Red Witcher

part eight

Inside the stone cottage was warm and inviting and Elizabeth sighed lightly, revelling in the feeling of being inside and safe. Geralt assisted her to sit on the couch as Alto and Drake busily shuffled around the kitchen, moving glass bottles filled with herbs and other strange concoctions.

"Damn it Drake, why are you so unorganised!"

Drake huffed, holding up a small vile, which had a tiny amount of a dark liquid in the bottom.

"Shit, that's not enough..."

Geralt stayed at Lizzies side, his hand pressing hard on the wound, his eyes were wide and worried.

"What do you mean not enough? Your a healer Drake! Don't you have more?"

The small winged man shook his head, running his hands through his long dark hair. Geralt bit his lip.

"Alto, find some bandages to stop the bleeding, Drake, where can we get more of the antidote?"

Drake turned his eyes to the Witcher, gesturing with his head for him to come closer. Geralt looked down at Lizzie, smoothing her hair from her face softly before heading over to have a hushed conversation with the other man.

Alto took his place, pressing some bandages to the wound.

"Sorry sweet thing, they won't be long, promise."

Elizabeth felt even worse, her head spinning, the wound stung like a thousand bees had choose that spot to attack. Her sweet face screwed up in pain and she gripped the blanket under her tightly.

Geralt and Drake had silenced, watching the young women for a moment before looking at eachother. With a mutual nod of the head, they left the confines of the cottage.

"Right so, the plant we need, Jurialis kolten, grows near Sila's abode, not far from here."

Drake spoke as they walked in the moonlight quickly down a worn path on the ground in front of them. With the mention of Silas, Geralt let out a audible groan.

"So you've met?....poor you."

Drake chuckled, leading Geralt over a stone bridge, heading further away from the lights of the village. A dim flickering light could be seen in the distance, smoke rising from the tall chimney. Silas' home was a rickety wooden shack, him never being one to stay home for long anyway. The necromancer had been a traveller, being more at home on the road.

"I have had the....pleasure....yes."

Drake pushed through the over grown bush which had began to overtake the path as they got closer. He yelped, jumping back as a large black bird erupted from the overgrowth, flapping around their heads.

"Caw! Caw! Why are you...Caw.....here?"

Geralt rolled his eyes, swatting the bird away.

"Silas.... we need some of the...what did you call it Drake, whatever the plant is. Now. Don't make me cook you!"

The bird dodged the hit, flapping his majestic wings higher above their heads out of their reach.

"And why should I allow you to take my things? Witcher."

The necromancer said with obvious venom in his tone. Geralt felt his anger boil inside him, his large hands tightening into fists aside him.

"She will die Silas, is that something you want on your conscience?"

The bird went silent, his small beedy eyes looking away for a moment before with a flap of his wings, he disappeared.

"Oh, great, thanks for your help. I swear to the Gods, iam gonna make a pie from that bloody bird one day..."

"Oh really?"

The deep rumbling voice of Silas, now in human form came from behind them. The duo turned, Geralt swiftly unsheathed his sword to point it at the man, his face angry with impatience. Silas held his hands up in surrender, a small bag in his finger tips.

"Here, just take it. And save your friend, whoever she is, but then leave me be...we have a deal Drake."

Drake reached out his hand, snatching the bag, before checking the contents, happy he nodded at the Witcher. Geralt gave the necromancer a sharp nod, his eyes betraying his annoyance, before he turned to ran back down the path. Time was of the essence.

Silas watched them leave before, in a puff of purple smoke, turning himself back into his bird form, wings kicking up dust.