The Witcher: A Deep Mark
Chapter 4.
Ciri was dragged along in her kidnapper's wake, her hands bound and wrapped together by the long chain starting from the cuff on her neck, and ending in the brutal man's left hand a few meters ahead of her. Both of them walking with a steady rate; he wasn't in a hurry, and was mindful not to accidentally outpace her and strain her by accident. Ciri followed, not showing any sign of resistance; she was unslept, and deep in thought. She was certain that she could get rid of the man if she truly wanted to... but his earlier presentation inspired legitimate fear within her - not for herself, but for Geralt. Whoever were the murderous bounty hunter's contractors must have been powerful people. Was he hired by some northern resistance movement which tracked her somehow, and want her as a bargaining chip? Or did his father, Emhyr var Emreis, send him to apprehend her? Maybe some other imperial nobles, hoping to gain leverage over their emperor by taking his sole child captive?
There were all too many variations. And the location where they were headed for, the Hanged Man's Tree in Velen? Last thing she heard about the area, the Redenians and Nilfgaard both pulled their troops out, and since the peace talks have been going on, the region was getting infested by all manner of strange, horrible creatures, feasting on the carcass of the province that once belonged to the conquered kingdom of Temeria. Who could his co-conspirators be to choose a land so desolate and hazardous as their rallying ground?
Even if she were to break off, where would she be headed? All around her, there was unknown ground. The towering trees hung their branches overhead like so many walls closing in on her, and the shades they cast and shook in the wind whispered like an echo of the dark thoughts within her. She forced the increasingly complex and complicated theories out of her mind; for the moment, she would work along with the man, perhaps leak him for more revelations. - "Say..." - she said meekly. - "About my doppler friend. How did you get to him? Have you done something to him?"
"Hm?" - the man cast a grim look behind, before turning back and kept striding onwards. - "I haven't hurt him, if that's what you are worried about." - he then cussed under his breath for a spell, as he stepped into some mud puddle and shook the filth off. - "As for how I found out about him, simple, really. I said I was after you. I found some records of your... affairs with Whoreson Junior. They didn't exactly implicate you two parted on good terms. Then all of sudden, Whoreson has a change of heart, and his men were gossiping of your occasional visits? Sure, why not, that's not suspicious in the least." - his tone was loaded with heavy sarcasm by the end of it. - "So I pulled some of his men apart and walked in on him whilst counting orens. He tried to act tough, but didn't last with a blade at his throat. Told him to drop the act and cough up what I wanted to hear. I was surprised to find out he was an actual doppelganger, but whatever. Got what I needed and moved on."
"You know, I have more acquaintances in Novigrad than just him." - Ciri kept talking - "If what you say is true, and you spared him, why would he not tell of your break-in to the rest of my friends and try to warn me?"
"If you know Dudu as I came to know him, then you know that doppler is a base coward. I could have exposed him, and I have friends in Novigrad, too. I promised him they would slip an anonymous note to the witch hunters regarding his identity if he so much as considered saying a word to anyone about my visit." - the man elaborated. - "No need for threats and torture when promises suffice."
Ciri sighed in annoyance. - "Well, I suppose I should thank you for sparing him. But you are still a bloody-handed murderer. Having a code of conduct doesn't make you better than any thug with the merest shred of conscience about them."
"There are worse people I could be." - the man shrugged his shoulders as he took his steps. - "Like Vilgefortz."
Ciri shivered at the mere mention of the name. - "Point taken." - she admitted; but hearing that name also caused a new theory to emerge in her head: that someone like that sickening madman of a magician would want her, like he did, for her elder blood. - "About your employers, I know you won't talk, but tell me... are there any mages among them?"
Her captor turned about, measuring her up, seeing the impact of invoking Vilgefortz's name before him; Ciri was maintaining composure as much as she could, but her legs quivered, like she was expecting to be put on a table for vivsection once this man hands her over. The man defiantly shook his head. - "No." - he put it plainly - "I don't work for bloody mages."
"Oh. I see. Good." - Ciri nodded a bit with each word. If she was merely wanted as a political prisoner, that in itself was a relief. - "Speaking of magic, if you know who I am, you know I'm a Source. Now, ever since we met, I'm experiencing... difficulties, I could say. You have anything to do with that?"
The man chuckled silently. - "Come on, girl, deduce. You'll figure it out eventually. But until then, shut your mouth and keep walking. I have a travel distance quota to meet if I am to deliver you on time."
