Chapter Text
“No one can enter at night. Governor’s orders.”
Artemy’s glare has little to no effect. The guard frowns even more, his hand moving to his sword. The gate to the town stays closed. It’s a cold, quiet night, stars sparkling on a cloudless sky.
Artemy can’t really blame the man for refusing to let them in. They are a strange group: two men armed with swords, one of them clearly sick, and a little girl. They arrived at the gate in the dead of night, and truth to be told, Artemy isn’t even sure what the town’s called. He needed to get to a place where he can find someone who can help Rubin, and it just so happens they were nearby this town.
Murky emits a sob, putting on a brave face of a little girl who’s doing her best to stop herself from wailing. She rubs at her face, desperate not to cry. Rubin, his complexion so ashen he could be mistaken for a walking corpse, tries to speak again but nothing comes out other than a guttural croak. He bends in half and vomits blood right by the guard’s boots. The man’s face twists in disgust.
Artemy wishes he could turn back time, pay close attention to what Murky found in the fishing net and get that wretched thing from her hands to avoid this whole mess.
Murky stared at an oval seal with a symbol, the only thing left of an old amphora, its broken pieces at her feet.
“I didn’t- ” she began, her eyes growing wide. “I didn’t mean to break it!”
Rubin grabbed her arm, shouting. Artemy put his hand on the man’s shoulder but Stakh angrily shrugged it off. He took the seal from Murky’s hand and waved it in front of her eyes, his face twisted in an ugly snarl.
“You opened it?! Do you know what that is, you stupid kid?”
“Stakh!” Artemy growled a warning. They should have left Murky in the nearby town and go hunt for a djinn on their own. It was too late for that.
She stared right at Rubin, putting on a brave face but her lips quivered. “I heard you talk about it. It’s a genie that grants wishes.”
“Did you say anything to it?!”
“I- ” Her lips quivered, eyes shining with tears.
From the look on Murky’s face the answer was clear enough. Artemy felt his head spin.
“I made a wish. Two!” she hastily added. “I made two wishes, alright? But nothing happened!”
The flash of fury on Rubin’s face made Artemy move to stand between the two.
“She’s only a child,” he said, looking Rubin straight in the eyes. He didn’t like how much anger he saw there.
“You should have left her in that shithole where you found her! Law of Surprise, my ass!”
“Shut up,” Artemy hissed. They didn’t have time for this. More importantly, he didn’t want to hear Rubin repeat what he’d already said numerous times before.
“She let a dijin out! It was an easy job and easy money, and now what?” Rubin continued. This time it was more than the argument they’d had so many times before. “You want to spend the next week tracking this thing down?!”
“She- She didn’t mean to! She’s five.”
“You get distracted and lose focus, Cub! The kid’s trouble from the start! Now a djinn, and what’s next? Why the hell are you still dragging her across the continent?”
Artemy could feel Murky’s eyes on him. He opened his mouth, hesitating.
“You can’t make her into a little witcheress, Cub. The Trial of the grasses will kill her, it’s better if you show her mercy and let her die by your sword.”
“Shut your damn mouth!” Artemy shouted, clenching his fists, itching to punch his fellow witcher square in the jaw.
A strong gust of wind stopped him in his tracks. Something growled, an unnatural cound no animal could make. Leaves and branches flew all around them, the wind getting stronger. Murky screamed. Artemy pulled her close, embracing in a tight hug. Something scratched at his forearm, a stray branch or a small stone, making him wince. It left a small, shallow cut. In the distance, he heard their horses scream in panic.
His medallion quivered, the air thick with magic. Dark smoke gathered above the lake. A giant maw appeared amidst the smoke, a monstrous face twisted with rage.
He saw Rubin get down to his knees, his body convulsing. Artemy pushed Murky behind and grabbed his silver sword. The creature growled, then leapt forward, ready to tear them to pieces.
He slashed at the open maw, barely able to see anything, the wind so strong he felt he may fall down any second. Murky screamed. His blade cut through the creature’s body, and it shrieked.
Suddenly the wind died out.
And then Artemy looked at Rubin, still kneeling on the ground. When Rubin opened his lips blood trickled down his chin.
Just thinking how it all began makes Artemy’s head hurt even more.
Sadly, going back in time is not possible and he has to deal with a crying little girl, a badly injured witcher, and to top it all off - a djinn on the loose.
The guard stares in shock at wheezing Rubin, takes a step back, disgust painted on his face. “What the- ?! Is he sick? If he has the plague- ”
“He’s wounded.” Artemy takes a breath. His head is pounding. “Please, let us through. We need a healer.”
“You may wait by the gate. I’ll let you through in the morning. Orders are orders.”
Artemy takes another calming breath. It’s not working. He glances at Murky; she looks almost as pale as Rubin, with tears and snot running down her face. “The girl needs a doctor, too. We can’t wait. Please.”
The guard hesitates when he looks at Murky. She’s perfectly fine though after all that crying she looks no better than Rubin. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything that could expose Artemy’s lie, and just hiccups, avoiding to look him in the eyes.
The guard curses, shakes his head. “I can’t let you through the gate, the town’s closed for the night. But I won’t kick a kid out. You may stay in the barracks until dawn.”
