THE WITCHER'S CHOICE

Part 7: DID THEY BITE YOU?

PART 7

"Come on, Roach," Geralt encouraged his mare forward along the path in the dense forest of Talgar. Laurel had provided him with a beautiful animal. Geralt had named it 'Roach', as he did with all his horses.

The witcher now felt complete and satisfied: he had his medallion, that warned him about monsters and the presence of magic, and he had his two swords: the steel one, on his back, and the silver one, kept carefully wrapped by Roach's side.

The night was approaching and he was riding north when he felt his medallion vibrate furiously on his chest. He automatically covered it with his hand, as if to try to calm down the ominous warning. He reined in Roach and dismounted, slowly. He sniffed the air. It was not good. Without taking his penetrating eyes from the forest, he unwrapped his silver sword and got ready.

Three of them came at once from different directions, baring their menacing fangs and screaming with ear-splitting intensity. The first one tried to grab Geralt's leg and he cut him down with the sword without effort. The second one jumped on him, aiming for his throat. Geralt punched it in the head with the guard of the sword and cleanly cut its head off when the creature fell back. But without his witcher's elixirs, he was not as fast as he should have been and the third one managed to climb onto his back. He struggled with effort to get rid of it but the monster had firmly gripped his arms. Geralt roared furiously to no avail. He could feel the fetid breath as its fangs got close to his neck. He knew that if it bit him, he was dead.

Suddenly, the beast screamed, lost its grip and fell from him. Geralt turned round, astounded. There was a young woman, dressed in men's leather clothes, panting with a bloody sword in her right hand.

"What the hell were they?" she asked, cleaning her sword and sheathing it.

"Did they bite you?" asked Geralt urgently.

"What?"

"Were you bitten? They were ghouls. Their bite is deadly."

She checked herself.

"No," she said after a moment.

"Good," sighed the witcher with relief. "I'm Geralt, by the way."

"Elyn," she offered her hand. Geralt shook it.

"You saved my life, thank you," he said.

"You are welcome. I have never seen these creatures before in the surroundings of Talgar."

"You are from here?"

"More or less," she shrugged. "My head has a price in Kovir, so I keep it down and try to avoid the cities."

"What was your crime?"

"Meddling with politics," she smiled mischievously. "Come, my people have made camp not far from here. There's food and ale and a warm fire."

"Are you sure you want me to join you?" asked Geralt.

"Yes, why not? You look like you need a drink."

"I'm a witcher. Not many are comfortable having me near them."

"I don't care what you are. I saw you fight, and if there are more of those things near here, we could use another blade to defend ourselves. Will you come?"

"Gladly," answered the witcher.

The camp was in a clearing near a ravine filled with a murmuring stream of water. Five men were sitting around a fire. They looked up with relief when they saw Elyn, but their faces turned sombre when they saw the witcher.

"Who is he?" inquired one of the men. His face was pockmarked and his brown eyes studied the witcher with clear distrust.

"A friend," answered Elyn, "and you will treat him as such."

"What is your name, friend?" asked the man, spitting the word 'friend' as if it were an insult.

"Geralt of Rivia," answered the witcher, unruffled by the man's hostility.

"What's with the eyes?" asked another man, with a beard. "They don't look human. Are you some kind of mutant?"

"I am a witcher," replied Geralt.

"A witcher? As in a mutant monster hunter?" said the man with the beard.

"Exactly, yes," confirmed Geralt.

"We are outcasts, sir, but that ain't mean we accept anyone's company," said a third man with a black leather vest. "Elyn, why have you brought this aberration to our camp?" he reproached her.

"Because he will help us fight other aberrations that are roaming this forest," she said. "Now, stop being so xenophobic and give him some ale."

Nobody moved. Elyn sighed with frustration, took a tankard that was by the fire, poured some ale and gave it to the witcher.

"Come, sit with us," Elyn invited Geralt.

"If I'm not welcome, I'd rather ride on," said Geralt.

"Nonsense," she said. "These ignorant idiots need a lesson in tolerance. You can teach them."

"I have no interest in teaching anything," answered the witcher.

"It's all right, Geralt," said a fourth man. He looked older than the others and his clothes, although discoloured and ragged, showed that he had once been a knight. "Sit by me and don't pay attention to these three, they have never left Talgar and they know nothing of the world. They don't understand the richness there is in variety. In other words, they are afraid of anything or anyone that is different and they are easily carried away by superstitions and old wives' tales."

"What is your name, sir?" asked Geralt.

"Brumswick, but you can call me Brum, everyone does here."

"Pleased to meet you, Brum. I do not usually find open minded people in my path," said Geralt, sitting by the knight.

"This is my son, Jimmy," Brum introduced the fifth man, a lad of no more than sixteen and the only one that had not spoken.

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy," greeted him Geralt. The boy only nodded.

"And these three blockheads, who are only good for speaking without thinking, are Terry, Bled and Sam," the knight introduced the rest of the company. "I'm sure that when they know you better, they will like you."

"What makes you think that?" asked Geralt, glancing at the three men, who carefully avoided his eyes.

"Elyn is never mistaken when she calls someone 'friend', Geralt. She is good at noticing valuable people and she has seen something in you. I trust her."

"I'm not valuable," shook his head Geralt.

"What terrible life experience you must have had to think that, my friend," smiled Brum.

"Mhm," answered Geralt, drinking his ale.