I've always enjoyed creating adventures in game worlds outside of the main story. The characters, plots, and settings of those games are so uniquely theirs though that I tend to find my own corner to live out a story. In this case it takes place in the time leading up to the Inquisition, with the mage rebellion already underway.
This is not my first piece I've ever written, but it is the first I've shared like this, so I would love you're feedback on it! It could probably still use a bit more polish, and I know beginnings aren't entirely my strongsuit. So any feedback is much appreciated. Just a heads up this is about 12 pages long in microsoft word. Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Necessity
Necessity is not about doing what is right or wrong, it is neither. It is about doing what you must and nothing more.
Dornen was silently kicking himself for listening to the others. He shook his head and muttered to himself, “It’s going to be a quiet patrol they said, and blasted sod that you are you believed them. When was the last time anything happened quietly in Thedas?” Dornen turned to face the recruit trailing him, calling after him, “Smell that?” He gave the man a moment to sniff at the air, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he looked doing it. “Looks like there is trouble up ahead. It’s probably nothing, but a templar can never afford to be caught unawares, not in these times.” Pulling his own sword and shield from their place he rode easily along the way, and pulled to a stop as they exited the woods into a clearing. As they approached the dying embers of the fire his mirth quickly began to fade away. He had expected to find some travelers needing some assistant, this was quickly looking to be something else. He drew up just short of the flames and sat there for a long moment.
“Maleficarum.” How that word burned in his throat as he spat it out at the sight before him. The remains of two bodies lay clinging to each other, perfectly centered within a smoldering circle. They were huddled together, backs up against a large rock, hands clasped together. Under other circumstances he might have thought some travelers had gotten lost and created a fire that sprung out of control, and had clung to each other for comfort. However the fire had burnt too hot for that, charring even the rocks around them. But it was the condition of the bodies however that had made him spit out that curse. Only the maleficarum could possess the depravity needed for this desecration.
The grey haired man lowered himself off his horse and slowly moved about the scene. He glanced up once at the sound of the young recruit retching and shook his head. This is not what he’d had in mind when he’d agreed to take the young man out on a patrol. He’d intended to show him the more enjoyable aspects of their duties, like aiding the locals and driving away petty criminals. Too often in these times it was all about the mages, and the he’d hoped to show him there was more to being a Templar then just hunting them. But this… no it was too soon for this. Something like this could color his view of all mages. Gazing at the bodies he let out a slight sigh. The boy had to learn about the maleficarum at some point though, and maybe it was better now before he had time to sympathize with the mages. There was a reason the order existed after all.
Kneeling down amongst the ashes he examined the bodies and the surroundings. He frowned as he reached out and pulled one of the arms of the victims to him before quickly taking a step back and examining the ground around them. The recruit looked up at him, taking a moment to wipe his mouth with a hand before asking. “Sir?”
Dornen waved his hands about the scene, “Look around the ashes here Yeral, do you see any circles or symbols?” He didn’t wait for the recruit to respond, “No, there is nothing. No blood mage would simply kill two people without using them in some ritual. And then there is the…” He trailed off as he looked down at the bodies for a moment. “These cuts and tearing on the bodies, they aren’t from a blade or tool. They are teeth marks.” He paused for a moment as the young man’s shoulders tensed up at that and quickly turned and retched again. Dornen waited politely for a second this time, having expected this. When the man was up Dornen gestured to the charred rocks around the bodies. “No ordinary mage did this, though I question whether a mage did this at all. It was most likely an abomination or something conjured by a mage. We must identify this threat and the mage behind it before whatever did this claims anyone else.” He strode quickly over to his mount and swung himself on it. He motioned with his hand to the west. “There is a small village in this direction, if we ride hard we can reach it by dusk.” He took one last look at the scene behind him before clicking his heels together.
