Escort

She opened her eyes to the morning sun. it was a clear day, with only a few clouds in the sky, a pleasant welcome after a few rainy, autumn days. As she balanced herself so as not to fall out of the tree, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She and her companion had started to head south-east, after their adventure at Tretegor. She knew that the wither was approaching and they would need a place to stay. She was thinking about heading to Kear Morhen, yet she still had unfinished business further south… business that she preferred to solve quickly.

"Wake up!"

The tree in which she slept shook a few times and she looked down. Her companion rammed his fist on the trunk and shouted. "Come on, princess… time's a wastin'."

She rolled her eyes quickly and grabbed her sword before she jumped down and landed next to her companion.

She was a slender, young woman of around 25 years old. Her ashen hair made her stand out of most crowds, and if that was not enough… her sword on her back would do the job. Her clothes were light and fairly simple. High, light-brown boots with sturdy heels, a pair of oak-green pants that fitted her perfectly, a white shirt with a brown, leather corset to cover her waist, a leather belt and gloves with a green hood hanging from her shoulders. Her sword was strapped to her back with straps and a strange medallion was hanging from her waist. It was made of sliver, with the shape of a cat head, hanging from a silver chain. Her eyes were bright green, with black eyeliner around them and she had a scar over her left cheek.

Her companion could not differ more from her, even if you would have to choose between them, and a duo of a Siren and a Garkain. Not that one would ever compare him to a Garkain, as he could rip you apart if you did… not unlike a Garkain.

He was tall… taller than any man she had ever met, and was big as an oak. He wore steel-plated boots with supple trousers. Reinforced gloves with plated wrists, and his chest was covered with a thick armour which was long and flowing like a robe, yet had plated shoulders and a reinforced-leather chest. The shoulders and neck of his armour were covered with thick fur, just as thick as his long, brown hair. Two belts hung cross-wise over his chest with several small bombs straped to them, and a few small pouches were strapped to his hips. A silver medallion, like hers, hung from his thick neck, yet his had the shape of a bear-head. He had deep, brown eyes, thick black eyebrows and a broad nose. He had two swords hanging from his back.

"One steel… one silver… both for monsters," as he would describe them, both with a pommel with a bear-head ornament.

"Stop calling me 'princess', Beram. I'm not."

"True… but at least I'll get yer attention."

"Ahh.." she yawned as she stretched her back and looked out over the valley below. From where they stood they had a good view over the city below them. Rinde, a city much smaller than Tretegor, but they expected that there would be work for them there.

"Anyway… let's go," she remarked and she hung her sword on her back. "See if Rinde has any work for us."

An hour later they arrived at the gates. The walls were no more than a large, fortified palisade that was built to keep out most dangers and a wooden gate offered entrance to the city. The guards let them pass, as they saw that they were witchers passing through. Since Rinde was not a large city, it did not radiate wealth. The houses were simple, exept for one large house that stood near the centre of the main square, the mayor's house. Nearby was a large building, a tavern, and it was there that the two witchers headed.

Inside it was rowdy… two men had gotten into a drunken brawl with each other… two others were having a friendly fisticuff, while six others cheered them on and placed wagers… four women were gossiping about any subject they could think of… two men were playing gwent and a large amount of other patrons were either sitting with friends, calmly drinking, or sitting alone. As soon as they had entered, Falka noticed something strange. Four guardsmen, in plated armour and a large shield on their back stood near a staircase to the upper floor. Beram had noticed them too and calmly looked at them from the corner of his eye while he walked toward the innkeeper. As he passed the patrons, many looked at him and quickly moved aside, not alone due to his size.

"What the ploughin' hell?" a man asked his companion silently. "Giants? Here?"

Falka looked for a secluded table, waiting for Beram to buy a drink and some food. Her emerald eyes scanned the room. She saw one of the two guards look straight at her, then whisper something to his colleague. He nodded and whispered something back, after which the first left upstairs. The remaining guard took another long look at her before resuming to scan the place for any threats.

