"Ah, Yennefer!" Dandelion was hurrying to her through the aisle between the tall bookshelves that filled the vast Academy library. "Does your presence mean that the banks matter is resolved? Triss told me Dijkstra painted you the thief."
Upon arriving at Oxenfurt, Yennefer had secured herself a room at the Three Little Bells inn and sent a message to Dandelion to meet her at the library.
"The overstuffed peacock tried his utmost. Geralt managed to find evidence of the Wild Hunt being the true offenders."
Dandelion gasped. "The Hunt? Is that truly so? But why the banks? How interested could they be in this world's money?"
"All reputable questions. However, they were too dead to be cross-examined and all that could be done was to speculate. Gratefully, Geralt's argument was adequate."
She crooked her index finger and one of the books from the shelf launched itself at Dandelion like an eager puppy.
"There's a lot of tomes we have to go through, you might take care to get started or we'll be here until you're old and gray."
Dandelion jumped away from the book, and it fell on the floor with a loud plop and a puff of dust. The poet observed it warily as if it would attack had he failed to watch out.
"I... I'm not so good with searching though volumes," he said, wincing at the thought of all that dust settling on his clothes and hair. "Perhaps you need to call Triss for company. Or Shani - had she not been busy in her clinic..."
Yennefer's lips twitched with amusement. She'd expected Dandelion's resistance but she'd been ready to embrace it.
"Triss is occupied. I only have you. As a poet, I thought you'd be open to the idea of learning new words and otherworldly interests—it's for a good cause."
"It's more on the side of gaining too much information that would push the things I need out of my head." He leaned against a shelf, arms folded, and regarded her pensively. "How are things with Geralt?"
"He's well." Yennefer glanced down at the book she'd been skimming for information, trying to gauge if there was anything of use within. "But you know that, you only just celebrated with him the night before. Are you concerned?"
"It's not him I'm concerned with, but rather what's between you and him. Do you think you can remedy whatever happened in his head?"
"Do you think I can? That it's possible to do it without any outside magical influence?"
Dandelion blinked, flabbergasted. "How would I know those things? It's magic - your field of expertise, isn't it? You tell me if you can change it? Maybe undo that wish or whatever you did?"
"I'm well aware of where your abilities lie," Yennefer retorted, her eyes lifting momentarily to fix on his face dully. "I was asking from your perspective as his friend. I assume he still confides in you?"
Dandelion scoffed, "He's got a brother now. I bet my lute he knows more than I do these days. However..." He rubbed his neck, eyeballing the stacks of books pensively. "We had little to no time for any heart to heart discussions of his delicate situation with you and your djinn. We haven't been able to address it. He's also reluctant to speak of it, as if annoyed of any reminders."
Yennefer nodded. "I'm not so sure it's as much the reminders, as it is the fact that he can't remember, and thereby grows frustrated. Geralt beseeched that I be patient. Which I've tried to be. Nevertheless, whenever I offer up some history in hopes of stirring feelings or conversation, it seems too much for him to handle. He's defensive. As if he's afraid. And then, at other times, it's as if nothing has changed, as if he can sense what's between us. It's all very confusing and he doesn't seem very enthusiastic to clear it up."
She scowled and flipped her book closed, decided it had nothing she was looking for, and rose up to seek out another title.
Dandelion absorbed the insight, frowning. "What do you want him to clear up when he doesn't remember? No wonder he gets frustrated. I get frustrated myself! You two have been an inspiration for the whole Continent! What are people going to do if you don't remedy it!"
Laughter bubbled from Yennefer's lips before she could will herself to stop it. It wasn't often that she found humor in anything Dandelion had to say.
When she had calmed down, her cheeks were wet and her eyes itchy. She swiped at the tears, ridding her features of the hysterical proof, internally chiding herself for the show of emotion in front of the troubadour, straightening her back as she plucked another book from the shelf.
"You mean, what are you going to do if we can't remedy our situation? I'm sure an acclaimed poet such as yourself will find a story to twist to suit the desires of his audience. You've never shied away from embellishments. Why should now be any different?"
"That's callous of you, Yennefer," he reprimanded. "I always wished the best for your story! It's famed throughout the world because of how fervently I felt about it. It pains me to think of it being lost!"
Yennefer sought to read his expression with renewed interest, surprised that Dandelion appeared to be sincere in his response and wasn't purely fluffing his feathers.
