So a little drabble of how Avallac'h and Ciri met. Could be a prologue to "It's not forgetting that heals – it's remembering", or it could be its own little thing. I'll let you decide.
But I liked writing this! It was just innocent fun.
Let me know what you thought!
It happened on a hilltop.
Breeze blew past the ground, and waived the high, green grass growing there. The sky was painted with orange stripes while the sun disappeared behind afar forest. Crashing waves produced a splashing sound on the slowly rising storm. It didn't yet rain, but clouds kept moving rapidly forwards with the wind.
With a blink, the world shred for a gap, where the form of a young woman flew out of. She landed on the hill, with an uncontrollable roll resulting from the speed of falling. Her sword pushed painfully to her back, and she threw her hands in front of her, to stop the movement.
Her clothing was composed from a white shirt, and brown trousers. Her stomach was protected by a sturdy leather corset, adorned with a jeweled belt. She carried two leather purses with her, containing things necessary for a woman on the road. Her yellow, high heeled boots and her brightly ashen hair didn't fit in the image of a female warrior, but the long two-handed sword strapped across her back surely did.
She rolled to her back, and pushed herself upwards. Her hand slashed for the sword in her back, as she rose to her feet. She unsheathed it with a metallic ring, and held the weapon with two hands. She had to make a stand.
It wasn't the sky which ripped this time, but more like bottom of the hill. There were sounds of clashing armor, icy blowing wind and thunder. The neighing of skeleton horses screeched, and she took a step back. There were tens, no hundreds, of riders wearing iron. She could not see a face, but forms of the specters mixed into each other's, and she wasn't sure which one was which. But the King's voice was significant.
"Glaeddyv vort, Zireael!"
Eredin descended from his horse, a big malicious stallion. He radiated danger in Ciri's eyes, and she gripped her weapon tighter. She'd not go down without a fight, even though the situation was beginning to look more miserable by the second. She swore under her breath, and shouted.
"And then what? You'll drag me back to Tir ná Lia?"
His answer was low and murderous. "We'll drag you where we want to, dh'oinne."
He was still far downhill, and she had the upper ground. But the sea behind her could provide a landing space, but it would be a long fall. And she guessed there'd be sharp rocks waiting in the depths. It was a lousy back-up plan. They were rounding her in, riders on the both side of the slope, and the wicked, black-haired elf nearing her from the middle. She considered would he fight her one-on-one.
"Not alive, you won't."
She could almost feel a slowly triggering smile on Aen Elle's lips.
"That can be arranged. But I promise,"
His gauntlet rose to erase the front of his helmet, revealing the face she'd long ago considered a handsome one.
"It'll be more fun with a lively one."
Laughter arose from rest of the elves.
Panic escalated in her stomach. It spiked to her head and threw her right hand off the sword. She couldn't oppose them, she was but one and they were many. They'd follow, but she'd have the element of surprise. More with fear than a real plan, she made a sharp gesture with her hand, to blink away that instant.
Her magic was met with a barrier, and she felt it rather than saw. She hurled her weight on her left foot, and made a pirouette to move her along the hilltop.
Behind were she had stood, was a tall elf. He had teleported himself the moment he saw Cirilla's intent. She kept moving in a-semi-circle, just how she had been taught, aiming her sword at this new target. Caranthir, acting as a navigator for the Hunt, stood with a glowing mace. What was it with elf and maces, she found herself hastily blaming. One would think they'd prefer an elegant weapon.
"Swallow won't fly anywhere." Navigator's words were dark.
Eredin didn't quicken his steps. He took his time climbing, seeing the girl had no extra tricks up her sleeves. The ashen-haired girl spit on the ground. The bastard was probably savoring the moment. She measured the distance between the two elves and herself. She wondered would the fall down to the cold water kill her immediately, or would she be left suffering.
"Surrender, Zireael." The black-haired leader of the Wild Hunt reached the top. He was bigger than his subordinates, save Imlerith, and had a bloody air to him.
She chose.
She leaped behind, towards the cliff. It wasn't a long way, and she was agiler and faster than the heavily build elves. And she wore no noteworthy armor. She wouldn't be captured, or killed, or raped or whatever the elves had in store for her. She'd rather die.
But Caranthir didn't need to be agile to reach her.
He blinked, and Ciri crashed into him, just steps away the fall. She struggled as he proceeded to seize her arms, forcing her sword to her side. They were face to face, but she couldn't see him behind the helmet. He was a monstrous giant made of iron. She heard Eredin snickering behind her.
