"I hate these trees" Iorveth said as he scratched at the bandanna covering half of his face. It was late in the third day since his and Triss' emergence from Benavents portal, they had found themselves stranded in the middle of nowhere with no sign of anyone or anything around them. At first the red headed sorceress felt not a lick of concern for their predicament, if you were going to be stranded in a forest then the best person to have on your side would of course be an elf. The trouble was that Iorveth knew nothing of where they were, he did not recognise the flora, fauna or even the mighty oaks they passed along their wanderings; he could not find his bearings or even gauge the best path north, in essence, at this moment he was completely useless.

"They don't speak to me, none of them speak to me!" the elf kicked a dead stump and yelled in frustration, his voice carrying in echo through the emptiness of the forest.

"Are all elves as ill-tempered as you or did I just get lucky" Triss said walking ahead of him, brushing the leaves of low hanging trees out of her way as she marched.

"If you want to talk about luck, how about the luck that I fell into…" he replied, sneering from under his bandanna as he followed, "How ever did I let Gwynbleid talk me into going up to that accursed tower in the first place. As soon as he mentioned the hunt I should have just backed out of it and…"

"And what?" Triss snapped rounding on him sharply "stayed in the forests with your Scoia'Tael brothers, picking off whatever innocent Dhoine traders you could find along the road between Flotsam and Vizima. Oh yes very fucking noble Iorveth."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand Merigold, you are a Dhoine after all so your thinking is somewhat skewered on the matter" he replied.

"Well let me ask you this, if you hate all of us so much, why did you let Geralt talk you into protecting Ciri from the Hunt?" she said turning to look him in the eye.

"Respect" there was a moment between them, a moment where the boundaries of race, politics and religion broke down; a moment where Iorveth, for reasons unknown, allowed a Dhoine to see through to the other side of his shell, to the tiniest part of him that was still a noble elf at heart.

Something broke through the silence shared between the two of them, a groaning or perhaps a low growling; either way it was enough to snap Triss and Iorveth's attention back to the world around them. The elf unstrapped his bow from his shoulder and knocked an arrow, the Scoia'Tael commando scanned the area at large, noting every movement, every rustle of branch with his expert ability. Triss readied her staff, charging it with the powerful energies that she studied for years to command, only there was something wrong; she could feel the power flow through her body and edge outwards at her fingertips but it was a strain, more so than usual; it was as if the powers of the world she knew were hesitant in coming outward, as though they did not want to reveal themselves to the world at large.

"Help…" the voice was more guttural than a cry for help would normally sound and certainly more relaxed, "…I'm burning, he's burning me… Gregor… please… stop it!"

Triss's feet moved swiftly toward the sound, the branches snapped against her skin sharply as she half ran toward the cry for help. Thorns snagged her hair and tore at her clothing as she broke through the leaves and out into a clearing and to the source of the sound. A man, sat in front of a tree, his hands stained with blood that poured from a festering wound in his stomach but the most telling part of his appearance was his face; the skin on the left side was scorched, an old wound that had gone deep into the skull, welted and twisted and only partially covered by long greasy hair.

"Shit" Triss said under breath; she did not understand her own actions after that, she could not remember the reasons why or what had possibly compelled her to move; but before she realised what she was doing, Triss found herself kneeling down in front of the scarred man, whispering an incantation, power and energy flowed (albeit hesitantly) through her fingertips, pulling at his flesh, forcing back the blood flow and closing the wound.

"Sir…"Triss said in a rattled voice while holding his face in her hands. "…Sir, are you alright?"

The man's eyes fluttered behind his eyelids before he glanced out at her from under them. A look of relief or maybe happiness washed over him, a twisted and gnarled smile or as close as he could come to a one, stretched across his face.

"Little bird" he said in a gruff voice before passing out again.

"Shit!" Triss backed away and noticed one incredibly important fact, here in this open clearing she entirely alone, at least to the naked eye. Iorveth had disappeared and, like all elves, if he was here he was not about to make his presence known without a good reason. She had known Iorveth long enough to recognise when he was staying hidden.

Something was wrong, there was a dark presence in the air, and she could sense its movements. It was not alone either, the rustling of branches being touched by armour and drawn swords breaking against the bodies of men moving about in bushes.

"There's no need to hide" Triss said readying her staff and standing to defend her patient.

A tall lanky man with red hair and freckles was the first to emerge, a bow in hand with an arrow notched. He had not aimed yet but the look in his eye told Triss he was definitely ready to use it, as well as the short sword at his hip. Next to step forward out of the greenery was a tall fat man with grey hair and sagging skin, a faded red cloak covered dented and well used armour, his right hand hovered over a sword strapped to his back gave the impression that he was no dunce with a blade. The last to emerge was a young boy of no more than twelve years, shy and cautious with a tendency to hide behind the larger man's robes.