The ride to the hamlet passed in silence with Yeral looked to be trying to regain some measure of composure, while Dornen was lost in his thoughts. Something about this did not sit right with him, and he had a feeling this would not end well. Trouble with mages rarely did though, otherwise his order wouldn’t be necessary. Glancing over his shoulder he couldn’t help but grunt. A hunt for something like this would normally be carried out by a full group, not an older templar well past his prime and his charge so new he’d never faced a mage before. There was no time to contact the others though, not without more victims ending up like…that. The sudden sight of a man walking onto the path and heading their way jolted him out of his musings and he held up a hand for Yeral to fall in on him.
The man did not even seem to register them as they approached, he simply walked with his head down and eyes gazing just ahead. A simple glance at the man’s dirt on the man’s clothes and hands told Dornen he was a farmer, probably just heading home after a long day’s work. Dornen reigned himself up in front of the man and blocked his path. “Hold there. I need a word with you.”
The man paused and looked up at the templar, and his eyes went wide as he registered the symbol on the armor. He awkwardly tried to pull himself up and bow to the templar. He kept his head down and stammered, “Of course…serah, what can I…what can I do for the order?”
Dornen looked down at the man with an expressionless mask on his face. “Two people were murdered near here, we seek clues to the culprit’s identity. Tell me, has anyone new passed through here recently.”
The man froze at the mentions of the murder, and glanced up at Dornen with a fearful expression. In that moment he was glad he’d withheld the full details, the man clearly would not have been able to handle it. His eyes darted to the side for a second and he felt a small sigh escape him. No, not many could handle the templar’s calling.
After a moment the man lowered his head again, but it was clear to see he was afraid. “Serah, if you are investigating this…” He paused, seemingly unable to voice his thoughts. “Was there magic involved?”
Dornen couldn’t fault the man for his hesitancy, the nature of magic and the demons it attracted was disconcerting to most. “I believe so. Tell me, is there anyone you would suspect of being a mage?” He saw the hesitancy there and understood. No one wanted to believe someone they knew could be a mage in hiding. Nobody wanted to think the man across the way could be a maleficar in hiding. Still, he had to know, and pressed him further. “Someone who may do what others believe impossible?”
The man paused at this last question and began to turn as if to leave. Dornen sighed and pulled out his blade and pointed at the man, who quickly froze in. Dornen’s voice held a steely edge to it as he said, “You know something.”
The small man started sweating and clutched both hands behind his back. “It’s nothing serah. It’s just…there is a woman who has lived here for years now, but ever since she’s come our lot in life has improved. There are fewer that get sick or die from disease, and she has a way with the animals and crops.” His eyes dart to the side for a moment as he pauses, looking upset with himself for saying anything. “She couldn’t be a mage though, she’s lived here for years and we’ve never seen anything unnatural.” He looked up and for the first time held the templar’s eyes. “And you don’t need magic to do what to explain what she does.”
Dornen sympathized with the man, but no one was above suspicion, not with a situation as foul as this. His voice held a steely edge as he said, “No, but one does not take chances with a Maleficar. Where is she now?”
The color drained from the man’s face as Dornen spoke. “A maleficar? No… she’s not…I don’t know where she is. Please leave me be serah.”
Dornen sighed as he pushed his blade under the man’s chin, letting it rest on his neck. This was the part about this job he most disliked, though he wasn’t certain if it was the intimidation itself or how skilled he was at it. “I will not ask again. Where is she now?”
The man stared wide eyed at the blade pressing up against him, then turned his panicked gaze up to Dornen. After a moment his shoulders sagged and his face grew forlorn, and the templar saw the sense of defeat in his eyes. He pointed back in the direction he had been walking from. “She’s back there near the fields on the other side of the trees. She was working beside us in them all day.”
Dornen gave a satisfied nod at this as he pulled the blade away slightly before using it to beckon the man in the direction. “Very well then, lead us.”
The man hesitated before casting a glance at the templar’s blade, and with a resigned demeanor began to walk down the path, the two templars in tow.
Anya knelt down and brought her hands together, and a moment later the sound of a small fire flaring into existence was heard. She stood back and watched as it began to grow and spread, until finally it consumed the entirety of the field before her. She turned her head as someone approached her and a slight smile crossed her face. The young man just entering into his teens returned the smile and then nodded over at the flames.
