Conjunction
Chapter 15 - The Stronghold
The evening after Solona's ordeal with King Henselt, they found an alchemist with a rare telecommunicator mirror that they could use to contact Triss in order to discuss her conducting Solona's initial trial.
Geralt stood before the large mirror and uttered the simple spell that would allow it to call to one of its counterparts. Solona recognized the words as something similar to the rituals she and Morrigan had performed to access the Eluvian's portals. After a moment the reflection of the room they were in faded into a dull haze and then clarified again to show an unfamiliar chamber, comfortably decorated with brightly colored fabrics and lit candles. A pretty, though slightly disheveled, red-haired woman wearing a long, silk robe tied at the waist came into view and sat on a small stool before the mirror. Solona could see obscured movement off too the side but it was distorted by the mirror's beveled edge.
"Geralt?" the woman asked, blinking in surprise. She turned and shook her head sharply at someone else in the room with her, then turned back with a slightly confused smile on her face.
Geralt was stiffly formal. "Triss," he cleared his throat. "It's good to see you, I hope you're doing well. I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time..." his eyes shifted to the side briefly towards the obscured movement.
"Of course not. Geralt... I've been hoping to talk to you. I hate how we left things. I feel I owe you an apology."
"Nonsense, Triss," he said softly, the formality in his voice melting into tenderness that wasn't lost on Solona. "I'm as much to blame as... anyone. I just don't want there to be any hard feelings between us. But that isn't why I called... I need your help with something." He turned his head slightly to where Solona stood silently behind him.
Triss' eyes shifted over and took in the pretty white-haired young woman standing in the background. Solona stepped close to Geralt and felt his hand come around and clutch her waist almost possessively. She smiled what she hoped was a friendly smile in spite of being slightly intimidated by the woman in the mirror. I'm NOT jealous of her, she tried to convince herself.
Geralt introduced them. Triss made a small mental note of how his voice broke slightly when he said Solona's name. She looked at them both with a bewildered half-smile on her face. Where had he found this one? she wondered, And why is she so important to him?
"I'm listening," she said, urging him to explain what he needed.
"Triss," he hesitated, "It's important that this conversation is private. I trust Eskel with my life, but would prefer it if you're the only one in the room. I'm sorry."
She looked momentarily shocked and then her expression became irritated. Solona could swear she heard her cursing Dandelion under her breath and stifled a small laugh. Triss smiled demurely and said, "Just give me a moment," and got up from her seat. A moment later she returned. "He's gone to find us some dinner... we have time for you to tell me what it is you need."
His explanation of the situation surrounding the prophecy ended up taking quite awhile and Triss listened with rapt attention. When he got to the part about Solona undergoing the Trial of the Grasses, Triss looked at Solona in alarm, asking, "Are you serious? Why would you want to do that? It's incredibly painful, not to mention the survival rate..."
Solona held the other woman's gaze and said with steely resolve, "I understand the risks. It won't be the first time I've submitted to a ritual that I knew I might not survive. Besides, it's necessary to fulfill the prophecy, so I can't not do it."
Triss regarded the other woman silently. Solona's strength of will reminded her of an old friend who she hadn't thought of in years - a woman who had been so willing to die for what she believed that it had, in fact, killed her.
Triss looked back at Geralt and witnessed something that made her heart melt a little. He was gazing at Solona with an expression of such raw adoration that she'd only wished he had shown her when they were together. But if she was at all honest with herself she had always known she wasn't the one who would draw that out of him. In spite of how difficult it had been, she had finally ended their relationship based on that understanding, and the understanding that she needed to be with someone who did look at her that way. The last time she had seen that look on his face was when Yennefer had been alive.
She worried for him, though. If this woman was so dead set on putting herself in mortal danger at every turn, she was bound to succeed eventually, and to the detriment of the people who loved her. She wondered if Solona even realized how much Geralt loved her. Because it was as obvious to Triss as her own longing for him used to be, and she knew he wasn't one to give in to those feelings lightly. She made her decision then, resolving that she and the other woman would have to have a long talk once they were in the same room together.
"Will you help us, Triss?" Geralt asked insistently, drawing her back from contemplation.
She nodded decisively. "I'll meet you at Kaer Morhen in three weeks' time."
Vesemir stood at the window in the armory of Kaer Morhen, gazing through his spyglass as evening gloom fell upon the river valley below. He watched as two figures on horseback rode slowly through the cold rain and mist up the narrow road to the fortress. One figure rode a chestnut horse, the other a white one, and they were followed by a mule overladen with supplies and a large, black dog that stuck close beside the white horse. He observed them as they navigated the wet, rocky terrain where the river was beginning to spill over the banks and obscure the path. When they grew closer he thought he recognized a familiar bearing in the cloaked and hooded rider on the chestnut steed. They paused for a moment and the lead rider gestured, pointing to something off the path, then they started riding down a bramble-obscured side-path towards the side of the fortress. When Vesemir saw this he knew Geralt had come home; only another Witcher would know of the lower tunnel entrance into the keep, as they rarely entered through the main gate.
He turned from the window and stowed his spyglass, then walked briskly down the staircase several flights to the main floor. In the kitchen he grabbed a lantern, lit it, and opened a small wooden door in one corner that led down into darkness. He reached the high-arched lower tunnel just as the large, solid gate at the opposite end opened with a grinding creak of stone on stone, letting in the dim grey light of the rainy evening. The two mounted figures were eerily silhouetted as they passed through.
He strode as far as the junction where they would need to turn to go up to the courtyard, and waited silently, holding the lantern aloft in the gloom. The lead horse sped up to a quick trot at its rider's urging. When it grew close he became certain of the rider's identity.
