There's always a price with The Lodge. I have nothing more to offer."
Margarita looked saddened by this, but she did not deny the statement. "There will come a time when you need to trust us, Ciri. We want nothing but what is best for you."
Ciri turned her gaze back to the ceiling as the sorceress made for the door again. "Until I see any evidence of that, this is all I can give you."
The tip of the Rider's sword was toying with the cowering, weeping halfling, pricking his shoulders, sides and thighs. The halfling, huddled up into a tight crying ball, yapped and shivered and jerked, obviously amusing the Riders – they didn't have to take their helmets off to sell it out.
"Stop it," Kain said, stabbing his sword into the ground. "I surrender. Let him go unharmed. Right now."
"I do not believe you can set any conditions," one of the Riders said in a muffled, metallic voice. Like a djinn speaking from a bottle.
"What then?" Kain asked.
"You go with us where we say."
"He goes free first."
The Rider's boot touched the halfling's knee; the small man cried harder, jerking.
"I do not think he is in a hurry," the Rider commented. The hounds growled and snarled, still looking bristled. Their small red eyes focused on Kain, expecting him to run so they could attack. Their icy spikes were gleaming and bristling, their claws digging into the frosted soil.
Frost…
Kain felt a chill thrust through his spine, and his body ached in recollection of the spell that had locked around him earlier on the Market Square. It was as if some cold from that was still lingering in his joints and muscles, reminding him how useless fighting these enemies was.
The Rider stepped closer and reached for the sword sticking in the ground. Kain felt a physical pang in his gut at the mere gesture and tensed, pondering options. There were no safe variations to ponder – not while the halfling was still amongst the elves.
The metal glove of the Rider's hand clanged softly touching the sword's handle when something rang like breaking crystal, and the very air around them sparkled and glowed, greenish lightning lines zinged between them, starling the Riders and the hounds.
Kain used the pause to snatch the sword from under the Rider's hand and stab it into the elf's neck under the helmet. The movement was fast, fueled by adrenaline of the momentum, and he rushed past the Rider before the latter's body began to slump. Kain slashed through the two hounds closest to the howling halfling.
"Get inside!" he yelled at the herbalist. "To the basement! NOW!"
The halfling scurried over the threshold of his hut and slammed the door closed behind him with one of his feet, slithering across the floor like an eel.
Kain dodged a hound and ran his sword through another one, then turned and kicked at one of the remaining two while his blade slashed the third's head off. He finished the remaining one and clashed with two Riders; the dimeritium bomb's powder was beginning to settle and lose its bind.
A bright flash momentarily blinded Kain and stunned the Riders. They staggered, their hands reaching for the helmets, their swords swaying aimlessly as if swatting at a bunch of angry wasps attacking them. Kain used their disarray once again and slain four before the spell wore off.
He rolled from under a Rider's blow and stilled for a mere moment, his fingers digging into the frosted earth, his eyes closing to focus. Two swords were coming down on him when a powerful pulse sent the three Riders around him flying back. Kain jumped up, ignoring the liquid heat in his side and its pains, the adrenaline still working for another few moments. He threw a hand forth, setting the closest Rider on fire, and as he staggered back, screeching and cooking inside his armor, Kain parried and met the other two's swords. He couldn't muster another telekinetic blast, nor summon flames. It was just the good old swordplay left, and his rush was faltering.
He missed a blow – it landed across his shoulder; and then another one right after it that cut over his side, above the already bleeding wound. Kain grunted, rolled away, got up and felt his legs shaking in exhaustion.
Another flash stunned the Hunters momentarily while they moved to attack, and Kain was able to stab one in the neck and another under his breastplate. The elves fell down and Kain stayed on one knee, panting, staring at one spot on the ground that blurred before his eyes. His sword was propped against the ground, holding him upright.
"Impressive," Avallac'h commented, strolling from the trees and bushes that had concealed him before. "Even with my help."
"It's what you did during the battle, wasn't it," Kain uttered quietly, catching his breath. "You merely stunned them. You don't kill your kin."
"They follow an ill-chosen leader who's tricked them, lied to them, misled them. Why should I blame them for being misled?"
Kain didn't respond; he tipped back to sit and lean against the hut's wall, letting go of the sword's handle he had been holding onto. He fought to keep his eyes open, his body ached and shivered, he felt cold. Very cold. It seeped into his bones from the ground and spread like venom.
"You don't look like someone who is fine," Avallac'h remarked. If his tone wasn't so even and impassive, Kain would swear it was sarcasm. A naked, gleeful elvish brand of sarcasm.
"You better believe it," he muttered, and closed his eyes, laying his palms on the cold soil on either side of his thighs.
He breathed deeper through the pain and chill, concentrated on drawing the air in and letting it out. In and out. And then the warmth began to seep in, to dawn within his chest and flow through his palms and arms, gradually, steadily.
When he opened his eyes, his side didn't hurt as much and wasn't bleeding, but the wound hadn't skinned over. Avallac'h was watching him attentively but made no move to help him up.
"The Frost spell lingers in you," he said matter-of-factly. "It got into your blood through the open wound, and you cannot get rid of it as easily. You'll have to use fire. Magical fire."
"I know."