“I see you’re playing with fire again, best be careful, the others might start to think you enjoy it.”
The woman reached over and rubbed her knuckles into his head, and laughed as he scrambled to get out of her reach. “Best be careful what you say then master Laren, or I might be tempted to start in on you.”
The boy stuck out his tongue at the woman and skipped a step back, interlocking his hands behind his head as he did. Turning slightly to face the fire he asked, “So what are you doing this for again? Da’ tried to tell me once, though I wasn’t paying much attention at the time.”
Anya just shook her head at the boy’s innocent smile, not doubting what he’d said for a minute. “The crops were dead, but this way when you burn them it can clear the way for new life. Just you watch, by harvest time this place will be teeming with grain.” She gave the boy a look and raised a brow, “Though I’m sure once again you’ll be nowhere to be found when the work starts.”
Laren giggled a bit at that and held his hands out, “What, and risk damaging these delicate little things. No I’ll leave the work to the men…and women with man hands. Since clearly it’s too late for them.” This time he nimbly dodged her arm this time and walked away laughing. “Mom said you’re welcome to join us for dinner tonight, said she could use some more company. You’ll come right?”
Anya threw a pebble at the boy, smirking as she scored a hit on his brow. “I suppose I better, if only to tell your father what a menace he’s raising.” She let out one last laugh at the mock outrage on the boy’s face and called after his receding figure, “I’ll be right there, don’t start without me. Won’t be anything left for me if you do!” She held a hand up to her chin and just grinned a bit at the lad as he sort of swaggered home.
Gathering her belongings she began to pack her tools back onto the horse when she heard the sound of approaching horses. Thinking it was one of the villagers coming to check on things she turned with a smile, and quickly felt it slip right off her face. Her eyes widened for a moment as she saw the red symbol on the armor, but it was the drawn blade that was now pointing at her that held her gaze. She performed a slight bow as they drew near, coming up with a small nervous smile that she directed towards the man in front. “Good evening serah. What brings a templar to these parts?”
The man in the lead studied the woman for a moment before turning and looking at the fires burning behind her. His face growing somber he turned and asked a question of someone standing behind him. “Is this her then?”
Anya felt her stomach drop as she saw the man step out and nod, a sudden wave of understanding washing over her. Geralt…oh Geralt, what have you done. Still she kept her smile, and maybe more impressively her balance as she managed to keep her legs from buckling under the fear she now felt. “I’m sorry serah, you were looking for me?”
The piercing gaze the man leveled at her in response almost seemed to knock the wind out of her, while the tone of his voice made the hairs on her neck stand on end. “Were you aware that two people were murdered nearby?” He made a point of turning his head toward the flames before saying, “They were burned alive.”
Anya blinked for a moment, and the confusion she felt showed clearly on her face. “Murders? Around here?” She turned to look at the Geralt, her expression growing hurt. “You think I had something to do with this?”
Geralt stepped forward, shaking his head and started to say something before the extended hand of the younger templar stopped him. The older one had his head cocked, his expression as he studied her a little less severe than it had been before. Gesturing towards the crackling fire to their side he asked, “Was this you’re doing?”
Anya didn’t hear the man right away, she was still trying to process everything that was happening. When they finally sunk in she pulled herself together long enough to reply, “We are burning the dead crops before tilling the land.” She gestured to a discarded shovel nearby, “We dug a ditch around the field so the fire won’t spread. It’s routine, nothing magical or dangerous about this.”
The templar regarded her with a cool expression for a moment before nodding, his demeanor relaxing a bit as he looked somewhat mollified by the response. He turned to look back at the young man behind him and paused. He tilted his head at Anya and asked, “Where are the tools you used to start the fire then?”
Anya blinked, and her hands darted to the pack on her waist. She couldn’t have…she had. She licked her lips and desperately tried to think of something. She finally said, “I must have dropped them,” in a tone so limply that even she didn’t believe her lie.
The man nodded at the boy behind him and they moved towards her together, moving to flank her as they approached. “We will help you find it then.”
