A Scholar's travels with a Witcher

It was fascinating watching the Witcher work in this part of his profession. Even though I found it incredibly tedious and increasingly frustrating as Kerrass went around each house, talking to as many people as he could lay his hands on all the time carefully and quietly teasing information out of them. From the most senile old man to the youngest, barely able to speak, child he was the soul of patience and charm. Deftly and easily turning the topic of conversation back to where he wanted it to go, while at the same time turning down a surprisingly large number of sexual invitations.

I asked him about it later and he said that it always happens, he doesn't understand it and tends to avoid such encounters on the grounds that he never knew whose wives he was sleeping with. Then he would have to fight someone and it would all go to the cesspit from there.

But even so, given his impatience when we had first started travelling together I was surprised at just how long he could stand being invited to play with dollies and hearing the words “It used to be much better in the old days”.

I swear I'm not making that second one up either. It turns out that cliches are cliches for a reason and in my travels with the Witcher I have met an awful lot of them. Including an absent minded wizard with a pointy had and a robe, both with stars on them along with crescent moons.

We had gone round most of the village and the sun had begun to sink towards the horizon when we hit trouble. The trouble in question was the large man that my companion had noticed earlier and a group of toughs.

Rutherford the Cooper was an unpleasant man, tall and wiry of limb but he also had the enlarged nose and swelling stomach of a man who enjoys his alcohol possibly a little too much. He was clean shaven which struck me as unusual in rural parts as I hadn't seen anyone without some form of a beard. To be fair his hands were callused enough to show hard physical labour and his apron was indeed covered in wood shavings and an unpleasant looking sticky stain that I presumed was some form of glue to hold the barrels together. In the countryside things generally smell of rotting vegetation and animal dung. His smell was sharp, unpleasant and put me in mind of a chisel being driven up my nose.

His companions were thugs and hangers on. All had the similar signs of being drunkards and also all of them were armed which again made them stand out. None of the other villagers that I had seen carried anything more than eating knives although weapons were often visible, hanging on walls and propping up corners gathering rust, men very rarely carried them. I suppose on the grounds that when you're trying to persuade a field to give your children something to eat over the winter, the extra weight of a sword and armour is not really something that you want to be thinking about. But these men were armed, Clubs and axes mostly although one of the six of them had a sword.

Rutherford opened his mouth to speak but my companion was already there, pre-empting him.

“Good afternoon Mr Rutherford. I was just on my way to see you.” Kerrass extended his hand to be

shaken and smiled easily.

“That's interesting,” Rutherford folded his arms across his chest. “Because I was just coming to see you.”

Kerrass smiled slightly. “How wonderful. Perhaps you can tell me your version of events then?” He gestured to a nearby bench before sitting on it. “Shall we sit to discuss things.”

“No I don't think so. You won't be staying that long.”

“Really, why is that?” There was a treacherous note of innocent stupidity in the Witchers voice.

“Because you and your apprentice,” he sneered over the word as though it was some kind of insult to be learning a trade. “will be out of town in ten minutes.”

“Will we?” The Witcher seemed astonished at this.

“Yes you will.”

“Why is that?” I became aware that a number of people were watching and children were being ushered indoors.

“Because you're not welcome here. Filthy, mutant non-human freak spreading your disease and charlatanisms and trickery and filthy magics among decent folks. It's not natural. It's not. So I want you gone.”

“Or?” The Witcher's eyebrows rose dramatically.

“What do you mean?”

“You want us gone, or what?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Indulge me. After all, I am a filthy, mutant, non human freak and although I am relatively clean and by definition can't carry diseases, I don't understand the actions of decent people.” He smiled nastily while I looked for a weapon. Within a couple of steps there was a hoe leaning against the wall of the house that we were standing next to. I shifted my weight, feigning boredom so that I could spring for the pole quickly.

“You will leave, or you will stay. For ever. In the ground.”

“Sorry what was that?”

“You heard me.”

“Regardless would you mind saying it a little louder for me. I get this horrible buzzing noise in my ears. A terrible affliction brought on by the presence of idiocy.”

“Leave now or else.”

“I see,” said the Witcher springing back to his feet. I saw that his left hand was on the strap across his chest and I tensed slightly. With his right hand, the Witcher reached inside his jerkin and pulled out his medallion. I had seen it before but had never had the opportunity to have a properly good look at it. It showed a stylised cat's head in the process of hissing straight ahead.. It was cold, dark metal and if I'm honest, it made me uneasy to look at it. He held it so that the sun glittered off the sharper edges

“Do you know what this means?” Kerrass asked.