"Vodka or rye?"

Falka looked up as Baram sat down in front of her, nearly breaking the chair.

"Hmm? Oh… rye," she responded and grabbed a bottle from the table.

"Something wrong?" Beram asked as he did not even bother grabbing a small cup. Instead he put the vodka bottle to his lips and took a large gulp. "Ahhh!... now that's a kick…" and he shook his head.

"I'm not sure…"

Beram raised an eyebrow.

"I saw one of those guards look at me… then whisper something to his companion, after which he went upstairs."

Beram turned around and looked at the guard, who noticed it and seemed a bit nervous. "So?"

"Again... I'm not sure…"

Before she was finished the first guard came back downstairs and whispered something to his colleague, and walked straight towards the two witchers.

"You two… You are witchers, are you not?"

"Aye… what of it?" Beram grumbled.

"I have someone who wishes to talk to you… please follow me."

"You have a job for us?" Falka asked.

"That remains to be seen…. Will you follow?"

The two looked at each other, shrugged in unison, and followed the guard upstairs. Half the people at the bar looked at how the massive witcher disappeared upstairs, and they could hear the floorboards creak under his weight.

The guard led them through a hallway to door.

"Before we enter.. I expect you both to show respect, and not raise your voice. We request discretion."

"Who is 'we'?" Falka asked with an eyebrow raised, but the guard knocked twice, opened the door and let them in.

The room they entered was wide and spacious, and had, until recently, clearly contained several beds and wardrobes… yet now only one large bed stood against the far wall, and a few racks with fine linen clothes stood next to it. A large and ornamented folding screen covered a different part of the room, possibly a tub, and a few clothes hung from it to dry. All in all, it was a room you could expect in a Nobel's house, or in a palace, but not in a tavern.

But more strange than the room and its contents, were three women that sat on chairs. Two of them had light brown hair, a pale face, and were dressed like they were chambermaids of a princess. The third woman looked like she was the princess, and had golden hair, bright blue eyes surrounded by eyeliner, and was dressed in a white with gold dress.

"Milady," the guard said and he gave a bow.

The three women turned to the two witchers and were immediately staring at Beram, who seemed like he filled half the room.

"I have brought the two witchers."

"Ah… yes thank you," the golden-haired woman said and she stood up to greet the witchers. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alia of the House of Vasili. These are my chambermaids, Karen and Lina."

"Pleased to meet you," Falka answered and she made a slight bow with her head. "I am Falka, and this is Beram."

"Pleased to meet you both," Lady Alia answered and she shook Falka's hand and looked at Beram with a kind smile. "I have asked to bring you here, because I may have a job for you."

"A monster that needs killing?" Falka asked, but Lady Alia shook her head.

"No… although, the job may encompass that. I would like to hire you as my bodyguards… for the time being, of course," she quickly added. "Not permanently, and you shall be well compensated… Should you accept the job, I shall pay you a portion of you reward now, and the other portion when we arrive at our destination."

"Bodyguards?" Beram asked? "Are yer guards not enough?"

Lady Alia sat back on her chair and sighed. "Although I respect them and their capabilities," and she nodded to the guard at the door. "no… we were on our way from Vizima here, when we were attacked by… what do you call them… nekkuks?... small monsters with sharp claws?"

"Nekkers," Falka answered.

"Yes those… anyway… we were attacked by a large swarm of them. First there were about a dozen of them, then another fifteen or so rushed from the bushes and joined the attack. I left Vizima with three chambermaids and a dozen guards. Lisia was dragged of by the nekkers and six guards died trying to fight them off. We were forced to leave them behind…"

Karen an Lina both looked down to the floor as Lady Alia spoke of the attack, and it seemed the memory was still fresh in their minds. "I heard Lisia scream but… there was nothing we could do. Now we are stuck here… we don't dare to go back to Vizima, and we still have the longest part of the journey ahead."

"Where do you need to go?"

"Ard Carraigh."

"That far north?" Beram asked loudly and the three women were shaken up. "Then you have a long road ahead."

