Conjunction

Chapter 23 - The Wild Hunt

The wind howled around them, whipping their cloaks against their bodies and causing the glow of the lantern in the center of the cemetery to flicker violently. Triss began to walk around the low wall bordering the graveyard, methodically counting paces with Eskel escorting her, and placing protective wards at equidistant intervals.

Solona followed suit and began to cast a few protective glyphs around the inner area surrounding them. She pushed the hood of her heavy cloak back for visibility and her pale curls fluttered around her face in the wind. Geralt watched her work from the shadow of his hood and was briefly struck by how much she seemed in her element at this moment. It had been weeks since they'd fought together in a real battle, and it hadn't occurred to him until now how much this atmosphere made her seem to come alive. So much so that it frightened him just a little bit. He knew that look of excitement. That thirst for battle that was apparent even in the subdued activity she was currently undertaking. It could serve a warrior well in a fight, but the fact that he was seeing it on her face caused a faint panic to rise up in him and he struggled briefly to quash it. He felt the need to caution her against recklessness and sent a quick thought to her.

If you see the king early on, you need to throw mandrake onto the flame. That will banish him for a time. We don't want to face him until we've dealt with his army, Geralt's voice resonated inside her mind. Don't do anything stupid, Solona. I couldn't bear it if I lost you.

The last phrases escaped his mind involuntarily and she tilted up her head sharply to meet his gaze, her lips parted slightly in surprise at his admission. He glanced away from her, and after a brief and mildly awkward moment he heard her voice in his own mind, You too, Geralt. She held his gaze a moment longer before returning to her task.

The wind grew more violent around them and the sounds of beating hooves and barking dogs seemed to converge on them from every direction. The noises became almost deafening when they saw the first of the wraiths charging on ethereal horses over the tops of the trees, their tattered, ghostly cloaks streaming out behind them with an eerie, blood-red glow.

The men drew their steel swords and stood ready at each of the four sides of the graveyard. Solona and Triss were on guard within their midst, the glow of magic already flickering along their fingers and down the length of Solona's staff. Solona pushed her cloak back over her shoulders and gripped her staff in one hand, her body tingling in anticipation of the coming battle.

Geralt glanced at her once more, his eyes drifting over her snug dragonhide armor and the way it hugged her curves. His eyes traced the small section of scar that was visible on the pale skin of her chest just above the tightly laced leather bodice and lightweight wool tunic beneath. Even in the cold moonlight he could tell she was flushed with excitement, her chest rising and falling with eager breaths. He caught his mind beginning to stray into dangerous territory and he looked away abruptly, forcing himself to focus instead on the coming battle.

The full moon was huge and hung high overhead, illuminating the clearing with a light as bright as day when the first wraith's steed touched down on the virgin snow that surrounded the graveyard. The snow remained unmarred by the horse's pawing hooves.

The wraith paused for the briefest moment when it saw the Witchers waiting for it with swords drawn, then let out a haunting battle cry that was nearly deafening in Solona's ears. It charged straight at them, its fellows following behind. Several members of their ranks raised ghostly horns to their mouths and dissonant trumpeting filled the air and chilled Solona to her bones.

She counted no fewer than two dozen riders come charging for them in disorganized ranks. As their ghostly steeds took the leap over the low stone wall, they hit the wards Triss had set. The horses screamed and abruptly disintegrated into tattered wisps of dead flesh that burned to ash and drifted to the ground. The riders merely floated quickly to the ground and began swinging their weapons at the men who faced them.

She felt an elated shiver travel down her spine when she heard Geralt's fierce battle cry as he began swinging his sword in wide arcs at three wraiths who had engaged him. Seeing him in action again caused her pulse to race as much as it did when he touched her. She watched enraptured while he lashed out and with several quick sweeps of his sword his opponents disintegrated into ashes, joining the remains of their mounts on the snow beneath them. But a second later there were more of them assaulting him with heavy blades and axes that he managed to deftly block. He was quickly joined by his brother Witchers and their older mentor. Vesemir seemed as lithe and skilled as the younger men, and the four of them fought side by side while Triss and Solona stood back casting spells in support.