"Wolf!" he greeted Geralt with warm enthusiasm. "I was afraid you'd given up on us."
Geralt dismounted and immediately gathered the older man into a fierce embrace.
"Vesemir. I'm sorry for staying away so long. Unfortunately, I got a little caught up in the war."
The figure on the other horse had dismounted and was standing still hooded in the shadows, the black hound standing protectively by her side. The mule behind them brayed in indignation at being left standing in the dark.
Vesemir looked at the other figure and asked cautiously, "Who is your guest, Wolf?"
Geralt cleared his throat in an awkward way that made Vesemir give him an odd look.
Solona stepped forward abruptly and dropped her hood. "My name is Solona Amell, Master Vesemir. I'm here to become a Witcher."
Vesemir faltered almost imperceptibly then held his lantern up to get a better look at her. Very old memories came flooding back to him when he saw her pretty face framed by the short, white curls of her hair. The witch spoke the truth after all, he thought.
"Solona Amell..." he repeated her name with grave significance, then gave Geralt a serious glance.
"Wolf, I think we need to have a long overdue talk."
Geralt couldn't help but smile inwardly at the tone in the other man's voice, like he was about to learn about the birds and bees for the first time. But Vesemir was leading them up the tunnel to the courtyard and they were obliged to follow him or be left standing in darkness.
The three of them sat at a long table in the cavernous main hall of the keep. Vesemir had quickly stoked up the fire in the hearth to stave off the growing chill and served them all bowls of aromatic stew and crusty hunks of bread, along with a jug of something he referred to as "White Gull." Solona thought the strong liquor tasted at first of anise, but the flavor seemed to change with each sip, and it warmed her and gave her a pleasantly euphoric feeling. Geralt stopped her from reaching for a second serving, explaining that it was a mildly hallucinogenic beverage and she ought to pace herself.
Vesemir let the weary travelers eat and drink for several moments before he cleared his throat softly and began speaking.
"You were barely more than a suckling babe when I first saw you, Wolf," the man began, his eyes gazing into the fire at the recollection. "When the witch left you here she left instructions. You were to be raised and trained as a Witcher. She said that a time would come when the worlds would be in imminent danger. That a savior would come bearing the name of a southern monument... that this … woman... was to be put through the Witcher trials and the two of you would be sent together to the south to ensure the preservation of our worlds." His intense gaze turned to Solona who looked back at him with interest. He turned his eyes to meet Geralt's gaze and then cleared his throat and took a swallow of his drink before continuing. "She gave a few details of the … ritual the two of you would be doing, and its purpose."
He paused for several seconds, trying to find words. "Wolf. There's a reason there are no women Witchers. It was always too big a risk considering the particular disposition of Witchers when it comes to women."
Geralt's brows creased with suspicion. "Vesemir, Witchers are infertile, what would that matter?"
Vesemir shook his head. "No, they are not, actually." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "We're perfectly fertile as a species, provided we have an appropriate mate. The mutations we undergo merely render us genetically incompatible with other races."
Solona, who had been listening quietly, put it together first and her curiosity got the better of her. "Vesemir, if Witchers could actually procreate all along... with other Witchers... then why continue putting young boys through what must be a horribly painful experience just to continue your order?"
Vesemir sighed heavily. "If only it could be so simple, my girl. Two Witchers could indeed produce an offspring, but that offspring wouldn't be another Witcher - it would be a soulless creature lacking all humanity; a grotesque combination of the mutations running through the witchers' blood. The only things human that Witchers retain are our appearance and our psyche. Our reproductive glands are altered to such a degree that they no longer produce human genes. Anything born of a Witcher union would not be human in the slightest."
Solona sat with a shocked expression and looked at Geralt who returned her gaze, comprehension dawning on them both. He turned back to his mentor, warring emotions evident on his features. "But Vesemir, the prophecy says we have to make a child together. If what you say is true, how can we in good conscience fulfill it?"
Vesemir held up a hand in appeasement, and explained. "The ritual, if it's conducted properly, will ensure your child is strong and healthy and, at least in appearance, human. Of course it will ultimately be much more than a mere human child. But that's for you two to deal with when the time comes, and is not my concern. What does concern me is what happens in the interim. It will be months before the two of you are ready to conduct the ritual."
He looked at Geralt briefly then focused on Solona, "I must warn you that, once you begin the Trials, there will be a chance for you to become pregnant if you two are together."
Her brows furrowed and she asked, "But surely there are herbs or potions to prevent it? We used to have something in Ferelden, but since my Joining it became a non-issue, so I haven't bothered for a couple years." She remembered the special tea Leandra used to prepare for her. The woman had never said in so many words why she insisted Solona drink it, making no similar requirement of her own daughter, but Solona had a feeling her aunt had caught on to the nature of her relationship with Garrett and felt the need to take certain measures on their behalf. It would have caused quite a scandal if he'd gotten her pregnant when their neighbors believed the two were brother and sister.
Vesemir nodded and said, "Aye, I'm sure there must be, but anything like that has the chance of interfering with the ritual. There's only one way to be sure."
She swallowed hard and nodded slowly in understanding, then turned to look at Geralt with a put-upon frown and attempted to finish Vesemir's train of logic, "After the trials begin, we can't..." Fuck, she thought, but wasn't sure whether she was finishing her own thought or simply cursing to herself.
Geralt shook his head in response. He had suspected as much but only needed confirmation. He felt like he should regret not distancing himself from her early on like he had originally intended, but just couldn't find it in himself. Every second of every moment they had spent together so far raced through his mind and none of it was worthy of regret. He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, caressing softly with his thumb.