"That is true… and that road will not be safe," Lady Alia continued. "And we will also have to cross the Kestrell Mountains… We need protection… professional protection against monsters. And witchers are as professional as they come. Will you help us?"

Neither Beram nor Falka answered immediately. This was not a standard witchers-job, and it would take a long time for them to reach Ard Carraigh, almost a month on foot, since Beram had no horse.

"Do you mind if we think about this?" Falka suggested. "This is not what we are hired for mostly, so we will have to think it over."

Lady Alia nodded and the two witchers left to their table downstairs.

"Whaddaya think?" Beram asked.

Falka took a sip from her rye. "I'm not sure. I doubt they'll give us a bad pay, yet…"

Beram looked at her, waiting for her to finish.

"I still have some business further southwest, and Ard Carraigh is in the complete opposite direction."

"What business do you still have?" but Falka shook her head.

"It's personal… very personal," was her answer.

Her companion nodded. "Alright… won't pry. But I'm thinkin' about takin' this job."

"You do?"

"Provided the pay is good."

"Mhm…" she nodded. "Fair point…"

She took another large sip from her rye and slammed the bottle on the table. "Very well… if the pay is enough… I'll join you. I doubt my business is going anywhere."

Back in the room with the noble's daughter, they agreed on a fee. It was larger than Beram had expected, and Falka joined him. The next morning they readied themselves for a long journey to Ard Carraigh. They quickly saw that this Lady Alia was wealthier than expected, as she had her own carriage, large enough for both of her and her chambermaids to occupy. Drawn by two strong mares, the company set out to the north. Falka riding in front of the column, and Beram walking behind them with large, heavy steps.

For a few days it didn't seem like anything would happen, yet on the fifth day of their journey, they arrived at a small town called Kestrell's Slope, as it lay near the slopes of the Kestrell Mountains. Between the mountains and the village lay a large forest, which rose up with the terrain, and far in the distance the eternal snowy peaks were visible. A dozen wooden houses were built by the main road and a few farmers were bringing in the last parts of the harvest before the winter would come. Each of them looked with eager eyes at the company that now closed in and each of them wondered who it was that came and why.

As they passed through town, mothers quickly pulled their children indoors and most of the men stopped with what they were doing. Out of a larger house a small, grey bearded man stepped and walked up to Falka, who dismounted her horse.

"Greetings, my lords and lady," he started. "May I ask what it is that brings ye here? We are but poor farmers, without anything worth stealing or taking."

It was clear that the man had seen his fair share of trouble, but Falka put him at ease.

"No worries, good man. We are only passing through… you have nothing to fear."

"Ye are just passing through? Ye need to cross the mountains? Then ye need to pass through Haunts Wood…" and he pointed to the forest behind him. "A dark and dangerous forest that is… some of our own lads have ventured into that forest… some did not return… but those that did never speak of what happened. They look like some horror has weakened them… their eyes staring… a visage that looks like it is drained of strength… Some ghost haunts this wood… it must be."

The man went pale at the mere thought of the wood, and Falka could see the fear in his eyes. The women that peaked out their windows also stared at the company like it would be the last time they saw them.

"Again, good man… no worries. We can defend ourselves from monsters."

The man shook his head. "This is no evil that can be beaten with a blade, milady. Brave men have fallen to it before… and more will."

The Ealdorman was too afraid to see them to the end of the village, and the company continued. As soon as they reached the edge of the forest, Lady Alia opened the window of her carriage.

"Witcher Falka… wh-what was that about evil in this forest?"

Falka came riding next to the carriage and tried to ease the noblewoman. "No need to fear… no matter what is in these woods… as long as we remain on the path, we should be fine… plus you have us as an escort…"

Lady Alia was not convinced by this, but Beram joined Falka and grumbled. "No worries, lady… This is why ya hired us."

That night the company rode on through the dark forest, until Lady Alia demanded that they would take shelter somewhere. The guards had lit their torches, yet it only gave a little bit of light, as the moon and stars had disappeared behind clouds.