Solona began casting quickly, first enveloping Geralt in a defensive aura, and then a mass rejuvenation spell for all six of them. In the weeks since she had begun the mutagenic changes she had begun to gradually feel more and more connected to the power present in the world around her. Triss' explanations of the source of magic in this world finally began to make sense. Tonight she felt more connected to it than ever and felt infused with the energy that surrounded her, almost to the same degree as when she'd inadvertently stepped within the place of power in Ard Carraigh.

She saw the first wave of wraiths begin to split up and spread out to flank them. She quickly conjured a blizzard in a wide area above the backmost ranks before they could follow suit. Her initial spell merely managed to slow them down slightly until she drew in more power and added a tempest on top of it. The resulting storm took shape as a huge, swirling cyclone of ice and snow, with occasional small bolts of lightning flickering within it. It churned violently for several moments, its sounds adding to the howling winds around them, sucking in any creature that stood within a few feet of it and tossing them about in the air. When it finally dissipated a minute later only a fraction of the creatures were still intact and moving, and were so battered and weak that they would be little threat when they finally did reach the battle.

She could hear their swords whistling through the air, cutting through the wraiths before them with heavy swooshes. It was odd how there was hardly a sound when the ghostly figures were cut down. She discovered that her force spells were almost ineffective against them, so had switched to flinging fireballs instead, but the wraiths were quick and far too many were focusing on the four Witchers who faced them. She found herself having to focus more intently on casting spells to bolster their defenses or to heal them, and noted Triss doing the same thing beside her, a look of fierce determination on the other woman's face.

Solona felt a shift in the atmosphere to one side of her that she could only explain as a change in the flow of energy through the air and it seemed to grow several degrees colder. At first there was no visual indication that anything was different, but she turned her head to look and gradually began to see a shape coalesce in the moonlight. It began at the ground, the moonbeams converging into the shapes of massive hooves and drifting snowflakes clinging together to form the shapes and curves of a ghostly steed that held a huge spectral rider. The rider sat motionless, holding an immense glowing scythe in its grip. It watched the battle for a brief second before slowly turning its gaze on her. She remembered him from her dream and reached for the pouch of mandrake at her side, but paused when she met the glowing embers of his eyes.

His eyes glowed red as he took her in. He had a huge crown made of twisted horns resting atop his head. His face seemed to flicker between the countenance of an exquisitely beautiful man and the deathly fleshless grin of some hideous creature. Her heart began to pound as she felt his eyes bore into her, seeming to see into her very soul. She saw his flickering lips begin to move and a sound akin to stone grating on stone came forth.

"How fortuitous that I should find you here. This is quite unexpected," he spoke slowly and his cold, penetrating voice made her bones ache. He urged his ghostly horse to turn so that he could face her across the low wall of the graveyard. She felt the vibrations of the huge creature's bulk shifting atop the earth on hooves the size of anvils, but it made no indentations in the snow.

When the horse came to a halt facing her, twin billows of icy breath erupted from its nostrils. The creature astride it asked with intense curiosity, "You have the blood. Who are you?"

She gritted her teeth and answered, "I am not yours. You will die tonight." She gripped her staff tightly and a surge of magic flared through it, making it illuminate brightly.

"You may not be mine, but he is." He gestured with a bony hand to Geralt who was still fiercely engaged in battle with several wraiths.

"And I wager that I can make you mine tonight," he said with a grin. He took in her defiant stance and her white hair whipping out behind her in the wind.

There was a subtle change in his posture as he studied her and his gruesome grin widened.

"You are she. The one I've been searching for. You are Gwynrhena, are you not?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm no queen," she stated bitingly.

"But you could be. You have the blood." The way his glowing eyes flickered over her body caused a cold burn to begin growing inside her. His ghostly face flickered back to the image of a man for a few seconds and the expression she saw was that of raw lust. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

"I am not yours!" she yelled at him and called up a surge of magic to fling at him. She whipped her staff around and aimed it at him, slinging a ball of lightning the size of his head. It struck him in the middle of the chest and rocked him back, causing his visage to freeze momentarily into a deathly grimace. His horse reared up in reaction to the attack, its huge hooves pawing at the air. It came down again a second later with a deafening thud that shook the ground and caused Solona to stumble back a step to maintain her balance.

