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.”

The Black Kestrel: A Witcher Tale

Kade is apprenticed to be a Witcher

A/N: Not even remotely the creator of the novels, a game designer for CDProjektRed, or a showrunner over at Netflix, let alone for Hexer or any other property possibly related to the Novels.

A/N 2: I’ll get back to other works soon, I’ve just been out of the writing groove for a while thanks to having no computer. This is helping me get back there.

Chapter 2

Kade rubbed his nose. The scent of the tanning and curing was always so strong and he wasn’t a fan of that smell, despite it being present every day of his life. Of course, he helped his father and brothers at work despite being the youngest of four boys. True, that helped basically manifested itself as carrying buckets of water or bringing in fresh straw for the floors, since he was just barely five years old, but he stayed busy trying his best. Market day was coming and some of the traders coming from far and wide might be interested in buying some of the prepared leather they had, as well as things that could be found here near the foot of the Kestrel Mountains. Kade was really proud of his dad because he even made leather good enough for armor use, which fetched decent coin.

Hefting the laden basket higher, Kade moved into the tanning house and over to where his father should be. Taking lunch to his father and brothers was also part of his job, and he was proud of himself that he could carry all that food by himself. While he couldn’t see them, he could certainly hear them, plus one other voice, gruffer than anyone he was familiar with and with little inflection, “…like I said, I wanted to see what there was available before the Market. If the quality is good, we can set up a recurring purchase so you have reliable income.”

Peeking around one of the vats, Kade could see his father standing with his arms crossed, looking over at the mysterious man dressed in all black armor with a strange sort of bird-like medallion dangling on his chest. He was wearing two swords and strong looking leather armor as he stood there, unmoving. What made Kade gasp was the yellow slitted eyes, that flicked his way when he made that noise. His father replied, “I’m not comfortable working with Witchers.”

“And that’s why we always pay in gold,” stated the strange man.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” growled his father, seemingly upset.

With a shrug the man replied, voice calm through it all, “A little. Basically, this is a business venture, we would like five hides a season, prepared as for armor. Someone from the school will come down to pick them up and pay you for the next order. We recognize the value of your skill and are trying to make sure that you have the money to buy the goods and prepare them for us. How is that a bad deal for you?”

As his father was musing this Kade saw no reason to hold back, coming up next to him and lifting the heavy basket, saying, “Da, lunch.”

His father smiled and took the basket from Kade. He had been carrying it with both arms and his Da lifted it with ease. This Witcher, whatever that was, was looking at him curiously. Turning back to the conversation, his father caught the look on the man’s face. “What?”

“Your son, if you wish, he can be apprenticed up at the Aerie. It is an honorable profession after all.” The statement was flat, with little apparent care, as if the statement were nothing so important. But if it weren’t important why would he say it?

With a slight growl, his father turned to face the man, “That’s not for discussion.”

“Fair enough. I wanted to put the option out there because I know you have four boys.” The Witcher shrugged and pulled free a bag of coin. “None the less, like I said I have payment on me right now for the hides and as an advance on another order.”

Putting a hand out, his father took the bag of coins, and looked inside, “Fine. You can have these five here and I’ll be sure to have another five ready for you next season.”

“Thank you, Goodman, it has been an honor working with you.” The man turned and started to walk out, “I have a few more stops to make before I leave. Can you have someone prep them for me?”

With a nod, his father dismissed the man from his thoughts. He opened the basket and grabbed a hardboiled egg, consuming it in two bites. He looked over his shop, his three eldest, and over to the house before looking back down at Kade. “Kade, go be a good lad and fetch your mother.”

“Yes Da!” Kade turned and ran back towards the house, far enough away that the smells of the leather work and tanning were not as potent. He was nearly distracted by a puppy but was able to maintain his focus long enough to reach the house again.

His mother was on the porch, mending shirts when he came back, occasionally rubbing a hand over her belly. Apparently, he was going to be a big brother soon, which sounded exciting. Stopping in front of her, Kade said, “Ma, Da wants to talk.”

“Fine, lunch is inside.” She put her mending down and headed towards the tannery, leaving Kade to eat. After he was done, he wasn’t sure what to do. His mother usually told him to do something by now but she was apparently still over at the tannery. He shrugged and set to work tidying things inside. It always made his mother smile when he helped out with the house.

It was a short bit later when she came back into the house and saw him, switching out the rushings. Her lips were firm, eyes wet, but he was unsure as to why. Why was his Ma sad? “Kade, you need to bundle up your things. Your Da decided to apprentice you out and you’re leaving today.”

Eyes wide in surprise, Kade weakly questioned, “Ma?”

She came over and hugged her boy, running a hand gently down his hair. “It’s alright son. We knew this was a possibility. You’ll be missed, be sure of that, but I’m sure you’ll make us proud. Now, get your things.”

Kade slowly gathered his extra shirt and trews, his leggings and warmer coat, with his blanket. His mother gave him a set of the wooden utensils his father had carved over the winter and then helped him bundle it all up and bind it with an extra length of leather cord they had lying about. Unsure of what was going on, he kept looking around the house as if it was going to be the last time. She walked him to the tannery, where his brothers were looking solemn and slightly dour. His father knelt by him, “I’ve thought about it and decided you’re going with that Witcher. They are a strange but honorable guild that fights monsters keeping regular folk safe. Apprenticing you has always been the goal, Kade, but nobody has been looking. This way I’ll know you’ll be taken care of.”

Kade felt his heart tighten, but he stayed strong and nodded, “Yes Da.”

“And maybe you’ll come in from time to time, hey. After all, I do have a standing order from them.” The smile his Da gave him was not the strongest but was enough to calm his racing heart.

Kade nodded. He sort of understood what was going on.

“Okay, say goodbye to your brothers and then wait by the leather order, there’s a good lad.”

*****

When the man came back, he spoke with his father for a bit and then hefted the rolled-up hides. “It has been a pleasure Goodman.”

His father grunted and looked over at him, “Go now Kade. May the Gods bless you.”

Kade ran up and hugged his father, who awkwardly removed him from his leg. “Go now son. Be brave.”

With a teary nod, Kade turned and followed the Witcher outside where he had a horse and a pack animal. With deft skill he secured the leather to the pack animal as well as his bundle. He mounted his horse, bent down and picked him up from the ground with little visible effort. Soon they were riding out of the only world Kade had ever known and into the dark forest beyond.

Kade was too scared or nervous to talk and the Witcher seemed disinclined to converse with him. The forested trail leading up into the mountains was mostly quiet, with animal and bird sounds scattered here and there. The trees were tall and thick though as they rode higher the trees thinned and grew shorter. Smaller scrub and rocks predominated and the trail was slightly wider. As the sun began to fade the Witcher made camp in a small copse of trees, not giving him any directions, simply setting everything in order with the ease of long practice.

Once the fire was going, the Witcher set a pot on the fire and began to prepare some food. When he spoke it surprised Kade enough that he jumped, “So boy, wondering what you have been given over to?”

With a bob of his head, Kade answered.

There was a slight grimace, before he said, “Do you know what Witchers are?”

“Not really sir. You fight monsters?”

