Ancient Wanderers - The Witcher

Chapter 10: The Silver Lily

I sigh and rub my fingers over my star. Several contemplative minutes of silence pass before I say, "Considering that the Destiny may be calling me to the end, I recognize that your words are wise. Thus, I will try."

"You will succeed," the priestess replies with a smile, "As you do with most things."

A real laugh escapes me, one more smooth and airy than I am used to.

"Renfri..."

Geralt's whisper draws our attention. His eyes remain closed but I notice how his breathing speeds up. He will wake soon.

"Ness..."

Nenneke shoots a pointed look at me that I pretend not to notice. Luckily, the Witcher chooses that moment to move his head, grimacing with pain, and moans. The bandage - thick, thorough, and professional - wrinkles as he tries to sit up.

"Lie still, Geralt," I whisper soothingly.

"My... horse..."

I roll my eyes, "Your horse and your companion, me might I add, are doing just fine."

"My... sword..."

"Yes, yes," I reply with an amused smirk, "Your silver sword and other belongings are here as well. And three thousand orens each."

"The prin...cess?"

I grab his hand and rub soothingly, "Safe and well. Just as you will be after you rest."

His golden eyes meet mine before they disappear behind his lids. The Witcher falls back asleep with a barely audible sigh.

I release his hand and turn to Nenneke, only to see her staring at me still, "You could also do with some rest, Sprite. Or perhaps a bath?"

A bath. Goddess yes.

I know these halls like the back of my hand, after all, I was there when it was being constructed. Not wanting to leave Geralt for too long, my steps are fast. When I exited, I realized that the priestess had housed the White Wolf right next to my usual quarters. Out of respect for my history with this Temple, I am one of the few visitors to have a room always ready for me.

Though I intended to have a short bath, it turned into a rather lengthy one. The potion I poured in to soothe my stiff muscles felt too nice on my skin.

After I have scrubbed all of the blood off my skin and tamed my hair, I slip on a red dress with a studded lattice decorating the neckline and cuffs. Then, I return to the Witcher without more delay.

I descend into the chair by his bedside and fill my time with braiding the front sections of my hair away from my face. When that task has been accomplished, I busy myself with cleaning the Rivian's sword. Then an idea hits me.

My fingers reach over to grasp the golden brooch sitting on the nightstand. I hold it over the cross guard. It's a perfect fit. After pulling the pin and setting it aside, I rest the sword on my lap. My finger traces over the sword, magic heating up the metal. Then I do the same to the back of the brooch. With the utmost care, I position the golden jewelry and press it on. I feel the metals compress and mold together.

Another muttered spell enforces the bind. Once cool, I flip the sword over. My hand snatches the pin and expertly breaks off the decorative piece at the top, green gems glimmering up at me. I run my thumb over the rough edge and my magic smooths it. I repeat the heating process and attach it to the middle of the cross guard with a satisfied hum.

Gently, I hang the weapon onto the wall before returning to my seat.

Before I realize what I am doing, my hands are already at work wiping away the grime from Geralt's face. When my mind catches up to my body, I become aware of my predicament. I have adjusted so well to always having someone to entertain me. Now that I am up to my own devices, I have no idea what to do with myself.