She was compelled to drop the sword, as her hands met behind her back. The elf could hold both of her wrists with one grip, and he used it to turn her around, so she was faced with the King of the Hunt instead.
"Better to die than be captured? How admirable."
She tried to spat at him, but received a hit on the back of her skull. Her eyesight filled with indistinct colors as her ears rang.
"We'll sooth that temper of yours." Eredin eyed her from head to toes.
Why did she have to make a stand in the first place? Stupid girl. She growled to the elves.
"Go plough yourselves."
Caranthir grasped her hair and bent her head upwards, as Eredin hissed from between his teeth.
"No wonder Auberon didn't want to screw you, with language like that."
She moaned in the painful position. The elf in front of her circled closer.
"But we don't have to get you with child, no… not any longer." His voice was filled with a wondering disgust. "Although the process in itself would teach you a lesson." His hand rose in a curious attempt to straighten her collar, to feel the fabric on her mud-stained shirt.
The other elf hold her in place when she instinctively tried to flinch away. She tried curse them, but speaking grew painful as her head was stretched backwards.
"But nobody should be forced to fuck a filthy dh'oine." He withdrew his hand.
She tried to kick them, either of them, but her legs were parted with a mean strike to the inner side of her calf.
"Of course, everything can be arranged. If you decide to be this much of a nuisance."
She heard scattering from the lines of the elves. The two beside her turned their attention from her, and searched the cause for interruption. It emerged on the form of another elf, dressed in blue, walking his way up to them, with a high staff accompanying him. There was visibly difference in the elves, as this one lacked all the armor the others were drowned in. She recognized him.
"Decided to join the party after all?" Eredin mocked.
This elf's voice was cool and calm. "I don't recall never denying the offer."
Avallac'h closed in on them. There was no emotion on his face, except for a slight wonder as he lay his eyes on Cirilla. "Well you finally captured the girl? Bravo."
They all fixed their attention back to her. The hold on her hair tightened, and she whimpered.
Caranthir scorned behind her. "More than you ever accomplished."
There was a tiny smile on the sage's face.
"Shall we chance that? If I may." He uplifted his staff slightly, apparently making an offer.
The elves took a good-measured minute to exchange stern looks. She acknowledged that there were something of a soundless argument taking place between the Sage and the Red Riders. It broke with Eredin's words.
"What are you planning to do with our little Swallow?" He chuckled.
It happened fast. Something whirled near her head, she was pushed backwards as Caranthir disappeared. Ciri was left exposed. The black haired elf tried to clutch her, but failed, as she fell to the grass. She rolled as soon as she came in contact with the ground, and clasped the sword which had been squeezed from her hand.
"Zireael, stay down!"
She did as she was told to. She heard clanging of swords, and was afraid to look. She heard cursing, yelling and men running at them. Then she heard screaming. She lifted her head to see Avallac'h engaged in a combat which was not his. The sage's and Eredin's swords were clashed, and they were shouting insults in Elder Speech. Ciri was too flushed to recall the dialogue.
An arrow was shot, and it landed near her right thigh. It was time to move.
Against all better judgement, she sprang herself, keeping as low as possible. She attacked the elf in the blue robes, and pushed herself with all her strength towards his side. He was taken aback, surely startled when they both fell to the ground. Eredin's sword flashed through where the sage's head had been. Cirilla knew it would have been a mortal blow if she hadn't interrupted, for Avallac'hs skills with a sword were nowhere near Eredin's. Sage's sword was ripped from him, as they both fell.
She didn't know what he had thrown when she was freed, but it must have hit Caranthir. She found out there was no obstacle for them to jump.
She blinked them away before they hit the ground.
Ciri landed on top of the elf. He provided a softening underlay for her, but resulted in a painful whine from the elf. She imagined the rocks hitting his back must hurt like hell, as they were laying on a forest floor. She wasn't sure where they were exactly, but it was a long distance from the previous world. She was pushed off of him in an instant.
"Move, Ciri."
She was rushed to follow as Avallac'h hurriedly picked himself up from the undergrowth. His hand understandably stretched to his back, undoubtedly where the pain was. His voice was bothered.
"Where are we?"
She looked around in the forest. It was green as far as eye could see. She realized she had no idea where they have landed. But she didn't have to tell him that.
"Away."
"They are going to follow. Let's go."