The frustrated expression on her face was almost comical. With a slight smirk, he said, "You're a strong girl, you can handle it."
She looked back at him with a playfully seductive smile and slid a hand up his thigh, squeezing gently when she reached his groin and incited the usual response. "It's not me I'm worried about."
They had made good time on the route from Ard Carraigh to Kaer Morhen, so had beaten Triss' promised arrival date by several days. The day after their arrival Geralt gave her the grand tour of the castle, which was little more than drafty ruins and very sparsely decorated except for one room at the top of a tower, its lavish comfort at odds with the decor of the other rooms. "You guys actually live here during the winter?" she asked, incredulous.
"The alternative would be camping in the snow," he explained. "We're not exactly welcome in more populated areas for more than the length of time it takes to fulfill a contract. Especially not for an entire season. People tolerate us, but they don't really want us near them. The state of Kaer Morhen itself is a testament to that." He had told her some of what had happened during the battle that had destroyed half the fortress. Solona noticed that the fortress still had ample fireplaces, which might make up for the gaping holes in half the walls. And it was shelter, and it did somehow have a nice homey feel to it in spite of its vast scale.
Along with Vesmir they made an inspection of the laboratory and their inventory of herbs and mutagens. Vesemir pulled the various colored jars out one by one and they cataloged them, adding the recently acquired Koshchey heart to the collection. They were missing only two of what they needed. "The brain stem of a Kikimore queen, and the Vapors of the Hunt," Vesemir said with a sigh.
"We would need the vapors," Geralt grumbled and remembered some of the things the witch had said to Solona several weeks earlier. It's definitely coming back to haunt me, he thought.
When Solona inquired he explained that the Vapors of the Hunt came from the Red Wraiths - ethereal creatures that followed the King of the Wild Hunt.
"Or from the King himself if one was lucky enough to kill him."
Solona asked, "But we don't actually need to go after the King, right?"
Geralt shook his head. "The wraiths are easy enough to deal with, but when we go hunting for them there's a high likelihood that he will show up for the fun, especially if we meet him on Midwinter night. He revels in a fight, especially if there's the potential for death. There are ways of dealing with him without having to actually fight him, at least."
Solona asked, "And what about the Kikimore Queen?"
"Not an issue, really... just go to any nearby cave or mine and we can find one."
Vesemir finished organizing the bottles on the shelf and stepped out of the lab, muttering something about inventory and ledgers. Solona walked slowly around the room, pausing to inspect the contents of the myriad odds and ends on the shelves that she recognized as monster parts. There were several racks hanging from the low ceiling from which hung bundles of dried herbs. Along one wall was a deep alcove with greenish glowing lights dangling from above it and several planters with strange plants growing in them. She walked over to inspect the alcove and was fascinated when she discovered that the glowing lights were in fact hanging mushrooms.
"What are these plants?" she asked.
Geralt was still inspecting the contents of the shelves and turned to her. "Those are what we call the grasses. By themselves they're merely hallucinogenic plants, but mixed together in the right ratios, and with a touch of the right magic, they imbue the initiate with special - permanent - abilities, and they form a sort of matrix in the genetics that is ideal for receiving the mutagens. That is, if the initiate survives the process."
"The grasses," she said softly in recognition, noting his detached tone. "How long does the trial actually take?" she asked, looking at him and gauging his response.
He continued to make an effort to keep his tone neutral and clinical. "It depends on how quickly the initiate responds to them. The potion is administered in measured doses. Depending on how the initiate responds, the doses may be increased gradually. It could take as long as a week, or only a couple days. Normally if it takes longer than four or five days then it's unlikely that the initiate will survive." He turned back to what he was doing, avoiding looking into her eyes. She merely nodded and continued looking around the room.
When she completed her circuit she turned to the center of the room where there was a low, circular stone dais upon which stood a large stone table affixed with a series of leather straps and buckles along each side. The circumference of the dais was etched all the way around with unfamiliar runes.
She stepped up onto the dais and toyed absently with one of the buckles of the restraints. "Is this where it happens?" she asked quietly.
He turned and saw her standing by the table. "Yes" he said, then walked slowly over to stand just behind her.
She felt his breath at her ear as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly for several seconds, then she heard his gravelly voice murmur in her ear, "We still have a few days before it starts. We should make the most of it."
His lips nestled softly in the delicate hollow behind her earlobe and she felt his tongue dart out and trail down the side of her neck, stopping at the opening of her tunic and biting gently, the sensation sending a sharp pulse straight between her thighs.
His touch had banished the sudden worry she'd been feeling about what might happen to her in only a few more days. "Mmm, yes, you do have a point," she said in a low, husky voice, tilting her hips to push her backside into him. He slipped both hands under her tunic and slid them up the firm flesh of her stomach to cup the more pliant flesh of her breasts, tweaking both nipples between thumb and forefinger, then drawing small, tightening spirals around them with his index fingers.
She let out a soft moan at the sensation, leaning her head back against his shoulder and reaching a hand up to slide fingers into the hair at the back of his head. At her urging he tilted his head down to find her lips, kissing her hungrily. He slid his right hand down her stomach, breaching the waist of her trousers in search of her sweet spot. She heard and felt the deep rumble in his chest when his fingers found her wet and ready and began to stroke her. Her breathing quickened as his deft fingers teased at her, drawing soft sounds of pleasure. He slipped two fingers inside and drew them out again, swirling them around the small, pulsing knob that was nestled in her soft, slick folds. She gasped and pushed her bottom back against him insistently.
