Conjunction
Chapter 12 - The Northern Road
Geralt seemed suddenly distant once they were on the road the next day. When Solona awakened at dawn he hadn't been in the bed next to her. Instead she found him kneeling in silence before the cold fireplace, clad only in his trousers and seemingly in some sort of trance. The grimoire was wrapped in its protective cloth again and sitting atop her pack. She was briefly alarmed at his utter stillness and walked up to crouch near him, reaching out a tentative hand towards his bare shoulder.
With deep concern she said quietly, "Geralt?"
To her relief he opened his eyes and turned to look at her, giving her a brief smile. They dressed and packed in silence in the dim, grey morning, settled up with the surly, half-awake innkeeper, and left the inn, taking their breakfast for the road.
They rode in silence for several hours. Solona brooded over the disturbing details she had learned the evening before. The circumstances around the death of Malcolm Hawke weighed on her the most. What had Flemeth done to him? She suddenly wished that she had honored Morrigan's request to kill the woman, rather than negotiating with her to retrieve the grimoire. She recalled the particular confrontation in detail.
As their party approached, she saw that the old woman was planting flowers outside the hut, and was surprised by the realization that there was no sign of the Blight here. Unlike the first time she had traveled it, the path to reach the place had been utterly desolate and bereft of any kind of life, and she could see that the forest line just beyond the small pond near the hut was dead as well, but the pond itself seemed to be teeming with fish.
Flemeth stood up at their approach, wiping her soil-stained hands on her apron. As unassuming as she was, the woman still exuded an aura of power. Solona didn't trust her but believed there was something more to the old witch that Morrigan wasn't telling her (or perhaps Morrigan didn't know).
When she drew closer, Flemeth said, "And so you return. Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?"
Solona's eyes narrowed. The woman looked as though she had been expecting her.
She didn't waste time with greetings. "We know your little secret, Flemeth," she said, meeting the woman's eyes steadily.
Flemeth laughed in amusement, "Which one, I wonder? What has Morrigan told you, hmm? What little plan has she hatched this time?"
Just a stupid plan to try to kill you, she thought, but knew better than to say it. "She knows how you extend your unnatural lifespan," she said, but the humor in the woman's eyes was making her uncertain about how much Morrigan really knew.
Flemeth said, "That she does. But the question is, do you? Ah, But it is an old, old story. One that Flemeth has heard before. And even told. Let us skip right to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids? Or does the tale take a different turn?"
Solona's curiosity was piqued. "Before I decide, I want to know if the story is true. Do you possess your own daughters to extend your life?"
Flemeth actually looked as though she hadn't been prepared for the question. Her brows twitched slightly and she looked back at Solona with intense interest. "I wonder, is it lack of trust in my daughter, or honest skepticism that made you ask that?" The witch shrugged and waved one hand in dismissal, then said, "I suppose it can't hurt to answer. My children are all alive and well, and, as far as I am aware, unpossessed. These rumors are merely a tool, fabricated to maintain a certain level of … privacy."
Solona persisted, "So how do you extend your lifespan?"
Flemeth laughed heartily, "You are a persistent and curious girl. It's no wonder you and my daughter get along so well. No doubt you would find kindred spirits in my other children as well, were you to meet them. There is one child in particular that I think you would get along with famously. But the question remains, will you slay me today? Or will the story have another ending?"
Solona was irritated at the witch's deft evasion of her question, but realized it was unlikely that she would get a straight answer either way. She asked, "What do you propose?"
Flemeth replied, "Morrigan wishes my grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain."
Solona didn't like the idea of lying to her friend, but with the information she had acquired she thought she could convince Morrigan that it had been the best path after all, if it came down to it. She replied, "I could do that."
Flemeth said with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "It's far easier this way, don't you think? The lies are always more fun."
Behind her, Solona heard Alistair quip sarcastically, "Yes. Fun. Tricking Morrigan." Then he said in a lighter tone, "Oh who am I kidding? That does sound fun! I'm a bad man."
As Solona was leaving with the grimoire, the old woman said to her, "You and I will meet again. That, I guarantee."
An eerie screech drew her back to the present and she pulled her horse to an abrupt stop. Lusa was growling loudly at something ahead of them and Geralt had already dismounted, drawing his silver sword and stalking forward slowly, cresting a small hill ahead of them and heading down the road on the other side. She hopped down from her saddle and grabbed her staff from where it was anchored just in front of her stirrup.
She gestured with one hand, sending a quick offensive aura spell at Geralt before he left her line of sight, then crouched low and ran as quietly as she could to reach him. When she came over the hill she found him squatting next to the body of something that was vaguely human and female, but that had tattered wings and sharp, dirty claws at the ends of its hands and feet. She felt a mild revulsion when she realized he had cut out its eyes and was in the process of gutting it. She stood up suddenly. "What are you doing?" she asked, incredulous.
He kept working his knife into the creature's belly and said through teeth clenched with the effort, "Getting her eggs."
"Her... eggs... Did you have a sudden craving for an omelet or something?" she asked.
He smirked up at her. "No. Harpy eggs are a common ingredient in Witcher potions. And they're not exactly easy to stockpile so I get them when I can."
"And the eyes?" she asked, coughing into her hand and making an effort not to retch. "I suppose those are good for potions too?"
