The fight is over, but their work in Stygga castle not yet done. Geralt has friends to bury, much as it pains him.
Chapter II
Once the dizzy spell passed, Geralt leaned against the nearest wall and groaned. No bending then.
The scabbard with the sihil hung over his right arm. It was damn uncomfortable, not to mention unprofessional, but Geralt didn't bother fastening it properly. He couldn't lift either hand high enough to reach for the grip over his shoulder. Putting on his shoes had been almost impossible and Geralt would have rather gone barefoot than swordless, though he very much doubted he could do much if the need arose. The muscles in his back had gone terribly stiff during the night and his left shoulder was a swollen mess.
The only improvement was that his head no longer swam just from sitting or walking. Hardly reassuring when any wrong movement sent a wave of weakness down his spine and his legs threatened to give out. Bending just proved to be one of those movements.
Kneeling wasn't any better. Still, he did kneel by Angouleme's body as she was the first one he found, having followed the way Ciri had come the previous day. Both Ciri and Yennefer were still asleep when he left them and the witcher didn't want to disturb their rest. Since he couldn't rest himself, he carefully disentangled himself from his ladies and sneaked out. Neither woke.
The girl before him didn't either. Geralt looked at her and realised it was probably the first time in months when he saw Angouleme so still. She was – had been – so lively, always ready to jump to her feet, always first with a mouthy retort.
"I was too late." Ciri's voice, though soft, echoed from the high ceiling of the corridor.
The witcher didn't move. He heard her before she even came from behind the corner.
"That, that knight. He told us to run. To find you." The voice was closer now. "I didn't realise in time she was-" There was regret and sadness there and he wished he could wipe them. He wished his girl never had reason to voice such grief.
When he did look up, Ciri was standing over Angouleme's body, hesitant.
"Who was she?"
"A girl we-"
A girl you what? Saved? A girl you said you needed to keep an eye on and look where it got her. The voice in his head was cold. Geralt could see Milva berating him like that, lashing out and having none of his arguments. Not that he had any.
The witcher wiped the blond hair from Angoulême's face and scooped her in his arms, then tried to stand, but never did. Pain almost made him drop her. He leaned forward and curled, neither arm free to support his ribs. He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder and tried to focus on that while he fought for breath. The girl in his arms was stiff and cold, but Ciri's warmth he could feel even through his shirt.
"Geralt, what's going on? You're scaring me." Ciri shook him gently. "Geralt!"
"It's- I'm fine, Ciri. It's alright," he promised, but from the way his strained voice sounded in his own ears, and from the glare Ciri gave him, he could see he wasn't exactly convincing. He forced his fingers to unclench and rested the body back on the floor, then sat heavily and wrapped his arms around his chest. The flame in his right side would not settle.
"Can you get up?"
"Yes," he sighed and stiffly dragged himself up to prove that. "But I can't- Can't leave them lying like that. They deserve burial."
There was nothing left of a child in Ciri's face when she nodded grimly. "There is a yard down by the stables," she offered. She kept close, as if expecting Geralt to fall. "And we don't have to use the main stairs to get there."
"I take it Emhyr didn't leave anyone behind to clean that mess," Geralt winced. All those bodies were like a feast invitation for all sorts of nasty things he didn't want nor had the strength to deal with now. Yet he would not let anything feast on his friends. "Can you- Could you lift her up?"
"We'll take them." The 'we' was non-discussable. Ciri lifted Angouleme and said nothing as Geralt hooked his good arm under the girl's armpit. Ciri followed suit.
It wasn't the fastest nor the neatest way, but they made it down the back stairs and through an empty hallway to the stables. Perhaps there was an inner garden once, perhaps a rosary, long time ago when this castle had been still bustling with life. Not much survived the passing time, save for a few bushes with twigs bereft of leaves and for dried grass that was surely going to spring back to life with the first warmer days. The walls shielded the yard from the snow, but the ground was half frozen anyway. Still, this was the closest place they could use to put his fallen friends for final rest.
xxx
"You didn't think to wait for me?" Yennefer was standing on the top of the lower flight of stairs, her arms crossed. She kept her back straight as she walked down, but her movements were stiff and careful, and lacked her usual grace.
"You were asleep." Geralt kissed her before she stepped down the last step and saved himself bending.
"You could have been too."
"Do you really have to?" Ciri made a face.
"Of course," Yennefer shrugged. "I was denied such simple pleasures for far too long, I'm not going to deny them myself now."
Ciri rolled her eyes and disappeared in the stables, muttering something about checking on their horses. Geralt hummed in agreement, then his eyes fell on Angouleme's body and grief clouded his face again. He felt light touch as Yennefer curled her fingers around his arm, her shoulder barely brushing against his bruised back. He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb caressing the bumps on her bones.