“Right. There are various groups of us gathered into schools, and like you said, we fight monsters, such as Bruxa, Kikimora, Dragons, Drowners, and the like. We do this for pay, getting money from nobles and village headmen. We are well paid for our services for the most part because we have the knowledge and skill to do this and survive. However, to do this we are changed to be able to fight against such foes. I’m taking you to the School of the Kestrel, which is up deeper in the mountains. I’m from the school of the Griffin, and I have been through… similar processes. They’re not easy and could kill you, but if you make it through you can save many people’s lives.”

That sounded okay, more like a fairy tale than the truth but here was one of them right in front of him and he had those strange eyes despite being human. “Changed?”

“Aye, changed.” The Witcher looked right at him with those yellow eyes. “Surely you’ve noticed my eyes?” Kade nodded. “That’s just one of the changes. I’ll let them tell you about it, because Kestrel is not the same school as mine, so there are some major differences.”

“But… afterwards I can fight monsters?” Kade’s voice shook a little as he asked that.

“Oh yes, you can most certainly fight monsters. Now sit and I’ll tell you about some of my hunts, so you can have an idea about what life on the Path is like.”

Kade did as he was told and sat with wide eyes as the man spoke of hunts he had been on, villages saved, lives changed, even about once fighting a dragon. As the flames died out, sleep claimed him and his dreams were filled with heroic acts out of legends.

A few days later those dreams seemed like mist. They crested a ridge and castle came into view. The Aerie was a foreboding castle built on the slopes of the Grand Kestral, the peak which the range was named after. The keep had strong walls and only a narrow pass up to the gates that looked easily defensible. It was also the first castle Kade had ever seen. If he hadn’t been seated in front of the Witcher on the man’s horse it’s likely he would have stood there all day just trying to take it in. Once across the drawbridge, it reminded him a little of his village which made him frown. Weren’t knights and stuff supposed to be in castles, not just regular people?

“Jerome! You’re back.”

Kade looked over at the voice and the largest and strongest looking woman Kade had ever seen was standing inside the gate. She had black hair up in a braid, wearing armor and had a single sword strapped across her back with a dark wood recurve bow in her hand. There was a faint scar across one cheek and some on her arms. She was the most impressive woman Kade had ever seen. No one in the village even remotely looked like that.

“Greetings Margarethe, I got you set up with the local Tanner, and a few of the farmers. There are some miners who have made some interesting finds but they wanted some time to think it over before providing ore. I have the leather and food you requested,” replied Jerome with a smile. “They weren’t happy with making the deals but they did agree.”

With a nod, Margarethe looked over at the boy and asked, “And who is this?”

“Kade, the Tanner’s fourth son. He’s here to be apprenticed.”

Her eyes cut from the boy to Jerome, “Is he now.”

“Yes, the charm you gave me indicated that he had whatever it was your school looks for. When I get back to mine, I’ll pass that idea along, as it might help with recruitment. And if he’s strong enough you can see if any of my father’s formulae are workable with your system.” Jermone slid from the saddle and took the reins. He walked the horses closer as he spoke.

“Yes, well… we’ll see what Trimaeus thinks. Thank you for this.”

“Well, I owed you for putting me up over winter.” Jerome shrugged as if it were no issue, then helped Kade down from the saddle, moving him so he stood in front of the woman.

Margarethe nodded and looked down at Kade, who shifted uncomfortably under her yellow eyes, “Well, you’re not the only boy here to try his luck. Let me take you to the others.”

The lower area of this castle was filled with different wooden buildings. He spotted an armor maker, a weaponsmith who seemed to double as a general smith as well, and a few other tradesmen. The castle seemed well fortified as well, though there were a few spots of rubble and wear. Moving up a ramp to an inner gate, Margarethe took Kade from the lower courtyard to the lower bailey. In a smaller but more open space there was a group of young boys, no more than four of them, running in a circle, being watched over by a tall thin man with dark black hair, similar to Margarethe’s and a wicked scar crossing his face. He wore twin swords and armor, like the other Witchers he had seen. Margarethe stopped an called out, “Varnir! Got another one.” She then turned to Kade, “Go on over to them, they’ll take care of you.”

Kade clutched his bedroll to him safely as he walked over to the others, who had been called to a stop and were panting on the ground. Varnir stood over the small boy and appraised him for a long few minutes, “You shall do. Put your things down and join us.”

Varnir ran them hard, so hard Kade actually started throwing up. Since the man didn’t tell him to stop, he kept trying, wanting to make his family proud of him. If he was going to be a hero he had to start somewhere.

The Trial of Clay

Chapter 3

The blankets were a bit rough but not that bad, as was the bed. Kade had to admit that in some ways it was better than the one at home, since the ropes were nice and tight, making it more comfortable for him alone. His whole family had shared one bed back home, especially during winter, so everyone could share the warmth. The ropes were tightened only four times a year, so towards the end it wasn’t the best. In all honesty, Kade would have been pleased to just have a warm place to lay his bed roll, but his own bed? No one from his little village would ever believe this, since shared sleeping was common given how expensive beds could be. He had been here at the Aerie for over a month so far, and it had been pretty much the same routine each day. They stretched, they ran, they lifted heavy things, they ran, they stretched, they worked with weapons, they ate, and they ran. He ached everywhere, even in places he didn’t know he had. Playing was one thing, but this was not play.

The other boys here with him all were extra sons who had been given over to Witchers to have the hope of a career. A few seemed to resent it but what could they do. All of them were here in the castle several days from civilization. There were no girls that he saw either except for adult Witchers, which seemed strange to him. If girls were allowed to be Witchers, wouldn’t there be some here? And he was the youngest of the group though not by much, as the oldest was nearly seven. Varnir watched the group like a hawk at all times, seeming to sense what they were up to even if he was looking a different direction. They weren’t able to get into even a little bit of mischief with his hawk eyes seeing everything.

Just before bed, Varnir came into the dorm and looked over all the boys, when all of them were tired and just wanting sleep after another grueling day of training. They stood in a line, like he had taught them to do, waiting for what he had to say. “I know you all want to sleep, but you need to know that in a week’s time you will be undergoing your first Trial to become a Witcher of this school, the Trial of Clay. This Trial is to prepare you with the next Trial you will face, which is the Trial of Grasses. Our school does this so you have the best chance of success possible. To that effect, each night before bed you will drink a potion designed to help your body with the Trial of Clay. It works to help define what would be best for you. However, making it through the Trial of Clay is no guarantee that you will survive the Trial of Grasses, it just increases your odds.”

The oldest boy, Jurgen, nervously asked, “What is the Trial of Clay?”

Varnir gave a wry smile and replied, “It is what makes our school different from most. There have never been many Witchers because the Trial of Grasses is so harsh that less than three of ten survive it on a good day. One of the mages who works with us came up with the Trial of Clay to help with that problem. The alchemical tonic you will drink nightly, prepares your body for the magic and formulae that will reshape your body. Each transformation a candidate goes through is different, as the Clay shapes you into what of you will survive the best. Some will grow taller, some shorter, things like that and the only thing we all have at the end of it is the black hair we all share. The Trial gives us our distinctive hair color.”

“So we drink something and we change?” asked Darbin, a very wise six year old.