He laughed softly at her obvious disgust. "Yes, they are. That's the only thing monsters are good for... to Witchers anyway. If anyone else drank our potions they would probably be poisoned."
"That's not surprising," she muttered.
He stood up and stowed his prize in a leather pouch that hung at his hip and wiped his hands on a small, blood-stained rag that he stowed in the pouch as well. He turned to look at her, his mouth quirked up wryly, and asked, "Didn't you drink monster blood at one point? And what's in that lyrium stuff you threw in our bath the other night... I know it isn't some fancy soap."
She glared at him. "The darkspawn blood was a one-time thing. And lyrium is made from magic rocks. Not... dead things." She sounded dejected when she added, "Anyway, I used the last of my lyrium to save your life and I doubt I'll be able to find more here."
He stepped forward and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. He looked into her eyes and said sincerely, "I'm sure we can find an alternative for you." Then with suppressed amusement he added, "Just be warned the main ingredient might be monster testicles."
She grinned at him vindictively, "As long as they're yours, I look forward to it."
They stopped near a small mountain lake to camp for the night. She sent Lusa off to hunt for their dinner. After he bounded off into the reeds Geralt asked, "He doesn't eat everything he kills?"
She finished clearing the few small rocks from their campsite, stacking them by the small firepit that they'd found already built, then answered. "Fereldan war hounds are bred for their intelligence as well as their battle prowess. He probably understands everything you tell him." She brushed her hands on her thighs and added, "That still doesn't mean he listens, but most of the time he does what I tell him. Especially in a fight. I can't even begin to count the number of times he's saved my life. "
Then she added with a grin, "Besides, he likes his meat cooked with seasonings and hasn't quite figured out how to do it himself."
About an hour later there were three small ducks roasting on a spit over their small fire, coated liberally with seasonings and dripping aromatic juices into the coals. Three drooling mouths sat watching impatiently, anticipating when they would be done and ready to eat. Solona breathed the aromas in deeply, as though she could gain sustenance through osmosis alone. Her stomach growled loudly. She couldn't believe how hungry she was, then remembered how sporadically she had eaten during the past few days. She had been very distracted.
She looked across the fire to where Geralt lay on his bedroll with the grimoire open and cradled in one large hand. His pupils were dilated to large, round circles to accommodate the lack of adequate light. Must be handy, she thought, and got up to turn their supper once more.
She'd thought about placing her bedroll next to his at first, then stubbornly decided otherwise and unrolled it on the opposite side of the fire. He didn't seem to have noticed. She was perplexed by his distance, but she rationalized, thinking he must be so engrossed in the book that he wasn't thinking about other things.
Late in the evening after they had eaten, Geralt had gone back to reading, so engrossed in the revelations of the grimoire that he had been aware of very little else all evening. Finally he had to force himself to put it down. They were camping in the open and he needed to be alert to potential threats and the book was too much of a distraction. After he had closed the book and stowed it away in its protective cover again he noticed Solona sleeping on the other side of the camp near the lake and silently cursed himself for not paying more attention earlier.
"Solona?" the word came out more harshly than he had intended. She rolled over to face him, large golden eyes blinking slightly in question, her short white hair tousled from sleep. "You should sleep over here," he said, gesturing to his side of the fire. She creased her brows at him. "There might be drowners in the lake," he explained. "It would be better if you were" closer to me "further away from the water." The thought came reflexively and he immediately suppressed it. He wanted her near him, and even after only a few hours of the only marginal distance between them that was necessitated by travel, he was beginning to feel an ache over the separation. But he had discovered in the grimoire that it might be prudent to maintain more control over their intimacy, even if it was just for his own sanity, although there may be other reasons he wasn't prepared to contemplate yet.
She turned her head silently and looked at the lake. The water was lapping peacefully onto the shore several yards from where she lay. She saw no sign of … anything, really. If it were summertime it might be a nice place for a midnight skinnydip. Too cold now, though, she thought. Wordlessly, she got up and gathered her bed into her arms, then arranged it back on the ground a few feet from where Geralt lay. She snuggled back under her covers and drifted off to sleep finally.
She was awakened some time later by rustling noises in the nearby reeds and the sound of wet, raspy breathing, interspersed by strange gurgling sounds. The fire had gone out, so she only had the stars above and a crescent moon for illumination. She could see faint outlines of shambling humanoid figures in the dark. She jumped slightly at the sensation of hot breath by her ear, then felt a soft squeeze of her shoulder and heard Geralt whisper to her, "Ssshhh, don't move. I'll take care of them." His sudden closeness made her skin tingle. When she felt him slip away into the shadows, she quietly pushed down her covers and sat up, trying to make out the shapes in the darkness.
She could see Geralt's shadow, crouching nearby with his silver sword reflecting what little light was present. He moved slowly and deftly towards the figures. When he got close to the first group he whipped his sword around in a blur, slicing at several of the creatures at once. They flinched back and cried out indignantly at the injuries, but kept advancing, hands flailing out and trying to grab at their attacker. Geralt retreated a few steps, and when he did she flung her hand out and a gout of flame erupted from the center of her palm, illuminating their campsite in a sudden wash of red-orange light. The creatures were engulfed in flames and emitted loud, gurgling screams. Several of the flaming bodies fell into shallow water with a splash, and she heard the sounds of fleeing footsteps smacking through the lakeside muck in the darkness.