His other hand slid away from her breasts and worked to quickly unfasten the laces of her breeches, pulling them down to expose her supple behind. Then he undid his own laces, releasing his erect sex and letting it drift softly over her backside. His other hand remained between her thighs, working her slowly and steadily. She bent slightly at the hips in encouragement, hands before her on the stone table for support. He wasted no more time, grabbing the soft flesh of her behind with his free hand and slamming home into her eager depths.
The sounds of their coupling drowned out the footsteps of Vesemir returning to the room with his inventory ledger. He stood in the doorway behind them for a moment, mouth agape until he realized what he was witnessing. He promptly altered course, spinning and heading back the way he had come, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath.
They took advantage of those few days in the most productive way they could think of, which involved fucking in every corner and on nearly every surface of the semi-ruined castle, much to the chagrin of the fortress' most senior resident who eventually resorted to spending much of the daylight hours out of doors.
Late in the morning of the third day - the day Triss was due to arrive - they lay entwined and sweaty on what Solona had learned was "the best bed in Kaedwen." The bed was indeed incredibly comfortable in spite of her understanding that it, and most of the decor in the tower room it sat in, were elaborate illusions left behind by Triss the last time she had stayed at Kaer Morhen. Solona was sitting up against a pile of the most comfortable illusory pillows, and was covered to her hips by the softest cotton sheet. This bed was made for sex, without a doubt, she thought and chased away the next thought abruptly. She didn't really want to know who else had gotten up to what else in it. Geralt lay on his stomach next to her, his head resting on her thighs and one arm draped across them. She was stroking his head gently, twining fingers through his loose hair.
Solona had gotten a sense of desperation in Geralt's attention to her, and had finally drawn out of him his concern for her well being during the Trial of the Grasses that would begin the following day. "So you thought you would fuck me to death to save me the pain?" she said to him with an irreverent laugh. This prompted him to embrace her tightly about the hips with both arms, burying his face in her lap and letting out a low, forlorn sigh. She felt suddenly guilty for joking about it. "Geralt, I'll survive," she said gently and resumed stroking his hair.
But it isn't the Trial of the Grasses that really worries me now, he craned his neck to look up at her, peering at her as she looked down at him between her pert breasts, her face framed by a fringe of pale, sweat-dampened curls. When he met her eyes he could sense the familiar chasm between them still. It perplexed him how they could feel so close in moments like this, yet still so incredibly distant. He wished he could find a way to reach her, but somehow knew that she was the one who would need to bridge this gulf between them.
The dreams are how I know, he thought. They continued to share the same recurring dream and she had awakened in distress from it on more occasions than he cared to count. He could tell it was wearing on her from the pained expression that crossed her face as he lay there looking up at her. She was so unwavering in the face of certain danger, and even in the face of the intangible dangers of her impending trials, but she still had an irrational fear of the purely symbolic perils that lay before her in the dream. He gave her hips a comforting squeeze and bent his head to lay a soft kiss on her bare navel, tickling lightly with his tongue in the small indentation and eliciting a soft, breathy laugh from her.
There was a sudden hum of magical energy in the room that made Solona jerk her head up in alarm. Geralt tensed and closed his eyes, realization dawning on him. He had forgotten Triss used this room as the beacon for her portal spell and would be arriving here. Geralt murmured into Solona's belly, "Triss." He flipped over beneath the sheet and sat up next to Solona, resting his forearm on top of the sheet that covered one bent knee. When the red-haired sorceress stepped through the swirling circle of energy, Solona relaxed. "I see that now," Solona said, and drew her own sheet-covered knees up to obscure her bare breasts from their surprise visitor's view. She wasn't embarrassed, but saw no need for blatant nudity in front of a near stranger.
Triss exited the portal and stopped in the center of the room, the portal closing behind her with a soft *pop*. She was dressed in comfortable traveling clothes and a heavy cloak, and had a small pouch on a low-slung belt across her hips, and a larger pack slung over one shoulder. She was surprised at first to see people here - she had always thought of this as her room, after all. She realized then that of course this is where Geralt would have the girl stay. The normal Witcher quarters were woefully spartan and not very comfortable. But she supposed in light of the new guest, she would need to make do with one of the lower rooms during her stay - she was sure she could manage some level of her accustomed comfort with the right spells.
"Hello, Triss," Geralt said impassively.
"Um, hello Geralt. Solona." She noted his languid posture and the look of sated calm on his disheveled features. She cut her eyes to see his new friend had a similar appearance. Both were slightly flushed and there was the distinct aroma of sex in the air. At least she hadn't walked in on them actually in the act. Thank Melitele for small favors, she thought.
She smirked and said sunnily in an attempt to break the ice, "Well, it's good to see the best bed in Kaedwen isn't going to waste. I'll... ah... just meet you two downstairs when you're more decent." She strode briskly down the staircase and out the door at the lower landing, shutting it gently closed behind her and stifling a small, giddy laugh. Well that was bordering on embarrassing.
Once they made themselves more decent, they went down to the main hall where they found Triss and Vesemir at the table in quiet conversation. Vesemir stopped speaking when he saw them and Triss turned to give them both a look of sympathetic understanding.
"I'm very sorry for the intrusion, you two," she said with an apologetic tilt of her head.
Geralt shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Triss. It's not as though we haven't been walked in on enough over the past three days." He shot a pointed look at Vesemir who snorted at him.