I had already noticed that The Witcher used his voice like a bard might use a musical instrument. That he could make it sound friendly, amused, soft, quiet, sympathetic and many others between. This was his chilling voice. It was cold, determined and with a kind of clipping when he clearly and carefully enunciated the different syllables without dropping any of the consonants. He calls it his “don't fuck with me” voice.

Rutherford didn't seem to care but I did notice one of the other men going a little paler. I decided that that man was more likely to run and dismissed him from my plan of attack.

“Not only do I not know,” Rutherford tried to sound intimidating. “But I don't care. Now clear...”

“Then I shall tell you,” Kerrass interrupted. “It means that I am a Witcher of the Cat school, and an accredited guild member. That means that I live by a code.”

“I could give a fart for your...”

“That code states,” The Witchers voice was flat and grating now. Like a stone moving over gravel. “that once a contract is taken, that I must follow it through until the end of the contract.”

“Your contract is void.”

“That's lovely and everything but I don't work for you.”

“That old man is a fool and a scare monger. There is nothing wrong...”

“In which case you have nothing to worry about it. But I gave my word. If you try and stop me then I will defend myself.”

“You don't scare me with your deviant eyes and your scary voice.”

“I should.” The Witcher said but Rutherford was getting red faced and angry now.

“You don't scare me so let me make it clear. You will leave or you will be killed. If I were you I would take that path,” He pointed. “And walk out of town now. In fact, you should run.”

The Witcher's eyes narrowed, just ever so slightly. A minute movement that could have been ignored if you weren't particularly looking for it but I had learned that you needed to really pay attention to Kerrass's face to be able to tell what he was thinking, I was watching for it.

I shifted my feet even further.

“Mr Witcher, Mr Witcher.” A young voice was shouting, shattering the tension. “Mr Witcher, Mr Witcher.”

“I'm over here.”

“Mr Witcher,” The kid was filthy, wearing a short pair of overly large woollen trousers that were tied onto his waist with apiece of string. He was out of breath and his expression warred between being utterly terrified but also pumped up about the exaggerated importance of what was happening. He was also plainly scared by what he could see going on between the adults in front of him.

Say what you like but children can sense these things.

“Mr Witcher, the Alderman sent me to find you.”

Kerrass knelt down. I had noticed the trick of talking to children earlier, getting down to put himself on eye level with them and talking to them as equals

“Tell me the message, quickly,”

Rutherford backhanded the kid hard in the face and sending him sprawling.

“Get lost you little shiiii...”

He was interrupted by Kerrass launching himself up from his kneeling position and used that momentum to shove Rotherford in the abdomen. The breath exploded from the cooper as he almost flew backwards into someone's bean growing lattice causing him to collapse in a clatter of broken sticks. The other toughs stood around in confusion as they couldn't decide whether or not to help Rutherford or to attack my companion.

I helped the child to his feet and noticed the cut lip and the look of cold and injured fury that sometimes springs up in children when adults are being idiotic and unjust.

Kerrass knelt back down, ignoring the toughs but I noticed that his hand was on his sword strap again.

“Tell me,”

The kid sniffed hugely. “The Alderman tells me to tells you that Anna the Weaver has heard...”

The Witcher stiffened. The tension hadn't left his body, it had changed.

“Which one is her house. Quickly,”

He didn't grab the boy. Nor did he raise his voice or shake the boy to emphasise the importance of

the question. All things that I would have done.

“It's the one on the end sir Witcher sir. The one with the purple Fox-gloves on the front.”

“Run, from here to the smithy and bring me my silver sword. The dwarf will know which one it is. I will be at her house. Run.”

He rose and spun and had started to move, to find that Rutherford had surfaced from the mess that he had made for himself and was barring the Witcher's way.

“You assaulted me.” he sputtered in rage. “You struck me. By the power invested in me as a member of the town council...”

“Get out of my way you stupid fool.” Kerrass made to move round but was held back by one of the ruffians.

I will admit to freezing. As I said I am not a soldier and am not really used to physical confrontation outside of arranged practice areas and times. The attackers certainly weren't watching me and I could have done something I suppose but I was frozen in place.

“I need to save that woman's life you idiot.”

“You will do nothing of the sort, you will stand trial and be hung for.”