Afterwards, she got up and re-lit the fire, adding a few more substantial pieces of wood to it to fend off the chill night air, then sat huddled in her blanket a few feet from the crackling blaze. She could hear Geralt rustling around in the reeds for a few moments and heard a few scattered curses, then he came back to their campsite with a scowl on his face.
"Is something wrong?" she asked apprehensively. "They're dead, aren't they?"
He set his sword down near his bedroll then sat down, shaking his head and laughing softly. "Yes, they're dead... the ones who didn't run away, anyway. And no, nothing's wrong, really... it's just that there was nothing left of them but charcoal after that spell you threw at them. Nothing useful, anyway."
She winced slightly. "Oh," she said, chagrined. "Sorry... I didn't think... what parts do you take from them?"
"Their brains, and sometimes their essence," he replied.
She contemplated quietly for a moment, then said, "So, I'm guessing I should quit using my fire spells against everything we encounter, then?"
"Not entirely, no. Just be a little more conservative about it... maybe just singe them a bit, rather than burning them to ash. You have other spells, I hope?"
She nodded, trying to think of some alternatives. Aside from the few entropy spells she used, she had become so accustomed to using primal spells as her primary offensive school that she was rusty with the others. She remembered her uncle teaching her and Garrett advanced force spells when she was younger, which she had always enjoyed using but had avoided because her cousin had seemed to prefer that school and she had an irrational need to do something different. Oddly, it wasn't a school of magic that was taught at the Circle so she had instead continued to focus on primal and creation magic while she was there. She thought it might be a good opportunity to practice it again. Maybe she would test it out in the morning.
After a brief silence she asked, "So... why did we camp here anyway, if you knew there were monsters in the lake?"
He shrugged and replied, "Drowners are just a nuisance. They wouldn't really be able to hurt us unless we were caught off guard. They won't be back tonight after your little light show."
She recalled the night she and Lusa had been attacked at their camp by some other unusual creatures and decided to tell him about it. After she had described their fight in detail to him, he said grimly, "Graveirs... They like to suck the marrow from the bones of the dead... and the living sometimes, too." Then he asked, "Did you use your fire spell to kill them? That would be one creature where fire would be preferred. Their bones are the only really useful parts."
She thought back for a moment and said, "No, actually. I was in the middle of the woods at the time so it just seemed like a bad idea to start setting things on fire. Lusa killed one of them by ripping its throat out, and I turned the others to stone, then blasted them to pieces. I might have burned one, though..." He chuckled softly and she looked back at him confused until he explained. "It sounds like you managed to use the exact spell that would have made them utterly useless to a Witcher."
She scowled at him and said, "Well they were dead at the end and that seemed way more important at the time."
He smiled at her and said, "Yes, survival should always be your primary goal. But as a Witcher you need to take other things into account. Every monster has a weakness, and every monster possesses in its anatomy certain components that we value and that we can use in potions to enhance our own abilities."
He paused for a few moments, and his expression grew somber when he finally said, "Some special creatures have other components … mutagens ... we need those to complete the trials." He'd been dwelling on the idea of her trials and how she would react to them. He understood that his own trials had been easy relative to other Witchers, but they were still incredibly painful. It was insinuated that his genetics were particularly suited to the transformations the mutagens inflicted on him. He hoped that it was the same case for her. He wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone he cared about, and he admitted to himself that he was beginning to care for her, in spite of the short time he had known her so far. There was something about her that struck a chord in him. Similar to the feeling he would get when encountering something or someone linked to his lost memories, but this felt deeper.
"Geralt?" she asked, quietly, breaking the short silence, "What was it you were doing this morning, in front of the fireplace?"
"I was meditating," he replied. Responding to her look of curiosity, he elaborated, "Witchers can get by on very little sleep, but we still need to replenish our stamina periodically. I'd been up most of the night reading so I needed about an hour near dawn to meditate - otherwise I would have been falling asleep in the saddle on the road today." She nodded in understanding. He felt a little guilty about leaving out the other details. While he was reading the book, he had come across some particular details related to the prophecy that worried him and had subsequently made him think that continued intimacy with her during her trials might be dangerous. He wasn't ready to talk to her about the details, but had decided it would be wise to start distancing himself from her sooner rather than later. He had meditated to try to regain some semblance of focus and self control while he was around her.
He looked over at her and saw her cocooned in her blanket, with her head propped up on one hand at the wrong end of her bedroll and staring mesmerized at the flickering flames of their campfire. She was toying with her amulet with her other hand and had a sad, distant look on her face that made his heart twist. What was she doing to him? "Solona," he said, and she jerked slightly at being roused from her thoughts, then turned to look at him expectantly. He wasn't sure what he'd been planning to say but suddenly he was hearing words come out of his mouth unbidden, "Why don't you sleep by me?" A little voice in his head said, Well, so much for self control. He was rewarded with a small smile from her that lit up her face and seemed to say, I thought you would never ask. She gathered up her bed for the second time that night and laid it down next to his.
After everything was arranged comfortably and another log added to the fire, they lay down under the covers, bodies close but barely touching, Solona facing away from him towards the fire with her head cushioned on one arm. His stomach roiled with the conflict. Had he lost control entirely? But he rationalized, telling himself that there was nothing he could do about it until he knew for certain it would be an issue. When we get to Kaer Morhen, I'll talk to her about it, he resolved.