"Rest assured you do not suffer alone in that agony," Yennefer replied, sighing softly. She turned the book over in her hand and flipped it open without really seeing the written words. "As much as I'd like to remedy that hurt with more magic, I fear that the choice will push him even further away."
Dandelion sobered, preoccupied. "How could that happen? What magic are you going to use?"
Yennefer debated what to tell him. The situation wasn't ideal but she craved to talk, to be understood, and had no one else with whom she could do that. Despite the glaring inconvenience, she liked Dandelion. He was a good friend to her Witcher and she doubted he'd ever give cause to deliberately hurt Geralt.
"I find myself compelled to remind you that what is said stays between the two of us. If I find out you have breathed a word of it to our Witcher, I can't be held responsible for what I might do."
Yennefer didn't wait for his acknowledgment before she continued.
"During my initial studies of the djinn, it came to my attention that I can use one to undo the failure of another. Although that particular outlook didn't supply me with the positive outcome I had hoped for, I'm considering a second attempt – a restoration, if you will, of the previous wish or his memories. Only, I have no idea which…"
"Perhaps they are one and the same, those urges," Ciri said. "Destroying to protect. Attacking instead of waiting to defend. I have certainly felt like that is the way to go at times."
"Too much of a good thing can harm," Kain said. "But even so, protection and destruction are not the same. When you smother and destroy something while wishing to protect - it's an ill way to go about it. And it's still destruction, no matter the initial intention."
"If you say so."
The bog looked as grey and drained of life as the last time Ciri had visited, and if possible, the mud seemed to have attracted an even worse stench.
Kain and Ciri got off their mounts in front of the orphanage. Kelpie seemed uneasy. Ciri didn't know why. The mare hadn't been present during the destruction of The Crones or The Hunt spies.
"Shall we take a look inside or simply torch the place?" Ciri asked, gesturing to the mostly-destroyed temple before them.
"I'll look," he said and went in.
It looked cold and felt abandoned, lifeless, bleak. Everything seemed to have lost all natural color and were but a fog mirage. A few wooden boxes, a couple of sacks in the corners stinking of rotten potatoes. A few cots, also beginning to rot and mold.
Kain closed his eyes and probed for energy. It felt as empty as it looked.
Ciri didn't give him long before she followed, eyeing the hut with mild curiosity.
She stretched her arms above her head and yawned softly. "Well, the décor is atrocious but I can't deny the atmosphere of the place is quite soothing. I can see why the children liked it."
He looked at her with doubt. "Their preference of this barn over hunger and the open sky doesn't mean they liked it here."
"Why wouldn't they?" Ciri asked. "You know, up until The Crones decided to claim them."
"This place doesn't feel cozy," he said. "It means less, however, when you have food and company instead of hunger, loneliness, and no roof to sleep under."
"Feels fine to me." She took another glance around the hut. "So... shall we set fire to this shack and dance to the flames?"
A faint frown passed through his features, but he chose not to comment on the dancing part.
"Yes, we shall."
They went out and stood facing the hut. He looked at her.
"Do you wish to do it?"
"Together?" Ciri offered Kain her hand, a small smile playing on her lips.
She was curious about what they'd be able to do were they ever to truly combine their powers. This would not yield impressive enough results. But it was a start.
He smirked. "I wouldn't want to reduce the whole marsh to ashes. So, go gently."
He took her hand and extended his free one toward the hut, focusing.
The very thought they actually could accomplish such a feat made Ciri excited. A jolt of desire shot straight to her core.
She tried to tamper it, squeezed Kain's hand, and released the fire that had been building inside her.
It escaped them like a steady flow of flames shooting straight for the wooden building and quickly engulfing it.
Ciri giggled with delight, bouncing lightly on her feet, the raging fire casting both her and Kain in an orange hue.
Something strange happened in Ciri, he felt it - a misplaced ghost of arousal at the surge of magic he had never experienced before.
He released her hand, puzzled, gauging her. She looked content. Too much so. And a subtle blush adorned her cheeks.
It took Ciri a moment to realize he was watching her.
"What?" she asked with a small laugh for she could not understand the look on his face.
He shook his head, "Nothing." He gauged the sky and went to his horse. "It's getting dark in an hour or so. We'll have to patrol the bog and seek a place to spend the night."