"We need to bring Milva and Cahir, but I don't-"
"I'll bring Regis," Yennefer said softly before he could finish. "I owe it to him," she squeezed his hand back and let go.
"Thank you."
xxx
Geralt crouched with a hiss and picked Milva's bow from the floor where it laid abandoned. It seemed wrong to leave it like that when it was an integral part of her.
Milva herself was where they left her the day before, the red trail marking the way already darkened. She lied in the pool of her own blood and looked oddly peaceful. Geralt had rarely seen her lying, her sleep always light. It had been hard to sneak on her, not that he had ever tried to do so on purpose. And now…
It was wrong.
"Do you remember Brokilon?" Geralt asked after a while, his throat so tight he doubted any sound would make it out. His knuckles turned white on the bow.
"How can I not?" Ciri sent him a crooked smile. For both of them it seemed like a lifetime ago. "Was she from there?"
"Milva was raised among the dryads, yes, but her real name was Maria Barring. She was-" Whatever came to his mind to say, Milva would have probably laughed at. She had not been one for big speeches and pompous declarations, her actions usually speaking more plainly than her words about her heart. "She was a good friend."
xxx
"How about we make a break?" Ciri suggested once Milva was laid next to Angouleme.
"Hungry?" Geralt was anything but, his stomach bearing a dead weight he couldn't hope to lift soon. He was leaning against the column supporting arcades around the yard, trying to slow his hitched breathing. Despite the chill outside he was covered in sweat. And yes, in dire need of a break.
"Mmmhm."
They took the long way back, intending to ask Yennefer to join them, but the sorceress was in the middle of spell casting. She didn't even look at them and shoved them away, but Geralt could see her frustration and anger anyway. Whatever she intended to do, it was clearly taking more effort than she wanted to admit.
Before they left, Ciri stopped over Vilgefortz's body crumpled in the pool of dried blood. She stood there mesmerised and watched, until Geralt grasped her arm.
"Come."
She shook her head as if woken from some kind of dream and strode ahead, pushing past the witcher. Geralt followed.
xxx
"The emperor… Why did you say I couldn't kill him?"
The question caught him off-guard and the witcher flinched. They had been sitting arm in arm in heavy silence, Ciri wolfing down whatever edible she could find and Geralt sipping from a hot mug of herbs in hopes to dull the pain and settle his stomach. That is, until Ciri could no longer hold it back.
"I thought you didn't want to kill anymore?"
"Didn't stop you or me on those stairs." The girl put down her strip of salted pork.
"I know." He put the mug aside as well and couldn't hide a wince as the movement flared his side anew. Feeling faint was the last thing he needed now.
But Ciri would not let go. She moved so that she could sit in front of Geralt. "So? Was it because we had enough killing? Or because… Geralt, tell me. Yesterday. The emperor, he- he called me-" Ciri whispered the last word, mouthed it almost, but for the witcher it was enough.
"Whoreson," Geralt cursed under his breath.
Suddenly Ciri's resolve broke. She sniffed and wiped her cheek with her sleeve in a way Yennefer would have surely chastised, but there was no stopping.
"Why didn't you tell me?!" She was crying now. "You told me to go with him. You wanted me to leave with him!"
"I knew you would escape. I just didn't-"
"Want me to murder my father?" Ciri jumped to her feet, her green eyes glistening. "I almost did! I almost let him murder you!"
"I knew you would have run from him," Geralt repeated, feeling at loss in face of her tears. "He wouldn't have had you."
"That's not the problem! He would have killed you! And you, you-" The girl choked on her own words. "Geralt, why?!"
None of the answers the witcher could offer sounded like they would have calmed her, so Geralt said nothing. That overwhelming, bone-deep exhaustion was back and out of the sudden he was glad he was sitting.
"Because he didn't want you to watch him die, that's why. Is that not good reason enough?" Yennefer broke the silence and entered the room. "Now can you please stop this drama? We are not dead and you are not in the emperor's hands."
"Yen..."
"No, Geralt, I'm too tired to listen to all that," she stopped him short and sat next to him. "I still have work to do and Ciri here offered some food."
There was a moment of stunned silence as both Ciri and Geralt stared at her. She was paler than earlier, he noticed, and he could smell the faint scent of blood she hadn't completely wiped from her hands. She didn't seem to mind and she grabbed a loaf of stale bread; a clear sign she was far more weary than she let on.
"You knew?" The witcher asked finally, trying his best to ignore tears still gleaming in Ciri's eyes.
"I had my suspicions. And yes, your thoughts were screaming about that when you came back with Emhyr." Yennefer answered. Her eyes fell on Ciri and her expression softened. "There is no need to dwell on that, my daughter. He won't touch you. And we are here."
