Bound. Hemp rope tied too tight, cutting off circulation. Body, bruised and battered from struggling. Waning in and out of consciousness. Can't focus.
A strike knocks him in the head, sending him sprawling in the dirt. "Open it! Open the gateway!" A voice demands. But he can't. He mustn't. It would mean the end of everything.
Blood trickles from his nose, filling his senses with copper. He lies still, unmoving, barely even breathing. He earns another kick to the stomach, rewarding his captor with a stifled groan.
"Still stubborn." The voice sounds almost admirable. "No matter. Bring her."
He sees her and it pains him. Lovely ashen hair, now matted with grime. Her ever-so-brilliant emerald eyes peering through rings of purple bruising. She tries to pull from her captors, but she too has been bound. "Lara." He whispers despite the agony it brings his parched throat. She smiles, trying to be brave for him, but cries out when her head is wrenched back. Steel touches her pale elven flesh and slides slowly across, drawing a thin red line. He sees her pulse quicken and a flash of fear touches her once brave eyes. The threat is clear.
His head is brought up sharply by a yank on his hair. "I hope you understand human…" The voice hisses by his ear. "There is so much more at stake…"
A noise, rustling leaves, draws his captor's attention. A deer bursts through the foliage yet his captor remains fixated on what lies beyond. Then, he hears it, the baying of dogs and the shouts of men.
His captor yells to his own men, and bows are drawn taut. The first arrow is unleashed and it strikes with precision, drawing a startled cry from the forest.
His captor rises and grabs his staff, leaving him suddenly unattended.
He takes the opportunity to rush to her side, and quickly knocks away the elf holding her with a telekinetic spell. Bonds are frantically untied.
Freed hands clasp and together they run to the icy water's edge to plunge into the depths below. The sounds of fighting are suddenly muffled, seemingly miles away.
Gasping for breath, they both make it to the opposite shore. He stands in the knee-deep water and moves after her.
Red dances in the air, speckling the back of her once-white dress. He is hit, and she whirls at his uttered shock. An arrow protrudes from his throat. He tastes metal and blood bubbles from his mouth. He knows naught who struck him, but that the arrow was human made.
Eyes meet as she watches him sink back into the water. Tears run down her face as she briefly touches her growing belly. Reluctantly she turns and vanishes in a blue glow.
Above, a magpie circles, and he closes his eyes as the Pontar River washes over him.
XxxxX
Geralt jolted awake, his golden eyes gazing upon the leaf-obscured starry sky above. The sensation of death lingered in his mind, and he sat up slowly, rubbing his throat in self-assurance. His racing heart slowed with the motions of his hand.
"Nightmare?" Asked Lambert, sitting opposite of a crackling fire. He snapped a twig in half before tossing it to the hungry flames.
"Mhm. Can't recall much of it…" Geralt raised his hand briefly as if he could chase the feeling of dread that the dream had brought away. He had to hang his head in mild defeat as the action did no such thing. "Just bits and pieces."
Lambert nodded before turning his own cat-like eyes back to the fire. Between them, the fire popped, sending a shower of sparks into the night air. The flecks of light dwindled quickly in the midnight cold.
"You should sleep some more… There's long day of riding ahead." Lambert said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between the two witchers.
"Where we heading? Nilfgaard?" Geralt asked with just a hint of hostility. He didn't appreciate the lack of control he had over recent events and wasn't about to hide how he felt about it or Lambert's part in what had transpired.
Lambert didn't meet Geralt's gaze. "Novigrad." He corrected, stirring the coals with a stout stick. "They'll meet us there."
Even without Lambert directly indicating who they were meeting, from earlier events it was clear that at least Yennefer was involved. Hopefully, Geralt's conspirators had some sense to leave Ciri in the dark. The last thing he wanted was to pull Nilfgaard's empress into Redania and further complicate matters.
Lambert relaxed into his pack propped against the nearby tree, lacing his fingers behind his head. He continued speaking despite Geralt's unyielding stare. "We're first going to stop by Von Everics' and see if we can't get a spare horse. From what you've told me of your last encounter I figure he owes you a favor or two."
"Mm." Grunted Geralt, relenting slightly. "How far?"
"Not far, maybe a half day at most. Mainly was waiting until you woke up. Though now that it's night, I figure it would be better to rest up a bit before heading out again."
Geralt said nothing, but understood. It would have been hard for Lambert to collect on Von Everics' favor if Geralt was unconscious. It would be even harder for Lambert to explain why Geralt was unconscious in the first place. That, or why Geralt had a sudden change in personality, should Cregennan be in control.
For now, Geralt saw sense. He needed a horse, and didn't have the current coin for a new one. "And after? What if I decide to not follow you to Novigrad?" Geralt asked, holding his eyes level with Lambert's own.
Lambert shifted, his eyes pulling away. "Who am I to stop you?" He rolled over onto his side, and rested his head on an arm.
The argument Geralt had prepared, died on his tongue. Clamping his gaping mouth closed, he lay down again and turned his back towards the fire. He almost missed the burning sensation on his wrist before Cregennan's voice entered his head.
"Why are you so adverse to your friends' aid? They want to help."
Geralt almost spoke his response aloud, but caught himself. Did Lambert and Yennefer put you up to this?
"No. This is for my own curiosity… and concern." The spirit added.
Geralt sighed. They don't need to be involved. I … I can handle this on my own.
"You will die on your own."
You seem so sure of that.
"And you seem so ignorant of the facts."
His curled fist smacked the ground. "What facts?" Geralt hissed, only after realizing his sudden outburst. He heard Lambert stir behind him, and Geralt quickly pulled his thoughts back together before continuing. You haven't given me anything to work with! What is so damn important?!