“A woman's life is in danger and all you can think about is your foolish pride.” The Witcher snarled.

All of the ruffians were watching the Witcher. My thoughts seemed to move like treacle.

“A woman's life is not in danger.” Rutherford moved towards Kerrass threateningly. “You are just trying to scam the good folk out of their hard earned money by pandering to the stories of that old fool the Alderman. Perhaps now people will finally see sense and vote him out of his position and pave the way for some real order around...”

Someone screamed.

It was a woman's voice.

The Witcher lunged for a gap between the men facing him, his sword was still in it's sheath. I saw a fist heading towards his head. Time slowed so that I could see it travelling and wondered how someone could throw a punch so slowly.

My treacherous body finally obeyed me and I moved, seizing the Hoe as I went.

In the days that followed I would often dissect what happened next in my dreams and on the back of my horse as we trundled gently down the road. To this day I don't know if I did the right thing and I suspect that I will wonder until the end of my days. I had two choices and in the split second between the scream and my seizing the hoe I weighed up the two options. On the one hand I could attack the men surrounding the Witcher and attempt to free him so that he could go and deal with things or I could run towards the scream and try to be useful there.

I tried to weigh the two options, which was more likely to save lives, where would I be most useful. It was impossible to tell but in the end I made my decision and I moved.

The ruffians were ignoring me and moving in around the Witcher so I ran towards the scream. I don't remember ever moving as fast as I did that day. I sprinted out of the little alley and along the row of huts facing the green. It wasn't hard to see where I was going as other people were standing outside their own huts, pointing and looking worried. That included the fact that the child's descriptions were accurate and to the point.

The woman screamed again, horribly.

If anything I accelerated. I could see and hear the Alderman shouting at people to go and help. He was himself making his own way towards the small cottage on the outskirts of town but his going was slow.

I sprinted towards the house. A couple of people were plucking up the courage to go in as I was arriving and I screamed at them to get out of my way. I turned my shoulder to the door as I arrived and I didn't slow down as I hit it and barrelled through into the cottage

Please believe me when I say that normally I am a fairly cultured man and that I don't normally behave like this. I have berated myself for acting the fool that day and also lauded myself for being a hero but more often than not I am left with a sense of uneasy guilt. At the time, all that I can claim was that I was so angry at Rutherford and his merry band of idiots that some spark of common sense had been ignored and destroyed. I certainly don't think I could have done the same thing in cold blood back then.

At first I didn't register what was happening. I burst through the door and my body registered the fact that the impact against my shoulder hurt. Then I saw a child which I grabbed by the pigtails without thinking and unceremoniously threw her behind me and out of the door. On some level I registered her scream of pain and anger but I was too busy surveying the scene.

The interior of the cottage was quite pretty and homely really. There was a fire pit in the middle of the room with two small beds tucked into the sides as well as two chairs and an assortment of other cooking equipment. There was also a small table with the remains of a meal on it and a spinning wheel in the corner as well as several bobbins of woollen thread.

The homely effect was spoiled by the gaping hole in the ground. The dirt floor was falling away into the hole that was increasing in size, the sounds of the dirt and stone as they fell into the hole was not unlike the frying of bacon but it was being drowned out by the roars and sounds of the creature that was climbing out of the same hole. It had grabbed hold of another child, a young boy of maybe six and was pulling the boy towards the hole and it's gaping maw. I didn't think it was much bigger than the boy itself as it came out but it was monstrously strong for it's size, roughly humanoid in shape, it had two legs, two arms although it's head seemed to grow out of it's torso rather than to have any kind of neck and it's mouth was huge and fanged. It's red gaze was fixed hungrily on the child and it's hands ended in huge claws that gashed at the boys leg as I watched blood spurting through it's fingers.

The smell was overpowering, rotting vegetable, animal manure and the raw stench of human terror all mixed into a potent cocktail that nearly stopped me in my tracks. I was already pretty shut down but I felt myself detach from my body. As I watched, another pair of clawed, webbed hands appeared in the hole and another one of those things climbed out.

There was another girl, maybe twelve years old, hiding from the monsters behind her mother's skirts who just stood and stared at the monsters, her mouth open as if she had forgotten how to scream. I grabbed for her, but she dodged around her mother to avoid me.