She hesitated as they drew near, her eyes locking on the younger boys drawn weapon, and how white his knuckles were in clinging to it. He was young, probably new, and hadn’t learned how to hide his intentions yet. Taking a deep breath she gripped her fists tightly as they approached, waiting for them to be mere feet away. As the man drew up he raised his sword and opened his mouth to say something, but she didn’t wait to listen to what it was he had to say. Raising her hands she released a pulse of magic that washed over both templars, leaving them untouched. But they hadn’t been her targets anyway. The horses began to buck and kick wildly at the sudden burst of telekinetic energy and threw both templars onto the ground with a satisfying thud. The sound was the only way she’d known her gambit had worked, as she had turned and started running for the forest behind her the moment she’d released her magic. If she could only reach it she would be able to lose them, these woods were her home.
As she ran she heard the telltale clanking sounds of the templar’s armor as they rose and began giving chase. It did not take long after that for her heart to begin to sink as she realized they were gaining on her, she was not going to make it. There was little she could do in this situation, with each idea she thought of ending worse than the one before. They were capable of shrugging off whatever she could throw at them…although… maybe not both of them. She recalled the younger templar and remembered how fresh he had appeared to her earlier. He might not be able to fully resist her, and there was a chance his companion would stop to aid him if he was struck down. It was all she had, she had to do this if she was to survive. She clenched both fists as she ran, gathering up what power she could summon. Finally when at last she’d drawn her limit she turned to face them, her hands to crackling with power, sending a few sparks into the air.
As she stood there facing her attackers she drew both hands near to her chest, and waited for her opportunity. The older templar reacted on instinct and quickly brought up his shield, his experience and confidence carrying him barreling forward towards her. The younger boy however stopped for a moment, and his eyes grew wide as he saw the glow coming from her hands. She realized it was probably the first time he’d ever seen a mage cast a spell designed to kill him. She pulled both hands back to her side and prepared to strike, focusing in on her mark. As her hands came forward and she loosed her power the image of Larens face replaced the young mans and she hesitated, and at the last second shifter her hands. An impressive bolt of lightning leapt from her fingers, burying into the ground just to the side of the young man. She started to laugh a slow and bitter laugh at her own foolishness, a laugh that was cut short as the older templar’s shield came thundering into her side. She was knocked tumbling into a heap on the ground at the foot of the forest.
When she came too she propped herself up with her elbows, trying to steady herself as the world spun around her. Her eyes eventually locked onto the image of Geralt, standing there looking on with a horrified expression, and she felt a small smile creep across her face. Suddenly her view was obstructed by the templar, and she tried to look up at the man standing over her. She was surprised to see a tinge of regret in the man’s eyes as he looked down at her, and at last she understood. He disliked his role in this just as much as she did. She smiled wryly as she remembered an old friends saying. We all do what we must Anya, that doesn’t mean we have to like it. The man gently cupped his hand behind her head and pulled her forward, just as his blade fell toward her. She felt herself start forward, eyes going wide as a single word escaped her. “Oh…”
Yeral couldn't take his eyes off the woman’s face as she slumped to the ground. He slowly approached Dornen’s side and stood there just gazing at her. She looked so different from what he’d expected of a maleficar, or any mage really. So peaceful and serene, nothing like the older templar’s stories of apostates living in the wilds. No, she hadn’t been what he’d expected at all. He turned to look at Dornen, studying the man for a time. He finally broke the quiet and asked, “She could have killed me back there couldn’t she?”
The older man slowly turned to face him, suddenly looking his age and gave him a slight nod. Yeral was so struck by the tired expression on Dornen’s face he almost missed it when his mentor began to speak. “Yes, she had a chance to kill you, but she didn’t do it.”
Yeral turned to look back down at the woman before him. After a moment he softly said, “She wasn’t responsible for the murders was she? No maleficar capable of that would hesitate to kill someone, especially not a templar.”