He shifted his body closer to hers and tilted his head down, inhaling the delicate woodsy scent of her skin. She responded instantly, shifting back against him and entwining her fingers through his hand as it rested on her hip, pulling it up to her breast. He kissed the side of her neck gently and pulled the cloth of her light undertunic down to gain access to her flesh. The feel of her skin under his hand was like a taste of cold water on a hot day, and he hadn't realized until now how thirsty he had been.
At the same time, Solona was thinking, This is better than a summer skinnydip, in response to the feel of his hands on her again. And they dove in and went for a midnight swim.
Geralt awoke to the sound of pebbles clattering against each other and soft feminine curses. He opened his eyes and saw her standing fully dressed on the other side of their dormant campfire. She was making small gestures with her hands and he could see a cluster of rocks on the ground in front of her being cast about. She stooped down and arranged the rocks until she was satisfied, then stood back and gestured at them with both hands, making a simple motion as though parting a veil. He detected a subtle blue glow covering her palms before an invisible force erupted in the center of the cluster and the rocks were thrown out in a radius around it. He heard her whisper, "Yes!" and then she resumed her concentration on the rocks, gesturing with her hands again, but this time in the opposite direction, ending with a small clap when her palms came together. The rocks that had previously been cast apart suddenly slammed together again, some of them shattering into smaller pieces in a burst of dust, and everything landing in a heap at her feet.
"Impressive," he said. He saw her shoulders tense briefly at the realization that she had an audience, then she dropped her hands to her side, turning to him with a shrug. "I thought I'd try out some different spells. I'm a little rusty at these so figured it would be good to practice.
He stood up and threw on his trousers and shirt, then walked over to stand beside her. "Will you show me?" he asked.
She nodded and prepared to give him a small demonstration of the various force magic spells she knew. He stopped her when she started gesturing at the rocks and said, "I think you're ready for a full-sized subject. Try one on me."
She raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."
He smiled back at her with confidence and said, "Don't worry, I know a healer."
She shrugged and changed positions, indicating for him to stand in a certain spot, then changed her mind and said, "Wait, take off your clothes, and stand over there," she pointed at the sandy shore of the lake.
"If you say so," he said, and disrobed down to his light breeches and went to stand where she had instructed.
"I hope you're not afraid of getting wet," he heard her say a split second before the full force of her spell hit him, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him backwards into the icy water with a huge splash. He came up sputtering a couple seconds afterwards and then he felt it happening again. He felt his head snap backwards on his neck at the force and his body flew through the air towards the shore. The next thing he knew he was sprawled on the sandy ground by their campfire with Solona kneeling by him, a concerned expression on her face. "I didn't hurt you did I?"
"I fucking hate magic," he muttered as he sat up and was answered by a small laugh from her as she threw a blanket around his shoulders.
"I'd like to remind you that it was your idea to be the guinea pig," she said. "Now you know why I made you stand by the water." He sat by the nonexistent fire and shivered in response.
She restarted the fire and heated up the broth they had made from the remains of their dinner the previous evening, which they devoured for breakfast along with a few of the hard biscuits. While they were eating, Solona asked, "So, do you think those spells will be better suited to killing monsters?"
He nodded at her and looking thoughtful asked, "The spell you just used on me, can it affect multiple targets?"
She nodded and said, "It's designed for groups, actually, and spreads the damage between the targets. The reeds were unfortunate enough to be in the blast with you earlier." She gestured to the side of the lake and he looked over to see a flattened ring of foliage near where their test had occurred.
She continued, "I know a focused spell for a single target, but wouldn't want to test it on someone I liked, since I'm still getting used to the amount of magical power I can draw from in this world."
In illustration, she gestured with one hand towards one of the larger rocks by the side of the fireplace. He watched as it rose up into the air, flew several yards backwards, and then slammed into the ground with an earsplitting crack. He stopped chewing his breakfast for a second and got up to look. When he found the impact point he stood in obvious admiration at the hole in the ground that had resulted from the spell. The rock was embedded about a foot deep in the wet sand and had been shattered into pieces.
"Thank you for not trying that on me," he looked at her appraisingly and she met his gaze with a smug little smirk, replying, "Living targets are a little tougher than inanimate objects that don't have a will of their own. It would have still hurt, but you would have survived... probably."
"Either way, remind me never to piss you off," he said, clearly impressed.
They continued north, heading first east along the Pontar River, then up the Northern Road into the heart of Kaedwen. The weather was surprisingly clear but as they traversed the higher altitudes they began erecting a tent to sleep in more frequently to ward off the growing chill in the air. When they were camped in the evenings Geralt continued to pore over the grimoire in detail while Solona began studying the bestiaries Geralt offered her so she could gain a better understanding of monsters they might face as they traveled. The road they were on stretched through mountainous wilderness that was teeming with a variety of mostly nasty creatures and they weren't afraid of people. Learning that she was also fairly adept at alchemy, he gave her books on the local flora along with his notes on the combinations that made the best potions and what their various qualities were.
"You have the worst handwriting I've ever seen," she told him one evening after squinting at one of the notebooks. "Actually, no, that's not true. Alistair has worse handwriting than you. Yours I can actually read if I look at it long enough." She turned the book sideways and squinted at the writing as if rotating it could help her decipher the words.
