Keira De Leitz, a Witcher of the Kestrel School woke to the screams of a damsel in distress.

Chapter 1

It was the screams that alerted her to the danger, the high-pitched womanly screams that sounded slightly off. Keira was to her feet, sword in hand, blade tucked behind her, and moving before the person stopped to take in another breath. She wove between the trees, honed in on the sound. There was a faint light, perhaps from a fallen lamp, as the flickering didn’t seem like torch light. It was a slight distance away based on the tree shadows she could count but she should be there in a minute or so. No matter, she was nearing quickly, thick black braid trailing in her wake, kestrel medallion bouncing lightly between her breasts.

There in a small clearing was someone brightly dressed, yellow hair only to shoulders, screaming loud enough to cover the noises the group of nekker surrounding the tree the person clinging to were making. A glance told Keira there were six of the creatures, with two of them being warriors, as evident by the larger build and reach. This was not going to be fun, as she had left her armor at camp, so she would have to avoid getting hit. Well, such was the Path.

Closing with the hairless creatures, she thrust one hand out casting Aard, while the other swung her prized sihil she had earned decades prior. The magicked sword sliced through the nekker effortlessly and she moved towards the tumble of creatures still slightly stunned by the telekinetic blast. With a skip and hip turn she managed to dispatch one of the warriors and a second creature with a back swing as the others scrambled to their feet, hissing angrily at her. The sound of a blast off to the right was slightly concerning but she had more pressing issues.

A quick Quen stopped a claw rake down her back in a burst of orange light as the shield took the brunt of the damage and a back thrust with her blade struck home. She twisted the blade on the way out for extra damage. Something was moving through the woods towards her and the screamer in the tree and she hoped it wasn’t anything larger than these creatures. With a quick weight shift and pirouette, she spun under a slash, bringing her blade across the belly of the creature, spilling it open. There was a shriek and she turned, seeing pieces of the last warrior nekker fall to the ground.

There holding a silver blade was a white haired Witcher she knew all too well, thanks to many a song and tale. This had to be Geralt of the Wolf School, probably the most famous of their kind, based on all the songs she had heard. And if that was Geralt, that would make the screamer…

“Jaskier, shut up. You’re safe,” growled Geralt, pulling a rag free to clean his blade, like Keira herself was doing, scanning the clearing for any more foes. Once his scan was complete, he said, “Thank you for keeping my idiot friend safe.”

She turned face on and Geralt breathed in slightly deeper at sight of her golden eyes, similar to his own. That was the only faint sign of his surprise. There wasn’t even a flicker of a glance at the vertical scar crossing her right eye. “No problem Geralt. Keira de Leitz, I thought I was coming to the aid of a damsel in distress.”

Geralt snorted while Jaskier huffed while struggling to get out of the tree, “Now see here, I’ll have you know…”

“What school are you from? I don’t recognize your medallion?” Geralt rolled right over the protests of his friend, not wanting the bard to gain any momentum.

“Kestrel.”

“Kestrel?” Geralt actually looked surprised at that. “I thought all the members of your school were dead.”

With a shrug Keira answered, “There are still some of us left, many working with Queens or Sorceresses rather than on the Path. The Aerie actually survived several attacks on it but we did lose those knowledgeable in the Trials. So it goes.”

“Humph… like they want us around anyway.” Both Witchers grinned at each other at the well-known truth.

No spotting any other signs of a camp, Keira asked, “Do you have a camp? I have one over that way.”

Geralt nodded, “We were going to but Jaskier found their nest instead. He fled and I cleaned it out. We’d be happy to share a camp.” He whistled loudly. Two horses wandered in, one tied to the other. Geralt walked up to the dark brown one and pet its nose. “Good Roach.”