He finally steps aside.
“Thank you,” Artemy gives him a nod.
The guard has a sour look on his face but still lets them pass through the gate, then orders a man to take their horses to the stables.
“Sticky!” he calls out. A young, thin boy appears. “Take these two and the girl to the barracks.”
“The lady's waiting there,” the boy says. His eyes sparkle with interest at the sight of the strangers.
“It’s a big room, and it’s not long till dawn. Find some blankets for the girl. Be quick about it!”
The boy gestures at them to follow. Artemy nods at Murky to go, while he holds a shivering and mumbling Stakh. Before the boy leaves them, Artemy asks him to bring a wet cloth.
The room is simple, with barely any furniture, only a table with two chairs, and a small cot. Rubin all but collapses on top of it when Artemy lets go of him. His head lolls to the side and he coughs up blood again.
A young woman sits by the table. She observes them anxiously, her hands folded on her lap. Her clothes suggest she comes from a rich house. Her thick coat embroidered at the wrists and collar with silver is probably worth more than the witchers could get for a regular assignment. She has dark hair tied in a bun. A wrinkle appears between her dark brows, her blue eyes filled with worry, as she looks at Rubin.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she says. “May I ask what happened to him?”
“It’s nothing contagious, just a job that went wrong.”
He takes out a small vial from his bag. A healing potion might help, though he suspects it won’t do much. He holds Rubin’s head up and presses the vial to his lips. The other witcher drinks, then coughs some more and groans in pain.
“A job?” She tilts her head, then her eyes move to their swords by the bags. “Are you perhaps a knight tasked with monster slaying? We had one in town just last spring. Poor fellow, never returned from the marsh.”
“I’m no knight,” Artemy says. “Name’s Artemy. I’m a witcher.”
“A witcher!” She gasps. Then her eyes move to Rubin, noticing his medallion. “And not one, but two? What are the chances… I’m Lara Ravel. Pleased to meet you, despite the unfortunate circumstances.”
Sticky returns with a wet piece of cloth. Artemy puts a coin in his hand before taking the cloth.
“Can I help?” Murky asks.
He hesitates for a moment before he hands her the wet cloth.
“Wipe his face,” he instructs. “Gently.”
She nods. Rubin seems to be asleep. He’s not throwing up any more blood, so the healing potion helped a bit. His skin still has a sickly grey colour, though.
Sticky returns once more, this time with a bowl of hot stew and a wooden spoon. He places them on the table.
“The commander told me to bring you food,” he says to Murky. “It’s quite alright if you ignore the taste. It kinda tastes like an old shoe. You may find a piece of carrot in it if you’re lucky.”
“I hate carrots,” Murky announces with hatred only a five year old child can have for vegetables.
“Eat, I’ll keep an eye on him.” Artemy takes the cloth from her hands.
She reluctantly nods. When she sits by the table, her feet dangle from the chair.
“Did you fight a monster?” Sticky asks, his eyes wide. Whatever other duties he has, they’re not as interesting as listening to what Artemy has to say.
Murky glares at the boy. She tries the stew, makes a face but continues eating. Observing her, Artemy feels a stab of guilt. He’s not taking good care of her if she’s so hungry she quickly devours a stew that “tastes like an old shoe”.
“We did,” he says, suddenly feeling very tired.
“Did you fight it with your swords?” Sticky asks, his eyes shining with excitement.
“He doesn’t need two swords to fight a monster,” Murky says and points the wooden spoon at the boy. “Silver is for monsters. Everyone knows that.”
“Do you know if there’s a mage or a priest in any nearby towns?” Artemy’s eyes return to Lara. “I need someone who knows healing magic.”
Artemy wills himself to remain calm. If it was a normal injury, Rubin would be back on his feet in no time thanks to accelerated healing. If he’s not getting better, then the only way to save him is to find a sorcerer.
Witchers are rare but a mage? What are the chances of finding one here, in this town in the middle of nowhere? His heart feels heavy with worry.
“You’re lucky, witcher,” Lara says. “There’s a sorcerer staying in town, invited by one of the ruling families. ”
He stares at her, not really believing in what he’s hearing.
“There’s one in this town?” He glances at the door. The only thing separating him from the person who can save Rubin are the barrack walls.
Lara nods “He came to town all the way from the Capital. The Kains invited him last week. Imagine having a sorcerer on a leash. The politics here are, well, complicated. Now, add a sorcerer to all that.”
Artemy lets out a sigh. “Where can I find this sorcerer?”
“He’s staying in Stillwater. I can explain how to get there.” Lara glances at Murky wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “Do you need a place to stay while you’re in town? I’m in charge of a shelter for those, well, less fortunate souls. Children, mostly.”
“You live in this town, and the soldiers still won’t let you in?” Artemy frowns.
“Orders are orders.” She shrugs. “I do hope the sorcerer will help your friend. He's quite… a controversial figure, from what I’ve heard.”
“He’s my only chance.” His eyes return to Rubin’s pale face. He’s got enough money to convince even a pompous mage to help him out. “What’s the sorcerer called?”
“Daniil Dankovsky.”