“Yes, that’s it. Whatever happens doesn’t matter in the long run. The Trial of Grasses is what makes you stronger, faster, enhances your magic and senses. It mutates our bodies and is where we get our eyes from. If you make it through the Grasses strong enough you might be given additional formulae to strengthen you further. That’s up to the mages. The Grasses is what makes us Witchers, what gives us the best chance to fight monsters and win where many men fail. Once you have survived the Grasses, then, then your training begins. The Clay hopefully helps you survive.”

And Varnir had not been lying. Added to their daily routine was this green potion that smelled of sour feet that they were each given. Despite gagging on it each and every time, Kade was able to choke it down. One of the boys, Yevgeny, grew dizzy and passed out after his third dose, which alarmed the others. Varnir simply pulled him out of the group and told the others that he would be sent home once he recovered. The day before the Trial there was only light training and after a light lunch of a hearty broth there were taken to the upper bailey where the other Witchers and the mages lived.

Stepping into the main hall of the Aerie was intimidating for all of the boys as none of them had been in a building this size before. The stone walls rose over twenty feet high and the interior was lit by narrow windows and lamplight. There were tapestries on the walls, and several tables about the room. A few of the elder Witchers were sitting there watching them approach. They walked in and stopped in a line, as they had been taught. All eyes were inspecting them carefully. A thin man in very fine clothes, with his light brown hair slicked back a bit and a thin mustache that did little to make him look appealing, walked up from another room and looked them over, “Are these them?”

“Yes Trimaeus,” rumbled Varnir.

The man moved down the line, brushing a hand down their cheeks, or lifting their heads to look into their eyes, all while muttering something under his breath. When the man reached Kade he stroked his cheek with a cold and clammy hand before lifting his face and gazing into his eyes, a faint smile on his lips, clearly pleased. “Yes, this lot should do. The potions have done their work. The tonics will be ready for moonrise.”

Once the mage left, Varnir took the boys back down to the inner bailey to await the Trial. He led them over to the dining hall and had them sit, before the cook brought out mugs of warm broth and a pitcher of cold well water.

Varnir sat with the boys to reduce their anxiety. “Okay lads, I know this is scary but it’s not too bad. When the moon rises in a few hours we’ll begin the Trial. I’ll come and take you to the Upper Bailey where the Trial takes place. Only one person at a time goes through this so, it may take a while to get through everyone. The room can be scary but I’ll be there to keep you safe. Rest if you can and drink water. It can help. Remember, we all want you to succeed.”

After finishing their broth, Varnir headed off to help with preparations. The hours weighed on them like heavy stones, growing worse over time. After what felt like an eternity, Jurgen, the oldest was the first taken and didn’t return to them when Varnir came to get the second. Then the third. Only Kade remained and it was growing late, so he laid his head down and slept, not knowing what else he could do.

A hand shook him roughly awake, and he blearily looked up into Varnir’s face. “Come lad, you’re the last.”

They returned to the upper bailey and up several flights of stairs to a large room with a rough looking table in the middle of it, the wood looked wet somehow and Kade wasn’t sure why, and he held back a little. There were tubes and jars and vials and all sorts of smells he had never encountered, most of which made him long for the tannery. As he got closer to the table, he noticed the restraints on there and Kade balked, fear uncoiling in his stomach, eyes growing wide. Varnir’s hand rested on his shoulder and urged him forward. Kade stammered, “I… I… I…”

Varnir smiled weakly, eyes kind, “It’s okay lad. These are just there to keep you safe if you thrash about. It’s okay. No one here is trying to hurt you.”

Trembling, Kade undressed and was helped onto the table by Varnir. Once he was situated binding his limbs occurred. The young boy’s eyes were wide and his bottom lip trembled but he tried to be brave, even if now it was too late for such bravery. The mage from before strode into the room and glanced at Kade, the oily smile returned and only served to make Kade’s fear grow. He… he really did not want to be here.

Varnir walked over to another table and picked up a wooden chalice which was smoking a little. Carrying it back over, he lifted Kade’s head and help him drink a bitter tasting light blue potion. There was a lot in the chalice and it took a while to get it all down. Before he was finished with the chalice, he started to feel strange, numb, and a bit out of his body, head spinning lightly.

There was a sharp prick and he looked down to see a needle and tube stuck into his left arm. Before he could really grow upset about this, there was another prick on the other side, the tubes hooking him to the same contraption that was attached by his head. Then the mage came over to the table with a large jar and set it down with a clunk. The world was growing more colorful to Kade and the mage felt like an oil stain on his pretty world. This would be so much better if that man were not here.

Trimaeus scooped out some pale clay from the jar and began to coat his feet with it in a thick layer, getting between his toes, then up his calves, knees, and thighs, making sure that there was a good layer of the clay everywhere. Kade shivered when the mage applied the clay to his butt, hips and genitals, the mage taking longer than was really necessary. Then up his belly and back, covering his chest before moving down his arms. Once they were covered, the clay was applied to his neck, face and head, even being rubbed into his hair. The clay was keeping his eyes closed and he was okay with that, but he felt a growing warmth in his body.

The chanting started and the clay began to warm even more, growing ever hotter. There was a rush of cold up one arm and he could taste salt and tarragon, maybe? There was more spinning in his head. Then a rush up his other arm and this one tasted or smelled like some sort of mint and sorrel? It was cloying but he grew dizzier still and the chanting continued, deepened, echoed, pulsed through all of him. Things started to change as Kade felt lots of little hands pushing against him, rubbing his body, molding the clay covering him, or maybe his body, and the heat grew more and more intense, baking into his very bones. Those also felt the work of phantom fingers and he screamed in pain. He was being devoured, converted, changed, pain and pressure over his entire body growing more and more intense. Then there was a flash of greenish light that penetrated his closed clay covered eyes and he knew no more.

*****

Kade slowly swam to consciousness, wisps of light tickling his eyelids. Things felt off, different, and he was so groggy he wasn’t sure why or what. Moaning in discomfort, he opened his eyes and the candlelight seemed piercingly bright, so he winced away from it. After some struggle he got a hand up to cover his eyes, which helped. He lay on a bed that wasn’t the one he had before, and he wasn’t strapped down any longer, which was nice. His bladder ached with need but there was no one in there and he felt too weak to move. He tried to make a noise but only a squeak came out of his very raw feeling throat.

Seeing no other recourse, he let loose. Peeing felt different, which was even weirder. It felt like it was coming out from between his legs not from his thing. The liquid grew more uncomfortable as it cooled and his shame grew. Wetting the bed like a baby, how embarrassing. But he was so tired, eyes started to drift back closed before the door creaked open. Kade cracked his eyes open a little and saw Varnir looking in, carrying a steaming mug. “Ah, you’re awake, good. And by the smell I am too late. I am sorry Kade.”

Varnir came in, set the mug down on the floor, and helped Kade sit up. Groaning was all he could do, muscles protesting the whole time. Varnir smiled at him, “Come now, drink this. It will help.”

There was warm broth in the mug with some other taste he could not identify. It was soothing and he felt stronger the more of it he drank. He asked weakly, “I passed?”

“You did. Your body is different now, changed quite a bit by the Clay but you should have no issues with the Grasses now.”

Kade squinted at him, confused, not sure what he was saying. Varnir smirked, remembering that feeling all too well. “The way you transformed by the Clay. Everyone who transformed like you has passed the Grasses, so there is no doubt you’ll be fine.”