She was laying on her back with her head at the foot of her bedroll resting on Lusa's slumbering form as he lay just outside the small tent they shared. She continued trying to study his potion recipes in the dim light of the growing dusk and the only slightly brighter light of the fire. Geralt set the grimoire down and rolled forward gracefully onto his knees, craning his neck to see what she was reading.
"Which parts can't you read?" She leaned towards him and set the book down in between them, pointing at several lines of scribbles interspersed with odd characters sketched in colored ink. He read it aloud to her, his breath tickling her ear and making concentration a slight challenge.
She nodded when he was finished. "I got that part, but what to these little marks mean?"
"Those are the classifications of the ingredients' properties. Different plants can share the same properties - and so can the ingredients harvested from monsters. The potion recipes just list the generic properties required to make it, not the names of the plants." He picked up his field notebook and opened it to a page, laying it in her lap and pointing at the small symbol in the corner of a page that had a beautifully detailed sketch of a mountain flower she had seen him pick several times during their trip. "See, here... this corresponds to that," he pointed back at a section of the recipe. He picked up the bestiary and opened it to the page on drowners she had been reading earlier and pointed at the same symbol next to a list of the creature's harvestable parts.
She nodded in understanding and turned her head to smile at him. She felt a familiar, invisible spark pass between them when their eyes met that made her smile widen, but she turned back to the bestiary he'd laid in her lap and flipped through the pages, still curious to learn more. She settled on a page with the title of "Frightener" in neat script at the top and Geralt's telltale scrawl filling the margins. "Is this one of the mutagens you've told me about that we need for the trials? Will we have to kill one of these things?"
Her second question sounded a little too eager for his comfort. He gave her a sidelong glance that flashed with concern. "Yes... that is one of the mutagens you'll need, but with any luck we won't need to actually go hunting a Frightener to get it. I'm fairly certain we still have some left at Kaer Morhen from the last time I had to kill one." When she looked disappointed he said in an admonishing tone, "Solona, these aren't creatures you want to go hunting if you can help it. They'll tear you apart if you don't have enough force to beat them. It took four Witchers to kill the last one I met."
She looked back at him, irritated at his tone. The serious expression she saw on his face made her temper the sarcastic response she'd been about to give him. She shrugged, "I know... I suppose I've just been getting a little bored with the things we've been fighting so far." He creased his brow at her, his expression becoming dark. Does she have a fucking death wish?
Recognizing his expression she tried to explain, "Geralt, you have to understand. I spent the last year before I came here fighting creatures not unlike those Graveir's on a daily basis. I'm pretty used to fighting deadly shit. It's pretty much commonplace for me anymore and my day isn't complete if I haven't seen my life flash before my eyes at least once. I'm not saying that's a good thing... that's just how I'm built, I guess." Trying to lighten the mood again, she concluded in a mildly suggestive tone, lowering her eyelashes at him, "I guess you could say I've acquired a taste for danger."
Resolving to reserve opinion and accept her conciliation, he smiled at her indulgently and returned to his earlier spot at the other end of their bedrolls. "Keep reading," he said. "Finish the chapter on Witchers and learn our weaknesses. Then I'll show you some danger."
She pouted at him playfully, "But I didn't think Witchers had weaknesses. You're supposed to be unscrupulous scoundrels from hell, capable only of killing." He scowled at her. She sulked. "You scowl too much," she said. "Anyway, I don't need to read a book to figure out your weaknesses." She reached out a hand to tickle the sole of one large, bare foot that rested just beside her. She thought she saw the smallest flinch but otherwise he didn't show any response. "You're no fun," she said and flipped over onto her belly, using Lusa's sturdy, sleeping form as a bookrest, and went back to reading about Frighteners.
When she turned over and was facing away from him, Geralt sat deep in thought while he watched her read. I didn't think I had any weaknesses either, until recently. He had learned a lot about her over the past couple weeks, much of it surprising and frequently confounding him with contradiction. She was very young, by Witcher standards, and she had a refreshingly youthful, energetic attitude about most things, which was at odds with her pragmatic attitude about life in general and her single-minded drive to follow through with her ultimate goal.
She was eager to learn and seemed to value his approval but tended to take it personally when his opinion turned out to be contrary to her own, almost becoming unreasonably self righteous and hanging on to a point until it was bludgeoned to death and he finally relented. She'll be the death of me, he had thought on more than one occasion after such an argument.
She was an incredibly powerful sorceress which she had the opportunity to demonstrate on multiple occasions, but was also wickedly adept at using the strange staff she carried that he learned was crafted from a carved dragon bone (one she had killed, no less), one end of which had been forged into a sharp blade extending right out of the bone itself.
He had the sense that she had grown accustomed to being the leader, if her stories from her world were any indication. He had gathered from her stories of her home that she had led a fairly close-knit band of warriors on her previous mission, and eventually an entire army. It seemed that she was struggling with the transition to working with someone who was her equal rather than her subordinate, but she was gradually becoming more comfortable with their partnership.
What would happen to their partnership after the final ritual was complete remained to be seen. He was nearly finished reading the grimoire and there were few clues letting him know what to expect, and those he found were disheartening. He'd only known her for a few short weeks and their journey was still only beginning, but he was already brooding about the day it would inevitably end.