"Milady… where do you suggest that we take shelter?" the captain of the guard asked. "We're in the middle of nowhere… and caves are not exactly safe."

"I don't care," she answered harshly. "We will not ride until dawn… find us some shelter."

Beram was the only one that could see in the dark. His yellow eyes with slits preened through the darkness below the trees, yet he saw nowhere to find shelter. He took a deep breath through his nose…. Then another one. He smelled something.

"You smell that?" he asked Falka.

"No… but I don't have a nose like a hound," she joked.

Beram sniffed again. "Hmmm…. Verbena… Mistletoe… Fool's Parsley… someone's brewin' somethin'."

"At this hour?" Falka asked. "Hmmm… the Ealdorman said this forest was haunted… a Hag maybe?"

But Beram shook his head. "No… then it would stink like the plague… this smells rather nice."

Lady Alia noticed that something was going on, and after Beram explained what he had smelled, she decided that they would find out what.. or who… it was. Although Beram advised against it, Lady Alia would not budge, claiming that in the case of monsters the two witchers could defend them.

They followed Beram's nose and he lead them off the path. They were in luck that the trees did not grow too close to each other, and the terrain was even enough for the carriage to follow… much to Beram's annoyance.

Quickly after he smelled the scent of the herbs, he heard something. It was not an evil sound… but soft and gentle. A slight humming… yet the tone was sad. After another minute he could clearly hear that someone was singing. Not an evil song that would be sung over a kettle of poison, but it almost sounded like a lullaby. He could now clearly hear.

"Birds are silent for the night. Cowes turned in as daylight dies…

But one soul lies anxious wide awake. Fearing all manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths…

My dear dolly, polly shut your eyes. Lie still, lie silent, utter no cries…

As the witcher, brave and bold. Paid in coin of gold…. He'll chop and slice you, cut and dice you. Eat you up whole… eat you whole."

As they came closer the others could hear the faint singing too, but then it quickly stopped. Beram walked ahead and saw a hill in front of them, with a dark hole that marked a cave. The scent of the herbs came from there.

He made a gesture with his hand and everyone stopped. The guards stepped forward, yet Beram told them to stay behind.

"There is a cave there…. I will go and take a look."

Falka stayed behind, to protect the others while Beram drew his sword and silently walked toward the cave, torch in hand. The sounds of singing had stopped, but the scent of herbs was still strong in the air, and even Falka could smell it now.

As Beram neared the cave, he heard a slight scuffling and the sound of something rushing away, but he still saw nothing. He had to duck slightly, but with torch in hand and silver sword drawn he walked into the darkness of the cave.

He saw the cave was devoid of any loose rocks, and when he looked down he saw a few muddy tracks. He crouched and examined them.

"Hmm… hoof prints… but no horseshoes on them… Also no horse fits in this cave… hmmm… a biped's tracks… Succubus?"

He felt a little bit calmer. He knew that Succubi would not attack unless provoked, and he had no reason or intention to provoke her. He continued until eventually he reached a large area, like a hall. A small kettle stood in the middle above a small fire, and strings of herbs hung against the back wall. He saw no-one yet he could hear panting coming from the other side of the cave, behind a few stalagmites.

"Nice song," he whispered. "Not always true though. You can come out… I have no intention of harming you."

From behind the stalagmites he saw movement and a Succubus appeared. Her skin was brown, and many areas of her body had white circles and patterns painted on them. Her hair was darker than her skin, and her grey eyes looked at the large witcher. A simple piece of clothing wrapped around her neck, went over her chest, covering her breasts, and reached around her lower back. A loincloth covered her waist. She would look like a normal woman, except her legs were like a goat's legs, covered in thick fur and hooves like a horse. From her head two goat-like horns arched themselves backwards and she wore a garland of white and yellow flowers.

Beram could see that she was scared… scared and angry, but there was no need for her to be afraid of him. He knew she was a sentient creature, and he had no reason to attack.