There was a slight yelp and crash, both Witchers turning to look at Jaskier, crumpled at the foot of the tree. Keira shook her head and walked back towards her camp. She reached camp first and tossed a few more logs on the fire, encouraging the flickering flames rising from the coals. She then set a wider circle of dust around the site, sure that the alchemical mix would keep back anything that might want to assault while they slept. The flames were dancing nicely and had caught on the wood when Geralt and Jaskier came up, each leading their own horses.

Jaskier gave her a florid bow and said in a very courtly manner, “Thank you dear lady for my timely rescue.”

Keira raised an eyebrow and smirked, mimicking his manner of speech, “The pleasure was all mine good sir. I am honor bound to rescue lords in distress, though damsels are more traditional.”

Geralt snorted as he loosely tied Roach to some branches by her dappled gray. Keira grabbed her wine skin and tossed it his way. He undid the top and sniffed before taking a long swig. He roughly handed it over to Jaskier, after he finished securing his horse, who was much daintier about drinking from it.

After the bard took a second swig, he asked, “I was not aware there were different schools for Witchers.”

Keira glanced over at Geralt and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Geralt only grunted in response, dumping his bedroll in an open spot near the fire. She rolled her eyes and faced the bard. “Yes, there are or rather were several. Do you know the history of the Witchers?”

“A little. Oxenfurt academy has texts on the Order of Witchers from the 10th century but not much else, save a mention here and there. Geralt has only told me that he is in the School of the Wolf, hence his medallion. I have pieced together some stuff but that’s about it. On this subject he is rather taciturn.”

“Right, if I remember correctly, after the Order broke apart, different leaders emerged with different ideas as to how best to prepare Witchers. There was something like fifteen or so Schools for a few decades but time and human fear dwindled our numbers,” explained Keira, sitting back on her bedroll, taking another swig.

“Human fear?” asked Jaskier in a voice so confused that both Keira and Geralt looked at him askance.

With a growl, Geralt replied, “Remember how people treated me before your damn song went everywhere?”

Jaskier’s eyes widened and he grimaced in understanding, “Sorry. Fear of the unknown… right.”

“Let’s just say that mobs with torches and pitchforks or supplemented by some local lord with their nuts in a twist have attacked the Schools and killed any Witcher they could get. All schools have gone through that. The first School to go was the Dog.”

Geralt looked interested, “Never heard of that one.”

“Not surprised. It was in a city in Redania. Their image was a loyal dog protecting humans/ their masters, not that it helped. The screams from the Trial of Grasses were not muffled enough by the building walls and the frightened populace rose up against them. That was the last school built close to people.”

“Kaer Morhen was not far enough away to avoid assault. Several groups have attacked, most bolstered by some preacher denouncing our evil ways,” stated Geralt.

“The assaults on the Aerie were much the same. We just had the benefit of being located up in the Kestrel Mountains for additional safety.”

“So, what makes the Schools so different?” inquired Jaskier, not wanting either Witcher to grow maudlin over past wrongs.

“Each school had a slightly different approach to hunting, slightly different signs, potions, and such that we used. Also, the Trials themselves were slightly different, with different groups having different alchemists and Sorcerers creating them. And not all of them were good.”

“What do you mean?” Jaskier was clearly enjoying learning all of this, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Enough,” growled Geralt. “It’s late, I’m tired, and its all ancient history. You can bug Kiera tomorrow if we’re traveling the same way.” Geralt laid down on his bedroll and turned his back to the fire, putting a final stamp on the conversation.

Jaskier looked plaintively over at Kiera, who honestly had no desire to keep talking either. Discussing the Trials might bring up uncomfortable truths from the past and she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about them. Besides, she had been woken from sleep to rescue this bard and she was tired. When she laid down as well, Jaskier huffed and pulled out his lute, playing softly, in deference to the sleepers. The notes lulled Kiera to sleep.

*************

The faint kiss of morning came cold with a light fog playing low over the ground. Geralt was already awake, cooking some rashers of bacon, some halves of rolls to the side as he worked. Kiera sat up and smiled at the White Wolf, who nodded back. Jaskier was still snoring softly despite the sizzling and enticing smell.