To her credit, she hadn't needled him about what he had learned in the grimoire. She had seemed fairly intuitive from the very beginning, sensing his moods and understanding when he needed her help or input and when it was best to stay on the sidelines and keep quiet. It was especially helpful in the few nastier fights they had encountered. They had met a deranged troll earlier in the week, and she had cautioned him before he attempted to try to reason with it, which was his normal course of action with creatures he knew were capable of higher brain function, as trolls were. Her intuition had been correct and they had unfortunately been forced to fight the troll. He had drawn the brunt of its attacks and had taken a pounding, but she had somehow been able to sense his body's hurts and had bolstered his health and defenses with her spells. He knew he could have prevailed on his own, but her presence had meant the difference between him leaving the fight broken and bloodied, versus walking away with only some minor bruises. That fight had increased his already considerable respect for her, and he had made a point to appreciate her thoroughly when they had camped later that evening, much to her delight.
Focusing back on the present, his gaze lingered on her. At the moment she was wearing the light tunic she preferred to wear when she slept, and her bare legs were stretched out behind her on her bedroll, feet crossed at the ankles. His eyes followed the length of her, admiring the lithe form he'd become so well acquainted with over the past couple weeks. When his eyes reached her feet a wicked grin began to spread across his face. He reached out a hand and ever so softly traced his fingertips up the sole of one foot. He was rewarded by a loud yelp as she leaped into the air and spun around, her look of surprise turning indignant when she realized the source of the benign assault. Her outburst awakened Lusa who stood up, abruptly on the defensive, and made a soft woof of inquiry. Unable to contain himself, Geralt sat laughing at her outburst. "It looks like I found one of your weaknesses," he said between bouts of hearty laughter.
Her ire dissipated a bit and she gave him a quizzical look. She didn't think she'd ever heard him laugh like that before. She'd heard his few brief, ironic outbursts, but nothing like the pure unadulterated glee that she heard now. He was obviously pleased with himself, the bastard. She glared at him. "You just wait, mister. I'll get you when you least expect it. You haven't seen dangerous yet."
"Is that a promise?" he asked with uncensored mirth as his laughter finally subsided.
She whispered something to Lusa then climbed under her blankets and turned away from him, a small, satisfied smile on her face. A moment later Lusa came into the tent and flopped his bulky form in between them, claiming a significant amount of real estate for himself. Geralt thought he heard her whisper, "Good boy." He looked down at the dog with a furrowed brow. Lusa looked back at him and gave him a small, conciliatory lick on the hand, then laid his head on his paws with a vaguely apologetic expression and closed his eyes.
Geralt had still said very little about what he had read since his revelation about Flemeth. Instead of letting it get to her, Solona just bided her time. She understood that it would take them several more weeks before they reached Kaer Morhen, even though Geralt had agreed to take no more contracts on the trip north. He had been hesitant to agree to that at first, explaining that the contracts were his livelihood and he needed to be able to afford enough supplies to bring back to the fortress to last through the winter. She convinced him that it was no longer a necessity when she showed him the generous amount of gold she had received prior to leaving her own world. It had in reality only been a modest sum by Fereldan standards, but was worth far more in this world and so she had ample funds to see them through their journey in addition to supplying them for the winter with anything they would need.
So they continued north without stopping in towns unless they needed supplies. In the middle of one sunny day about two weeks into their journey, Geralt urged his horse to a stop, then rode off the craggy road up a barely discernable path through the trees and brush for nearly a mile before stopping at a small clearing canopied by large, old trees.
"We'll camp here tonight," he said.
She objected, "But it's still midday... we have at least four more hours of decent light to travel by."
"There's something nearby that I want to show you," he said.
Sensing that this was important to him, she dismounted and tended to her horse before helping him set up camp. She had learned that he was rarely so decisive about things that were inconsequential.
After their small camp was set up and a small firepit built up with wood and ready for lighting she turned to him and asked, "Well? Where is this thing you want to show me?" She was a little bit giddy with excitement because this was the first deviation from their trip since they had started off two weeks earlier, aside from one brief trip into a town to buy supplies.
His look was inscrutable. "Follow me," was all he said, so she did.
He led her to an overgrown path at the edge of their camp. Lusa followed along, sniffing at the ground and occasionally bounding off into the underbrush on the hunt for something. The path meandered up a wooded hillside and eventually emerged into a clearing on a small hilltop with a breathtaking view of the valley they had travelled so far. Even more breathtaking, however, were the Elven ruins that surrounded them on the hilltop. There was very little left of them aside from a large, circular marble slab inlaid with an intricate mosaic that was surprisingly clear of moss or other debris, and was surrounded by the remains of what she realized had once been seven large columns, the largest fragments of which were about head-high to her. It reminded her briefly of the ruins from her dreams, but she knew it wasn't the same place - those ruins still had some semblance of a roof, and these were open to the sky.
She stepped back to the edge of the slab to get a better look at the scene inlaid on its surface and was shocked to realize that the scene before her was the same scene depicted on her amulet. She turned to Geralt to tell him about it and stood blinking at the empty space where he had stood just a moment ago. He had left her here alone. While she was contemplating what his absence might mean she heard the flap of large wings from behind her and turned just in time to see a large flying form condense into the shape of a woman.
She recognized her instantly, and was immediately on the offensive, readying her most powerful spell to throw at the woman.
Flemeth admonished in her dry, even voice, "Gwynrhena, child... You should know by now that you cannot simply kill me."