“What… what changed?” Kade felt a bit better and some of the aches were fading. That broth was just what he needed apparently.

“You’re a girl now Kade.”

Kade stopped drinking the broth, blinked at Varnir a few times, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. “Pardon?”

“You are now female. The Clay reshaped your body into a female, but you’re also a little taller than before and healthier overall. The Clay got you to the best you can and for you, that’s a girl. And in a month, when you have recovered from this Trial, you begin the Grasses.” Varnir helped Kade have some more broth.

“Others?” He felt strong enough to take the mug in his own hands and drink. The warmth on his hands felt nice, and the more he had the better he felt.

“Jurgen died, which happens, though rare. Apparently, his body tried to change too much. One other was changed like you and the other is just taller.”

None of this made sense to Kade. How could that Clay have done this? Sure, it was magic, but this? “Girl?”

“Yes, girl. We’ll get into that later, well Margarethe will. She always ensures that the new ones learn all about being a girl. And just so you know, we have had girls become boys as well, so you never know with the Clay. It just happens. Now, finish the broth.”

Kade drank it down, feeling stronger by the moment. He sighed as he or rather she, since she was a girl now, lowered the mug. She was worried, because her world had been stood on its head with all this crazy magic. “What happens now?”

“If you can walk, do that. It’ll work out more of the potions. You can bathe if you want. There is sure to be hot water. The other two are still out, but through the worst bits of the transformation. Just resting now. You’ll do fine in the Grasses, just fine. Maybe talk to Margarethe in the common room. When your gone I’ll change out your bed.”

Shakily, Kade got up and did just that.

*****

“Clay… Kade… He?” stammered Jaskier, eyes wide and arms a bit flailly. This was followed by a loud OW as a pine cone slammed into his chest, thrown from Geralt.

The Witcher just glared at the bard, “That was rude.”

“Uhm… right… sorry Keira, it’s just that… well, it’s hard to believe.” Jaskier stammered, which was sure to be a rarity. His cheeks were dark and he had trouble meeting her eyes. “I mean I know magic is real and that mages use magic to pretty themselves up but this… this is shocking.”

“It certainly was at the time. Its one thing to know magic is real. It’s another to have it effect you so completely.” Keira commented, having little issue sharing her past, being decades removed from those events. “Try not to spread that part about. Most people deal poorly with that notion. It freaks out regular people.”

Jaskier looked solemn, which was an odd look for him. “I swear on my honor as a bard. What about the others?”

Keira though back to the past, “The remaining boy did not make it through the Trial of Grasses. He made it most of the way but died toward the end of day six. So out of the starting five, only two of us made it.”

“Forty percent? Those are better odds,” mentioned Geralt. “Our success is one, maybe two out of ten. No group can easily sustain that kind of attrition rate. That additional Trial of your school is impressive,” commented Geralt.

“I once saw a group of five make it through the Clay and the Grasses one time. It was stunning. That Trial really did shift the odds. Because I made it through the Grasses easily, I was subjected to a few extra formulae as well. Not much fun as some of them were worse than the Grasses.” Keira remembered the pain of the formulae that altered her eyesight a great deal. Sure, being able to see comfortably in the dark was nice, with vision that could spot a fly at fifty yards but the pain had been the greatest thing she had ever experienced.

“Yes, some of those are terrible,” commiserated Geralt in a low grumble, clearly remembering his own Trials.

“Wait!” Jaskier put his hands out as if calling for a stop. Turning to face the Witcher more directly, Jaskier looked at Geralt in an odd manner, almost as if he were seeing him for the first time. “Geralt, you were given extra formulae as well?”

“I was never a girl Jaskier,” growled Geralt, rolling his eyes.

“That’s not what I mean,” snapped Jaskier. “You mean to tell me, that you are exceptional amongst the exceptional? That you are more Witcher than most other Witchers? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Geralt dropped his head, his white hair covering his face. It was clear that he could see where Jaskier was unfortunately taking this, and all he could do was sigh out, “Fuck.”

Keira tells tales

Chapter 4

Jaskier was all excited over the knowledge that Geralt was special. Keira got a good chuckle over that, seeing the famous Witcher shift uncomfortably under Jaskier’s increased attention. The bard’s eyes were practically twinkling when he asked around the campfire, “So, what extra stuff was done?”

Geralt grumbled but said nothing, poking at the brace of coneys on a spit. Seeing a great opportunity to screw with her fellow Witcher, Keira replied, “Not sure with Geralt, but in my case, something to make me heal a bit faster, to increase my speed, help my eye sight, deepen my magic. Honestly, I have no idea all the things they did as the Trial really does a number on you. Some of them were contributed by some Witcher from the Griffin school who was heading back to their castle from Touissant, so no real clue.”

“Isn’t that odd,” asked Jaskier, clearly trying to make sense of it all.

“Everything about Witchers are odd. Young children, taken in, mutated by Alchemy and Magic, and trained beyond reason all so we can hunt the monsters that plague the Continent. Our biggest oddity is the fact that we survived the Grasses, because it is so damn lethal. After that we are trained far more than any other people in the Continent. No soldier or knight comes even close to the amount of training we undergo. From the age of five until I was eighteen, I trained in sword work, archery, other weapons, alchemy, magic, history, politics, monster biology and lore, language, survival, equestrian skills, and more, about eight to ten hours a day no matter the season. That was before the start to the final trials, where all skills are tested, and then a final monster hunt to graduate.”

Jaskier’s eyes were wide at that recitation. “Truth?”

Geralt nodded. “She’s not exaggerating. That’s life on the Path.”

“No wonder you are all so feared,” muttered Jaskier, mostly to himself.

“Some of it is earned, to be sure, but a good bit of that fear is simply our appearance. Pale skin, scars, strange eyes, weapons, armor, we are less comforting than enemy troops in most cases because we can be more lethal than them. We are valued for the skills we bring but otherwise no one wants us around.” Keira was not pleased by that but what could be done. All these things were simply part of life as she knew it. “It’s a lonely life, where more people hate you than are pleased to see you arrive.”

“Try not to spread all our secrets about Jaskier. Part of our survival is people not really knowing everything about us. And most of the secrets of our creation are gone, so we are a dying breed,” added Geralt, looking pointedly at the Bard. “If some people knew how close it is, they would hunt us.”

“I see.” Jaskier swallowed slightly heavily. “Very well, I’ll not touch on those. But come Keira, let me know of some of your hunts. Surely I can bring you fame through them. Those are the kind of songs and stories about Witchers that most audiences prefer.”

Keira thought about some of her hunts, trying to come up with one that might interest the bard. While there were a lot of them a lot of them had less than positive aspects. “What sort of story are you looking for?”

“Like some of Geralt’s adventures, where you stumble into some problematic situation, dispel a curse, rescue a trapped maiden, save the day, you know, things like that,” replied Jaskier blithely. “I would rather sing of the truth than simply make something up. The Audience can tell if there is truth at the heart of a song.””

“You mean something like Geralt’s Striga story?” She asked with a smile, eliciting a groan from the White Wolf. She smirked at Geralt who scowled a bit.

“Yes, exactly! Do you have something like that?” Jaskier sat forward on the bit of log he was using for a seat.

Keira thought and realized that she might have something that the bard might like. “Does defending a village from a dragon cover that?”