"It was hard not to 'walk in' on you two the way you were rutting like dogs everywhere in he fortress. Let's see... in the lab, in the kitchen, in the library, in the armory, in my room..." he continued ticking off other locations and Triss' eyebrows shot up. Geralt had never been that amorous with her - she didn't think she'd have been able to keep up with him if he had been. And did he just say over the past three days? But if what Vesemir had just explained to her was true she supposed she understood their desperation. Things would likely change dramatically for them both by the time her work was done here.
"Impressive," she said, looking at them both in surprise.
Solona cleared her throat and hesitated, not knowing exactly how she should act with the woman. "Just trying to... ah... stock up?" She met Geralt's gaze and in a mournful tone said, "I have a feeling it'll be a long winter, anyway." He gave her hand a squeeze and attempted a comforting smile.
"So why didn't Eskel come with you, Triss?" Geralt asked, changing the subject. He was curious since he knew the other Witcher would likely be headed to the fortress anyway.
Triss sighed and shook her head. "I offered, but apparently fear of portals is a common Witcher trait." She shot him a wry look. "Something about being afraid he'd end up in pieces. He opted to take the long route. He and Lambert should be here in a couple weeks if the weather's in their favor."
Geralt nodded in understanding. He would have likely made the same choice. He asked her, "Does he know why you left Vizima?"
Triss shook her head. "He was on the road before I opened the portal. And don't worry, he doesn't know why you contacted me... he thought it was just to say you were sorry and try to win me back, but I assured him it was too late for that."
She shot Solona a quick smile and said, "Solona, there are some preliminary tests I need to do in the lab before we start tomorrow. Can I steal you away from Geralt for a few hours? Then you two will have the rest of the evening to stock up." She gave the other woman a knowing smile and winked at her.
Solona nodded and got up to head across the main hall to the stairs that led down into the cellars where the lab was located. As Triss was standing to follow, she noticed Geralt's look of longing as his lover departed. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as she passed by, in an effort to comfort him.
When the women were gone, Vesemir made his own attempt at comfort. "Wolf, if you need to talk, I'm here." Geralt nodded acknowledgement and began to pour himself a drink but thought better of it, setting the carafe of White Gull back on the table with deliberate care. He stood and said, "I'll be up in the armory if you need me," then got up and strode in the opposite direction, heading up the stairs to the second floor.
Triss observed Solona with interest as they made their way down to the lab. She noted the easy confidence in her gait and the almost second-nature grace she had when she cast a spell to light the torches along the way. Her style of dress was unusual, but not outlandishly so. She was wearing a black leather skirt that rested snugly across her hips, with slits up the front for ease of motion, and high, supple leather boots underneath. She realized it was the same skirt she had seen her in when Geralt had first contacted her with their request, but instead of the matching laced leather top, she now wore a simple, loose white linen tunic that was loosely belted at the waist. She remembered thinking the first time she saw her that it was a more practical outfit than most sorcerers wore. Her kind tended towards fondness for rich fabrics and elaborate decorations; anything to show off their wealth. She leaned towards the practical herself, however, and could appreciate Solona's preference.
When they reached the lab, Solona went to lean against the stone table and Triss opened up a small cabinet and began searching for the equipment she would need. "I'm surprised this place is actually organized," she commented. "It's more than I would have expected considering the state it was in the last time I was here."
Solona let out a soft chuckle and grinned at Triss, "I think Vesemir was hiding down here for awhile the last two days. He probably figured it was safe since it was the first spot we … um… christened?"
Triss shot her a surprised glance and smiled back in understanding. "I see. I have to say, I really am impressed that you can actually keep up with him."
Solona shrugged a little. "Remember when I told you this wouldn't be the first ritual I've experienced that might have killed me?" Triss nodded. "One of the other ones did something to me... something that changed me in very minor ways, but one of the changes was an increased appetite... for sex as well as food." With a small sigh she added, "It won't be easy to just stop after having such a near constant supply of… sustenance… over the past couple months. If you have any words of advice I'd be happy to hear them."
Triss looked at her and thought she caught a slight air of desperation coming from the other woman. "Well, you may not be up to it for awhile after we're finished with the Trial of the Grasses. Beyond that, the only suggestion I can make is to try to find other outlets. I really wish I had more to offer." She looked faintly apologetic. "Not that it's any comfort, but it will be just as difficult for Geralt. And for more than just the need for release... I don't know if you realize how he feels about you..."
Solona stiffened perceptibly and looked at the floor with a deep frown. Looks like I hit a nerve, Triss thought cynically.
"Look. Solona," she said testily. "What is between you two is really none of my business, but the man means a lot to me. I just don't want to see him hurt."
She was content to leave it at that, but Solona shook her head slowly and whispered, "Neither do I." When Solona tilted her head back up and met the other woman's eyes, Triss could see that she meant it. She could also see that Solona was in the midst of an emotional struggle that she herself couldn't even fathom. If he loves her, how hard can it be? But loving Geralt had never been an issue for her so she realized she was just a little bit biased.
Solona could see that Triss' demeanor had suddenly turned a bit chilly. "Triss," she said quietly, "He means more to me than he knows. But I can't let my feelings interfere with fulfilling the prophecy."
Triss studied her for a long moment and sighed. With a small shrug she said, "I don't quite understand, but then I'm not in your position... I just don't see how it should preclude your happiness. The two of you seem good together. And the man loves you. I wished for years that he would look at me with even an ounce of the same affection he clearly feels for you. If you feel the same way, you need to tell him before it's too late."
Solona only nodded and gave Triss a small, pained smile. Triss decided to let it go. Time would tell, she supposed. There was no forcing these things, she knew that much at least.