"You are strong. You remind me of someone I once loved," he said idly. "You would make an excellent queen. Join me, Gwynrhena." The face of the man was back, beautiful but repugnant with its leering hunger. A buzz of sickening cold terror seethed up her spine and settled at the base of her skull. Her gut clenched in fear and disgust at the long buried images that surged forth from deep within her; memories of being helpless and at the mercy of a similar brutal, unfeeling lust. But this time she knew she could fight back.

She readied another spell and with a harsh yell she sent a huge fireball at the legs of his mount. The creature let out a primal scream that pierced through the howling winds before it dissolved into wisps of decayed flesh and ash. The King of the Wild Hunt continued to hover as though standing just above the ground. His gaze hardened.

"I would prefer if you came willingly, but I am not above taking you by force. Join me and you will know power beyond your comprehension as a mortal woman. Rule by my side, Gwynrhena."

ooOoo

The piercing scream from behind them caused Geralt to whip his head around in alarm. What he saw caused his heart to plummet inside his chest. He turned back and made quick work of the pair of wraiths before him. With a signal to the others he turned to run to the other side of the graveyard where Solona stood.

"Solona!" he yelled loudly to overcome the din of clashing swords and the still deafening howl of wind. "Where is the mandrake!"

She didn't seem to hear him, and continued to stand facing off with the large spectral figure before her.

"We can kill this bastard, Geralt," she said, keeping her gaze steadily on the King. "He's not as strong as he would have us think."

The ethereal figure turned his head to gaze at Geralt. "Ah, little wolf. I see you've brought me a gift. Perhaps I can forgive your earlier insults."

Geralt ignored the jibe and yelled again, "The mandrake! Solona!"

"I thought you wanted to kill him! What are you waiting for?" she yelled back.

Geralt turned to look back at the fight he had just left. The other Witchers were still severely outnumbered by wraiths but were holding their own. He had to hope they could continue to do so while he took care of the matter before him.

Geralt glowered at her and then moved in front of her to face the King. "It looks like it's your time after all," he said to the huge glowing spectre with a sneer.

The ghostly figure's face flickered to the deathly rictus again as he raged at them. "If that is how it has to be, then prepare to die, boy! But I will tell you the truth before I take your soul to join my riders."

"Nothing you say matters. You spout nothing but lies!" Geralt yelled.

"Ah, there you are wrong. I think you know I speak the truth. Yours is Elder Blood, as was the child you fostered. She would have been my queen but needlessly sacrificed herself for you over some fool prophecy. I would kill you for that alone. But you owe me a queen of Elder Blood, and it seems you have found another scion of Lara Dorren. And the true subject of the prophecy, no less. So fortuitous that you have brought her to me. Step aside, Wolf. She is mine!"

The figure charged over the stone wall, ignoring the flash of the ward that activated as he crossed the barrier. He let out a bloodthirsty scream and swung his giant scythe around in a large, sweeping arc which Geralt and Solona both just barely managed to dodge.

"Never!" Geralt yelled and lashed out with his sword, cutting a large swath through the rust-covered armor across the creature's chest.

Solona began flinging spells with abandon, but no matter how many times they seemed to slow him down or stagger him, he kept coming back with unflagging energy to swing his scythe around at them again. Geralt's attacks seemed to be having little more effect, but he kept going. He had said he knew how to kill the King, so she continued to have faith that he was right.

She summoned her reserves of energy to draw in more power and flung the spell at him, realizing belatedly that she'd unconsciously cast a force spell that would likely have no effect. She was surprised when the spell slammed into him and he was suddenly and violently ripped apart by it. She felt a surge of triumph but it was shortlived when she saw the spectral remains floating in the air begin to reconstitute into his ghostly form. The attack seemed to enrage him further and he turned to focus on her, swinging his scythe around quickly.