Ciri took one last look at the blazing fire, then followed.
"Patrol for drowners and hags? Perhaps they are simply fleeing the bog altogether and that is why they attack the settlements."
"Aen Elle," he said, hopping into Onyx's back. "We need to make sure no new groups arrived."
Dandelion made a hissing sound, his mien reflecting raging disbelief. "Do you truly think it's wise to use yet another djinn? Look at what's happened already! What if you still can make it worse, even if it doesn't look like it can be any worse - what then? You'll find a fourth djinn?!"
Yennefer absorbed his outrage. He wasn't wrong about the possibilities of it all going wrong. It already had.
"Possibly," she answered calmly. "Or I leave it and hope that in time he'll remember on his own and he'll find love for me again. True love."
All those old insecurities she'd thought she'd handled returned like a cruel wave. Was that even possible? She'd never thought herself the type to love or be loved, and even though they'd shared that, said it out loud to one another a handful of times, it wasn't until the boat incident that she'd truly believed it – believed herself. Only it wasn't that simple, was it? Yennefer might have loved him, but Geralt didn't really love her, did he?
It was all a spell, and the loss of his memory proved as much.
"Do you think that's likely?"
"The poet in me - which is my true self and essence - yearns to think so," Dandelion said. "But given all the magic dumped on his head by that djinn and maybe before... What if it all came together and stole the most precious thing from his soul?" He clucked his tongue, reflecting, and shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Yennefer. It's hard to judge when even you're at a loss about what truly happened. Who would know..."
His eyes snapped back to her, wide and sparkly.
"What if you try an oneiromancer? He told me he knew one in Novigrad. He used her help while searching for Ciri and me."
"To seek an outside help of that kind is to assume it's what Geralt wants. I'm not too sure he does. Why would he, when he doesn't even know what he has lost? Out of obligation?"
She grimaced as though someone had slapped her.
"Does it hurt so much to ask his opinion?" the troubadour inquired, amused by her stung pride. "It's his head to be messed with, after all. He has a say in the matter." He narrowed his eyes, "Or did he mention to you that he doesn't want to remember?"
Geralt hadn't come out and said it wasn't what he wanted, only that he didn't remember. His earlier reaction, however, had been enough for her to assume.
"No, he never said it directly. All he has requested is patience. However, he has offered up no solutions either. Every time we're alone, Geralt doesn't know how to deal with the subject and I don't want to push it in fear of making him withdraw. As things are progressing, I don't logically see us being able to tend to the problem until after the Wild Hunt has been dealt with."
And who knew what would happen until then?
"But of course he offers no solution," the poet scoffed. "He truly has none! Nor would I had it been me in his stead. We're no mages."
"And thus far he hasn't encouraged me to find one either."
Dandelion folded his arms, both perplexed and ironic. "And what kind of encouragement would you like to receive from him? A plea? A lover's smack to your behind, perhaps?"
"Nothing that crass. Words would do. A humble 'I want to know you, Yen'." Her features twisted dreamily as she smiled to herself. "Not that he has the most notable aptitude for romance."
She gently shook her head and returned her focus to the titles in front of her.
Dandelion smiled a bit condescendingly. He couldn't believe he saw that sort of dependence on things she had believed to be silly before, the kind of romantic urges that mostly younger women possessed.
"Did it occur to you even once that every time he went to bed with you it meant exactly what you longed him to say?" He chuckled. "He's rather a man of action than words, and you always knew it."
"Are you planning to return to Novigrad soon?" Yennefer asked.
"I would return to Novigrad, naturally, if you take me when you go," he said. "Geralt took my Pegasus last time and I can't walk there."
"We're set to meet there in two days," Yennefer commented, removing a second book that she stacked on her arm and held close to her chest like a sleeping child. She fell silent, mulling over what Dandelion had claimed she should have read in their lovemaking.
Geralt was no stranger to sex, the joys of passion, and what it could bring. Was Yennefer supposed to believe that there was more to it when Geralt couldn't even remember her? When the mere mention of past dread was enough to make Geralt look at her like she'd wounded him in the worst possible way? She didn't doubt that in the past Dandelion had a good rapport of their relationship and that he possibly knew more than even she did at times, but in this instance, he was going on history – on a past – that according to Geralt himself didn't exist. That was well and truly lost.