Ciri nodded, and seized his hand. He gave her a fast glance as she did, but didn't pull away.
"Wait, I'll show you-" His other hand reached to touch her forehead, and there was a tingling sensation as her mind got a comprehension of an exact location. She felt the warmness radiating from his body. "…where to go."
They blinked.
It was a desert of some kind, but not a one she was familiar with. They had appeared somewhere in middle of it, with a broken tower just in sight. They made their way to it, walking in a fast pace.
"Did they hurt you?"
His words sounded worried, and Ciri couldn't decide if he was being rightly genuine.
"No, well scratches here and there…"
"Did they say what they wanted?"
She studied the elf hiking beside her. The sun provided a merciless heat, and Cirilla shadowed her eyes with her hand.
"Blood. My blood. Thought now they had the idea of…" she made a face "teaching me a lesson first."
Avallac'hs face darkened. She hurried in to continue.
"But you did cut nicely in there. Thanks." She rubbed her hair to ease the tension which was left from navigators' grip. "Why did you do it?"
The elf must have been waiting the question, but his answer was still plain enough.
"We had a disagreement of actions."
"Should I be flattered?" Humor was never her strongest suit, but she kept using it nonetheless.
"No."
Cirilla swallowed.
"But why? As long as I recall, you and Eredin were on good terms."
He made an amused sound.
"A lot have changed when we last saw."
There was silence. Their steps made no sounds on the soft sand. She didn't know was this new adjustment of plans good for her, and whatever she should trust the elf. But he had risked his neck for her, and for the time being, it was good enough.
"Where are we going?"
"Do you see that tower? If I'll be successful in activating it, Swallow, we'll fly to a far-away world."
"You think it'll work?"
She saw him hesitating a minute.
"It's worth a shot."
That didn't really make her feel any easier. That this tower of his possibly could be activated, and it would maybe take them to a weird world she knew nothing about.
"What kind of world?"
"A safe one." he paused, "But you shouldn't be afraid. I know what I'm doing."
She strongly disagreed. It all felt like founding a pin in a pile of hay.
"Can't I take us there?"
He groaned. Making from his reaction, she wondered if she was asking too many questions. But she gathered it was her right.
"No, Zireael. They'd locate us. This way, using the power hidden in these towers, they'll not see us going."
They made the rest of the journey without speaking. It wasn't a long way, and they reached it soon. The tower cast a shadow big for a lifeless desert as this one. But it was not a big structure, and it bare a small set of stairs reaching up to the top. If she'd have to compare it to something, it was near the size of Tor Lara. She remembered the last trip she had made with a tower like that, and was not excited to be making it again. It lessened the worried feeling in her gut, that this time she had a real Aen Elle with her, probably one of the same that had been ordering the towers being build. Cirilla questioned how bad life decisions could she make.
They climbed up the stairs, but it was made difficult with either fragile steps or missing ones. The ashen haired girl tried to find some support from the ruin's walls, but the stone had grew hot under the sun. Astounding for an old elf, Avallac'h did not catch his breath once during the climb. She reasoned the sage must be in better shape than his statue implicated. There was no wind up in the tower, but at least inside it they were safe from the sun. She hoped she hadn't burned herself out there.
"So, how do you turn it on?" The elf eyed her for the curious choice of words. She continued with an annoyed sigh. "I mean how do you activate the portal."
He investigated the writings on the wall. They shoved a circle, carved at the stonewall, embellished with letters of a language she didn't know. Or if they even were letters, they could be marks showing ancient magic.
"There" he gestured at a side of the circle, "you see the destination." Ciri was sure that he knew she didn't know what he was pointing at, but he kept talking nonetheless. "I'll activate it, when I'll get the…" he paused, looking for a right translation, "coordinates, I suppose."
"How do you do it? Coordinate, or navigate as The Riders put it."
He turned to her. His robes showed no indication of the battle they had been in, save the empty sheath from his lost sword. Apparently neither had shed blood, and the bigger sufferer was she, as her own disheveled appearance had wrinkled clothes and half-open hair. Without thinking it, her hands shot up to her hair, gathering it back to her usual bun. She tried to even her shirt, thought with little effect. The elf shortly smirked at that. He stepped up to her.
"You have to feel it." He placed his fingers lightly on top of Ciri's heart. "In here."
They stood in an uneasy silence. Ciri noted they had little difference in height.
She took a step back. "Yeah, okay, whatever." His eyes lingered, but he turned.
"We must go now, Zireael."