Solona amped up the power in her spell, the flame held in her palm turning white with heat, and glared at the witch. "I could certainly give it a good try. I might be satisfied if it just resulted in you being maimed."
Flemeth looked amused and then sighed, saying, "I suppose I owe you an explanation. The grimoire is light on details where some events are concerned."
Solona retorted bitterly, "An explanation. Hah! That's an understatement. You owe me atonement."
The woman stood as still and quiet as the broken stone pillars that surrounded them. The light breeze that fluttered through Solona's hair and cloak didn't seem to even touch the witch.
Finally she said, "You should understand by now that nothing I do is by accident. My motives are driven first by certain things that are beyond my control, and second by my desire to see our worlds persist. You should know that you are the greatest hope for everyone. You have exceeded even my hopes for my own daughter."
Solona was impatient and angry, "I've heard this before. What do you really want to tell me before I maim you?"
Flemeth was unapologetic when she answered, "The trials you have undergone in your life were necessary to bring you here. There have been a few individuals who were privy to the details because it was necessary to ensure you chose the right paths. Your uncle was one of those people. His death was regrettable, but unavoidable."
Solona yelled, furious, "But you killed him!"
"No, child, I did not. I merely enlightened him of his condition and gave him a choice. He could have let you and young Hawke heal him. He would have lived, and remained the dominant force in both your lives. Or he could use his remaining energy to prevent that, to ensure that the two of you would follow different paths. Paths that would lead each of you to your true callings."
"My path led me straight to hell. You do realize that, don't you? How in the world was it a good idea to send me to the Circle? Malcolm Hawke is still the best teacher I've ever had."
"Ah, but you did learn valuable lessons there."
"Lessons?" she asked, incredulous. "Is that what you call what they did to me?"
"Not everything was my doing, child. Some of what happened to you there was unfortunate, but the bulk of it was necessary. You need to let it go. Carrying that darkness inside you will make it impossible for you to succeed in this endeavor."
"Let it go?" Solona yelled back at her, irrational fury overtaking her. "Let this go, bitch." She let the fireball fly, only to watch it pass through empty air and strike the column that stood on the opposite side of the ruins, causing the column to crack down the center and leaving a large scorch mark behind.
Flemeth gradually reappeared in the space she had been a moment earlier. She looked at Solona appraisingly, making no comment on the attack she had just effortlessly dodged. "Your power is increasing here, you should be careful or you might have trouble controlling it. Especially with that temper of yours, be careful you don't hurt someone who matters to you, child."
Solona stood, mouth agape and sorely tempted to hurl another spell at the woman, but reason took over finally. She couldn't let the woman keep pushing her buttons. "Was that all you wanted to tell me? How you killed my uncle?" she asked, her voice strained with the effort of holding back the urge to rain down hellfire on the figure standing before her.
"That is not all. You might be interested to know that your former 'family' made it safely to Kirkwall... well most of them, anyway. That poor, foolish girl..." Flemeth trailed off.
"Bethany? What did you do to her!"
"Oh, I did nothing but save their lives as they attempted to escape the Blight, but I was too late to save her before she ran into the waiting arms of an ogre. It was rather heroic, really... she was trying to protect her brothers and her mother. You made quite an impression on her you know."
Solona felt a painful twist of grief inside her at the news. She should have been there to help them, somehow. But for the life of her she couldn't think of how. "What was I supposed to do?" she finally asked, weakly.
Flemeth sounded almost comforting when she said, "Nothing more than you did, child. You saved so many more than died. And this endeavor will save the rest if you see it through."
Solona took a deep breath, pushing aside her grief. "I will see this through," she said with bitter conviction.
"Yes, I know you will... You and my beautiful boy, who turned into more than I could have ever hoped for in spite of his father's attempts to corrupt him. The two of you are truly kindred souls." Flemeth's smile seemed almost maternal, which was vaguely creepy.
Solona needed to know one thing. "What is it you're hoping to get out of all this, anyway?"
"Why, the continued existence of these worlds I love so much, of course. What else?"
"I know better than that... I do believe you love the worlds you live in... between... or whatever... but I don't believe that's your only motive for checking up on me. What do you really want out of this?"
Flemeth was thoughtful for a moment, "The same thing anyone wants... Immortality. I want my blood to live on when I am gone."
"But you're already immortal, Flemeth. Why does this matter to you at all?"
Flemeth gave her a sorrowful look. "You will understand soon enough. Just know that no one can truly be immortal without a special kind of magic, and very few manage to find it, while fewer still manage to hold on to it. I found it only once in this world but it was ripped from me, the remnants scattered to the winds. The only thing I have to show for it is a certain white-haired champion who you have so recently been sharing your bed with. It truly warms my heart to see the two of you taking to each other so... completely. See that you hold on to it."
"And before you ask, no, it is not a coincidence that the two of you are uniquely suited to the task at hand. You both possess the Elder blood, among other unique qualities, whether you like it or not, so you are ideal for the purpose of preserving the souls of the last two old gods."
Solona snorted softly, "Tell me something I don't know. Like what happens after this is all over."
"Ah, child. There is so much you still have yet to learn. I think you will find that your White Wolf is an excellent teacher, among his many other talents. He has had plenty of time to learn, after all. As for what happens after, that is not something I can tell you now, but a choice you will have to make when the time comes. And it will not be an easy choice, either. Just know that your responsibilities will not end after the ritual. Try to remember what is important."