He was about to return to treading his path amidst the high grass when suddenly, Ciri pulled the chain back. Looking back with a fearsome glimpse, the man gave her a wordless warning. She wasn't put off by him, standing her ground with an idea hatching in her head: - "I'm not taking any more steps while this damn weight is on me." - she stated. - "It's going to wear me down, and it will cost you precious time."
"You think me a fool?" - the man asked, putting a clenched fist on his hip.
"Verily, but that is irrelevant." - Ciri said. - "Sincerely, the more you talk of your employers, the more I am intrigued. You told me it is in my interest to be collaborative. Well, you shall have it. I will go with you to Hanged Man's Tree - but it will be under my terms. So, I ask you again: remove this cuff, and hand me back my belongings. The route ahead can be perilous, and whilst you caught me by surprise, I doubt you could fight off a stray ghoul or the like."
The man leaned closer, with his mouth curving upwards as a grotesque smile, but the irate look in his eyes was otherwise unrelenting. - "Your concern is... appreciated. And your reasoning is sound. We will be treading upon dangerous grounds, little swallow, that much is true. But it is my choice when and where I will decide to trust you. So, I offer you a deal."
Ciri tipped her head slightly upwards to appear a bit taller. - "Go on."
"If we keep up the pace, we will reach a river by today. I got a boat waiting for us. Once we are going downstream, there will be no turning back for either of us." - the man kept some pause. - "Until we get there, the chain stays on you. After that, I'll take it off, and you get your swords back. But I'll be keeping my eye on you, of that, make no mistake."
The girl rolled her eyes and sighed. - "So be it. Might as well. Lead the way, then-"
The man would waggle his index finger in front of her. - "I said I offer a deal. I made you a promise, and I'm a man of my word. But I'm expecting something in turn."
"Namely?" - Ciri asked.
"Once we are in the boat, I will ask you a question. Any question I choose. Answer that faithfully, and I shall not put the chains back again." - the man stated.
"That's it?" - Ciri chuckled at the ridiculousness of his demand; she could easily lie to him should he ask something sensitive, like about Geralt's weaknesses and fighting style. Or her personal sexual preferences. - "Fine. We have an agreement... what was your name again?" - she realized only now that so far, the man has not revealed anything alluding to his identity.
Her captor straightened out his back, head tilted up, gazing down on her. His voice was whisper, but it resonated with boastfulness: - "You may call me Mangler."
It was already late in the afternoon by the time they encountered an unscrupulous looking man with a cudgel while strolling near an aged oak marked with a large lily symbol. His trousers tattered and his upper body barely covered by some torn piece of cloth. It seemed he was expecting Mangler, for he invited him to follow after with a gesture. Ciri kept silent, now thinking herself foolish in hindsight as to why she had not insisted on being unchained earlier. She was under the impression that Mangler was the lone wolf kind of huntsman. But if he has allies, freeing herself will be quite an issue should it come to that. Sure, he has promised to take the chains off, and so far maintained a professional impression - apart from the rampage in the village, that is; but that was no reason to trust him any further than he could be thrown. Which, considering the size difference between him and her, would not be too much by default.
Still, he seemed insitent to keep her healthy, and she had no reason to doubt his employers, if driven by hereditary interests in regards to Nilfgaard, will want her alive and unspoilt. For the time being, she tried her best to look unfazed and kept moving. The man led her and Mangler to a small encampment concealed in the forest, close enough to the riverside that Ciri could distinctly hear the flow of the water's roaming mass in its wide bed. The site was a typical, if small, bandit haven - patchwork shelters crudely crafted from wood and animal skins, barrels and boxes of supplies piled together under a hastily tinkered roofing, chopped down tree trunks converted into makeshift sitting places and tables, and a few aged benches and plain sleeping spots arranged in a roughly circular shape around two fireplaces.
The inhabitants were about eleven people in total, their escort included, with a few of them wearing gambesons with mail hauberks over them, giving them a more regulated, if shabby guise. The rest were not that well off, clad in little more than the overworn linen and wool rags which characterized much of the north's peasantry and outlaws. Looking about, Ciri could spot marks of the Temerian lily; were they resistance fighters or somesuch?
Before she could spin the thread of that thought any further, the leader stepped forth. Much to her surprise, it was a woman, maybe in her thirties, in a heraldic brigandine, hunting spear in hand. Her crest composed of a screeching rooster with an arrow piercing and twisting its thoat while dancing atop a hill in between two pine trees. Ciri could not recognize it; the lady could have been a gentry, a small land owner. Her dark brown hair was cut short, with only three braids left longer, tied together into a singular larger one, reaching just below her neckline. Her build and and wound marks suggested a militant background. By her side, a dwarf with an impressive beard and balding head came along sluggishly shambling, walking with a slight hunch, but even so he was tall for someone of his kind. His bare arms and chest were massive and muscular as well like some renowned city brawler's, and covered by scars and tattoos alike, his hands wrapped in bandages and wearing a necklace made of some torn chain refashioned into a stylish, if thuggish accessory.