“What?!” Jaskier was all aflutter over the idea. “A Dragon! Please, tell me more.”

*****

Keira winced as she slid off her horse, the slight drop to the ground jarring her injuries. She was still a few days away from the Aerie and she ached terribly from the fight a few days ago. Of all the damn things to find in a mine supposedly haunted by knockers, a thrice bedamned Kikimora queen. She had not been prepared for that fight and was just happy she had gotten out of there alive. Nothing in the information anyone had given her had pointed to Kikimora at all, so she had the wrong sword oil and potions prepared. She hated mines, too enclosed for her bow to be of any use, which cut down on her usefulness. But maybe things would be okay if she managed to get some food and rest.

As she moved towards the tavern, thinking of ale and food, A voice called out to her, “Lady Witcher! Praise Melitele.”

Looking up she spotted the village headman rush towards her as she had clearly been spotted for what she was. He was panting when he neared her, so clearly this was an issue of some urgency. Fuck

Keira looked concerned at the red-faced man, “Yes Goodman?”

He huffed a few times, clearly not used to running, “Lady Witcher, I am so glad you are here. We desperately need your aid. We sent runners to the Aerie for assistance but have heard nothing. There is a dragon prowling about at one of our mines.”

Keira cocked her head, a dragon? Most of the dragons in the area had been hunted to extinction by the Griffons. And another fucking mine? It was almost enough to given a person a complex. For there to be a dragon here, when so many of their kind had been hunted down, there had to be something more going on. No, she needed to take her time with this one and get a clear idea of what was going on, “Very well Goodman.”

She took her bow, arrows, and saddle bags from her horse, shifting the sihil that she had sheathed across her back, the dwarven hiltless blade shifting comfortably. “Can someone stable and care for my horse? I’ll take a look at your issue and see if it’s something I can take care of. Do you have witnesses?”

“Aye, we do.”

“Bring them to me at the inn and I’ll see if I can get what I need before going out. You are aware that this is not a cheap hunt.” Keira would have gone after the dragon anyway, but being paid did help with weapon and armor maintenance, let alone keeping her fed and housed.

“Aye Lady. The whole village knows. We have raised funds to take care of this issue.” The earnest look on the village headman’s face was certainly a sight to see. Maybe living so close to the Aerie had put them in a better mood when dealing with Witchers? Usually people were not this nice to her.

With a nod, Keira headed towards the inn, first drinking one of her Swallow potions, to fix the aches she had been letting time heal. Too many potions could kill her and she tried to be in the habit of healing naturally when she had a chance. That, and they had a bad tendency to turn her eyes black and darken some of her veins. Regular people rarely appreciated the look.

She dearly hoped that this was not a true Dragon as Witchers avoided hunting them, as the were sentient creatures who were also dying out. They were also very strong and extremely dangerous. No, she hoped that someone was just overly worried about a Forktail or maybe a Wyvern, either of which weren’t too difficult if you were prepared. They were a kind of dragon so it wouldn’t be completely innacurate.
Conversation stopped as she entered the tavern, but given that was what usually happened, Keira only tangentially noticed. Since she had left the Aerie and started along the Path it had simply been a factor of her life. Not a pleasant one to be sure but hopefully none here would want to string her up for being… unnatural. There was an open table near the door that would hold her gear as needed and she could do her preparations there.

A younger woman, who looked familiar, came over, wiping her hands with a small towel. “What can I get you Lady?”

“Ale and something to eat.” Once she had placed her order, she raised the volume of her voice to be heard throughout the building. “The headman has asked me to hunt your Dragon. If you have seen it, please come tell me about it.”

That brought back the noise, though less lively than before. Thankfully the pennywhistle that had been making a tune was stopped. The instrument hurt her sensitive hearing. Reaching into her quiver she started pulling her arrows free, working on getting her weapons prepared. Someone dressed as a miner came over, hat in hand, looking all nervous. She quirked an eyebrow at his approach but spent the time looking over her arrows, making sure they were all battle ready, especially the Samum and Grapeshot, as stunning and fragmentation usually worked on most creatures, with Grapeshot being rather effective on most draconic creatures.

The miner shifted uncomfortably, before saying, “Begging your pardon m’lady, but I’ve seen your dragon.”

Raising an eyebrow, Keira turned her full focus onto him, her amber colored eyes took in everything. He stammered a bit as he continued, “It…it ca…came to our mine and chased us out. Three of us were killed when that happened and I fear the beast ate them.”

That sounded bad. But this was at least the start, “So, you got a good look at it?”

“It was at dusk, but we’d been down in the mine so our vision was fine. The beast had wings, legs, and it roared at us when it swooped down, snatching up poor Tomas first. Fire consumed Ivan, who was carrying the lamp. A sweep of the tail took down Jochim as the rest of us fled, our ears ringing from the roar.”

“Did you see how many legs it had, specifically?”

“No lady, maybe four, maybe two, I’m not sure.”

“What color was it?” Keira kept things pointed, hoping to wrest more information out of the man.

“Dark colored I think.”

So far this was not overly helpful. She needed more to get an accurate assessment of this dragon. “Anything else you can think of?”

“Nay lady, it was vicious, coming out of nowhere. That happened five days ago.”

Keira nodded. ‘Thank you.”

Her food, a thick stew with a hunk of bread topped with butter, came along with her ale. A few coins covered the cost of the meal and while she ate, she pondered. The description the miner had given wasn’t too helpful, but it didn’t sound like a true dragon. And of the options she had considered, it sounded more like a Forktail than anything else, as they were extremely aggressive. If the one carrying the lamp caught fire it could just as easily have been the lamp that caught him aflame and not some breath weapon. And powerful tail sweeps were a common Forktail tactic and other draconic beasts. She hoped that there would be a few more witnesses who might give her more detail, but she had a starting point. So long as it wasn’t an actual true Dragon, she should be okay.

A few other people came up while she ate and checked her gear, but their details were about the same level of helpful. She did have several people mention the two legs specifically, which eliminated true dragons. Roar, tail swipe, guy burst into flames, but no one saw the creature itself breathe flame. Keira was in basically the same spot she had been earlier. When the waitress came back Keira realized what was familiar with the girl, she looked a little like her mother more than anything else. If she was near sixteen or older… had she really been gone that long? Keira hesitantly asked, “Excuse me, is your father the Tanner?”

“Aye, that’s me Da.” She looked very surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been to this village before,” stated Keira flatly.

The girl looked really interested now and perked up. “Do you know my older brother, Kade? He went up to the Aerie before I was born and should be in your school.”

Keira steeled herself, realizing that the truth would not be a good thing in this particular case. It was possible that the revelation of the Trial of Clay could cause their nominal friendly neighbors to rise up and assault them like had happened before. History lessons had covered the various assaults on Witchers and the few times pogroms were attempted. No, though it hurt her heart she would have to lie to her little sister. There was no way she could understand. “Kade? Yeah, he made it through the Trials and is down south. Last I heard he was heading towards Toussaint after a meddlesome pack of werewolves.”

“Really? He’s doing good? I can’t wait to tell my Da.” She replied excitedly, eyes growing wide.

“Tell your Da what Gretchen?” The voice came from the door. Both Keira her sister turned to look at the figure standing in the doorway. Keira swallowed hard, someone that she hadn’t seen in well over a decade, her father.