Flemeth's form began to emit a subtle glow and her edges began to fade and shift. Before Solona's eyes the witch became a large, white bird that extended its wings and caught the next soft breeze blowing through, ascending into the air and gliding away over the sunlit valley that lay before her.
Solona stood for a moment, silently cursing the woman, then turned to head back down to camp. When she turned she was surprised by Geralt standing quietly at the edge of the ruins, a pained look on his face, staring at the spot that Flemeth had recently vacated. She walked over to him and laid a hand gently on his arm. "Geralt, are you alright?" He shook his head, but she couldn't tell whether it was in answer or if it was an attempt to shake a bad feeling. "Don't let her get to you... she's just being... Flemeth." She shrugged and rubbed his arm trying to comfort him. He turned to look at her and his expression softened considerably. He let out a long sigh and said, "There's a lot I need to tell you."
He turned and walked along the edge of the ruins, stopping to rest on a fallen column facing the center of the large marble slab. Solona followed suit, sitting next to him. He remained quiet for several seconds, staring off into the distance. In an effort to draw him out, Solona asked, "Do you want to tell me what upset you just now?" He turned to look at her and took a deep breath. "It was the mention of my father. I never knew who he was, but now I have a pretty good idea." Solona nodded, "Not good news, I take it." He shook his head and grimaced, "Quite the opposite. And I have a feeling it's going to come back to haunt me."
She nodded again, unsure whether she should pry. Deciding it would be best to let it go, she asked instead, "Did you know she would be there when you brought me up here?" He nodded and explained, "At the end of the grimoire was a set of instructions for me. They were strangely specific, considering I only read them last night and we were just a few hours from the place mentioned... this place." He gestured at the ruins before them. She laughed softly, "She's just full of surprises, isn't she?"
He smiled faintly, then without preamble he began to talk.
"The ritual... It has to happen at Midsummer, during a full moon. That's the part you know. The part you don't know is that it is a sort of fertility ritual." He paused and let that sink in. He looked at her and saw the question forming on her lips and shook his head. "I don't know the answer to that. I thought we were infertile, too, but there's no doubt that I'm the one who is supposed to complete the ritual with you." She sat quietly waiting for him to continue. "The grimoire mentioned another ritual that Flemeth's daughter performed." Solona nodded in recognition. She remembered that particular ritual. He continued, "It will be a similar ritual, but more involved. I'll show you the book later where it outlines the exact instructions for the ritual so you know what to expect." She asked suddenly, unable to hold back, "Are you sure it isn't just a symbolic sort of fertility ritual? I mean... why... when the two of us will already be there..."
"I'm sure, " he answered. "And Flemeth left out some details when she was talking to you just now. I'm not the second... vessel... The child is. I think it might be because I'm not human enough. If you consider my parentage that's not at all surprising. But most likely it's because the old gods are already drawn to you."
Solona took a moment to process what he was telling her. "So how does that work exactly?" He looked at her with a quirked smile and one eyebrow raised. She shot him an exasperated look, "I know how that works. But the whole soul magnet deal. How does that part work?" He shrugged. "The ritual is pretty detailed. The location has a lot to do with it, and the fact that the old gods are drawn to you already. The first part of the ritual involves...ah...readying the vessel." She saw him smirk a little at his choice of words and give her a sidelong glance, but she understood his meaning. "That's where I... um... come in." Thinking he was just a little too entertained by his own wit, she elbowed him solidly in the ribs. He struggled to suppress his amusement and ward off any further assault from her as he continued to explain. He took a deep breath and held his side with a wince. "The second part of the ritual involves you calling to them to bring their souls to this world. They answer the call and, I guess, that's that."
"And then I get to hang around and wait for nine months for a god baby..." she said sulkily. He could sympathize with her on that point. He gazed at her in earnest. "I promise I'll stay with you as long as you need me."
She gazed back at him and creased her brow, thinking, This man is destined to father my baby. She wondered if Morrigan had had the same thought before she and Alistair had consummated the ritual. But the difference was that Morrigan hadn't had to deal with the prospect of procreating with someone she actually cared about. Wait, that thinking is kindof backwards, you do realize, she told herself. If you care about him, you should want this, right? Shouldn't she? Well, yeah... she did like the idea of making a baby with him... in theory. The making part wasn't the issue because she was completely on board with that. Her thighs quivered just thinking about it. The issue was that once it was over, she would be a different person... She realized then that no matter what happened, she would be a different person. It wasn't only the child that would be absorbing the soul of an old god. She would as well, and she hadn't even given any thought yet to how that might change her. Or him. It was likely that the entire process would change them both significantly. Not to mention the journey to get there.
"Geralt," she started hesitantly, "I don't know how this is going to turn out. I mean, I do know what needs to happen, and I fully intend to see it through..." she paused and stared at her hands for a moment before continuing, "but I don't know now how things will be between you and me at the end. I just know that right now I want you there, once it's all over. After that, I guess we'll have to see what happens."
He simply nodded at her in response, reaching out to grasp her hand inside his own. He drew it up to his mouth and planted a soft kiss in the center of her palm, then stood with his fingers still entwined in hers gesturing for her to join him to walk down the path back to their camp.
Next Chapter: In which there is soap. And glowing. (I got nuthin)