Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (Completed)

Fall Of Cintra

"It's started." Geralt said, his head darting up from where it had been resting in Jaskier's lap, nose pointing like a bloodhound. Jaskier couldn't see or hear anything yet, but then again his senses weren't as good. It was only a few minutes before the cries could be heard for miles, and the light from the fires was blazing through the cell, painting the walls golden.
"Guard!" Geralt called, leaping to his feet. The guard stumbled over, terror plastered on his face, and Geralt had him around the throat in seconds, while Jaskier took the key from his belt and unlocked their door. They collected their things and ran, Jaskier still strapping the lute to his back when the first Nilfgaardian soldier came out of no-where. Geralt cut him down with a huge sweeping arc of his sword, and they ran on, coming to Cirilla's bedroom at last, but finding it empty. 
"We need to move!" Geralt comanded, grasping a handful of knucklebones in one hand and Jaskier's arm in his other. He wondered if he might be able to hire a mage to track the bones to find the girl. When they broke free of the keep, the air was thick with the stench of blood and fire, and Jaskier thought he had never seen such a horrific sight. He never wanted to see this again, this war and destruction and death. 
As if Geralt could hear his thoughts, he yelled: "Don't look, just run."

They left the city behind them, finding Roach stabled outside the walls where Geralt had left her, and jumping onto her back without a second's hesitation. Riding at the pace they were, Jaskier had to grip on to Geralt to keep steady, his arms tight around the Witcher's waist. 
They rode for 9 long days and nights, stopping only when they had to, following the trail which Geralt was sure Cirilla would have taken. Jaskier's ass was sore, he hadn't had a good meal since the morning of the battle, and the weather was getting harsher and biting at his skin. Sometimes at night, when Geralt lay beside him, offering all the warmth he could with his body and blanket, Jaskier would find short moments where he would forget what was going on, but by morning, when the woke to find the wind cold and unforgiving and Geralt no longer by his side, he would remember.
It was on the tenth night that they came upon the campsite. The Bard was reminded of the camp such a long time ago, where they had encountered the Griffin and he had been brave; he wished desperately that he could be brave now. There was a man, a friendly enough fellow, moving bodies with presumably the intention of burning them, putting them to rest. Despite his queasiness at the thought of it, Jaskier jumped off Roach's back and moved closer to the man.  Geralt grumbled something about getting a move on, but the Bard ignored him. 
"They're a feast for the crows." The man explained, dragging the body of a young man through the mud and to the rest of the corpses. "They deserve better than this."
"It's not crows..." Geralt said, warning creeping into his voice and tensing his shoulders. "Come Jaskier, we need to go. And If you have any sense, you will flee too."
That was when the clawed hand reached out from the dirt and took hold of the stranger's leg, taking him off his feet to land in the dirt with a 'Woomph' sound. Jaskier unsheathed his dagger, recognising it to be ghouls, and knowing that his blade was silver. Geralt too had slid from Roach and slid his silver sword free, holding it out before him like an avenging angel. He slapped roach's behind and she jolted into the treeline and away from the monsters as they dragged themselves from the earth. They seemed to register Geralt a the biggest threat and so mostly left Jaskier and the stranger alone, though the bard did have to take out a rogue one that had leapt for him. Three had climbed onto Geralt, desperatley trying to get a bite, or slashing with their claws, but the Witcher held out, cutting them down like corn. There were too many, and for a moment Jaskier thought 'this is it, the moment he's taken from me, and so close to finding the girl too. What cruel irony' . He shouted for Geralt and with renewed vigor the Witcher slashed at the enemy, thinking the Bard in danger. 
When the ghouls had been taken out, each body twitching on the floor, blackish blood running in the dirt, Jaskier ran to Geralt, throwing his arms about the Witcher- he might have done more if not for the stranger's company. That was when he stumbled, leaning on Jaskier when he pulled away. They looked down, blood was welling at his thigh, a round bite mark red and swellig there. 
"Fuck" Geralt mumbled, going down on one knee. Jaskier grappled to get him up again, murmuring about how he could help, what Geralt needed. His vision was going blurry and his ear ringing, he didn't answer, only cupped the Bard's face in his, trying his best to see his blue eyes one last time before-