"Solona, move!" Geralt yelled. She was still weak from the energy her last spell had cost her and took an unsteady step back as the huge glowing blade swung ever closer to her. She tried to fling herself clear of it but as the blade drew even with her she felt the cold bite of its pointed tip hit the side of her throat and searing pain shot through her, followed by sudden, icy blackness.

ooOoo

When her blood hit the blade of the scythe it began to glow with a blinding light and the King of the Wild Hunt was briefly taken aback. "How is this possible?" he muttered. "Her blood is even purer than Lara's was. I must have her!"

Geralt stood staring in anguish at Solona's still form lying on the snowy ground, a small pool of blood beginning to stain the snow beneath her head. His rage was instantaneous and he spun back to face the spectral figure. He opened his mouth and let out a loud, guttural yell and leaped at the creature with his sword aimed for the center of its chest.

"She is not yours!" Geralt yelled as his sword pierced through the heart of the figure before him. The King's head whipped around, a look of surprise and sudden realization plastered on its near-human features.

"You... love... her..." he said haltingly, and a wide smile began to form on his face. "You may have finally bested me thanks to her, my son," he gasped, "but your love for her will be the death of you one day, of that you can be certain. And when that day comes, you will understand."

Geralt let out another agonized yell and ripped his sword from the chest of the King, then swung it around in a wide arc, cutting off the creature's grotesquely crowned head.

ooOoo

Solona stood on the familiar precipice. She heard the deep rumbling breath of the dragon beside her and saw Geralt's figure standing an eternity away on the other side of the chasm.

A dry, feminine voice spoke beside her. "You have succeeded together where I had failed. It was no small feat to kill the King of the Wild Hunt. His true name was Eredin, and I loved him once. But he failed me. He could not see the value in my work among these worlds. He became bitter that I wouldn't join him and be his queen in his own world. And so he betrayed me."

Solona turned to gaze at the figure of the older woman. "You used us to get back at him, didn't you?" she asked.

Flemeth only said, "Men can too easily be blinded by love. Love can be a great strength at times, but also a terrible weakness. Make sure your love keeps you strong, child, but keep your eyes on the path. You will need the strength of that love for what is to come. But first you need to cross this chasm to even reach it."

Flemeth's wise golden eyes held hers for several moments. Solona finally turned away and looked despairingly across the wide expanse of nothingness between her and Geralt.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she stated weakly.

The older woman stared across the chasm and said slowly, "You stand upon the precipice of a great darkness within you. I can see that you fear the inevitable plummet into the abyss. But you must not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

"What should I do?" Solona asked, looking out over the chasm helplessly but beginning to understand.

Flemeth answered with a slight glint in her golden eyes. "Do as I do. Become a dragon."

ooOoo

They stabled the horses wordlessly and went inside, Solona walking briskly ahead of Geralt and the others. They hadn't spoken a word on the ride back and she knew he was still angry with her. The fight had been brutal, the revelations that followed it throwing her off balance, and she was exhausted and not interested in dealing with another conflict this evening. She barely registered Bekim's relieved greeting before she stalked up the stairs to the library on the second floor, leaned her staff in the corner by the door, and dropped her cloak and pack on the book and parchment-laden table in the center of the room. She began hunting through the scattered papers for the book that contained her notes on the mutagens.

She felt him approach her from behind and roughly grab her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face him. His jaw was tightly clenched, the muscles twitching slightly at the strain of maintaining control of his anger, but his yellow eyes burned with uncensored fury. She felt a subtle, irrational panic at seeing this side of him. She'd seen the kind of calculating, violent ferocity he possessed when he was fighting monsters, but his treatment of her had always been gentle.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing out there? You could have gotten us all killed!" His words were measured but their volume betrayed his anger.

His fingers dug sharply into her shoulders and she flinched at the roughness with which he touched her. She suddenly saw the resemblance between him and the monster they had bested tonight and felt a growing dread.