She sighed and moved to take a seat on the floor against the stacks.
"Unless you plan on helping me get through these volumes, I believe it's time I focus."
"Of course," he said, smiling to himself, and turned to leave, then lingered a moment, regarding her. "Out of you two, you are the one who knows what he's lost. Think about it, Yennefer. Do you wish to get him back or do you really wish to lose it, too? Only unlike him, you will not forget. Never. Meditate on it."
Yennefer set her gaze on the troubadour's back, seriously considering his final words, a small smile crooking her mouth once more as she returned to scan the script open on her lap.
Ciri swung herself up into the saddle, secretly hoping the Aen Elle had come again. She was itching for a good fight.
"To the same place their fellow elves were killed? Would that be wise? If they mean to be stealthy, they failed."
"We still don't know how their navigation works," he said, sending the horse into a trot, "what they latch on to get to a specific location. If they have something that helps them come here, it might still remain so, even if the Crones are gone. It would take the land a while to cleanse itself from the residue of their magic."
"I wonder why The Crones would cater to Eredin and his riders," Ciri mused. "They had so much power. Why would they bow down to any man?"
"Their power wasn't limitless. They were bound to a specific place and depended on people for any additional fuel for their charms. They literally couldn't leave the bog. Their magic is very dense, earthly, dependent on sacrifices and blood and flesh of their followers' children, as well as their worshipping. Elves can do so much more with their magic and knowledge. It's not something the Crones needed from Aen Elle, I believe. It's rather to ensure their own domain. Trying to buy their place and its independence in case of the full intrusion of their army."
"Survival," Ciri mused. It made sense.
When Ciri had been The Crones' prisoner for a brief time and overheard their conversations, they had sounded almost frightened when they spoke of Imlerith.
Despite their great power they'd been forced to serve the elves. And they'd been bitter about it. Ciri didn't blame them for that. She knew all too well what it was like to be used.
They rode to the edge of the bog, on the opposite side of where they had entered, and circled back. Dusk had fallen and made it harder to see, to distinguish shrubs and saplings from actual creatures.
But as for anything alive - beast or man - they saw nothing.
The stars began to twinkle on the darkening blue skies when they rode to the hill where the old oak was still standing. Instead of a dried out dead tree, they saw a magnificent canopy of new green leaves that whispered and rustled in the wind. A pack of wolves was in the vicinity, watching them with alarm and interest from the shrubs.
"We should see inside the cave," Kain said. "This is the place they trapped their mother."
"I thought Geralt killed her?" Ciri asked, slowly sliding off Kelpie's back. "Was she not the evil spirit he talked about?"
"He did. We're here to check for anything that wasn't supposed to be - any new stirrings of power." He pondered a moment on how to explain. "Even if they're gone, they might have left something behind, like a sort of an anchor to their magic. With two other Crones gone, it was the Weavess herself who held their magic to revive it. Now with all of them perished, it might be something else, an artifact or a residue that might still give out some weak signals. We will have to destroy it so the land could heal."
"I understand," Ciri said, loosening Kelpie's bit to allow her a reprieve.
Smiling happily, Ciri took Kain's hand and led him towards the entrance of the cave. The more time they spent together, the more of a chance she had to make him see the error of his ways.
Some strange thrill coursed through Ciri and traveled through her hand to his like an electrical current. He felt uneasy but didn't try to shake her grip.
It was dark inside the cave, and it helped her to be guided by him. It was eerily quiet, not even water dripped anywhere in the depths. They came to the pool, and Kain summoned a small globe of light to take a look around. He let go of Ciri and crouched in front of the water. A thin veil of steam was coiling over its mirror-like black surface. He dipped a hand in it and pulled something out, demonstrating it to Ciri: a smooth transparent piece of melting ice.
"It's recent," he whispered. "It hasn't fully melted yet."
Ciri crouched beside him, her head tilted to the side. "Does that mean... The Hunt?" she asked, suddenly feeling the need to throw a glance over her shoulder.
In the dim lighting, the stalactite up above looked like winged bats hanging upside down, glaring down at them with hungry eyes. Though that was most likely all in Ciri's vivid imagination.
"Their portals have been here somewhere," he said, keeping his voice down to a barely audible whisper. "Probably in the very cave. If we swim, there might still be ice. We'll have to warm the water, very discreetly."
