The Witcher: Black and White
Underground
Dendri awoke suddenly from in the dark chamber they were keeping him in. His arms and legs were pinned by dimeritium bars on an upright circular platform that was nailed against the far wall. He had no idea why the Knights were keeping him alive seeing as how he was a sorcerer. He only hoped the raven had made it back to Lady Yennefer.
A loud clanking sound echoed through his chamber then the wide door which was the only entrance and exit opened up. Three men clad in steel armor from head to foot walked in holding well crafted pikes tipped with plated iron. A fourth man strolled in wearing a wine colored jerkin and a silver cape draped over his right shoulder. The man's hair was long and dark with streaks of grey and a neatly trimmed beard.
"So," the well dressed one said. "You are the bird my men shot down."
Dendri looked up where he was held against the wall. "Lucky hit." he said, still feeling where the bolt had entered and exited his chest.
The man nodded, then gestured for the armored ones to leave. They did so.
"You know who I am, yes?" the man asked after a brief silence.
Dendri did his best shrug. "If I did, I wouldn't be here, I reckon."
The man took in a sharp breath. "I am the honorable Sir Adius Turnican of the Knights of Roshytta. You are a good-for-nothing magician who stumbled into the wrong place. Now, you will tell me who sent you here."
Dendri smiled. "Your mother, she told me to tell you your porridge is getting cold."
Turnican wordlessly took a step forward and back handed Dendri across his pale face. When Dendri looked back, the Knight's face was boiling with anger.
"You freaks never learn." he growled.
He reached behind him and withdrew a long knife that glimmered with silver, Dendri stared at the blade worryingly. Turnican slowly touched the edge of Dendri's mouth with it before noting the long locks of silver hair.
Turnican grabbed one and held it before Dendri's face. "You like your hair, do you not?"
Dendri nodded.
Turnican pulled on the hair and sliced through it, repeating the action over and over until Dendri's head was an uneven mess of not so graceful silver hair.
"Are you satisfied?" Dendri asked sadly.
Turnican laughed. "I haven't yet started."
Turnican took the knife and slowly brought it again to Dendri's mouth, slowly sticking the blade behind his teeth and up against his cheek. Dendri's red eyes became wide as he realized what was about to happen. He began shaking his head and begging for the Knight to stop but he did not. Turnican flashed he gleaming white teeth in a smile before forcefully pulling the sharp knife through Dendri's cheek in a spray of blood.
Dendri screamed uncontrollably from the pain. When he quieted down, Turnican took the blade and did it again to the other cheek, another bout of screams. It lasted most of the night, until Dendri hadn't the heart to even speak anymore, he was utterly broken.
Turnican sat on a simple wooden chair in front of him, his jerkin splattered with blood but nevertheless concealed by the wine color of his outfit. In his hands, he fiddled with the knife that cut Dendri's mouth open in a wide sickly smile.
Turnican cleared his throat. "Why do they call you 'Silver Snake?' Last I saw you turned yourself into a raven."
Dendri looked up. "I, I can turn into many things. Animals, mostly." he said quietly.
"Like a snake, mayhaps?"
Dendri nodded.
Turnican cocked his head to one side. "Fascinating, quite an agent of espionage you'd be."
"I was." Dendri admitted.
"Well, spit it out, what happened!?" Turnican shouted.
"I was a spy for Emperor Emhyr, but I defected and found myself in the service of Yennefer of Vengerberg. She sent me here to scout your fortress."
Turnican stood up and walked over to Dendri. "What does she know?" he hissed.
Dendri laughed weakly. "Everything." he hissed back.
Turnican's face contorted into a deep glare, then he turned back to the door. "Guards!" he called.
Two soldiers in simple chain mail and steel caps walked in. Turnican gestured to the prisoner.
"Take him to the dungeon." he ordered.
Dendri was too weak to resist as the Roshytta guards pulled him from the dimeritium and dragged him across the floor all the way to the dungeons. He was placed in a small cell that smelled of shit and piss.
Lovely. Dendri thought to himself as they tossed him in and locked the door.
The cell had a single window. From it, Dendri could see that it was early morning and that they were nestled high in the cliffs of the Mountains.
"Quite the view, ain't it?" a raspy voice called from the darkness.
Dendri whirled around to see who was there but he saw nothing. Then, two small golden orbs appeared in the corner of the cramped cell.
"Who are you?"
The orbs moved upwards, now he could tell that they were eyes of a man standing up. Eyes like that of a Witcher.
"People call me Sonfrith." Sonfrith said.
"You're a Witcher." Dendri guessed.
The eyes nodded and Sonfrith stepped out so that he was partially illuminated. He was wearing rough soiled robes and wrappings around his hands and feet. His long hair went down to his buttocks and was black with grey here and there.
"Do you know Geralt of Rivia? I need to find him." Dendri said.
Sonfrith sighed. "Geralt's here, somewhere. I don't know where, they don't say much, these whoreson guards."
Dendri's red eyes narrowed. "How can I trust you?"
Sonfrith crossed his thin arms. "I've been here a year. What reason do I have to lie to you?"
/
The rental carriage moved slowly through the countryside with it's overcast skies. Yen, Triss, and Dandelion held on for dear life inside the carriage while Zoltan rode behind on a pony, fit for his stature. Tizus rode beside him on a regular sized horse. On the carriage bench, driving the team of horses was Marvo and Ciri who were taking the time to talk, they'd have plenty of time.
"So, Geralt took you into his service too?" Marvo said.
"Yes, aside from being the heir to the throne of Nilfgaard, I am trained in your Witchery arts." she replied.
"The battle on Undvik three years ago, that was you and Geralt's doing, then?"
Ciri leaned back and sighed. "Inadvertently. I was being hunted by a group of riders from another world, the Wild Hunt."
"Heard of 'em. Ugly bastards." Marvo commented.
"Geralt killed their regicide king Eredin and I stopped the White Frost from claiming our world."
"Sounds like one of those 'Chosen Ones' from fairy tales, doesn't it?" said Marvo.
Ciri laughed. "Yeah, it kinda does."
After a few minutes of silence, Marvo popped a question. "Did you see much of Geralt after Undvik?"
Ciri shook her head. "Not a whole lot. He'd be travelling or I'd be and there'd be very little time or communication. It was only after his disappearance did I come into contact with Yen and Triss again."
Inside the carriage, Triss leaned in close to Yen and whispered something.
"I think she's starting to like him." Triss said quietly.
"Ah, love is a wonderful thing. A budding flower, and when fully bloomed shall be picked and presented to a fair maiden." Dandelion said dramatically.
Yen frowned at the bard. "And what would you know of love, besides bedding each woman you come across with breasts the size of your head?"
"I happen to know a lot, Lady Yennefer. Mayhaps I'd show you." Dandelion grinned.
Yen sighed. "If you weren't Geralt's best friend, you'd not have any teeth left."
Zoltan's voice rang from outside the carriage. "There she is!"
Yen and Triss both opened the windows on either side of the carriage to see what Zoltan was talking about. Sure enough, there it was. A small city that ran along the Temeria side of the Pontar, Kelama was a bustling town that made a large sum of profit from the thousands upon thousands of fish and other aquatic creatures their many nets caught.
Marvo sniffed the air. "Smells like fish."
Ciri bumped him in the shoulder. "The largest producer of fish this side of the Pontar is bound to smell just a little bit like fish."
Marvo shrugged in response. "Home sweet home, I guess." he mumbled.
A column of fog had rolled in over the town and only the handful of tall chapels were visible above it. It was here the crew of ragtag of misfits would make base for the foreseeable future, might as well have made the best of it.