Her eyes bore into his with equal intensity. Matching his volume, she said, "Well we didn't, did we? We got what we needed and destroyed that bastard in the process." She shrugged her shoulders, trying to shake off his hold, which only gripped her harder. When he bared his teeth at her, the resemblance to the creature they had fought became even more pronounced and she struggled to hold the resulting panic at bay.

He shook her slightly and said, "It was a foolish, reckless thing to do, especially when we're this close to our goal." This incited an indignant rage in her that began to bubble forth. She snorted softly, glaring at him.

"I've faced tougher creatures and lived."

She was too reckless, he thought. He needed her to understand what her risk could have cost them. He released his grip on one of her shoulders and grabbed the neck of her soft leather armor and the tunic beneath, yanking hard. There was a ripping sound as the front laces gave way along with the stitching on one side. He pointed at the thick, ragged scar curving over one breast and leaned his face in closer to hers for emphasis, their noses nearly touching.

"Like the creature that did that? How close did you come to dying from that wound?" He'd had his share of brushes with death and the scars to match. He knew a potentially fatal wound when he saw one. His eyes went to her throat and the fresh, pink scar that now blazed down her neck below one ear. A fraction of an inch forward and it would have killed her, and there would have been nothing he could do to stop it. The very thought that she could endanger herself and others so heedlessly infuriated him further.

He reached up his hand and grabbed her chin, turning her head roughly to the side, making the fresh scar stand out in the dim light of the room. His voice was rough and desperate, "And this! Do you have any idea how close I was to losing you out there tonight?"

She was so focused on his suddenly violent demeanor that the raw anguish in his voice didn't register. She tore her jaw from his grasp and her hand came up in a solid fist, punching him squarely in the mouth. The force of the punch knocked his head back sharply and split his lower lip.

"You have no idea the things I've had to survive to make it here!" she yelled furiously.

He barely heard her as the coppery taste of blood hit his tongue and rage blossomed inside him at her stubbornness to see reason. His head pounded with his sudden anger and the impact of her fist on his face. He gripped her upper arms and pushed her hard against a small desk that sat against the wall opposite the table. She crashed into it with a grunt, causing the objects on its surface to fly to the floor. He vaguely registered the sound of glass breaking around them.

His teeth were bared menacingly as his face came close to hers again. He was on the verge of letting loose a torrent of reprimands when he felt the soft flesh of her exposed breast brush against the side of his thumb where he gripped her arm. The sensation abruptly shifted the focus of his passionate outburst and he was suddenly acutely aware of their closeness and the warmth of her body against his. His previous anger at her was replaced by an overwhelming need to be inside her. His breath quickened and he tilted his hips involuntarily to grind against hers, and instead of reprimanding her, he found himself compelled to kiss her.

Something appeared to snap inside her when his hand snaked up to grip the back of her neck and his mouth came close to hers. Her eyes suddenly became wide with fear, which was quickly joined by an expression of dangerous desperation, like a wild animal that found itself caught in a trap. He realized too late that something was very wrong when she struggled against his solid grip and screamed out a desperate "No!"

He felt the air in the small space between them coalesce a split second before the blast hit him, invisible but as solid as another punch in the face. He let go of her and staggered back, shaking his head to clear the daze from the invisible impact.

She was desperate with the need to defend herself from the perceived assault. Still regaining his balance from the recent attack, he saw her raise up both hands, her palms facing him and emitting a subtle glow. Her expression filled with a combination of emotions that confounded him and he saw her make a small pushing gesture into the air. It briefly registered to him that she was crying before he felt a hard force hit his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. He heard and felt the slight crunch of his ribs cracking and pain shot through his chest at the same instant he felt his feet leave the ground and he flew backwards through the air. His back slammed onto the heavy table a few feet behind him, causing the objects on the table to go flying to the floor in a loud crash.

She said in a voice brittle with both fear and rage, "Now we'll see who has the power."

She closed in on him, her jaw set in a fierce, mirthless grin, her white curls drifting around her face and clinging to her wet cheeks. She looked deadly, even though she had tears streaming down her face and one firm, pink-tipped breast exposed through the rent in her armor. He was still dazed from the loss of wind and the pain in his chest when she reached him.