"Why discreetly?" Ciri whispered, mirroring his action of keeping his voice low. "You think they still linger?"
"I think it's a very nice hiding place - no one likes coming here. Thus they might be there, or not - but there's more than one way to find out." He swept a finger over the water, peering at Ciri. "Water absorbs and keeps information. It knows if they're there. Try to ask it."
Ciri leaned forward and, slightly hesitant, dipped her fingers into the water. It was cold, even on the very surface. A cold that sent a shiver down her spine and made her skin erupt in gooseflesh.
She withstood the urge to pull back and instead focused, keeping her eyes open, fixed on how her fingers looked distorted beneath the water.
The words she used were not voiced aloud but in Ciri's head, Elder Speech asking access to the memory of the water itself. At first, there was nothing.
But when she asked a second and third time, images flooded her head. She stilled, allowing herself to absorb everything shown to her, to memorize every detail before she resurfaced.
Pulling back, she wiped her hand on her trousers.
"They were here. Three of them. The ones I encountered in the bog. I saw no others."
Kain frowned. "Two weeks ago. Too long for it to stay frozen. It's cool down here, but it's not winter. Highly unlikely."
"You give it a go then," Ciri grumbled, trying to get some feeling into her fingers again.
He dipped his hands into the water, closed his eyes, focusing.
"Doesn't seem that there's anyone still there," he murmured after a while.
He flexed his fingers and gathered his focus again, establishing the flow of magic to his palms. In a few moments they began to warm up, then heat started to seep into the water.
"So then why is it so cold still?" Ciri removed her weapons and left them on the rocky floor. If they were going swimming, she didn't want to be weighed down more than necessary.
"It was another group that came later," he said, trying not to lose his focus while the heat spread further through the pool melting the remaining ice. "I don't know where they are now. But looking at the cave might help."
Ciri peered down into the water. It was impossible to see how deep it was, so diving in head-first would be a bad idea.
She swung her legs in front of her and dipped them, throwing a playful look Kain's way before sliding in completely and disappearing beneath the surface.
Even with Kain's ministrations, the water was still quite cold deep down. And Ciri couldn't see much. She had to use her hands to feel along the rocks to her sides, over and beneath, pulling herself forward towards their intended destination.
When he felt there was no more ice left, he took off his jerkin and sword belt, and slipped into the water after Ciri. He sucked in a deep breath and dove following her in the narrow submerged tunnel with roots snaking across the rocks.
Ciri held her breath and when her lungs began to burn, she shot for the surface with her powers, aiming for the light coming through from the cave upstairs.
She gasped for air once she broke the surface and rested an arm on the perch up ahead, pulling herself up only once she'd ensured Kain was right behind her and not lost in the dark waters.
What met them was a spacious cavern filled with green ferns and tree roots along the walls.
"Cozy," Ciri commented, and there was some truth to her words. She felt quite at home in the cave. She'd spent the night in much worse places when on the run with Avallac'h.
Kain stole through a short stony corridor and jumped onto the earthly floor of the cave, taking a good look around. Ferns grew in bunches on the ground, roots and vines snaked along the walls and hung from the protruding rocks and the tall ceiling like thick tentacles. It was quiet and smelled of autumn leaves and wet rocks.
They went deeper into the cave and found nothing live in there, among the roots in a cavity where the cursed spirit had resided until Geralt had put an end to it.
Kain picked up some murky residual energy, but it wasn't pulsing with any renewed vigor. The evil spirit was truly gone.
"What do you feel?" Kain asked Ciri, regarding her.
Ciri wandered for a bit, eyeing the ceiling and nature's decorations that hung from it like streamers.
"Comfortable," she said eventually. It was the first word that had come to mind. "Why? What do you feel?"
He was surprised: comfortable wasn't what came to his mind.
He shrugged, "Nothing specific. The spirit is gone, some dirty energy remains, but not forever."
He strolled around, probing for anything that remotely resembled the Riders.
"There's something strange," he said. "I can't understand what it is, exactly... Some kind of subtle magic remaining."
Ciri closed her eyes and tried to feel for what Kain had sensed. But she couldn't feel anything. She supposed he was simply more in tune with magic overall.
"We could spend the night here," she proposed. "It's warm enough and fairly dry."