With a more comforting tone she said, "Well, I'll be here until you've recovered from the trial. If you feel like talking to someone a little more removed from the situation, I promise not to judge."
Solona gave her a relieved smile, "That means a lot, Triss. Thanks. And there are a few things I'd like to talk to you about... things unrelated to Geralt. I've had a few odd experiences using my magic since I've been here and I'd like your take on them."
"Sure, I'd be happy to tell you anything you want to know," she said over her shoulder and then turned to walk over to the stone table carrying a small silver tray with several glass containers and a few small instruments. A few of the containers held small amounts of different colored liquids and a several others were empty.
"Are you squeamish around blood?" Triss asked when she set the tray down next to Solona, who hopped up to sit on the edge of the table.
"No. As a healer, it would be counterproductive for me to have issues with it, don't you think?"
Triss nodded, "That's very true. If you're a healer then it will make this much easier. Hold out your wrist."
Solona obliged, rolling up her sleeve and presenting her arm to the other woman.
Triss continued idle conversation. "So... tell me how the two of you met exactly?"
Solona felt a sting as the sharp blade Triss held broke the pale skin of her wrist and blood began to well up in a thick, crimson line. She winced at the pain and said, "I saved his life."
"Oh really?" Triss asked, intrigued. "I have to hear this story. The woman who saved the life of the infamous White Wolf."
While Solona recounted her first encounter with the Witcher, Triss held one of the small glass containers under Solona's wrist and murmured a brief spell. Blood trickled in a smooth line directly into the bottle and filled it up, then stopped flowing the second the container was full.
Solona looked at her wrist with interest. The wound was still open but the blood had ceased flowing out of it. "Will you need more?" she asked. Triss shook her head. "This should be plenty for now. Go ahead and heal it if you want." Solona traced a finger over the cut which closed neatly, leaving a pale but barely visible scar behind.
Triss was fascinated with Solona's story. "So you say you healed him in a bath? How does that work?" she asked. She nodded in comprehension as Solona explained the mechanics of her spell and how it leached the poison from the victim. "It works for fevers, too," she added.
Triss looked at her with an expression of amusement, "And he woke up in the bath... with you?" Solona nodded and looked perplexed at the soft laugh Triss let out. "No wonder he's so taken with you. Geralt has kindof a thing for baths. And I don't mean he likes to stay clean, either. Talk about finding the right way to the man's heart without even trying."
"By the way," Triss said, pointing at the wound Solona had just healed on her wrist, "I can teach you how to get rid of the scars if you want. It's just a simple illusion spell... a glamour."
Solona shook her head, "I don't mind the scars... they're small reminders of where I've been in my life - the things I've survived. You know, I used to have hair the color of yours. And I wished for the longest time after it turned that I could change it back, but now... I don't think I'd change it even if I could." Her voice grew quiet and melancholy. "Besides, sometimes the worst scars a person has are invisible... there's no way to erase the ones you can't see."
Triss stopped what she was doing to study the other woman briefly. Solona's gaze was fixed on the glow of fire visible through the grate in the small pot-belly stove across the room. Triss thought she saw a small flicker of disquiet in her eyes that quickly disappeared before she turned back to watch Triss work.
Solona watched as Triss distributed the blood sample between the empty containers and used a small glass dropper to place small measures of the other substances in each one. She murmured an incantation each time and held each bottle up to the lamplight to observe the results.
"What is it you're doing exactly?" Solona asked.
Triss explained, "These substances are the components that will go into the solution used for the trial. Hopefully it will give us some idea of how receptive your system will be to the ritual. So far everything looks good... better than good, actually."
"What would bad results look like, just out of curiosity?" she asked.
Triss took an empty jar and pricked the tip of one finger with the knife, squeezing a few drops into the glass jar. She took a dropper from one of the solutions and dripped a small amount into her blood, which promptly burst into flame and burned for a second before going out.
"Ouch," Solona said in response to the demonstration. "So does that mean it will be a breeze for me? Or just that I'm less likely to keel over from it?"
"It will still be an ordeal. You'll experience incredible pain at the beginning of each stage and will likely be unconscious and have lucid dreams for most of it. On the plus side, when you recover you'll have a Witcher's reflexes as well as their heightened senses."
Solona said thoughtfully, "Sort of like a Harrowing and a Joining combined."
Triss began cleaning up the equipment from the tests. While she was busy, Solona hopped off the table and said, "I think I saw Vesemir drinking some tea down here the other day, would you like some?"
"Tea would be wonderful," Triss said, then cocked her head and asked, curious, "This harrowing and joining... Were those the other rituals you've undergone? Something sorcerers are required to do in your world?"
"Sort of," Solona replied while she found a pair of clean ceramic mugs and began to prepare two cups of tea. "The Harrowing is something that Apprentice mages are required to undergo - it tests our ability to resist the influence of demons. Those that fail are executed on the spot. Some young mages opt for what's called the rite of tranquility rather than take the risk. It's unfortunate because the curriculum at the Circle doesn't include the kind of training of Will that would actually help the apprentices resist a demon's lure, so it's like they get thrown in the water without even being taught to swim. They only have their natural instincts to rely on... no training whatsoever. Luckily I didn't grow up there so I already knew how to swim before my Harrowing came around."
She paused for a second, pouring hot water from a kettle, and then continued. "And the Joining ritual is the induction ritual into the Grey Wardens. I was conscripted from the Circle, but would have joined them willingly had that been an option. That ritual has about a thirty percent survival rate, at least in my experience... and if you refuse it at the last minute apparently they also execute you. They don't want their secrets getting out, I guess."