With gritted teeth bared, she grabbed the front of his trousers solidly in her fist, and ripped them open. She climbed astride him where he lay on the table and leaned over, kissing him harshly on the mouth and making him wince when her teeth bit down on the bleeding wound in his lip.

She reached down and grabbed his already erect cock in her hand, stroking him roughly. The feel of her palm grasping his engorged flesh overwhelmed him, blocking out the possibility of any rational thought. The contact seemed to affect her as well, the desperate look on her face transforming into an expression of dangerous lust. Nothing mattered now but fulfilling their long overdue need.

When he regained control of his reflexes finally, he wrapped his arms around her and deftly turned their bodies so that her back was on the table and his feet firmly planted on the ground for leverage. He felt her legs grip him tightly and ground his hips against hers, burning with increasing need to be inside her. He reached his hands down and ripped her armor further, exposing both breasts. He grasped one soft breast in his hand, tweaking the nipple hard, then bent his head to the other one, ignoring the reproach of his damaged ribs. Before his lips met the firm pink flesh he felt her hand grasp the ponytail at the back of his head and yank hard, pulling his head back up and meeting his eyes with an expression of crazed desire. She sat up and kissed him savagely, a wild, lost look still in her eyes. He felt the surge of power from her again but was too overcome with lust to dodge it before he felt it push him backwards and his backside hit the beleaguered desk, knocking more of its contents to the floor.

She was up in front of him, kissing him hard again, her tongue penetrating his mouth briefly and her teeth worrying at his bloody lip. He heard her making low, incoherent animalistic sounds as she tore at his clothes, ripping desperately at the buckles of his vest and at the shirt beneath until she reached skin. She drew her fingernails down his chest leaving behind reddened lines in his flesh, then savaged his mouth again with her own.

Every touch from her regardless of its violence just incited his passion further. He reached his hands beneath the narrow slits in her leather riding skirt and skillfully unfastened her snug trousers, yanking them down past her bottom and sliding his hands back up to squeeze her taut ass in both hands. He needed to be inside her. She managed to divest herself of her boots and pants just before he grabbed her and turned them both, roughly shoving her back into a nearby bookshelf and pinning her against it. The impact caused the shelf to teeter slightly and dislodged several books that crashed to the floor around them.

He yanked at the supple leather of her skirt, pulling it aside and causing it to rip slightly at the seams, then reached down to grab her roughly behind both thighs, hoisting her up against the shelf behind her. In one powerful stroke he buried his hard length to the hilt inside her. He groaned at the sudden pleasure, his mind reeling at the contradicting sensations of pain and pleasure coursing through his body. She cried out in ecstasy when he entered her and bit down hard on the flesh of his shoulder where his shirt had started sliding off.

He pounded into her in a frenzy of lust, the vibration causing more books to tumble down from the shelves around them, then bent his head down and sunk his own teeth into the soft flesh at the junction of her neck and shoulder, not even stopping when he realized he had drawn blood. She grabbed his ponytail and forced his head back up, crushing her lips to his again and thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. He returned the kiss hungrily.

He felt the muscles in his legs protesting at the exertion, coming so soon after the strenuous battle they'd had earlier. He began to lose balance and staggered backwards. When his ass hit the table behind him, he lay back, pulling Solona on top of him. She dug her fingernails into his chest and continued to ride him, fucking him as hard and with as much crazed need as he had just been burying himself into her. He grasped her hips hard in both hands and forced her to move faster, lifting her up and slamming her hot, wet flesh back down onto his. She cried out loudly in ecstasy and he felt the muscles gripping his cock begin to spasm. He slid his hand down between her thighs and stroked her hard. She came in another wild paroxysm of pleasure. The feel of her spasming muscles gripped him and sent him spiraling to his own sudden and violent climax.

ooOoo

In the main room of the keep, Bekim sat with the others, everyone studiously attempting to ignore the noises coming from the floor above. He caught a few concerned glances flash between Triss and Vesemir. The big black dog lay before the hearth, quiet, but alert to the sounds, occasionally making little noises of doggy concern but clearly uncertain about whether he dared investigate.