She'd have to go back for their weapons, of course. Couldn't leave them unattended.
"It might not be a good idea," he said, still searching for the source of what he was picking up. "It's been a prison for a dark essence, and sleeping in this place can still poison us a bit. We'll find a better place to stay."
"Poison us?" Ciri leaned down to pick off a blade on a fern, examining it between her fingers. "Is it truly that potent?"
"You're more susceptible while you sleep. Any wrong energy can harm you. It's important to sleep in cleaner places."
He stopped in front of the cavity with his hand held out, closing his eyed. It could be there...
"Mm," she hummed in mild agreement. "I suppose it was too much to ask, having a cave to ourselves again. Like on Skellige."
"There are other caves," he murmured, his fingers bending as if he was clawing something from the air. Something shuffled inside the dark cavity, some roots snapped, stone cracked.
Something small and white floated from the dark into his palm.
He lit a fire before him on the ground and crouched to study his findings.
It was an oval stone, white and sparkling. Something was carved into it. He brushed the dirt away and saw a cameo of a young woman's profile. Her pointy ear peeked from flowing hair.
"It's their beacon," he guessed. "No way to tell how long it's been here. Maybe since that Sabbath on the Bald Mountain."
Ciri approached him to look over his shoulder. And when she got a glance she stepped around to take it from his hands.
"A beacon to guide the Aen Elle to our world?" Ciri mused quietly, studying the carving. Definitely an elf. Most likely Aen Elle.
"To guide them to this particular area, to this cave." He peered at her. "She looks like you."
"It looks like Lara. My great-something-or-other grandmother," she said softly. "To the Aen Elle she was... something ethereal. Someone beloved. Even to this day."
"If Eredin is capable of love, it's probably fully focused on his own person," Kain said. "This thing is for those who serve him. To represent the noble cause they could die for."
Ciri stared at Lara's image for a long time before she spoke again.
"How do we destroy it?"
"Do we need to?" he asked quietly, squinting at her in thought. "With this, we would know where to expect their arrival. However, I bet there are more of those hidden in other places. But it's hard to catch the Riders for interrogation, as well as hard to find these beacons on our own... unless we have a sample. That is, I assume they contain the same magic, and one can help locate the others."
"To have them suddenly teleport to us, surprising everyone including ourselves?" Ciri smiled crookedly, running her thumb over the carving. "Risky. I like it."
"I don't, but it's smarter than destroying this one we've found before we at least try to find others. If we manage to get them all... If we don't succeed in finding the Sunstone, all those beacons kept together could provide a similar sort of magic to summon them all to one place."
"Clever boy." She smiled slightly, giving the stone one last look before stowing it away in her cleavage. "We keep it then. Shall we get back to the horses?"
His gaze followed her movement, he quickly averted it, swallowing. "Yes, we should," he nodded, and waved a hand toward the pool - 'after you'.
She'd caught the look and inwardly felt smug. So... there was some interest there, after all.
"We could take the easy way," she offered, holding out her hand. "Unless you'd rather we get all wet again."
"If I were certain that your magic wouldn't trigger the beacon," he raised an eyebrow in a mock challenge. "I don't know how it works."
"Too scared to find out?" She wriggled her fingers in invitation.
"Being cautious doesn't mean being scared," he said. "And you're being reckless. Is it worth it? Do you want them to attack - as you put it - surprising us?"
"Reckless. How many times have I heard that," she laughed, though there was a tint of bitterness to her voice. "Fine. Let's swim."
She headed for the pool of water without any further hesitation.
"Wait," he caught her by the sleeve. "I think there is another way out we can make for ourselves."
He went to another wall covered with roots and fungi, and closed his eyes, placing his palms firmly on the rocks. Magic flowed through his fingers and the centers of his palms into the stones and plants in mute communication.
When he felt no pressure under his hands, he called for Ciri: "Grab my shoulder and keep very close behind me and don't think."
When he felt her touch, he slowly began to walk into the stone wall as if it were but a mirage.
Don't think. That was easier said than done
Ciri distracted herself with how firm and solid Kain's shoulder felt beneath her hand as she followed him towards the wall.
Unlike before, she definitely felt magic now. It tingled against the palm of her hand and shot up her arm, down her body, and straight to her core.
They slipped through the wall with deceptive ease. Even so, Ciri tightened her hold on Kain's shoulder, grasping him with a possessive need.