Dornen didn't say anything in response, just stood there next to the young man looking down at the woman. After a moment he knelt down and crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes. He turned to leave but paused as he began to look about for a moment, a questioning look on his face. Yeral couldn’t let it rest however and placed himself before the man. Drawing his gaze he said, “She didn’t kill me, she could have, but she didn’t.”
Dornen looked at the defiant young man and let out a long sigh. “No. No she didn't kill you, and no, she probably was not the one responsible for the murder.” He pointed to the soil still smoking from the bold she’d released and continued, “She was a mage, an apostate. We fulfilled our duty.” With this he began making his way back to his horse, leaving Yeral behind.
Yeral stood there and struggled to come to terms with what he felt. Looking at the damage to the ground he knew he could not deny her nature, nor his duty as a templar in finding her. Yet somehow that brought him no comfort. With one last look back at the woman he followed after his senior and helped to calm down the horses.
Yeral listened as Dornen said they would seek out the nearest templar post to deliver a report on what happened, and request aid in hunting down the culprit of the murders. He couldn’t find it in him to acknowledge the man beyond a nod, never taking his eyes off the symbol of his order on his mentor’s shield. After a while of riding in silence Dornen attempted to break the silence and began to offer Yeral advice on what he’d done right and what he’d done wrong. He laid out the proper tactics in facing a mage and gave him areas to work on improving. But Yeral wasn’t really paying attention, he was still trying to give voice to that nagging doubt that still tugged at him from within. After a while he could no longer contain it and interrupted his mentor in midsentence. “Sir, was it necessary to kill her?”
Dornen’s horse came to a sudden stop at this as the man slowly turned to look Yeral in the eyes. There was a certain understanding there, but one that cautioned he not press the matter or he knew he would be in trouble. “Yeral, we are templars. Our duty is to watch over mages and hunt down those who live outside the chantries laws.” He paused a moment as he brought his hand up and rubbed at his brow for a time, trying to decide how to continue. “We used to have the option of bringing them to a circle, but that option is all but lost to us with war upon us. And letting them go has never been an option, for it is better to take no chances lest we risk leaving a maleficar free.”
Yeral chewed on his lip for a moment as he sat there and thought about it, but just shook his head. “There was NO other way?”
Dornen leveled a look at the boy and that forced him to wither slightly beneath his gaze. He knew he was treading dangerously close to a line he shouldn’t cross. “Those are the rules we live by Yeral. This is what it means to be a templar. You will face similar situations in the future boy, and the choice will get no easier. Nevertheless we must do what is expected to safeguard our world.”
Yeral opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. He knew Dornen was giving him far more freedom discussing this here than most other templars would. In the end he simply couldn’t let it pass. “If the rule call on us to kill a mage for no other reason than being what they are…should we really follow them?”
There was a dreadful pause as the man’s gaze bore into Yeral, and though Dornen did not raise his voice the heat that accompanied the words told the man he’d crossed the line. “Magic was made to serve mankind. It is a power beyond anything man should possess, and is capable of the most terrifying things. All mages will inevitably feel the temptation of this, and that is why we exist.” He edged his horse around and pulled up alongside the boy. “No one is saying its fair Yeral, but it is necessary.” He turned and began to walk along the path again, and his demeanor signaled the end of the conversation, and Yeral followed behind him in silence.
Yeral sat there mulling over what Dornen had said earlier. He knew there was a certain truth to what he had said about mages and magic, the murders were evidence enough of this. He softly thought out loud, “Will it always be this way?”
For a moment Dornens shoulders seemed to tense up before they finally relaxed and he turned back to the young man with a knowing look on his face. “It is what it is lad, and nobody enjoys it. This is how our world works, and without us it all falls apart. Maybe your generation can change things and find another solution to the crisis. Sadly I can only do what I know works, and pray that we don’t make things worse for you and yours.”
Yeral gave the man a crooked smile at that. “Sir, no offense, but I think you missed the mark there.”
Dornen blinked and threw back his head and laughed, and after a moment Yeral followed suite.