The first creature had a good hold of the boy now and was dragging him into the hole. The boy was screaming and shouting for his mother, spittle and snot spraying from his face as he blubbered in justifiable terror. The mother darted forwards and grabbed the boy by his reaching arms while

the second monster climbed to it's feet and started to move to the corner of the room, towards the cot that I hadn't seen before.

I screamed and charged it, hoe's blade out in front of me as I rammed it into where I thought the things neck would be. It flew off it's feet as I followed through with a push.

I dropped the hoe and scooped up the tiny human form gathered in blankets inside. The monster that I had struck tried to climb to it's feet and I stamped on it's head as hard as I could on the way past to the door.

I was still screaming and the baby added it's own cries to the general din. I handed the baby to someone and spun to go back inside.

I was still screaming and tears of what I can only assume were terror obscured my vision. The woman was being pulled towards the hole despite the girl holding onto her skirts. The boys eyes were wide with terror and pain and as I watched he screamed and choked before blood exploded from his mouth in a gout, staining his teeth and splashing against his mothers smock.

I grabbed her bodily but she was fighting me, the small fists of the girl beat me around the head and back.

“Mother,” The boy gurgled, blood and mucus clogging up his throat. He spasmed again. Tried to scream and died, right there in front of me.

The mother pulled and pulled as another gout of blood came from the child's mouth. She slipped and let go.

I kicked the little girl towards the door and picked the woman up bodily. She had started to scream again as I moved towards the door. She subsided a little when she hit her head on the door jamb in her struggles

Finally the Witcher arrived. Bursting through the door. He didn't even bother trying to rescue the boy as he chopped at the creature that I had kicked, again and again. Although the force of the blows drove the creature down to the ground He still wasn't really hurting it as it hissed and spat at him.

I carried the woman out and half threw her and half dropped her in front of the terrified villagers.

“Master Witcher, Master Witcher.” The voice came. The dwarf from the smithy with a large and heavy hammer in one hand and the silver sword in the other. I grabbed the sword and ran back into the hut.

The Witcher turned, he had one foot on the things chest now. He must have seen what I was carrying as he dropped his sword and snatched the silver one out of my hand, cutting my palm as it did so.

I still have the scar. The first of many I would gain from my travels with Kerrass.

He stabbed down once and this time there was no resistance to the blow as the sword went clear through. Another creature scrambled out of the hole to be met with a flat horizontal cut that almost cut the creature in half.

He pulled a short cylinder from his belt, twisted it and started shaking it vigorously.

“Take the steel sword and get out, get the people back.” He said, almost calmly.

It took me a second to locate the sword on the ground. I grabbed it by it's cross-guard and ran for the door, screaming for the crowd to get back.

I must have looked like a demon from hell crossed with a screaming madman. But they certainly moved back for the Witcher who emerged, dragging the body of one of the creatures, his silver sword in the sheath across his back.

There was a kind of “wumpf” noise and the roof exploded off the house.

I stood there for a moment as the straw and wooden timbers fell around me like a grotesque snowfall blinking stupidly.

The Witcher approached me, clapped me on the shoulder and carefully took the sword from my numb hands.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times trying to get my words out but eventually my legs just kind of gave way and I sat down heavily. I couldn't remember ever having been that exhausted.

The Alderman approached us. He looked old, almost ancient.

“Is it over?” he asked my companion.

“Alas no,” The Witcher said, “You have Nekkers Sir.”

The old man sighed and nodded before moving away.

The Witcher crouched next to me. He had found a flask of water from somewhere and handed it to me.

“You alright?”

I almost chuckled at that.

“I'm fine,” I forced myself to answer.

“You're bleeding.” he said carefully, the same way that you might a child. He pointed at my leg where my clothing was torn and at my hand. Blood was seeping gently from both places.

“Well will you look at that,” I said wonderingly. The pain seemed a distant thing as though it was shouting at me from a distance.

“I'll find you some mead and clean it up. Try not to move although it doesn't look serious.”

I sat back and started to really shake in the grass.

“Here drink this,” A cup was offered and I gulped down the strong and sweet mead while the Witcher cleaned up and bound my leg and hand before collapsing next to me.

“You did well. By all accounts you saved those peoples lives today.” he said clapping me on the shoulder.

“Tell them that,” I said gesturing in the direction of the family gathering round the wreck of their former home. The mother was being restrained from entering the still burning wreck of her home by her husband while she screamed in a primal, almost bestial way. The children stood nearby looking confused as other adults tried to usher them away.

The Witcher said nothing.