Wincing, Kain sheathed his sword and put some distance between himself and the hut – the halfling needed not to hear anything. Avallac'h followed.
"Why are you here?" Kain stopped on the slope of the hill and looked the elf in the eyes, scrutinizing. "You knew they lingered. What else do you know about their plans? Locations?"
Avallac'h showed no emotion, peering back at the Cat Witcher without any reservation. "We all know their plans – they're after Hen Ichaer. It's Zireael. It's you."
"You mean both of us. It's not just either-or, anymore. They know about me from the Crone?"
"Correct."
"I can't teleport like Ciri. Maybe I don't have that power."
"You do – or you wouldn't have been at the Witcher School. You jumped back in time."
"I wouldn't be able to repeat it."
"You do not know that." The smallest of smiles touched Avallac'h's mouth. "There are ways to recreate the state you were in while teleporting. You can learn to do it consciously. Only you do not want to."
"That is right, I don't."
"That is too bad, for there is nothing to save you if they ever corner you like a silly rabbit again."
Kain squinted with a dark knowing, searching the Sage's eyes. "If that is their plan, there is close to nothing to make me surrender."
"You just have, shortly ago."
"I'd die before they took me."
"Ambitious," Avallac'h drawled. "But then again, you are of Aen Elle. You are ambitious. And arrogant."
"I'm not one of you."
"But you are. As pure a blood as there can be in two worlds."
"I'm of humans, Elf. You all are mistaken."
"Your human part gave you some of her magic that you learned to wield. It is an advantage rather than a defect, I see. A good addition to your natural abilities. It is a step up."
"I'm no good to your people if I don't cooperate."
Avallac'h narrowed his eyes. "You think Zireael was weak and let herself be manipulated? Perhaps a part of it is true, nevertheless, Aen Elle always find the right argument to convince. Do you truly believe there are none to use for your stubbornness?"
A chilly, unpleasant sensation combed through Kain's nerves, like a foreboding upon noticing a very bad sign. He was silently peering into the Sage's serene face, deciphering what lay in the hints and puzzles of his speech.
"You are Aen Elle," he said in a very quiet voice after a few beats of their staring game. "Your world is dying. Those," he gestured briefly back at the hill, "are your people, dying for not the wrong king as much as the cause you – Avallac'h – find noble and right. Necessary. Vital. You are behind all this as much as Eredin or whoever else that could or would replace him. This war is yours as much as any Aen Elle's."
Avallac'h said nothing, nor a muscle twitched in his meditative face.
Kain began to smile, a devoid of humor kind of smile that stems from an unpleasant discovery. "Eredin wants Ciri, and if he cannot get Ciri, he would want me. You, however, want us both. Because you know it's the most effective option and you would have none other. Neither of us would agree to this. What do you hope for? What are you really waiting for, Sage?"
The Sage smiled a little, barely a twitch in the corners of his mouth. "Why don't you tell me? You seem to think you are smart enough to know. A conniving mind breeds the best plots. What is it I am waiting for, in your opinion?"
"Trick question. Nice evasion. You are so good at it. As well as waiting. If Ciri and I develop feelings, you get us right where you want us. Bound by love and incapable of escaping your net. Two for the price of one. The most effective solution."
"She already follows you everywhere, does she not?" Avallach's eyes twinkled, reflecting the dawning sky. "If the Riders catch you, she will follow, and no amount of convincing would keep her back from that act. Why you believe it would be my fault is beyond me, though."
Kain clenched his jaw contemptuously. "You're not with her to protect. You're with her like an agent of Aen Elle, an inside spy who observes and waits for the best moment to put a plan in motion. To get the prize."
"Kain! Are you all right in there?"
They turned and saw Geralt jogging up to them, followed by Dandelion. The Witcher stopped and cast a confused glance at Avallac'h and a concerned one at Kain's side.
"Doesn't seem that you've succeeded. You're going to the Clinic with me." Geralt looked at Avallac'h again, his mien turned inquiring and suspicious. "What are you doing here?"
"There were a few Hunters hiding in the woods," the Sage said, clasping his hands behind his back nonchalantly. "Kainar took care of it. I believe none are left."
"We can't be sure," Kain added and jerked his chin toward the hill. "The herbalist was almost killed. Someone needs to check on him. To calm him down."
"I'll do it," Dandelion said, climbing the hill. "I prove to be a very comforting company to people."
"Halfling."
"And non-humans. I'll do it. Geralt, I would like you to wait for me… um… in case there are more."
"Yes, I'll be right up." Geralt looked at Kain sternly. "Go to the clinic. Please."
"Don't worry, I know how to treat it." Kain patted Geralt's shoulder, then glanced at Avallac'h who was strolling back toward the Novigrad Gate.
"What is the matter?" Geralt asked. "What did he tell you?"
"Nothing useful," Kain said. "He helped me fight."
"He followed you here?"
"He did. Interesting, isn't it?"
Geralt sighed, watching the Sage's retreating back. "Too many interesting things are piling up on his name recently."
"I need your help."
Geralt turned to him, concerned. "What do I do?"
Kain explained. They went behind the hut and a bit further while Dandelion was busy calming the herbalist, and Geralt made use of his Igni sign.
Kain gnashed his teeth tightly to not scream and alarm both the poet and the halfling further.
The wound finally skinned over.