The woman spoke up first. - "Ah, Mangler! Punctual as usual." - her mezzo-soprano was caressing to the ears. - "Successful in your hunt?"
"As you can see." - Mangler answered shortly, tilting his head towards Ciri, who still kept her mouth closed, looking about and measuring the surroundings. - "Now, let me through, time is of the essence for me. I'm giving the other half of the rent fee to your men once we reach our destination, like we agreed." - he wanted to simply walk past, when the dwarf confronted him, arms folded.
"Change of plans, bungler." - he spat out. - "You said you were after a mutant freak. This girl doesn't look the sort to me. And you know we don't take kindly to being lied to."
"I said I was after a witcher. She is one. Got the tools of the trade to show for it, at least." - Mangler stated.
"He is telling the truth, you know." - Ciri added. - "I was finishing a hunt for Nekkers when he got me. Didn't get any coins for all that hassle!"
The woman chuckled at the notion. - "A girl so young, a witcher? A tall story from the both of you. No cat eyes, no deformities... but all cleanly dressed, with pretty, bejewelled ornaments. You know what I think, Mangler? I think this petty maid you are retrieving is in fact some runaway lass from a noble's home, trying to live out youthful delusional fantasies."
Mangler cast a meaningful glimpse towards Ciri before looking back to his talk partner. - "In all honesty, you are not exactly wrong."
"I beg your pardon?!" - Ciri protested.
"Still," - Mangler ignored her complaint - "I fail to see how this would change anything. I need one of your boats and paid for it in advance. We had a deal."
"And, had you kept your word of a witcher being your target, I would have obliged." - the woman said. - "I resent the freaks. Greedy, child snatching, depraved scum, all of them. But a defeseless little girl? I'm a mother myself, you know. I don't think anyone would want a arsehead like you getting their hands on their daughters." - Ciri couldn't help but smile. It seemed common decency was not unheard of even in this remote, lawless place. The lady circled her with a kindly gaze. - "What do you say, young one? Shall we take you in, away from this unrefined man? You'd have a good time with my girls." - she gestured towards two young maids who were looking to be around Ciri's age, sitting by the campfire in the back, one sharpening a sword, the other arming a hunting crossbow. - "They like swinging sharp, pointy things as well. And my men-folk would love to have you around, too."
On that last note, all too sudden, Ciri was growing much less fond of the generous proposition. - "Erm... thank you kindly, madam, but Mangler isn't so bad. He's just doing his job, I'm not keepin a grudge. So, will you let us through?"
The dwarf let out a bellowing laughter. - "A damn modest lass, she is! Good. These Temerian wimps could use someone tender in their bunks for a change. No offense to your girls, lady Ortella."
"None taken, my fuzzy muscle bear." - she said, fondling the dwarf's head endearingly. - "We raise them tough, like they should be. Unlike that gimp of a husband I had. Thank gods the Nilgaardians killed him, would have done it myself if I had to put up with him any longer."
"You heard the girl, she's not interested." - Mangler intercepted. - "Boat. Now."
"We are altering the deal." - Orella stated. - "You are paying the other half up here and now, and wait until my men are done ploughing her." - she put it nonchalantly plain.
"What!?" - Ciri yelped in disbelief. - "Seriously, what kind of a madwoman are you to throw a girl before your thugs to be raped!"
"These 'thugs' are my loyal retainers. What kind of lady would I be to not gift them with sweet little presents every now and then?" - she exclaimed.
The bandits were starting to encircle them, smiles wide in anticipation. Mangler drew his weapon in under a second, and up so close with no shadows falling over, Ciri could witness its details: it was a longsword, with the two lower thirds of the blade length serrated, the crossguard's ends pointing slightly upwards like little steel skewers, and the pommel at the handle's bottom end shaped not entirely unlike a small flanged mace. A butcher's choice of instument indeed. Seeing it on display, the marauders backed off a little, but one of the daughters, as well as two men, pointed crossbows at Mangler. - "I am to deliver her undamaged and unstained." - he stated. - "You guarantee neither."
"Quaking in your boots, aren't ya, whoreson?" - the dwarf spat on the ground, pummeling his chest, working himself up. Ortella gestured him to stand down.
