The sounds of battle echoed through the stone corridors of Kaer Trolde, filtering down even into the deepest chambers where Ermion conducted his research. The crash of steel, the shouts of the clan warriors, the unmistakable hiss of flames all of it carried through the mountain, reverberating off the walls and shaking the dust from the rafters.
Geralt's head snapped up from the artifact Ermion had been working on, his yellow eyes narrowing. His hand moved instinctively to the hilt of his silver sword, "An attack," he said.
Ermion straightened, his brow furrowing with disbelief as he set down the tome he had been studying. as that got his attention, "The keep? Under attack? Who in every god's name would be foolish enough to assault Kaer Trolde? Crach's warriors are among the finest in the Isles, and the fortress is practically impregnable. The walls have stood for generations against sea raiders and rival clans, must be someone stupid."
Geralt was already moving toward the door, his senses reaching out,"From what I am hearing, this is coming from outside the keep, at the bridge gate. There are plenty of screams, and it sounds like..." He paused, his eyes widening slightly. "It sounds like a monster of some kind. A big one. And something is on fire, a lot of it."
Ermion hefted his staff. "A monster here? This is not the place for such things. We need to check this out immediately. If a creature has breached the gates, there is no telling what it might do to the people inside. The non-combatants, the servants, the children too."
Geralt drew his silver sword. "Of course. I cannot face Crach if whatever just showed up destroys the keep. He has been a friend to me for too long, and I owe him more than I can ever repay."
They rushed out of the laboratory, their footsteps echoing through the winding corridors. The sounds of battle grew louder as they ascended, the clash of steel and the shouts of warriors filling the air.
And out through the gate into the cold, what they found on the bridge was not a monster.
It was one man against ten, and the ten were losing.
The scene was chaos incarnate.
Sebastian stood at the center of the bridge gate, surrounded by a ring of Clan an Craite warriors. There were nearly a dozen of them, their faces flushed with exertion, their weapons raised, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Yet despite their numbers and their ferocity, they seemed unable to land a blow on the dark-haired witcher who moved among them like a phantom on fire.
He flowed through their attacks with an almost contemptuous ease, his body twisting and turning, his blade flashing in the torchlight. Each strike was precise, he was not trying to kill them only to get past them, to reach the keep beyond.
"Let me through, damn it!" Sebastian shouted. "I do not wish to kill anyone! I just need to see the jarl and the druid Ermion! This is important! Lives are at stake!"
The warriors refused. Of course they refused. They were Skelligers, proud and stubborn to the bone, and to them, this was a threat, a foreign, abnormal, inexplicable threat that had appeared from nowhere and was laying waste to their defenses. They rushed him again, their axes and swords swinging with the fury of men who would rather die than surrender.
One warrior, a massive bear of a man with a braided beard, swung his axe at Sebastian's head. Sebastian ducked under the blow, his body flowing like water, and drove the pommel of his sword into the man's stomach. The warrior crumpled, gasping for air.
Another lunged from the side, his sword aimed at Sebastian's ribs. Sebastian sidestepped, his hand shooting out to grab the man's wrist. He twisted, and the sword clattered to the ground. A swift kick to the back of the knee sent the warrior sprawling.
Sebastian's hand shot forward, his fingers curling into the sign of Aard. A wave of telekinetic force erupted from his palm, so powerful that it sent the remaining warriors flying backward like leaves caught in a gale. They crashed into the walls and the ground, groaning, their weapons scattered, but alive.
Sebastian stood among them, sword still in hand. His voice was raw with frustration. "I do not want to hurt you, damn it!" He shook his head, his eyes sweeping over the fallen warriors. "Damn Skelligers and their stubbornness. I thought it was just a stupid myth about you guys, but you actually do not listen at all. It is as if you are enjoying being beaten.."
He never got to finish the thought.
A blade came out of the dark at an angle no Skelliger would have chosen, clean and precise, and Seb turned into it on pure instinct, steel meeting steel with a shock that ran up both their arms.
It wasn't one of the warriors.
"Hello, Seb. I see you are making quite the impression on the locals. "
Seb's eyes went wide. "Geralt?"
And then, before either of them quite decided to let the moment breathe, Seb was already swinging again.
"Wait.." Geralt got out, and then there wasn't room for words at all.
He did not stop. He swung again, his blade arcing toward Geralt's shoulder with a speed that would have caught any lesser fighter off guard. Geralt parried, stepping back, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Wait Seb!" Geralt's voice was sharp. "What are you doing?"
Sebastian continued attacking, his strikes coming faster, harder. His movements were fueled by fury, a storm of emotion that had been building for too long. The warriors of Clan an Craite watched in confusion, their weapons lowered. They had never seen anything like this, a fight between two witchers, both of them masters of their craft.
