The myriapod's body was pushed free from the carriage and onto the polished stone floor. The sheer enormity of the beast caused several tiles to crack. Lady Farington's eyes went wide as she took in the hideous creature that now lay dead in the grand hall of her castle. Her guards instinctively clenched their spears tighter, their countenances solemn. Even in death, the myriapod struck could strike horror in a man's heart.
Beneath her long green skirt, Lady Farington's legs trembled. The tremors were subtle, likely escaping the notice of her guards. The only evidence was a slight swaying of her skirt, but I had studied the movements of a hundred different kinds of beasts, her trembling was glaringly obvious in my eyes.
She hid her unsteadiness well, taking slow steps to conceal her trembling and advancing towards the myriapod. She came before its head, its huge eyes resembling clusters of black pearls. Not for a moment losing her composed sense of grace, she gently lowered herself to one knee. Then, seemingly without fear, she placed a hand on the beast's skull.
She stared into the beast's lifeless eyes. Her voice was low and simmering with anger, "Your death will not bring back those you have slaughtered. But it will suffice to comfort their spirits."
She rose sharply to her feet and turned away. The swiftness of her movement caused her skirt to billow behind her. With quick and purposeful steps, she strode back to her desk and seated herself once more. There was no warmth behind her eyes, only the cold conviction of an accomplished ruler.
She turned her head to look at Radkin and me. Her gaze softened slightly, "Thank you sir witchers. I cannot imagine how you slew such a hideous beast. Arnad, give them their coin at once."
Arnad stepped forwards, carrying a large purse embroidered with ornate golden thread. The coins within were so numerous that he required both hands to hold it steady. He bowed low and presented it to Radkin.
I could almost see his eyes sparkling with giddy delight. He did well to maintain his composure and accept the bulging coin purse without a whoop or cheer. Instead he continued his gentlemanly pretence, "Thank you Lady Farington. Your beauty is as exceptional as your generosity."
Lady Farington raised her hand to cover her mouth and laughed, the iciness of her regal demeanour melting away. The sound was silvery and enchanting, "It is usually boring and lustful counts and dukes who pay me such compliments. It's far more charming to hear it spoken by a witcher."
Radkin offered a sophisticated bow in response, "You honour me with your praise."
Lady Farington rested her chin in her palm, "You are welcome to stay in this castle as long as you please witchers. Your presence would be invaluable should any other hideous beasts crawl out from the earth, but I know that your kind rarely linger in one place for long so I shall ready myself for the disappointment your departure shall bring. Nonetheless, while you are here you shall drink and eat your fill, I insist upon it.
Forgive me, I must ask that you return to your chambers or perhaps another part of the castle. The tulips are in bloom and most beautiful to see. I must make announcements to my people of the beast's death. Permit that I may display its body in front of the castle's gates to qual any anxious spirits, then it is yours to butcher."
Radkin agreed without need to contemplate. The lady's request was simple to grant and would garner further goodwill. She did not seem the type to steal the beast's corpse, "Of course. You may keep it for three nights if you wish, your hospitality deserves such a small favour. We shall take our leave."
It proceeded that the lady did indeed take up Radkin's offer. For three days huge crowds of spectators hurriedly climbed the path up to the castle so that they might see with their own eyes the hideous beast. Their footsteps were so numerous that the path was worn several feet wider.
On the fourth day we entered once more into the Lady's audience and announced our departure. Unsurprised and with a knowing smile she wished us well, informing us that we would be treated as welcome and honoured guests should we choose to return at any time.
Power was an aphrodisiac, and Lady Farington possessed it in copious amounts. To top her immense skill in the running and development of a large city, she was strikingly beautiful. As Radkin and I rode out of the city I daydreamed of her emerald eyes. Perhaps if my eyes were not amber and two swords did not rest on my back I would've stayed in the city and sought to pursue her in love. But my eyes were amber. And my swords were two. The call of the unknown was more seductive than any woman could be.
"Finally, a crack in sir righteous' armour! I know that look, I bleedin' should it's how I spend most of my day! Thinking of Lady Farington's beautiful lips, are we?" Radkin remarked gleefully, leaning to one side to jab his elbow into my ribs from atop his horse.
I parried his hand and urged Anna to hasten away from the smirking witcher. She obeyed with a whinny and we drew away. Radkin roared with laughter and cried out, urging his horse to give chase.
"The thief who runs is rarely innocent!" He called out, his voice overcoming the intensifying howl of the wind as we gathered speed.
The statement was ignored. I brought my body closer against Anna's neck. She galloped faster. In the distance, the city of Begar gradually shrank. I wondered if Lady Farington was atop the city walls, watching the witcher and his apprentice ride away as the hooves of our mounts kicked up great rolling clouds of dust. Perhaps a decade would pass until I saw her again, in two or three more her beauty would no longer burn with the brightness of youth. She would doubtlessly remain delightful in charm and appearance, nonetheless.
But my appearance was soon to become fixed in time forever. I had no book to guide me, but my intuition told me that by the age of twenty-five or perhaps twenty-six my body would reach the end of its development. Then, my aging would halt. Perpetual youth, a fantasy that could sway kings to slaughter tens of thousands. Such power was already within my grasp.