"Let's not blow this out of proportion." - she said calmly. - "We'll be gentle with her I assure you." - she approached Mangler, unafraid of his blade pointed in her direction. - "Be wise, Mangler. You can probably take a few of us, and I don't want bloodshed. But if this spirals out of control, you cannot defeat all of us, and will perish here. You wouldn't risk that, would you?"
Mangler weighted his options. Ciri clenched her fists; if anyone so much as touches her...! For a drawn-out moment, all that could be heard was the chirping of random birds, and an owl's hooing. In the end, Mangler slowly lowered his sword. - "Very well. You can have her for the night. I'll even throw her swords in as an extra price if that means we'll forget this little misunderstanding." - he added, pointing to the two witcher blades he carried swung over shoulder so far.
"Why, you graying piece of forktail shit!" - Ciri yelled at him, trying to pull away from him, the chains and cuff bruising her in the attempt; Mangler put his foot down firmly, without averting his gaze from Ortel and her companions.
"HOWEVER!" - Mangler raised his voice - "I have a condition. One condition."
"We won't get her pregnant." - Ortalla assured him. - "That part of her body won't be sore in the morning, I'll supervise that."
"Not that. I'm a man of my word, if you recall." - he turned his gaze to Ciri, eyebrows lifting and falling suggestively. - "And there is a promise that I have made to the girl that I must fulfill first."
Ciri ceased struggling after she heard that. She got the message.
"By all means." - Ortella shrugged. - "Just be quick, the mood is fleeting and the boys are horny."
Mangler cast one last inquisitive look at Ciri, who plainly nodded once. He unchained her, and as soon as he had done that, Ciri reached for her steel sword over Mangler's shoulder and drew it in an eyeblink, spinning to his side in a defensive stance. Mangler turned about alongside her, longsword held ready to swing.
"You cheeky bastard!" - one of the bandits shouted. - "You said-"
"I said you can have her and her swords both." - Mangler reminded them - "On one condition. Here it is: come and take them!"
Ortella sighed. - And here I thought we could settle this in a civilized manner. Kill him."
Three crossbow bolts came flying, one after another; Ciri effortlessly parried the first, the second flew by harmlessly, and the third got lodged in Mangler's heavy leather coat. He grunted, grinding his teeth, before the two of them simultaneously entered the fray. Ciri danced around, her body remembering the basics she was once taught in Kaer Morhen. She managed to land a few cuts and using her small frame, easily slipped in and out of the midst of her attackers; but she was at a disadvantage. For too long, she relied on her magic, her rapid teleportation to muster motion force behind her blows. Now all she had was muscle power, which, albeit decent for her lean built, was not her strongest asset. Were it not for the razor sharpness of her weapon and the bareness of his foes, it was questionable if she could land a decent strike. Mangler on the other hand faced no such issues. He fought very much like a beast, the prongs of his longsword splattering blood and bloody chuncks with each swing, complimented by boots and knees to stomachs and ribs, and his spiked knuckes pulping meat underneath skin.
Ciri was getting cornered, having too little space for pirouettes. She managed to fell two men already, and wound two more by mutilating their arm and leg, respectively, when she had her legs pulled out from under her by a spear's shaft.; Ciri raised her sword for a thrusting move, only to see it was Ortella leaning over. She awkwardly slowed her attack, barely piercing her armor. - "Hesitant, are we?" - she questioned her, right before one of his men threw himself at Ciri to wrestle her down. Swiftly, her doubts were gone, and came back to the reality that she was fighting for her life and dignity. She bit the man's nose, and while she could not slide the sword under him, she could hit him in the face with the crossguard, which she did. Bone cracked, and she pushed the guy off; she saw a spear's tip coming down, and rolled out, kneeling up, swinging and parrying as she did.
Seeing the prowess of the two, a couple of the younger thugs, the ones with the crossbows that is, decided that this was not worth the risk. They ran off to the woods, not looking back. - "Cowards!" - the dwarf shouted at them angrily. - "Never send a man to do a dwarf's job."
As if to prove his point, he tackled Mangler by himself whilst the bounty hunter was between ripping open someone's abdomen with a slash and backhanding another's jaw to break off. He rammed him, pushed him down; Mangler dropped his sword due to his loosening grip as his lungs got the air punched out of them in a single move. The dwarf pulled him closer by one leg and was preparing to pressurize his manhood into paste with his hammer-like fist. Mangler would not permit that; recovering, he sat up, grabbed the dwarf's beard, and with a heavy pull, he headbutted him. He felt it more than the dwarf, that was for sure; cursing in his mother tongue, the brawler grabbed his head and returned the favour. Mangler was seeing stars for a second as his back hit the ground. Looking to his right, his sword was right beside him. Tossing some dirt into the dwarf's face, with a side helping of a swift distancing kick, he reached for it. He got hold of the weapon, only to feel the dwarf held down both his ankles and started twisting them, his fingers gripping with the force of a blacksmith's tongs. Mangler yelled in pain, but that only fuelled his anger - which he channeled into power. Namely, he shifted hold on the weapon, grabbind the blade, and landing the mace-like pommel upon the bald spot of his assailant, caving his brain in.