“She knows Kade.” Gretchen pointed towards her, a smile on her face.

“Aye, do you now?” Her father headed over to the table, sitting across from her. “We’ve not seen him in ages. But my boy is still doing good?”

“Like I told your daughter, he’s probably in Toussaint right now. His training took him down south and he stayed there.” Keira lied smoothly, feeling her heart twist at being unable to say anything else.

“So, my boy has done well has he?” Her father looked very interested, Gretchen still hanging on every word.

“Surviving on the Path is always impressive. A Witcher’s life is hard. From what I’ve heard he has saved a fair number of villages and towns from monsters, like Drowners, nekkers, to even Bruxa.” This hurt far more than she had been expecting, which given that she had never even thought about this reunion happening in over a decade was saying a lot.

Her father puffed up with pride. “That’s good. I wanted my boy to have a better life than being stuck here in our town without enough work to keep him fed. Thank your school from me. It means a lot to know he’s doing well.”

Keira didn’t trust her voice at the moment, so simply nodded, taking another pull of her ale. She went back to inspecting her gear, wanting more than anything to get out of here and away from this. Her father stood and said, “Well, let’s not be a bother. Thank you, Lady, for going after the Dragon.”

Another nod, eyes concentrating on her arrows for fear of tears spilling. How un-Witcher like would that be? People thought them cold, heartless, stripped of emotion but the truth was far different. Her sister went off to serve another table a round of ale, and her father joined some of his mates at another table. Keira shook her head slightly to get what if thoughts out of her head. This was her life and telling the truth would be the worst thing she could do to them. She had the weapon oil she needed, arrows, her blade, she just needed to get out of here and go kill this ‘Dragon’ or whatever it actually was. The pain from staying would be too much. She needed to hurt something.

Keira fights the dragon, mostly

Chapter 5

Keira followed the directions to the mines she had been given, quiver on her hip, bow in hand, sihil on her back, grumbling to herself. The trail the miners took was very clear, with cart ruts that would have announced how important this area was even without her own prior knowledge. The mines here were currently the biggest source of income for the village, so being blocked from one was a big deal. The standard of living was going up thanks to recent discoveries in the mines and she had little doubt that she would be paid well for the job.

No, what got her was the fact that she had not expected to see her father, let alone the sister that her mother had been carrying when she had been taken to the Aerie. Life had been crazy and she hadn’t exactly forgotten them but her life was so far removed from that village and those people it was almost as if she didn’t live in the same world anymore. And how the hell would she explain the fact that she was female? Telling her father that magic had changed Kade into Keira would surely get turned against the Aerie and that would be bad.

That the village was her own was nearly enough to make her flee. If her father and sister were there that meant more of her family and she wasn’t sure she could handle that. If it weren’t for the fact that the village headman said that messengers had been sent to the Aerie for assistance she would have just left. Well, she would have tried to leave. Could she really leave her family to the attacks of a Draconic creature? Fuck, she shouldn’t have come this way home, but after that fight she wanted an easy ride.

Snorting in irritation, Keira realized that this was not going to be easy. The Swallow may have eased the pain but it didn’t actually cure things per se. Maybe she had rushed a bit more than she should have, desperately wanting to get away from her father and sister. Memories of her family and how there was no way they would accept her as she was now hurt. It was easier to look forward and concentrate on her hunt, rather than deal with any of that. She needed to be smart not maudlin, and get her mind focused on the hunt. Forktails were dangerous and without being ready it could be disastrous.

Recalling the trail signs the various miners had told her, she could see she was nearly there. Crouching down in the lengthening shade of a tree, Keira applied Draconid Oil to the blade of the sihil, making sure that the blade oil would add that little bit of extra damage that would be helpful. Once the blade was coated, she applied it to the points of her various arrows. The increase in damage was not immense, but any little bit helped.

Checking her potion bandoleer, Keira rechecked her potion load. Two vials of Swallow were at the top for fast healing, Golden Oriole was next for the poison spines that were possible on a Forktail, Thunderbolt to ensure she hit harder, and Tawny Owl to help her stamina if the fight went on too long. At the bottom she had a White Honey potion, in case the potions grew too toxic to her system. Too many and even her potion tolerant system would collapse. Then there was the extra Thunderbolt she planned to take just before things started. In all honesty, she was as ready as she could be.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Keira started back up the trail, measuring her steps more carefully to avoid any untoward noise. Surprise was always an effective weapon against drakes. The trees began to this and she could see through some of the branches the mine entrance. The beams holding the cover over the entrance were thick, holding racks with various gear. There were a few mounds of excess rock and dirt, an upside down mine cart and of course the bodies.

Knocking an arrow equipped with Grapeshot, Keira crept closer to the mine’s entrance, eyes scanning the ground and the skies. The scent of spoiling meat was evident, which was likely from the dead miners but she was so familiar with that smell that it no longer fazed her. She saw the gnawed upon bodies and focused on any slight movement from the mine. The bite marks were rather substantial making her realize that it was a rather large beast.

Noticing the burned body, something bothered her about the sight. It didn’t look right. The burns seemed to only be on half the remaining body, as if the flames hadn’t come from spilled oil, but that couldn’t be right could it? Forktails did not breathe fire and it was likely are Forktail. She moved closer, hoping for a better view.

Before she could near too much, there was a screech from inside the mine and something moved rapidly out of the dark. Keira drew her bow to full length and waited. What she saw rush out caused her to curse under her breath and release the arrow a moment too early. The arrow missed the head and blew out a support beam of the awning overhanging the entrance. Dirt and wood fell onto the broad head of the mottled grey slyzard, distracting it for a moment, allowing Keira a chance to duck behind a tree.

“A fucking Slyzard! Fuck! Right… think…” Her thoughts raced back to her classes under Margarethe, the head of the Kestrels. The lecture ran through her mind as she pulled free another Grapeshot arrow. Right, if you’re caught out and find yourself facing a Slyzard or Dracolizard, know you’re not completely fucked. Yes they are nearly Dragons and strong and fast. Yes they breathe fire and have a sonic blast. Yes they have venomous spines in their tail. But they sure a hell aren’t as smart as Dragons. Don’t try anything fire on them, as it doesn’t do anything. Aard can knock them from the sky if you catch them right, so focus on your timing. And use Quen as often as you need. Most armor isn’t designed to take that sort of damage and neither are you, so the added protection can be what saves your life. Be smart, use range, and when they can’t take off any more, close for the kill. And if you’re really really lucky you just might manage a shot into the mouth with Grapeshot right when it is getting ready to breathe fire. That is one explosion you want to duck, unless you want to get knocked ass over tea kettle by flaming slyzard bits.

Right, she could do this. She was still armed and had the tools she needed. More arrows would be better but this was what she had. She was committed to this hunt and besides, what was she going to do, run and let a pissed off fucking slyzard go down to the village and kill everyone?

After a quick Quen, Keira rolled around the trunk of the tree, bow fully drawn, and aimed for the head. The arrow screamed through the air and slammed right between the beast’s eyes. When the smoke cleared, Keira could see some blood but mostly rage in its eyes. Well, she was in for it now. A broadhead arrow followed up the Grapeshot, hoping to punch a hole into the head. The arrow hit and imbedded but did not penetrate the thick skull.