"Did the villagers sent you?" she asked. "Have you come to kill me?"

Beram shook his head. "No… no-one sent me, and I see no reason to kill you."

"Ha!" she scorned. "I think you see two reasons not to kill me… Men are all the same."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

But before she could answer they heard the rushing of footsteps and three guards entered the cave.

"Milady thought it unwise that you enter alone," one of the guards said. "She thought you'd need-…" but he stopped as soon as he saw the Succubus in the light of the torches.

"A Succubus!" he shouted and he drew his sword. "Careful men… don't let her charm you."

The Succubus backed away, but Beram turned toward the men. "Stand down… she's not a threat."

"What are you talking about! She's a monster!"

"So?" Beram calmly asked and he raised his eyebrow. "She's a monster, sure… but she's sentient. Don't piss her off, and she won't attack you."

"A witcher defending a monster?" another guard asked.

"I kill monsters, aye. But only when they're a threat. Don't make me show you…"

The guards realized that he would not back away from this, and they were deterred by his size and grim look. They looked at each other, trying to think of the best solution.

"I promise you this," Beram grumbled threatening and he took a step towards them. "You draw your swords, and I'll cut yer pricks off and hang 'em around yer necks."

None of them looked forward to that and so they backed away from the cave, after giving the Succubus another few nasty glares.

Beram sheathed his sword and turned to the Succubus.

"What now?" she asked and she gave him an icy glare. "You expect me to be grateful? Expect a reward from me? Fondling my breasts? Shall I spread my legs for you?"

Beram's brow furrowed, both in annoyance and because he did not understand where this came from. "No… you did not ask for help, yet I gave it."

"Yet you do expect me to be grateful for not killing me. And why didn't you? Because I have a nice breasts and a pleasant face… that's the only reason why you spare me."

"No… because I can reason with you," Beram said calmly, yet he started to get more annoyed with her. "You did not attack me… so I won't attack you. I may be a killer, but I ain't a murderer."

He turned around and left, but right before he exited the cave he looked back. "I advise you to find a different cave. I won't kill you, but I cannot say that others won't when they hear it from the guards."

"Relocate again!?" she shouted and hollered another few insults at him before he stepped back into the night.

The guards had already told Lady Alia what had happened, and by the time Beram walked out of the cave, she was furious, telling him to go back in and kill the monster. Yet he calmly turned her down.

"No… you hired us to protect you from monsters… she is no threat to you, thus I see no reason to kill her. You can send your guards in, but I will not go with them… and they'll get torn to shreds alone."
"Then witcher Falka shall go with them!"

"No I won't…" Falka answered calmly. "Beram is right… if she is no threat, then there is no reason to kill her."

"I thought you witchers killed monsters, not defend them!" the captain shouted.

"Dead wrong," Beram grumbled. "Witchers kill dangerous monsters."

For a few moments all looked at the two witchers with nothing but anger in their eyes.

"Look, we can continue to argue about this, but we will attract other monsters if we do..." Falka explained. "How about we leave and continue… yes, without shelter," she quickly added, because Lady Alia was about to raise her voice. "Is shelter really worth the lives of your men?"

This she refused to answer, but eventually she conceded and ordered to return to the main road.

After a long journey the company arrived at Ard Carraigh. The two witchers were paid the agreed amount and left for the inn, as the day was almost at its end. There they finally had time to talk, as during the journey the guards kept a close eye on Beram.

"So… was it worth it?" Beram asked his companion.

"The long journey?" she asked. "Yes it was… The coin is more than sufficient for a job like this. But now I'm not taking any jobs for at least a few days. I'm beat."

And she dropped herself in a comfortable chair.

"Agreed," and Beram followed her example and nearly broke the chair he dropped himself in.

"I still have to ask you something though," and he looked up. Falka looked at him with her emerald eyes and a lock of her ashen hair fell over her scar. "Way back when…. With the succubus…. Why didn't you kill her? Don't get me wrong, I agreed then, and I still do… but most witchers wouldn't. Most would see no difference between a harmless monster and a dangerous one."