An assortment of various unremarkable and otherwise stereotypical men at arms, numbering at around fifteen; Triss was seriously outnumbered and she knew it.

"Hello there miss" the archer said in a cheerful voice. Triss regarded him cautiously, she'd met men of his sort enough times to know that if he and his friends weren't here for her then they were here for the scarred man: In her mind they were getting neither.

"Gentlemen" she said sweeping her eye across them all while at the same time looking for the dark presence she had sensed earlier, "I assume there's a reason all of you have found your way here, and not a coincidental one?"

"Did you hear that boys? The lady sounds highborn!" the older man said sending a rumble of chuckles and filthy remarks throughout the gathered men.

"She sounds like she's from Volantis" the shy boy said from behind the faded red cloak of his master.

"Is that right girl? Are you from Volantis?" he asked before un-notching a a skin from his waist and taking long, deep drink. Triss looked back at the man with confusion and curiosity, she'd never heard of anywhere called Volantis in any of the northern kingdoms nor anywhere in Nilfgaard, so the question that remained was; where the hell were they?

"Valar Morghulis?" the man asked, testing the waters to see if she would react.

"You've got the wrong woman here" she said sternly, "I'm from Maribor, I've no idea where Volantis is, or what it is?"

"Well my dear, we've no idea where Maribor is wither but we do know where you are now"

"Where would that be?" Triss gave him a sideways look, she was more than certain he was about to demand her purse from her; robbers always travelled in packs of ugly men and this group was no different.

"Standing between us and justice" he said with a demanding overtone. Triss looked over her shoulder at the man, passed out and snoring loudly against the tree.

"You're not getting him!" Triss said as she took up a defensive stance.

"Young miss, I'm not sure you're aware who it is you're dealing with. That man is dangerous and you don't want to be near him when he wakes up."

"It's all very well you saying that" she said tilting her head towards the man leaning against the tree, "he's the one whose unarmed and unconscious, while it takes fifteen of you to kill him!"

The dark presence Triss had been sensing from the moment the bandits had appeared finally made itself present. From behind the large trunk of a great oak a shadowy figure cloaked in grey robe with a hood emerged slowly, the bandits parted almost reverently and allowed the figure to stand before them. The figure slowly pulled the hood back with a pale and wrinkled hand, revealing a terrifying visage; a woman, seemingly ancient (at least in Triss's eyes), with pale skin like curdled milk and brittle grey hair, she looked down at the young sorceress with eyes that sat above a row of deep scratch marks. Placing a hand across what appeared to be a knife wound on her throat and snarled.

"Kill them both" she said in a voice that was barely audible, "bring me the Hound's head!"

The bandits drew their swords reluctantly, the archer pulled hard on bow cautiously. Triss made no move to defend herself or her patient, something that the bandits found most unsettling.

As they advanced upon her, out of nowhere an arrow whisked past her head and buried itself in the face of a skinny young lad carrying an axe two sizes too large for him. Panic ran rife through the bandits as one arrow after another found their mark inside bandit after bandit until only the archer, the old man, the shy boy and whatever creature seemed to command them remained standing.

The archer was frantic, he had notched his arrow but he could not see who it was that had been shooting at them, there was no sign of any force of numbers that matched their own and he was about to go wasting arrows on nothing but shadows and sound. The older man had his sword drawn but the blade was placed in the palm of left hand, as if preparing himself for some secret attack.

"If I was you I'd leave, right now" Triss said threateningly. The archer and the swordsman snarled and made to attack before the woman with grey hair gave a throaty snarl and stopped them in their tracks.

"Not yet" she said backing away toward the forest surroundings, her men following along with her. Iorveth waited until he was certain that they had left before he jumped down from a nearby tree and began pulling arrows out of his targets.

"You ever see anything like that?" Iorveth asked slinging another arrow in his quiver.

"Not short of a rot fiend or a vampire" she said running a hand through her hair. She was tired, hungry and her feet were sore. The road had been long so far and if their interaction with the bandits had told them anything it was they were definitely not in any land they knew. The older man's talk of a place called Volantis was aptly foreign to her and the idea that any self-respecting northerner would not know of Maribor, the second largest city in Temeria was insane.

The worry was killing her, the worry for her friends, the worry for Ciri and Geralt all of it was sinking deep into her stomach and making her sick. The bandits were just an afterthought and it wasn't as if she had never come across their type before.

"Where to now?" Iorveth asked as he slung another arrow in his quiver.

"When you've no idea where you're going, there's only one way you can be certain to travel" she replied.

"North" Iorveth said with a most ugly grin before looking down at the unconscious man, "what about the handsome prince over there?"

Triss considered carefully her next actions, she couldn't be sure that what the bandits had said was untrue. However she could not take the chance of leaving him to be killed in the middle of the forest, or else they would have made an enemy for nothing.

"Elves have very strong backs" she said as she walked toward the man, knelt down and lifted one his heavy arms around his neck. "We take him with us!"