After a few steps to free itself from the mine, the Slyzard took to the sky, rapidly gaining altitude with strong beats of its wings, churning up dust. It dodged another Grapeshot arrow, making her curse. It had been aimed at the membranes on a wing and would have partially crippled the creature if it had hit. It circled the clearing around the mine once, did a wing over and sped down towards her, wings tight to the body. Keira dove to the side as a ball of flame impacted where she had been, nearly singing her hair.

She rolled to her feet, bow drawn and let fly a broadhead at the wings.

The membranes were similar to a bat’s wings, so a decent tear would incapacitate the wing. That would certainly bring it down. The slyzard swerved and the arrow flew wide of the mark.

Another wing over brought it into a dive and as Keira readied an arrow for a mouth shot, the sonic blast tumbled her over and dazed her. The ground shook as it landed, and a tail whip flung her through the air and into a tree. There was a flash of orange as the Quen broke and she got to her feet, dodging behind a tree, avoiding the lunge from the Slyzard, jaws snapping on empty air.

Her deep breaths felt like knife wounds. likely she had a broken rib from the tail strike. Everything ached. She tossed her bow to the side, undid the snaps holding her quiver on her, and dove from another lunge. She rotated during the roll and came up facing the slyzard, drawing her sihil. A swiftly cast Quen would help protect her.

The slyzard circled her, looking for an opening, before leaping for the sky. A swift Aard knocked it from the air and Keira rushed in. Her first strikes were to the creatures left wing, cutting off a chunk of the lower wing, and slicing some muscle, grounding it for sure. She pirouetted for another strike.

A head slam was not something she expected and it slammed her to the ground, the quen shield flaring orange and eventually breaking after stopping a rake from one of the back claws. A swing of her sihil and another aard allowed her to get to her feet, after a quick tumble to get free.
Leaping over a tail swipe, Keira managed to wound the creature’s flank, the magical blade digging in fairly seriously into the creature’s upper thigh. The slyzard’s head snapped her direction as she leapt back and before she could another exploit that wound another sonic blast caught her right in the face.

Flinging her back and into another tree, dizziness nearly made her throw up, and drop her sword but training beaten into her helped her roll out of the way of the follow up attack. In quick order she used the loose rock for cover, drank down a Swallow and a Tawny Owl, the combination helping her regain some stamina and lose some aches. She cast another quen, to add to her protection, though it was harder because of her head spinning.

The slyzard leapt at her, both claws seeking flesh. The quen flashed, blunting the attacks, and only one claw managed to puncture her armor and tear into the muscles of her thigh. Aard mostly shoved it off her and she rolled, right into a tail strike. She screamed as she flew through the air, since one of the tail spines found the hole in her armor, the poison starting to burn through her blood.

Slamming into the ground, Keira rolled uncontrollably for a bit before coming to a stop, gazing up at the sky. She sat up some and saw the slyzard with its mouth open, preparing for a fire blast. Looking down she spotted her quiver and snatched up the remaining grapeshot arrow and hurling it with all her might into its mouth.

The explosion was magnified as the fire blast added to everything. Brains, bone, muscle, blood, viscera of all sorts rained down on Keira, who gagged at the smell. Feeling the poison working on her she drank down a Golden Oriole, feeling it start to work before she just collapsed on the torn-up earth, flicking a glob of something from her face.

Lying there in pain, Keira stared at the remains of the slyzard, blood leaking from the gaping neck. While turning in the head was traditional, maybe they would accept a claw as proof that she had done the job? Yeah, a claw, or maybe a whole foot. She laid on the grass and moaned in pain, the potions burning through her blood helping her heal.

Fucking slyzard.

* * * * *

The sun was setting when Keira limped into the town, one claws hanging from her back as proof of her kill. All work and sound stopped as the gore covered woman with a rough bandage around her thing made her way towards the center of the village. The tavern emptied out making for an even larger crowd to see her in all her wounded glory, wonderful. She spotted the village headman hustling over, eyes wide at the sight of her. “Lady Witcher, are you alright.”

“I have your creature right here. It wasn’t a dragon but a slyzard, which is nearly as nasty. It shouldn’t bother you ever again.” She dropped the claw at the feet of the headman, who stared at it wide eyed.

With voice trembling, he held out a large and heavy looking bag towards her, “Your pay.”

With a nod of thanks, Keira took it, impressed with its heft, and turned, hoping to find somewhere to bathe and sleep, definitely in that order. Lots of hot water to get the damn viscera out of her hair. It was all she could think of at the moment. Horses could be heard heading that way so she turned to face the village entrance, eyes tired but alert. In rode the leader of the Kestrels, Margarethe, armored and clearly ready for battle. Keira smirked at the woman who looked at her in surprise, “You’re late.”

* * * * *

Jaskier was looking at her was a difficult to understand expression. There was something working behind his eyes that she couldn’t quite figure out. “You saved your own village and they didn’t recognize you. Going home and for it to mean nothing, even after that battle. How… sad.”

“You got lucky,” stated Geralt, before she could say anything in response.

“Correction, I got very lucky,” pointed out Keira, well aware just how close she had gotten to death in that fight.

“Hmmmm.”

Jaskier brightened a little, smiling at her in some delight, “Yes, I think I can do something with that. The fight was suitably epic, the stakes higher than first thought, a funny bit at the end. Yes, I can work with that. Thank you, Keira. I shall immortalize you in song!”

Keira was about to say something when Geralt cut in gruffly, “Don’t thank him. It only encourages him.”

Jaskier frowned at Geralt and huffed, riding forward a bit and taking out his lute, beginning to work out some cords and a melody. Keira shook her head in some amusement, looks like she might actually become famous. Look how well that had worked for Geralt.

The Black Kestral

Keira and Geralt talk and arrange a job

Chapter 6

While Jaskier was charming everyone at the inn, singing and spinning tales of both Geralt’s adventures and other peoples, Keira and Geralt were sitting in an out of the way corner, tying to be unobtrusive. It was generally working, to the point where it took more work to flag down the waitress, who was gazing at Jaskier longingly. After she took their order, Geralt said, “There goes another soon to be heartbroken maiden.”

Keira giggled, “Really?”

“Seen it a hundred times. Jaskier comes in, charms the pants off people, sometimes literally and then we leave with them pining for him. It’s actually kind of obnoxious,” commented Geralt, before taking a drink of his ale.

“And you’ve never been one to love them and leave them?” teased Keira, nursing her own ale. It wasn’t bad but too bitter for her taste.

Something passed over Geralt’s face and she wasn’t able to figure out what it meant. Clearly things were complicated for the White Wolf if even all she had to go on were Jaskier’s ridiculous songs. “Not as such.”

“So, you stick to working girls?” probed Keira.

“Why are you interested in my sex life?” countered Geralt, looking up from the table and glaring at her.

“Curiosity mostly.” Keira passed a hand over the crowd. “Having any kind of relationship with someone… normal I guess never seems to work for me and I was wondering if it was the same for you.”

“Things are… complicated. There are a lot of things going on that make anything akin to that problematic.” Grumbled Geralt

Jaskier walked over and took a drink of the ale he had bought earlier. Having caught a bit of the conversation he smirked over at Keira. “Ask him about Yennifer and his kid.” He set the drink down and took off, chuckling.