Geralt moved with a sense of urgency back to his house, desperately trying to put as much distance between himself and the body of his friend as possible. He couldn’t get the image of her looking at him as she died out of his mind, her slight smile haunting him. What had he done… he hadn’t known. He had just mentioned her under duress, had just meant to stop their questions. He hadn’t really believed in what he said. No that wasn’t entirely true, he had always suspected, they all had. It hadn’t mattered though, she had been more then what she was. He wiped at his face with his hands at that thought. The others… what would he say to them? What would he say to his son?
He shook his head firmly, a vain attempt to shake loose the thoughts he did not wish to dwell on. Slowly the smoke from his chimney could be seen above the trees and he began walking just a little bit faster. Just a little bit further and he could put this behind him for the night, he could always figure out how to deal with this later. As he drew near a silhouette appeared and the door frame and he stopped in his tracks. The smile of the woman standing at the doorway made the man’s stomach drop and for a second he considered not going any further. A second figure joined her and then quickly bounded down the path and hugged him.
The boy looked up and beamed up at his father, and tugged at his arm as he tried to pull him forward. “You’re late dad! You left before me and I still beat you here.” He glanced behind his father for a moment before looking back up with a questioning look on his face. “Did you run into Anya on the way back? She said she was going to join us for dinner, made me promise not to start without her.”
Geralt felt like he’d been punched in the gut, and tried to hold back his emotions. He couldn’t let him see what he was feeling and forced a strained smile onto his face. “I did run into her, she wanted me to apologize Laren, but she can’t make it tonight. She got caught up in something back at the fields.” He felt a rush of shame at the look of disappointment that filled Laren’s face at his lie, but couldn’t bear to tell him the truth, not yet anyways. Let him have this one last night free of loss, he would tell him in the morning. He reached out and patted him on the shoulder, “I Guess you’re stuck with your old man for the night.”
Laren gave him an expression of mock horror before giggling and running back towards the house a ways. He turned and waved him to follow while saying, “It’s not just us silly! Hurry up, mother already has the dinner sitting out for us.”
The smile slipped off Geralt’s face as he glanced at the woman beside his son and he slowly made his way towards the house. As he moved to enter the house the woman grabbed his wrist and he jumped. With gave him a knowing look and said, “Something happened out there didn’t it?”
Geralt couldn’t look her in the face and turned his head as he nodded. “Some templars showed up in town, they were seeking a mage. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think…”
She raised her hands to his face and turned him towards her. “You did what you had too, you never had a choice. You have Laren and me to think about.”
He brushed aside her hands before nodding tersely and quickly moved past her and into the house. His feet carried him into the kitchen where he took his seat at the table, while his wife helped herself to the chair across from him. With a hesitant look her way Geralt said a thanks and they all began to eat.
When the meal was over Geralt looked over at his boy as he got up and was about to leave the house and head outside. “Oh no you don’t young man. It’s far too late out right now, it’s time for bed.”
Laren gave his father his best pouting face and for a moment Geralt had to bite back some laughter. “But father…” the boy protested.
“No excuses! Go out back and wash yourself and then it’s time for bed.”
The boy grumbled to himself but did as he was asked and ran outside. The wife leaned back in her seat across the table and laughed and Geralt turned to face her, all mirth gone from his face. “My, my. What a dutiful father,” she rasped. “He’s lucky to have such a kind and understanding man in his life.”
Geralt pushed himself back and stood up, looking out the window behind him where Lerant could be seen starting to wash himself. Turning suddenly he rested his hands upon his chair, and looked at the woman sitting across from him with disgust. “Do NOT speak of my son, and do not speak to me as if you were his mother.”
The woman across the table cackled loudly and leaned in, allowing the candle on the table to fully illuminate her face. Her cheeks were pulled back and showed signs of decay, and her eyes glowed with an unnatural light. “Now, now. We both know every boy needs his mother growing up.”
Geralts knuckles turned white as he began to shake with rage and shouted, “YOU ARE NOT HIS MOTHER!” He looked back behind him for a second and let out a sigh of relief that Laren had not heard him. Leaning in over the chair he spat out, “Did you kill those two people? Did you bring the two templars here?”