She handed Triss a steaming mug and they sat on two stools near one of the work tables.
Triss nodded in understanding at her last comment. "The Witcher order is like that. I think I'm the only outsider they've ever shared their secrets with, and it was like pulling teeth to get them to finally let me in on them. I suppose it wasn't an accident that they'd rather an initiate die than take precautions to determine whether he might even survive in the first place. There haven't been any new initiates since I started researching the ritual, but hopefully these tests I've done will help you at least. Even if it just provides peace of mind."
"But the Harrowing sounds horrible!" Triss said with a look of utter shock. "Is it really that easy for demons to access potential hosts in your world? Are the barriers really that weak?"
Solona nodded and took a small sip of tea, testing the heat. "We access our power directly from the Fade, so, yes, the veil is very thin and virtually nonexistent in some places. It's clearly different here, though. I haven't been able to access the Fade since I've been here, but I've had no trouble casting spells - if anything it's been easier."
Triss said, "Well, it takes quite a bit of work to tap into the Fade as you refer to it. We have other names for it here. Only the most powerful sorcerers have any chance at doing it, and only those who have broken away from the Brotherhood have even tried - we police each other fairly diligently to prevent such things from occurring. But like you said, for the most part we don't need to access it. After the Conjunction there was apparently so much residual magic left behind that there would be an ample supply forever, and it seems to replenish itself, too. There have been studies to find out the sources but none of them have been conclusive. The most common theory is that the magic goes through a cycle similar to precipitation. There's a finite amount, but it's constantly being recycled."
Solona looked at her with curiosity and asked another question. "What about these 'Places of Power'? I encountered one in Ard Carraigh and it was a rather strange experience. Geralt seemed a little surprised at how I reacted to it."
Triss explained, "Places of power are concentrated pockets of magical energy that you can tap into with a small ritual to gain a sort of magical boost. What happened with the one you found?"
Solona shook her head and shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. I stood where it was, but I didn't perform any ritual to access the power. It felt like the power was just infusing me suddenly the moment I stepped into it. And the spell I cast behaved oddly, too... Besides crushing a Koshchey with a gesture, the spell actually materialized with the image of a fist."
Triss was struck speechless for a moment. Koshcheys were nasty beasts and for someone to deal with one with such ease was unheard of. She quickly recovered her composure and said, "That is definitely odd... you say you just stood on top of the Place of Power? Most sorcerers would have been repelled from it if they got that close - like two positively charged poles of a magnet. Maybe it has something to do with the way you're accustomed to accessing power, or maybe the power itself reacts differently to you in particular. I'll have to do some research when I get home. I'll let you know if I find anything interesting."
Solona hesitated for a second and said, "There was something else strange about … well about the Koshchey in particular. It was like I could sense it before we found it... the way I used to sense the darkspawn in my own world, through the … link... that's created during the Joining ritual. Why do you think I'd be able to sense a monster in this world using my link to the ones in my world?"
Triss sat thinking, idly tapping one finger on the tabletop. After a few moments she pursed her lips and said, "You know, I remember reading about the sorcerer that invented those spells... his name was Alzur. I used to have a copy of his grimoire but destroyed it after studying it. The spells are far too dangerous to actually use - the monsters they summon are nasty, as I'm sure you witnessed. He lived over a millenium ago - around the time of the Conjunction - and claimed to come from another world. Most of his writing was pretty crazy, or it sounded that way when I read it. Do you know what the 'Tevinter Imperium' is?"
Solona stared at her in disbelief. "Yes... the original Tevinter magisters are the ones who were the cause of all this. The blights in my world began around fifteen centuries ago when they got greedy for power and tried to use the Old Gods, who they purportedly worshiped, to gain more power for themselves. The accounts from my world conflict, though. If you believe the Chantry lore, it was the Old Gods who convinced the magisters to attempt to overthrow the Maker in his Golden City... The act corrupted them, and corrupted the Golden City, and now they continuously call to the Old Gods attempting to corrupt them. Whenever they actually succeed at awakening one of the Old Gods, that's when we have a Blight."
Triss had been listening so intently that she didn't realize her tea had grown cold. She passed a quick hand over it to warm it and took another sip. "That is fascinating and it explains a lot. I wish I had a copy of Alzur's grimoire to show you. According to his writings, he was one of these Tevinter magisters but disagreed with what the others had planned... I always thought that odd because he was clearly batshit crazy, but apparently not as crazy as the rest of them. He wrote a lot about just wanting to access the power, but not wanting to disturb the balance of the worlds... like he knew something catastrophic would happen. His writing confirms much of what you just told me, but according to him, the Golden City was merely the nexus of magic and the Old Gods were the spirits that guarded it. He referred to seven guardians and speculated that there had to be three on guard at any given time to maintain the balance of the worlds, while the other four slumbered. The other magisters discovered a way to put all seven of the guardians into a deep, magical sleep in order to get past them. That's when Alzur says he defected, refusing to follow them any further. After that he speculated that putting all the guardians to sleep is what finally threw the nexus out of balance and caused the three worlds to collide. The nexus was destroyed - shattered - and pieces of it ended up strewn across the three worlds. Much of the power of the nexus remained within the Primordial Chaos - or the Fade as you call it."
Solona was gripping her mug tightly as she listened to Triss recount her recollection of Alzur's history. It all made so much sense now. And everything she'd assumed about how the Conjunction related to her own world was apparently incorrect. That the magisters themselves had caused it was a huge revelation, and the significance of the Old Gods to the other worlds was greater than she had anticipated. It was clear now that somehow the Old Gods were connected to the balance between the worlds. As long as at least three still existed, balance could be maintained. She pondered the thoughts for several moments before she finally remembered her original question.