When Solona had first stormed through the door Geralt had paused only long enough to drop gloves, cloak, and swords on a rack nearby and had nodded a terse greeting to Bekim, then turned to the others saying he had to deal with something before he stalked up the stairs after Solona.

There was more yelling from above, mixed with more sounds of destruction, giving the impression that a tempest had erupted on the floor above them, but they gradually faded into muffled cries of passion. Lusa whined softly and Vesemir muttered, "This is why we don't have women witchers."

ooOoo

Gradually he came back to his senses to the sound of her hitching breaths and intermittent sobs, and her quiet plea of "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" in between breaths. He could feel her hot tears pooling in the center of his bare chest as she lay against him. What the fuck?

Shit. Had he managed to hurt her during all that? Immediately concerned, he wrapped his arms around her and sat them both up, ignoring the pain that flashed through his chest. Quietly, he said, "Solona? What is it? Why are you crying?" His asking only seemed to make it worse.

Unsure what else he could do, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. After a moment he shifted her off his lap and made an effort to close up his ripped britches. Then he stood up and lifted her into his arms, carrying her limp and crying body from the room and up the flight of stairs to her room at the top of the tower.

Her crying had subsided somewhat when he laid her on her bed. He took a quick moment to more securely re-lace his pants which thankfully hadn't been completely destroyed. Then he lay down next to her, wrapping a gentle arm around her and holding her close.

"Solona," he said again, his voice rough with concern, "Please tell me what's wrong." She took a deep, ragged breath to finally speak, but he was unprepared for what she finally told him.

Her words seemed forced at first, "It was at the Circle... I caught them in a barracks storage room about to hurt her," she spat the word "hurt" out through clenched teeth. "I tried to blast them with a spell and yelled for Nyria to get away. She ran, but they were ready for me." She shrugged, and he sensed something breaking down inside her and held her tighter, stroking her hair gently with his other hand.

She shook her head and said bitterly, "I suppose if you're in the practice of raping mages you need to be prepared for them to be on the offensive, huh?" He looked down at her and saw that tears were still streaming unnoticed down her reddened cheeks. He found a handkerchief in one of his pockets and blotted gently at her tears.

She shrugged weakly and continued, "There were three of them. There just wasn't any... anything I could do." She let out a ragged breath and clung to his hands tightly. "Two of them held me down and the third struck me..." She reached her hand up to trace the scar on her jaw.

"After that it was all a blur..." she spoke as if she were in a trance again and shook her head. He kept his arms around her and closed his eyes tightly, trying to suppress the rage he felt at the idea of her being violated in that way.

She wished she could forget it all. She felt she had managed to heal in the past few years since it had happened, but the ordeal still haunted her dreams frequently. Until now she hadn't told anyone about it, but she continued to speak, unable to keep it all in now that the floodgates had been opened.

The three templars had brutalized her and left her beaten in a bloody, bruised heap in a corner. She had tried to fight back but they had suppressed her magic and had overpowered her. She had felt every pinch, every bite, every searing thrust as they had violated her, but it had been as though she were a bystander watching from outside herself.

A few hours later she still sat curled up in a dark corner of the room they had left her in and had the vague sense of someone entering the room, cursing softly in a familiar and kind voice, then strong arms lifting her up and carrying her to her room. Her friend Jowan was still the only other person who had any idea of what had occurred. When she thanked him for bringing her back, he insisted that he wasn't the one who had found her, but was reluctant to tell her the identity of the person who had.

He continued to hold her after she grew silent and her crying had finally abated. After several minutes of she said quietly, "Geralt, I'm sorry if I hurt you... earlier. And I'm sorry for endangering everyone tonight. I was foolish."

He only kissed her gently on the temple in response and held her tighter. As she drifted off in his arms, the briefest glimpse of memory came to her mind. The sound of that kind voice that had found her, the strong arms topped by black feathered pauldrons, the blonde hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. And the promise that he would make it right if it was the last thing he ever did.

Next Chapter: Learning to fly.