There was a pause before Geralt heard Cregennan's voice echoing in his head again. "The enemy that you now face is beyond your abilities. I had thought that much was clear to you."
I was unprepared. Replied Geralt's thoughts, surprisingly more calm than they had been moments earlier.
"And Skj'eara was toying with you… Regardless, you would have been not only outmatched – you most certainly would have been outnumbered."
Geralt drew his lips to a thin line. He had hoped Skj'eara would have followed him alone, but if it were as Cregennan said, he doubted he could win against multiple attackers, especially if they were as capable as Skj'eara had been.
"Your friends wish to help. Let them." Cregennan whispered.
He shook his head. If only it was that easy. If it hadn't been for his selfish request to save Ciri, Vesemir could still be alive. The thought slipped through before Geralt could stop it, and he uttered a silent moan. He shouldn't be thinking like that. The others that had fought with him made it clear that it wasn't his fault. Vesemir died protecting Ciri because Vesemir wanted to protect her.
But that's what Geralt was worried about and the reason why he wouldn't ask his friends to help him this time. He didn't want to put his friends at risk. Not again. It wasn't a matter of willingness; it was a matter of Geralt living with himself over the possible consequences.
Cregennan remained quiet for a long time, and had it not been for the constant burning thrum encircling his arm, Geralt would have thought he was alone with his thoughts. Finally, Cregennan spoke. "I … understand, your desire to protect your friends… your family… But…" Again the spirit paused, "But you must trust me. Had we other options…"
We have other options. Thought Geralt bitterly.
"What other options? Should we continue running, they will target your friends instead. Through torture and death they will eventually draw you out. Should you choose to fight alone… you will fail, and lose your friends anyway."
One more option occurred to Geralt as Cregennan finished, but even in this desperate situation Geralt couldn't see to killing himself. His pride wouldn't allow it. I'm not afraid of death, though whether his thought had been a response to himself or what Cregennan said earlier, Geralt wasn't sure.
"That much is clear… But witcher, it wouldn't just mean your death should we be caught…"
More questions bubbled to the forefront, but the burning sensation on Geralt's wrist had disappeared, indicating that Cregennan was gone, temporarily. He would have no way of getting further answers, and he needed more answers despite how cryptic they always seemed to be. Sighing, Geralt closed his eyes, finally deciding that he might as well get some sleep and deal with tomorrow as it came.
XxxxX
Morning came, bringing with it the sun and a cacophony of seasonal songbirds. Geralt rolled onto his back and opened bleary eyes onto the pale yellow and pink streaked world.
Lambert was busying himself with readjusting his mount's saddle. The grey horse seemingly ignored the thick leather straps cinching around its belly as it ripped up another chunk of scraggly weeds and continued its methodical chewing.
Geralt's side was sore, though that was expected from sleeping on the hard ground. He rose slowly, twisting his torso left and right as he did so in an attempt to work out the stiffness. It was then that he finally noticed his steel and silver blades laid out beside him. Had they been there the all along?
"Have you always been such a heavy sleeper? It's a wonder nothing's managed to kill you yet?" Came Lambert's voice as he slung his pack over the horse's rump and secured it. Amid the sounds of jingling buckles and rustling leather, Geralt detected a hint of teasing behind Lambert's words.
"Well, when you get to be my age…" Geralt joked, craning his neck to one side then the other.
"Your age, my ass. You're not even that much older than me." Though Lambert laughed, Geralt could sense a tremor of worry. It wasn't common for a witcher to sleep soundly, especially out in the wilderness, and Geralt had been no exception to that rule until recently. Lambert tugged twice on the leather straps, ensuring that nothing shifted. Satisfied, he rifled through his pack and tossed a water skin and a slab of fatback in Geralt's direction. "I figured you haven't eaten in awhile."
Geralt nodded his thanks, and though hunger hadn't yet occurred to his waking self, the smell of the cured meat in his hand had roused its interest. He bit off a piece, and allowed the smoky flavor to melt on his tongue before chasing it down with water from the skin. The rest of the fatback didn't last long after the first bite.
He stood and passed Lambert back the skin, its remaining contents sloshing slightly with the motion. Lambert accepted it and drank down his own mouthful before storing the water skin.
Geralt bent and retrieved his swords. The grass sprung back, grateful to be relieved of the burden, indicating that the weapons hadn't been there during the night, but had been laid down only recently.
A sudden realization struck Geralt as he slung the familiar weights over his shoulders and adjusted the sheaths' straps over his chest. This was the first time in a while that he actually carried his blades. He thought back and couldn't recall their weight on his back, nor the additional awkwardness that would have occurred as he slipped from Lambert's horse. Was it Cregennan that Lambert didn't trust with the swords before this, or him?
"You ready to go?" Lambert asked, drawing Geralt's attention.
"Yeah… Didn't have much to pack up."
Lambert nodded, then hoisted himself into the saddle. He steered the horse towards Geralt and offered a hand to help him up.
Geralt, being Geralt, declined. "You said half a day. I should be able to keep up on foot."
"On horseback." Lambert exacerbated. "I was saying it'd take half a day on horseback."
"I'm traveling light and am well rested, I'll keep up." Insisted Geralt, annoyed slightly by the prospect of sharing a saddle. He didn't doubt that the horse could carry both him and Lambert, as witcher's had a tendency to acquire mounts that could carry a man, travel luggage and the occasional trophy, still wriggling or dead. It more a matter of pride. No matter how close the two men were, having to ride passenger just seemed… off.
Lambert relented. "Fine. Though if I catch you falling behind…"
"I won't."
Lambert rolled his eyes and spurred his horse south-west.