It felt good to touch him. Even such a simple thing like this. If Ciri had any doubts about whether or not she and Kain were meant to be, they all evaporated now. He was meant to be hers. No matter if he wanted to or not.
They stepped out in a valley bottom at the foot of the hill. Kain bent over, gasping, his solar plexus and lower parts of his lungs were burning as if he was stabbed. He crouched, breathing eagerly through the pain.
Ciri frowned, following Kain's journey to the ground with a confused gaze. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer until the pain had dissipated to a bearable level where he could stand upright and breathe fine.
He regarded her with a confused suspicion. "What did you do? Through your touch?"
The fact he took so long to recover scared her ever so slightly. Had he overdone it with his magic?
"What do you mean? You told me not to think. So I tried not to."
He took a few more long, calming breaths, eyeing her, then said, "Never mind," and clicked his tongue calling Onyx.
The stallion came trotting from around the hillside, Kelpie in tow.
"Get on," Kain told Ciri. "I'll bring our swords."
"Are you hurt?" she asked, her brow still furrowed. "If so, I should go fetch our swords."
"I'm fine," he said, walking away toward the cave entrance. "I'll get them."
When he got there, he stilled for a moment to heal the remaining discomforts. He didn't want to think Ciri could've done this consciously, but it was still alarming she had such a harmful touch. He put on his jerkin and sword belt, thinking about that mummified Rider from the bog. He was fairly certain it was a similar kind of magic she used to do it.
Draining him of life.
He sighed and went back to where she was waiting with the horses.
"Men are strange," Ciri muttered into Kelpie's neck when Kain left.
The mare made a sound Ciri interpreted as agreement. Ciri climbed up into the saddle and waited, taking her weapon from Kain when returned and fastened it to her body.
"Where to now?"
"To where we can get some sleep," he said.
Within an hour, he led them to the Reardon manor. Dolores was about to go to bed when he knocked on her door.
"Oh, it's you, Witcher," she smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm terrible with names." She observed Ciri with brief interest, wrapping a shawl around herself.
"We need your permission to spend the night in the barn," Kain said.
"Oh, you're still investigating the swamps? It's terrible! So close... I still can't forget those wraiths invading my home... Of course, you can. The key is under the rock there. But," she looked at Ciri, "maybe your lady friend would like an actual bed? I have a guest house that sits empty." She waved a hand indicating the one across the yard.
"No, thank you. I go where he goes," Ciri told the woman with a smile.
She eyed Kain curiously. Had this been part of his 'contract'? Was that what had been keeping him while Geralt went to Novigrad?
Ciri noticed the woman watching them with mild skepticism, as though she was unsure whether or not she should allow an unmarried couple to sleep together.
"For safety, you know?" Ciri pressed.
"Oh... of course!" the woman nodded, seemingly rethinking her earlier concerns. "Make yourselves at home."
Kain found the key under one of the boulders piled at the barn and unlocked the doors. He pulled the chains and the lock out from the handles and let Ciri in.
The barn was huge, with an attic and a ladder leading there. In the depth, there was a heap of hay. Onyx and Kelpie huddled in the opposite corner with a smaller heap, and Kain took off the sword belt, his jerkin, and the shirt - lay it on the hay to dry.
"You've been here before, I take it?"
Ciri removed her weapons as well as her jerkin. The shirt she wore beneath was still damp, but she didn't mind as much.
"With Geralt," he confirmed, getting comfortable on his side of the heap. "He returned the manor to her, cleansed it of wraiths, and she didn't forget it. We stopped here to get a cart she didn't use - to bring survivors to Lindenvale."
"You never think of witchers being social. But they get to know so many people on their travels. It must be fascinating."
Ciri lay down beside him, shifting until she found a comfortable position on the hay. It wasn't so bad.
"For those who like to get to know many people," he murmured, closing his eyes.
"You don't seem to be doing too bad lately."
"I wouldn't have made a decent spy without being good at it. Doesn't mean I enjoy it."
"Is there no one whose company you enjoy, then?" she asked, arms folded beneath her head, gaze on the ceiling. "Only Griffin's?"
"I meant new people," he murmured. "Not my family."
Ciri smiled to herself. "A few months ago we were new people."
"It changed."
And thank the gods it did, Ciri thought.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.