Chapter 29: The Road to Ellander
POV: Adam
The road to Ellander stretched across countryside that spoke of prosperity maintained through careful distance from recent wars, its packed earth worn smooth by generations of pilgrims seeking healing at Melitele's temple. Adam walked beside Ciri as morning mist rose from fields that glowed golden with stubble from the recent harvest, their pace steady but unhurried through landscape that felt almost peaceful after weeks of constant vigilance.
Eighty miles. Five days if we maintain good pace and avoid complications.
The walking had become meditation of sorts, rhythm of footsteps and breathing creating space for thoughts that combat and survival rarely allowed. Beside him, Ciri moved with grace that spoke of someone who'd adapted to life on the road with disturbing ease, her royal bearing transformed into something more practical but no less compelling.
She's changing. We both are. Princess and clerk becoming something else entirely.
"Tell me about airbending theory," Ciri said as they crested a hill that offered views of forest stretching toward horizons that promised sanctuary. "The meditation techniques you've been practicing."
Theory. How do I explain powers granted by an alien system to someone who thinks magic comes from Chaos manipulation?
"It's about harmony," Adam said, which was true enough without revealing impossible truths. "Working with natural forces instead of trying to dominate them. Air wants to move—I just convince it which direction."
"Show me," she said, her green eyes bright with curiosity that had nothing to do with academic interest and everything to do with someone seeking connection to power that might help her protect what she cared about.
Adam triggered a gentle Air Gust that made leaves dance in patterns that defied natural wind, the technique so subtle that distant observers would see only unusual breezes rather than supernatural manipulation. Ciri watched with attention that felt like being studied by concentrated sunlight.
She's learning. Not the techniques—I can't teach those—but the philosophy behind them.
Evening camps became their sanctuary from a world that wanted to use them for purposes they couldn't control. They'd developed routines that maximized warmth and security while minimizing their visible presence—small fires hidden in natural depressions, bedrolls positioned for quick escape, weapons within easy reach of sleeping hands.
Sharing warmth. Practical necessity that's become something more.
The single bedroll they shared had started as resource conservation—one blanket for two people meant less weight and bulk in packs already straining their carrying capacity. But practical necessity had evolved into intimacy that neither acknowledged directly, waking tangled together in ways that spoke of trust deeper than words could contain.
Morning. Wake up with her pressed against me, her breathing steady and warm against my chest.
Adam lay still in the gray light before dawn, cataloging sensations that felt too precious to disturb. Ciri's ash-blonde hair tickled his chin where her head rested against his shoulder, her body fitting against his with naturalness that made separate sleeping arrangements seem like deliberate cruelty.
Neither of us moves away. We should—propriety, royal protocol, practical considerations. But we don't.
She stirred as consciousness returned, green eyes opening to meet his gaze with intimacy that transformed morning from simple transition into shared moment. They lay together in silence, both understanding that moving would break whatever spell made such closeness possible.
Growing physical comfort. We're becoming comfortable with each other's presence.
"Good morning," Ciri whispered, her voice carrying contentment that had nothing to do with quality of sleep and everything to do with waking up safe beside someone who cared about her survival more than his own.
"Good morning," Adam replied, his voice rough with emotions too complex for easy naming.
Love. This is what love feels like when it's growing instead of dramatic.
The bandits found them on the third day, six men whose weapons spoke of professional competence mixed with desperation born from times when honest work paid less than highway robbery. Their leader bore scars that suggested survival of conflicts where others had died, his smile revealing gaps where teeth used to be.
Routine encounter. This is becoming routine.
"Well, well," the leader said, his voice carrying amusement that made Adam's hand move instinctively toward his sword. "The wind mage and his warrior princess. You two are getting famous."
Famous. That's dangerous. Fame attracts attention we can't afford.
The fight was brief and decisive, Adam and Ciri moving with coordination that made individual skills into collaborative lethality. Wind Barrier deflected arrows while Ciri's blade work carved through opposition with surgical precision, their different fighting styles complementing each other with perfect synchronization.
Six bandits dead in three minutes. We're getting good at this.
But the bandit leader's words echoed as they resumed their journey toward Ellander. Famous. Stories spreading about unusual magic and royal sword work, tales that would eventually reach ears trained to listen for such information.
Nilfgaardian spies. Intelligence networks. Our reputation is becoming a liability.
The strange man appeared on their fourth day, emerging from roadside woods with timing that felt too convenient for coincidence. His clothes spoke of comfortable prosperity, his manner suggesting someone accustomed to buying information rather than gathering it through personal risk.
Too convenient. Everything about this feels wrong.
"You seek the witcher Geralt?" the man said without preamble, his smile carrying implications that made Adam's skin crawl with warning signals. "I know where he can be found. For the right price."
Trap. This has 'trap' written all over it.
"We're not interested," Adam said, his voice carrying authority that felt borrowed from somewhere else. "Thank you."
"But surely—"
"We're not interested," Adam repeated, his hand moving to rest on his sword hilt with casual threat that spoke of someone prepared to back words with steel.
The man's smile faltered, replaced by calculation that suggested he was revising his assessment of potential targets. He melted back into the forest with fluid grace that spoke of someone accustomed to disappearing when direct approaches failed.
Information for sale. Too convenient, too timely. Someone's fishing for our location.
Ellander appeared as the sun touched the western horizon, its towers rising from cultivated fields with architectural confidence that spoke of faith made manifest in stone and mortar. The Temple of Melitele dominated the city's center, its white walls gleaming with light that seemed to emanate from the structure itself rather than reflecting external illumination.
Temple city. Sanctuary, if the stories are true.
They approached the gates with documents that identified them as pilgrims seeking healing for wounds that went deeper than flesh, travelers whose journey had brought them to sacred ground where hope might be restored through divine intervention.
Almost there. Almost to answers, maybe.
But as they passed through Ellander's gates, Adam felt the weight of reputation that preceded them like shadows cast by flames they couldn't control. Somewhere behind them, pursuit followed trails of stories and speculation, hunting for two young people whose love had been forged in fire and whose future depended on staying ahead of forces that wanted to use them for purposes they'd never chosen.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow we find Geralt, or find where he's gone next.
The temple bells rang evening prayers across a city that had remained peaceful while kingdoms burned, their bronze voices carrying promises of sanctuary that might or might not prove strong enough to protect refugees from wars larger than individual faith.
Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we continue the hunt.
[Experience Gained: 280 XP - Travel, training, combat encounters]
[Level Progress: 16 (85% toward Level 17)]
[Airbending Development: Approaching Level 3 mastery]
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