I looked back to Radkin. A grin stretched from ear to ear on his face as he pursued me hotly. The sense of detachment that had been building as I contemplated the potential eternity that lay ahead of me dispersed into the wind. All that was truly real was the present, it was foolish of me to be so easily blinded to the immediate, by visions of what could be.
The pontifications left my mind. Instead, I grasped firmly to the forceful rise and fall of the saddle beneath me and the cold wind that whipped against my ears and caused my hair to dance. I noted a grin, almost identical to Radkin's, spread across my lips. I didn't fight it.
For some time, there was only the pounding of hooves against the earth and the howl of the wind. Only when our horses began to tire did we slow. Radkin drew in line with me. He smirked, "So fleet-footed little bird, care to take a guess where we're headed?"
He slapped the satchel on Lingon's side. Anna wore a similar one. Both were bulging and filled to the brim. Held inside were the carefully dissected remains of the myriapod. The worthless flesh had been discarded to Begar's sewers, it would serve only to leave a foul and long-lasting taste in the mouths of the mice that dared to eat it. After cutting away its flesh, the myriapod had shrunk significantly. But what remained was highly valuable. It's eyes, organs and armour would all fetch a considerable price.
Radkin remained irritatingly secretive regarding how and where we would exchange the parts for coin. All he had shared was a direction. South.
We journeyed on, sleeping with the earth as a pillow and the night sky as a blanket. Civilisation gradually fell away as Radkin led us through hundreds of miles of deep and verdant forests. For almost a week we saw not a single soul. The isolation was peaceful.
Then, villages began to appear once more. I spotted flags flying with an unfamiliar but recognizable crest. We had entered into Cintra. There was work to be found as we went. The contracts were dull, infestations of nekkers for the most part. The creatures were in abundance, the regional differences in monster populations intrigued me greatly. The conjunction of the spheres had brought them to the continent, had it scattered them randomly or perhaps gathered them together in groups?
Those with extensive knowledge regarding the conjunction of the spheres were almost without question practitioners of magic. Sorcerers and sorceresses were typically lofty and vain, Radkin rarely spoke of the ones he had encountered with affection. It was unfortunate that the majority of magical tomes, including those that discussed the conjunction of the spheres, were guarded and held firmly in the libraries of Aretuza and Ban'Ard. The mages were keenly aware that knowledge led to power. They hid their books beneath thick layers of stone and earth. Runes and inscriptions bound the forces of chaos to shield them further.
"Funny place Cintra! Their king, Dagorad, named the capital city the same as the country, laziness if you ask me." Radkin remarked. His tone was sly.
I didn't bother to turn my head. Anna and I faced forwards, admiring the huge city that loomed in the distance. The roads were quickly becoming dense with people. Our black clothing and twin swords drew countless hateful stares. Some spat on the ground ahead of us. Their hatred did not bother me.
Though they spat and chanted horrid rhymes, the people were smart, or perhaps simply too cowardly, enough to keep their weapons sheathed at their sides. Neither Radkin nor I would greet violence with pacifism. We had fled after slaughtering before. We could do so again. If the king's guard sought to pursue us for the insult and claim our heads, I would kill them too. Their deaths would not disturb my mind.
The guards at the city gates leered at us. They spouted excuses to search us and detain our horses. They looked greedily at our swords as well. Radkin stared at them icily. Then, without speaking, he stretched out his palm and faced it to the sky. Jets of flame stretched upwards. The guards recoiled with fright from his grim visage behind the shimmering air. They spat curses and invoked their gods to spite us. Their gods were silent as we led our horses calmly into the city.
Radkin knew the city's streets without need for a map. He guided us to a small inn that leaned sharply to the right. The establishment was clearly run down and in a state of moderate disrepair, but the roof was well-patched and the timber properly oiled. It would serve as good lodgings.
"Hold Lingon for a moment. I'll speak to the owner. He's an old friend, not quite so mean-spirited as those we've encountered." Radkin said, handing me the reins. I nodded in acceptance, taking Lingon's reins into one hand and holding Anna's with the other.
Grimy faces peered down at me from windows across the street. Children jabbed at me with knobbly fingers. Their eyes were curious. They had not yet been taught to hate our kind. Parents arrived swiftly with hands that tugged at their ears or necks and pulled them roughly out of sight.
Radkin emerged from the inn a few moments later. A boy, his right eye milky white and his left leg dragging limply across the dirt, followed him. The child looked up at me and gestured to the reins.
"Give em' to him. His name's Olid, dudn' speak much but he's got a good heart. My friend who runs this place, he takes 'em in, ones who don't walk or see right, gives em' a home and a job. The pay's shite but it's more than they'll make begging on the streets." Radkin explained. He smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. The child didn't flinch or make a sound, but I noted his lips lift slightly. He was like us in many ways, rejected by society for failing to conform to expectations he never stood a chance to fullfill. I felt a sense of closeness to the child.
Stroking Anna's head, I passed the reins to the boy. As our fingers touched, I slipped an oren into his hand. He blinked and stared at it. Then with a toothy smile he whisked it away into a fold of his shirt.
"Come on! Lets warm ourselves by the fire! The name don't Mousesack don't mean nothing to you yet, but tomorrow we're going to pay him a visit. He's a peaceful bastard, loves trees more than women, but he'll happily take the myriapod's bits off our hands. For a good price too." Radkin exclaimed. With one of his arms thrown leisurely around my shoulders, we entered into the inn.