"If you agree, I'd say you already know the reason."

"True… but I would still like to hear your version."

Beram sighed before he answered. "I wasn't always like this… I wasn't always as charming and nice as I am today," and Falka chuckled. "But I remember once killing a succubus that posed no real harm to humans. I had a contract… tracked her down, and found her in a normal, comfortable home, outside a large town… don't rightly remember the name. She sat on a comfortable chair, with a large blanket over her legs, and a large cap… or hat or whatever, to cover her horns. She would look like a normal human…. Yet my medallion wobbled and I knew she was a Succubus… I guess my gut told me enough. I confronted her and killed her… took her head… collected my reward and was about to go on my merry way, when something happened."

He sighed again, and looked out the window of the room they were in. "Two young children ran to the guard that just gave me my reward and told me that their caretaker was dead. The guard followed the kids, and I joined… I thought 'maybe another job'…. But I was lead back to the house where I killed the Succubus."

Falka's eyes widened, and she realized where Beram's story was going.

"The Succubus ran a small orphanage," he continued. "She was helping the kids with everything… she cooked for them, cleaned their rooms, taught them a few things like reading and writing…. She was like a mother for them. The kids knew that she was no normal human… maybe even a monster, but they did not care. She cared for them… and I killed her without thinking for even a second…. I gave the money to the kids and left immediately."

He leaned back in the chair and a shadow fell over his face. "She was no threat to anyone… on the contrary, she did more for those kids than their own people. It taught me that plenty of monsters, like her…. Sentient… can feel and think and act in the same way as humans. Sometimes dangerous and evil… yet often also kind and caring. Most sentient monsters are no different than humans or elves or dwarves. Even Trolls who can kill with ease, can sometimes be spared because they had damn good reason to kill."

"So you would spare a troll, if it is no danger?"

Beram chuckled. "Already have. There is a troll living on Ard Skellig… what's his name again?... Wham-a-Wham? The old prick had killed a few humans that wandered into his lair. Told them to leave… they refused to hear it and attacked him… he killed them… I saw no reason to kill him... this was just self-defence…. I even became friends with him, but when he offered me some of his stew, I had to say 'no'."

Falka smiled when she heard the story. It seemed this Beram had more to him than she thought.

'A simple witcher… but one that has seen much.'

He reminded her of someone else… someone who is like a father to her: tough on the outside, yet quite soft on the inside. Get on his bad side, and you will not live to tell about it… get on his good side, and an ocean of goodwill can flow forth.

Again?! Good grief, woman, I'm spent… - Lester of Smallton to a Succubus, a few days before taking a vow of celibacy.

Unlike other monsters, Succubi and Menads feel no desire to kill, do not crave human blood and usually do not, in fact, mean any harm at all. They are motivated by one thing and one thing only: and insatiable lust. They try in vain to slake this by engaging in sexual acts with any other humanoid species they encounter. While it must be admitted that their "victims" rarely put up much resistance, this does not mean Succubi and Menads do not present any danger: their never-ending advances, though pleasurable at first, have pushed more than one man to madness or even death.

Succubi and Menads usually can be found near human settlements, including small villages and populous cities. They prowl at night, though when stricken by serious need, they will leave their lairs during the day as well. The shower their affections on men as well as women, the young as well as the old, the ugly as well as the beautiful. Some of them are particularly fond of pastors and other holy men, whose seduction they treat as a sort of game.

Though Succubi are peaceful by nature, when forced to fight, they will defend themselves fiercely. One should thus not be fooled by their fair appearance – under the velvety skin of their arms lie muscles of iron, and a blow delivered with their rear, goat-like legs or the thick horns on their head can easily crush bone.

=End of Chapter=

=Author's Notes=

A bit of a hasty end, but all in all a chapter I am satisfied with. Not every witcher has a huge amount of backstory, deep motivated characteristics or, to quote Eskel "fraternizes with kings or sleeps with sorceresses."

Hope you enjoyed it.