Ciri scoffed, but dropped the matter and returned to her food, her gaze deliberately averting both of them. Yennefer looked like she was about to comment on her slouching, but she said nothing. It took the whole loaf of bread and half a mug of watered wine before she realised Geralt was still sitting hunched over his wounded side.
She put the food down and glared at him. "Show me."
"What?"
"I can't do much healing now," the sorceress hissed angrily, twisting her fingers. "So please don't make it harder."
"I know. It's alright, I'll live."
Yennefer's eyes were raging. The witcher expected her to explode and take out her anger on the nearest damageable object, but she just slumped next to him.
"No. I literally can't. Healing spells are subtle and my fingers just won't bend enough to- Never mind. Sit still."
"You don't have to use spells so soon, I can-"
"I wasn't asking," The violet eyes glared coldly at him. "Sit still."
Geralt obeyed. Yennefer pulled his shirt up as high as she could without forcing him to lift his arms. The witcher inhaled sharply and saw Ciri's eyes go wide in alarm. He knew his back and right side turned black and purple. And they hurt.
Yennefer muttered spells and curses alike as she ran her stiff fingers along his broken ribs. Her touch loosened some of his cramping muscles and soothed the worst stabbing pain. Geralt tried not to move, half expecting the pain to return the moment he made half the wrong movement. He sat still while Yennefer wrapped two rolls of bandages tight around his chest. Once she was done, Geralt tried to bend and found the bandages stopping him before pain did.
"Yen' I can't move in that," he complained. He had every suspicion the dressing itself would not have restrained him so.
"Keep it like that for now. And if you can't move, take the hint and don't." Yennefer scoffed, then sniffed the remains in his mug and took a long swig.
"What about you?" Geralt asked when he realised she was drinking his herbs. "How's your ribs?"
"Better than yours," Yennefer shrugged, but saw his insistent stare and sighed. "I can prompt my own healing more intuitively. Now let me see…" she placed her hands on his shoulder.
Geralt sighed in relief. "Thank you, that's-"
"That's precisely what you're not supposed to do." Yennefer grabbed his elbow before he could check the possible range of movement. "I told you I can't do much except easing the pain, you need to actually let it heal. I can't be sure you haven't cracked something there."
"Can't tell either," Geralt muttered and leaned back, resting his arm on his lap. Even loosening the tension in the muscles of his back was a relief.
"Put it in a sling for a few days and we'll see."
"Once we're done."
xxx
Geralt said nothing when they finally went to move Cahir. The Nilfgaardian was the hardest to carry because of his posture and his armour. It seemed wrong to talk about the young soldier, whom Geralt had once wished to see dead, and whom he had grown to tolerate and even like. Despite their differences and their clashes, they had still managed to work out a tentative truce and a kind of brotherhood the witcher still had trouble understanding.
It was Ciri who felt the urge to talk.
"It's so wrong," she said, her green eyes locked in the body before her. "For so long I wanted to see him dead. I imagined that almost every evening before you threatened to take my sword away."
Geralt remembered that night all too well. Him lashing out at her foolishness, her running away and falling from the wall. They never spoke of it again. Ciri dropped the subject of revenge for good and Geralt made sure he explained the reasoning behind his orders and prohibitions.
"I spared him on Thanned," the witcher confessed when the silence became too heavy. "Only because he was the one who carried you safely from Cintra."
"I wanted to see him like this and-," Ciri stopped, thoughtful, and looked at Geralt. "And he came here with you. To find me. It makes no sense."
Geralt wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He understood too well the mixed feeling towards the Nilfgaardian who wasn't from Nilfgaard.
"It made little sense for a while," he admitted. "But I learned to trust him to have my back. And that's enough."
xxx
Before dusk came, there were three graves on the yard. The fourth one was empty, the stone over the first spring flowers being the only memorial. Yennefer joined them last and brought the stone formed from the column parts. This was all she was able to do with Regis's body disintegrated to the point it had melted into one with the stones.
Geralt was grateful anyway. He could still hear the shriek Regis had made when Vilgefortz had torn him apart and very much doubted he could ever forget it.
"Stop it, Geralt." Yennefer shushed him. "Don't do this."
He said nothing. Yennefer swayed and leaned on him. They were both shivering from cold and exhaustion again, but Geralt couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. He put his arm around her waist to steady her. The sling Yennefer forced on him prevented him from doing the same with Ciri, but didn't stop her from clinging to him.
"Is it over now?"
Yet again Geralt heard in Ciri's voice not the maturing girl by his side, but that wide-eyed child in Kaer Morhen coming to him in the middle of the night as another nightmare chased her sleep away. He wished he could nod and promise her it was. He envied her this hope and was glad Ciri couldn't pick his thoughts like Yennefer. The sorceress must have read him again, because he felt her tense and frown. She said nothing.
The witcher smiled.