A Wild World- A Witcher FanFic

Chapter 20

A.N.~ Thank you all for reading thus far.  It takes time to actually write what I imagine yah know. ;-)

Also lots of perspectives and different rewrite occurred... so this is actually like version 4.7 or something... lol

Anyways leave a comment if you like, and enjoy. 

~Cheers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"What the fuck!?" Lambert who was covered in various monster guts, barely dodged a black snake-like tendril as he recovered his stance. "What in the hell is going on? How did I get here?  I was ten seconds from cashing in on a 150 oren contract."

Amid the dark hallway a familiar white haired face, looking slightly pallid, swayed for a moment before recovering.   His thin white tunic was disheveled and the faint scent of alcohol stuck to him like a cloak.  Although his sword was in his hand, Lambert refused to ask about the purpling bruises on Geralt's neck.  "It was a portal."

"No shit. And what are these things, they just keep coming."

"Like hell if I know."

Deftly parrying another coiling mass Geralt deigned to ignore the salty younger witchers tirade of curses: several of which could make even the most seasoned of sailor blush.  

"Enough of that Lambert.  We've been called here for a reason." A stern voice called out.  Rushing into the larger chaotic scene a dusty looking Vesimir followed by an elaborately dressed Triss Merigold bust into the brief scuffle. 

"Exactly," Triss echoed.  Her heavily embroidered green dress barely covering her assets, a fact that Lambert noted quietly, swayed as waves of magic radiated. "Although whoever did the calling was not very experienced.  I ended up in the main atrium and Vesimir here ended up in the broom closet, and not near the summoner.  But I have one guess as to who and where we need to go.  The magic is emanating from deeper within this mansion.  Eskel and Cass are in danger."

Not hesitating an instant the witchers allowed Triss to lead.  Their medallions all jerking radically from the magic emanating from ahead.  Stone columns and pillars began to creak and moan.  Pressures from within and out making themselves known.  Stress cracks ran the length of the floor threatening new chasms.

Past a series of shaking paintings in a gallery the team was met with a twisting corridor. Walls bulged and wriggled as darkness overtook them. All lanterns both magical and real dimmed. Lambert skittered to a stop just in time to duck.   Black iron pillars like thorns had shot out from the wall, inches from his face.

All three witchers tensed in an instant.  Each had reacted to the shuddering pillars. No, not pillars. Arms. Shadowy and blending in with the iron beams and unnatural darkness. Swaying. They launched themselves at the group.

Igniting a spell of protecting Triss sent an arm shuddering away from Lambert's exposed calf. Giving her a curt glaring nod he continued on.

All tried to deflect the numerous shadow apparitions that barred the main action from the lab.

The witchers were ready. Eyes bright they used all they had learned. Silent and cold. Trained to focus. Trained to kill. Each acted in unified mission. 

The sorceress in turn did not allow them to do all the work. Continually she called on spells and powers sending the arms jerking away. Flashes of blue fire sent them shriveling back.  Acrid smells of burning bone filled the hall. The further they went the more rapid the arms flew. Angered. Whistling through the air they shot and swiped mercilessly.