She laughed softly and said, "It seems almost silly to care now, but what does this have to do with the Koshchey?"
Triss smiled, "Right! I'd almost forgotten. The later parts of Alzur's grimoire are mostly just about the spells he invented. When a sorcerer invents a spell the spell is infused with a bit of that sorcerer's own power, which is recognizable even if someone else casts it. Apparently the other magisters stole them from him to get past the nexus guardians, but he had rigged them to backfire if they were used by anyone besides himself. If Alzur invented the spells they used that ultimately turned them into these Darkspawn creatures, then their blood is likely infused with a bit of his magic, as is the Koshchey's. It's likely your Joining ritual included a small spell to detect his magic. With such a distinct marker that would be easy enough to do."
Their conversation turned to lighter subjects. Solona regaled Triss with some of the more humorous tales of her travels during the Blight, including the Qunari giant who had a weakness for cookies, and the deadly Elven assassin who took her to bed ("No! he didn't seduce me!" "Oh really? Because it sure sounds like he seduced you..."). Triss was curious about Solona's magical background but noticed how she skillfully evaded any of her questions and redirected the conversation onto other topics.
Geralt spent the rest of the day in a futile attempt to distract himself from his worries. He polished and sharpened his swords and then completely reorganized the armory. When that was finished he went out to the courtyard and began chopping wood.
When he'd run out of wood to chop he carried it in an armload at a time and methodically stacked it in the corner by the fireplace. When that was finished he stood staring at his handiwork for a moment and then checked the daylight. It was still only early afternoon.
Finally he beckoned to Lusa who had been following him around all day and watching him with intense interest while he worked.
"C'mon, boy. Let's go hunting for supper."
Lusa perked up immediately and ran to the door, clearly ready to have an adventure. The dog's enthusiasm brought a smile to Geralt's lips and helped to ease his tense mood a bit. He threw on his gear, grabbed a small bow from a rack near the door and they headed out.
They headed to the woods east of the castle where there was a small copse that he knew the native wild hens liked to nest within. He decided to test the dog's understanding of commands and crouched down to give him instructions on where to flush out the game. The dog trotted in and slowed to a steady prowl when he drew close to the mark - a large, dense evergreen shrub that was an ideal nesting spot for the birds. Geralt nocked an arrow and held the bow ready, waiting for the dog to act. A second later, Lusa leapt into the brush with a snap of teeth and their quarry burst forth in a roaring flutter of wings, headed for the safety of the sky. Geralt aimed and let fly arrow after arrow, his quick reflexes and focus making the rest of the world disappear for a few moments.
When he was satisfied he had shot enough, he stowed his bow and started towards the spot where he had seen most of them fall. He was surprised to see the dog trotting proudly out of the woods with at least three of them gripped by their necks within his large mouth. They went hunting for the other three birds together, the dog acting as scout and sniffing out where they had fallen. Geralt strung them up by their necks on a piece of twine and slung them across his shoulders before heading back to the castle.
He spent the next hour dressing out the small birds in the courtyard and then was compelled to reorganize the kitchen to a suitable point before he could start cooking. He found the mix of spices Solona had bought in the Ard Carraigh market that was similar to what she had brought from her world. He sniffed the open jar and the subtle blend of aromas that wafted out brought back acute, but very pleasant memories of their time on the road. Had it only been two months since she had saved him? It already seemed like he had known her forever, her presence had so indelibly made its mark on his life.
He was still contemplating the spice jar when Vesemir poked his head in cautiously. Seeing that he wasn't interrupting anything untoward, aside from a collection of naked birds that lay splayed out on the kitchen table, the older man strode into the room.
"Wolf, I see you've been busy today. I think we have enough wood to last us through the next three winters. Are you feeling okay?"
Geralt closed the jar of spices and looked at the other man, "What, I can't help you prepare for the winter? It's my duty as a Witcher."
Vesemir shook his head, "I appreciate your dedication, but your duties have changed, Wolf. She is your duty now."
"And that precludes any domestic responsibilities, I suppose?" Geralt asked with a wry smile. In an introspective tone he said, "Don't worry, Vesemir. I suppose I should just admit to myself that I'm doing all this for her, after all. Even if I can't… touch her… for the next few months, I at least want to make sure she knows she's... wanted." Loved.
"Wolf..." Vesemir began softly. "You'll still be with her. Neither of you are going anywhere. There are just things you can't do together. There's more to life... to love... than carnal desire."
"I know this." Geralt replied roughly. "But knowing it doesn't make it easier. I know we've always... as Witchers we've always had certain appetites, but being with her is different. It's like my blood already knows it's meant to be entwined with hers. When we first met, her very presence started to awaken things in me that I never even knew existed. It's like she was the first rain on a blighted landscape, washing away all the death, leaving only life yearning for the sun, and then the clouds parted and she was the sun, too, and I have no control over my need to reach for her. I've been in this world for more than a century already, but it was when she arrived that I felt my life truly began. She's my life, Vesemir."
Vesemir listened quietly, hearing much more than his protege had actually said. He reached out and squeezed Geralt's shoulder gently. In a low voice he said, "You'll find a way, Wolf. You'll find a way."
Vesemir left and Geralt again made an attempt to remain focused on the moment and on the simple act of cooking supper. Lusa was sitting patiently by the fire watching him and gave a soft woof looking expectantly at the birds. Geralt gave the dog a rueful smile and said, "Okay, I guess it's time to get cooking then."
Next Chapter: In which souls are searched, and found.