He pulled the thick slices of bacon once they were finished and put the rolls cut side down into the bacon grease, “This’ll be ready soon.”

“Thanks. I have some cheese if you want? A sharp cheddar and a Korviri Blue.”

“Sure.” She handed over the cheese wedges which he cut with a knife before handing them back. “Cheese?”

“What! Cheese is excellent and besides the Blue is tasty and can double as bait in a pinch, especially with some necrophages.”

Geralt chuckled as he handed over breakfast. They each had two bacon and cheese rolls, another pair off to the side waiting for the bard to wake up. There was hints of birdsong playing through the air, letting both Witchers relax their guard a little more, since the wildlife was not announcing a predator in their midst. They ate in silence. As Keira took a bite of her second roll Geralt mentioned, “Trial of Clay, right? The only school to use that.”

Keira struggled not to spit out her food in surprise. Where had that come from? Once she swallowed, she replied tartly, “That’s right. What of it?”

“Nothing. I know your Trial of Grasses was supposed to provide stronger changes to the musculature, senses, ligaments and tendons, so you had to prepare your bodies first. That’s really all anyone else knew.”

Keira winced internally, that was one way to describe what had happened. “There is more to it.”

“There always is.” Geralt took a swig of his water skin. “Were heading towards Novigrad from here and from there on to Oxenfurt.”

“I am as well, even to the school. There are some scrolls I am looking for and hoped their Library has them.” Keira was not saddened by this development. It was also safer in numbers. “Shall we travel together?”

Geralt nodded. He then drew his silver sword and began to check his weapon over, checking the edges especially. “That was good sword work last night. I thought your school preferred range over getting close.”

Keira sighed, taking out her Sihil and going over it as well. “We do. Our laminate composite recurve bows can generate sufficient power to punch through even dragon scale. And we have several trick arrows that can help matters as well. But when we strike up close, we do it hard and fast, aiming for critical strikes. Several of our trainers worked with Wolf and Viper and even with Gryphon from Kaer Seren, so we have a wide array of techniques at our disposal. Add to that the fact that we have Dwarf friends that provide us with Sihils, and there you go.”

“I would have thought that with the Viper training you would use two blades?”

“I can use those, but mostly we borrowed some of their movement patterns. We don’t have the raw strength so we aimed for speed and flexibility. And a few odd tricks,” she said with a wink.

With a nod Geralt picked up a stick and threw it at Jaskier, “If you can eavesdrop you can wake up.”

Jaskier sat up, yawned dramatically, and stretched, “Morning already?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, “There’s food. We need to ride.”

As Jaskier languidly ate his rolls, the two Witchers expertly struck camp, buried the coals, and hid the most obvious signs of their having been there. They saddled the horses, with Geralt saddling Jaskier’s bay as well. They wound through the trees towards what passed as a road. The trace was basically a slightly wider trail, with occasional ruts from small carts but certainly nothing grander than that. Bird song increased as the fog wisped away in the growing light.

In single file they rode, as the sun rose higher in the sky, warming the forest, the bare limbs of the trees providing scant shade. Jaskier, held back until he was riding alongside Keira, who was riding tail. “Could you please tell me more about yourself and your school. As thanks for your rescue I want to compose a song about you, the Black Kestrel, because your hair is so dark it provides an amazing contrast to the White Wolf.”

Keira pinched the bridge of her nose. Bards. Her blue-black hair was nothing special, many in her School had that hair, as there was something in the mutagens they consumed that altered everything, even the hair. All shades went darker under the Trials, just a weird quirk of the alchemy that remade them. “Right… what do you want to know?”

“Your origin, adventures, anything that might be the spark to bring this ballad to life.” He said grandiosely. “I mean, honestly, I can’t sing about Geralt all the time, people might talk.”

With a sigh, and some fear that she might regret this, given the songs she had heard about Geralt, she said, “Fine.”