"Coalbeard!" - Ortella cried out as she witnessed it, leaving Ciri behind. This came as a relief, but only briefly; Ortella's two daughters came, one flashing an arming sword, the other launching her crossbow. Ciri barely spun out of this shot's way, and already the older, ponytailed girl with the broad blade came at her with heavy, hammering strikes. She could imbalance her should she be careless; Ciri would not even try deflection, but rather, evasion. The other girl, who had freckles and a simple knot, tossed the crossbow aside and drew a flaying knife instead, getting to Ciri's back, ready to stab. Ciri was unable to manoeuvre in time, but as she would have struck, suddenly she got an arrow to her head from behind. - "Sister!" - the elder one yelled out; Ciri used the opportunity kick a leg out from under her, then gave her a quick smack to the forehead before running for cover, having subdued her.
Mangler barely shove the dwarf's heavy corpse away and got back on foot when Ortella unleased a flurry of jabs in his direction, hitting a leg, a shoulder, and his ribs. In the latter two cases, Mangler's vest soaked up most of the damage, but he still had to get back in the flow quick. With a series of consecutive, forceful parries, he ultimately broke apart Ortella's spear, who then drew a long long dagger at him. - "Die, bastard, die!" - she yelled in his face, managing to to push his sword arm aside and going in for an impalement. Mangler used his long leg to kick her underbelly, halting the attack, then grasped her wrist with his free hand. Mangler didn't push his sword through her, as someone more sensible would had done; instead, he headbutted her, hit her in between the thights with his knee, pushed her away, and with a wide overhead swing, he cleaved across from her left collarbone, rupturing down to her fifth right rib. He pulled out the sword, letting the contents of the woman's earthly husk spill open for all to see.
Ciri beheld the gruesome spectacle with disgust, and felt her stomach turn. Those terrifying wounds on the villagers earlier... no wonder he's called Mangler. She was right to have her silver sword drawn when she first met him. That idea would have to wait, however; that arrow from earlier, which conviniently saved her, had to come from somewhere. - "Take cover, idiot!" - she told him. - "There's an archer about!"
Mangler looked at her, splattered in blood, his breath heavy, and his gaze uninterested. - "Of course there is. I made sure he'd be here."
Ciri blinked. He had someone else waiting in ambush? Soon enough, her suspicion was confirmed; an elf came out from the embrace of the shades, pulling one of the stragglers after him by the leg with one hand, an arrow poking out of the unfortunate guy's shin. He wore a red headscarf, concealing one eye, bow in his free hand, saber at his side. Mangler smiled faintly. - "Ah. My favourite knife-ear!"
"Ah. My least hated dh'oine." - the elf retorted in a mocking tone, letting go of his whimpering prey.
Ciri's glimpse jumped between the two several times. - "Are the two of you in a relationship?" - the menacing looks she got as her answer were explicit enough. - "No? Huh. I was just asking."
The elf got his bow ready to finish off the last bandit and the elder sister, but Mangler raised his hand in protest. - "No. The girl and I need some clean clothes. They look to be about our size."
"By Melitele, you kill every one of us, and will loot us too?" - the survivor complained. - "What more do you want!?"
"Relax, you may keep your knickers." - Mangler told him.
After a brief time, Ciri, albeit hesitantly, hauled off and undressed the elder sister, and came back in her outfit. Mangler was also done clearing himself up, his unfortunate victim shivering in his underwear while the elf kept pointing an arrow at him, bowstring fully drawn. Mangler patched up his leg wound, put his protective leathers back on, and unplucked the crossbow bolt from the jacket before taking it up. Looking to Ciri and the eld, he nodded; they were ready to set out. The elf gestured Ciri to follow. Mangler went after them, before briefly turning back.
"Ortella's elder daughter is still alive in there." - he told the fearful man, tilting his head towards the bushes where Ciri changed clothes. - "She's going to need a lot of comforting when she wakes up. Be there for her, and remind her of the lesson of this tragedy." - he unknotted a pouch on his belt, tossing it to his side; coins came out, spilling. - "Deals should be honored." - and with that said, he walked off, leaving two lonely, desperate young outlaws in the cold, bitter night.