"Stand down," Ermion raised a hand, not loudly, but in the tone men obeyed. "All of you. There's something between those two that isn't yours to interrupt."
"Druid, that witcher.."
"That," Ermion said, watching the duel with fascination, "is not an attack. Look at their feet. Look at where the blades are landing. If either of them meant to kill the other, one of them would already be wounded. Sit. Watch, maybe you'll learn something."
The warriors hesitated, then obeyed, forming a loose circle around the two witchers.
Sebastian pressed his attack, his blade flashing in the torchlight. His voice was a snarl, each word punctuated by a strike. "What am I doing here in Skellige? What is the matter with me? You really have to ask that, Geralt?!"
He used Aard again, the force of the sign pushing Geralt back. Geralt countered with Quen, a golden barrier flaring around him as he absorbed the blow. The impact sent sparks flying, and Geralt stumbled, his boots scraping against the stone.
"Seb, calm down!" Geralt's voice was urgent. "We can talk inside!"
"Calm down?!" Sebastian swung again, his blade aimed at Geralt's chest. "I am here because I was just betrayed by a sorceress who used me to kill the kings of the North! After trying to get to the one you were supposed to protect! and now I thought I was sent to a frozen wasteland with no chance to return!"
Geralt stopped. He let his sword drop, his defenses falling completely. Sebastian's blade stopped at his neck, the edge resting against his throat.
The all fell silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two witchers. The flames of the burning gate crackled in the background, casting long shadows across the scene.
Sebastian's voice was raw, trembling with emotion. "Why did you stop?"
Geralt met his gaze, his yellow eyes filled with a mixture of regret and understanding. He did not flinch or try to defend himself. "You know, don't you? About Ciri. About what happened."
Sebastian's jaw tightened, his hand trembling slightly on the hilt of his sword. "I do. And I am here because I was just betrayed trying to get to her. The one you promised to keep safe."
Geralt looked away for a moment, his voice low and rough. "I am sorry, Seb. I did not wish to burden anyone else with this. This is my responsibility, my blunder."
Sebastian sheathed his sword. Then, before anyone could react, he punched Geralt square in the face.
Geralt staggered back, his hand flying to his jaw. He did not fight, did not raise his sword. He simply stood there, taking the blow.
Sebastian's voice was filled with a mixture of anger and hurt, the words spilling out. "You should have let me know, Geralt! I would have dropped everything and helped you get her back as quickly as we can! I would not have blamed you at all! But you chose to keep it a secret from all of us! You know how much she means to me, you know how much I care, and you even kept Yennefer in the dark as well!"
Geralt touched his jaw, wincing slightly. "I cannot say I do not deserve this punch." He met Sebastian's gaze. "Maybe it was wrong not to tell you. But I did not want to ruin your first time on the Path. You were finally out there, making your own way, and I did not want to drag you into this problem. As for Yennefer..." He paused, his voice dropping to a low, regretful tone. "When it comes to Ciri, I was afraid she would not think straight. She would have torn the world apart looking for her. It was better to do it alone."
Sebastian's voice rose again sharply. "Like hell it is!"
He calmed himself, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he was physically working the anger out through his fingers. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, steadier, trying to find his footing. "I'm sorry. For this.." a nod at Geralt's jaw, ".. and for coming in swinging at ten of Crach's men like some lunatic. I've had a hell of a few days. A lot of shit has happened. I have made some mistakes along the way as well."
"Then you can tell me all of them," Geralt said, "starting with how in every hell you ended up on Kaer Trolde."
Geralt sheathed his sword, his expression softening. "I need to understand what you are dealing with right now."
Before Sebastian could answer, Ermion stepped forward, his staff tapping against the stone. "It seems this is about Cirilla." His voice was calm. "We should head inside. I do not see any dead bodies, so Sebastian will not be in too much trouble." He glanced at the burning gate, the flames still burning the wood. "Except for that gate.. When Crach returns, there will be some explaining to do."
Sebastian turned to the warriors of Clan an Craite. "Sorry for the trouble. I did not mean to cause such chaos."
The warriors exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of confusion and respect. One of them, a grizzled veteran with a thick beard and a scar across his cheek, spoke up. "No... no worries, master witcher. I have never seen anyone fight like that before, and I have been in more battles than I can count." He shook his head slowly. "You could have killed us all, but you didn't. That says something about your character."
Another warrior nodded, rubbing his shoulder where Sebastian had disarmed him. "Aye. That's honor enough for me."
Geralt clapped Sebastian on the shoulder, he was grateful to see a friend, even under such difficult circumstances. "Come on. Let's go inside, we have a lot to talk about."
/-\
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