The corpse grinned and gestured to her plate still laden with food. “I was hungry and there are so few things that satisfy me nowadays. I suppose I will have to be more careful, wouldn’t want to bring the templars back now that there is no other mage around.”
Geralt sputtered, “More careful?! Is that all you have to say?” He took a deep breath and held out his hand as he steadied his breathing. “Anya is dead because of you.”
The corpse clicked its tongue in disappointment and pointed across the table at him. “Don’t try to pass blame onto me for something you did darling. I may have brought the templars here but you were the one who led them to poor, sweet Anya.”
Geralt’s eyes glowed with hatred and he leaned forward and stopped as a sharp pain sprang up in his chest. He pulled back and bumped up against the wall, clutching at his chest.
The corpse got up and moved a little closer to him, its steps abrupt and uneven, a mockery of the grace his wife had possessed in life. She held out a hand to him and tried to sound concerned as she spoke to him. “Do be careful dear, a boy needs his father too. Why I can’t even imagine what would happen if something happened to you. Oh wait…” Geralt looked over at her with a sick expression but said nothing. The woman smiled at this and continued, “Why he is ever so lonely while you are away, and all he has left at home is his mother. Why just think if something were to happen to her while you were away. Just imagine how terrified and lost he would feel then.”
“Shut up you monster. You tricked him into this.”
She waved a finger slowly, a movement that gave off an unpleasant cracking sound with each motion of the digit. “Now, now. I did nothing of the sort. He was simply so frantic to save her, he kept yelling ‘someone save her! Daddy help her!’ ” She rolled her shoulders theatrically, a slight snapping sound accompanying the motion. “How could I possibly say no to such strong desire to save her?” She reached over and poked at her cheeks, “Sadly I was a little too late, and this poor thing is starting to rot away. I wonder how much longer it will be before he finally notices that his mother isn't alright. He knows something is amiss but believe mother simply isn’t well yet. He tries to ever so hard to make her feel better. He can't bear to see her for what she is.”
Geralt leaned in to say something but stopped as Laren came bounding back into the house. He ran up to his mother and hugged her, pulling at her hand. “Tell me a story before bed please mother.”
The woman laughed and began to follow before turning to face Geralt. “Oh all right, but first you should tell your father goodnight.”
Laren looked over at his dad and grinned a big childish grin. He ran over and threw his arms around his father. He looked up and tried to look cross as he said, “Father, you never gave me a good night kiss!”
Geralt smiled weakly as Laren came bounding over. He picked up the boy and kissed him lightly on the cheek and hugged him tight. After a moment the boy managed squirm free and began to pull his father forward, “Now mom too!”
The color drained out of Geralts face as he went to say no but saw how concerned Laren was about the thing masquerading as his mother. He swallowed and leaned forward and kissed his ‘wife’ gently on the cheek before quickly pulling away. She smiled at him and rubbed a hand slowly across his cheek in response. Laren pretended to look disgusted before he began to tug his mother away by the shirt sleeve, telling her about what he wanted to hear tonight.
Geralt sat there alone looking at the table for a long while, listening to his son laugh and giggle in the other room with that thing. How much longer could this go on? No, how much longer would he LET it go on. He couldn't help but picture Anya again, and how he’d sacrificed her to protect his son. He hadn’t known what would happen. Had never dreamed his action would cost the woman her life. He’d only meant to throw suspicion off his son and allow him time to get away and make sure nobody found his ‘wife’. He’d done what he had too, what was necessary…it just didn’t feel right. What was he to do now though? He stood there a moment, trying to get his thoughts together when the demon peaked in.
Smiling coyly at him she said, “Good night dear, I take it you’ll be sleeping out here again?”
As she left him alone, her jeering laughter following him his eyes settled on the knife before him. He would do what he must, he would do what was necessary. He always had.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And that's it. I hope you enjoyed it! I may just try to write one a week to help pass the time to launch. Have to get my dragon age fix somehow now that all my save files are ready to go...
-Dylan Williams
Retour en haut