Keira raised an eyebrow, “Child? How do you have a child? The Grasses sterilizes us.”

Geralt waved a hand dismissively, “It’s not like that. She’s not really mine.”

Keira was enjoying Geralt’s discomfort, though she was confused. “So you have a child that is not your child… how does that even work. And this Yennifer… the same as from one of Jaskier’s songs? The sorceress Yennifer of Vengerberg?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, “Yes, things between Yen and I aren’t easy. There are several issues there, the least of which is the damn Djinn. And Ciri is not my daughter, but I guess I’m the closest she has to a father after her parents died.”

“That doesn’t really clarify anything. Her parents are dead and now she’s your daughter? Where is she?”

“She is a Child of Surprise. I claimed the Rite of Surprise and then we found out the person’s wife was pregnant. They died in a storm from what I’ve learned. So yeah… I’m her parent.” explained Geralt, taking a slice of bread and laid some cheese, salami, and onion on it. “She’ll be finishing classes at Aretuza soon and Yennifer will be bringing her back to Kaer Morhen. Jaskier and I need some stuff from Oxenfurt so we are trying to get there and back before she returns.”

“What are you looking for? I’m trying to find a few works on the Wild Hunt. I’ve run into them a few times and it was not good. They’re hunting something from what I could gather and that makes me worried. Not an overly talkative bunch but persistent. I want to find what they’re after and keep them from it.”

Geralt’s eyes flashed and narrowed looking at her. “The Wild Hunt you say?”

Keira watched him closely. This was an interesting development. “You as well?”

The nod was barely perceptible, as Geralt’s eyes scanned the area to ensure that there was no one eavesdropping. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Does Jaskier know?”

“No.” Geralt’s voice was blunt, emotionless. “He thinks I’m escorting him back to the school. I’m doing it to get at the library without needing to answer any questions.”

“Maybe we can help each other out?” offered Keira.

“Maybe. At least so long as our Paths overlap.”

“Why Geralt, don’t you like me?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him and made little kissy faces at him. The White Wolf only scowled at her, which made her grin in amusement. After a few moments, she focused again, “What is it about them that you’re after?”

“I have reason to believe that someone is after Ciri and the Wild Hunt is one of the possibilities. I would rather eliminate that possibility before something happens.”

Keira nodded. “I do hope your Ciri is not their target. I’ve ridden through villages they’ve destroyed, apparently looking for a fleeing girl. They tried to get into Brokillion Forest but the Dryads refused them entrance.”

Geralt looked around and nodded, “Let’s not discuss this here. There are too many ears and its getting fuller.”

Keira nodded. This might be a safer topic away from prying ears, because who knew how the Wild Hunt got some of their information. The lovesick waitress came by again, still gazing lovingly at Jaskier. With some effort they ordered some more ale and sent her on her way.

Geralt and Keira looked up at the first few notes of the next song. Both of them recognized it and it might not be the best choice right now, if they wanted to stay unobtrusive. Unfortunately it was also one of the songs Jaskier was most well known for. “Toss a coin for your Witcher, O valley of Plenty…”

* * * * *

Two young men came up to Keira and Geralt a short while after the song, clearly drawn in by the descriptions in the song that matched one of the table occupants. They looked nervous and hesitant. Geralt looked up from his ale and cocked an eyebrow in question. It took a moment but one of them hesistantly spoke up, “Uhm… begging yer pardon, but you’re a Witcher, aye?”

“Yes.”

“Uhm… well… we have a problem and could use the help. Something is eating our livestock and it’s not wolves or nuthin we ken. We can pay ye.” replied the bolder of the two.

“That’s helpful.” Geralt added, not overly helpful.

“See… we have… there’s been… I think we have something haunting our fields.”

This got the attention of both Witchers and as one they leaned forward. “Haunting your fields? What does it look like?”

The other man moved forward, looking nervous, “t’was a ghostly skeleton in a dress.”

“And when did you see this… apparition?” prodded Geralt, trying to drag more information from the man.

“The middle of the day. We was working the fields when it rose up and attacked.” Added the braver of the two.

Keira leaned forward, looking them in the eyes. “Is this a new field?”

Both men looked at each other, confused before answering, “Aye Lady. Tis a new field in our rotation.”

“Did you find any bones?” She pressed on.

Both men’s eyes grew wide. “Bones?”

Geralt took up the thread, easily following where Keira was heading with her questioning. “Yes. If it’s a noonwraith it may be reacting to the disturbance of where it was buried.”

“So, investigate the site in the morning and then face it around mid-day,” offered Keira.

Geralt nodded, “Makes sense. And if there are any signs that can point us to who was murdered that can be something to investigate as well. So we can fully lay the wraith to rest.”

“Murdered?” both men looked appalled.

Keira smiled at them, watching their discomfort, “Yes, most hauntings of this nature are because the spirit feels violated and wants to strike back. That usually is due to murder rather than being randomly killed by some highwayman.”

Geralt focused them back on him as he asked, “How long has the field been fallow?”

“Several years.”

Keira nodded, looking at Geralt. “That’s a wide span to be hunting through without any real idea where the body is buried.”

“We just need to find the bones and what ties the spirit to this plane, then we can take care of it.”

Keira turned back to the two men to ask, “Have there been odd disappearances or the like in the last several years?”

The two Witchers faced the men expectantly, though the men looked terribly unnerved. The Witchers shared a look and Keira asked, “Are you gentlemen alright?”

“Murder?” one of the men said, somewhat pale in the face.

“Yes, murder. It happens. Likely some woman or girl from your village who vanished or ‘left’ years ago coming to an unpleasant end. That could account for the positioning of the haunt.”

Both men went quiet then and Keira could see through their looks that there was certainly something more they could tell. Question was, would they? Could they admit to themselves that one of their neighbors had likely killed a young woman and buried her in an unused field? Keira asked, “How much do you have?”

“Uhm… 200,” said one man.

Keira shook her head, “For a haunting? Surely you can do better than that?”

She caught Geralt’s side eyes and smiled slightly. The men pulled back and conferred, before the other man came up and tossed a heavy pouch onto the table, “All we’s got is 273 coins. Will that do?”

Geralt nodded and pulled the coin pouch towards him. “It should. We’ll head towards your village at dawn. Be ready.”

The men scampered.

Keira looked at the White Wolf, “You know they suspect who it is and who might have done it.”

“Yes, that’s obvious.” Geralt took a sip of his ale. “This is not going to be pretty.”

“Wraith’s never are. If they don’t tell us who the woman was it might not be an easy thing to put down the spirit. Maybe for a day or two but certainly not for good.”

“Then we’ll have to make that clear on the road. If we talk tactics and they overhear, they might find their spines and let us know this bit of information. That’s worked for me before.”

Keira glanced to the bard playing his lute by the fire. “What about Jaskier?”

“That’s why we leave at dawn. He’ll be up late and will sleep late. We’ll fetch him when we’re done,” said Geralt.

“Won’t he follow?”

Geralt snorted. “Yes, but if we leave at dawn then before he figures things out, we might be on our way back.”

Keira shook her head. The bard would be an extra complication but he might be able to charm the information they really needed from the men. If not, then all they had was their skill. Hopefully it would be enough to put to rest an unquiet ghost.