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Keldar was too damn old for this shit. He kept stalking forward, quiet and sure footed in the darkness as he cornered his prey.
"They make terrible pets." The bastard was saying with a laugh, the gaggle of mages surrounding him laughing with him. It was a horrible sound, irritating in a way that Keldar hadn't felt in close to two decades.
"Any closer to discovering their secrets, Ireneus?" One woman asked, leaning forward in an attempt at seduction as she showed off her perfect breasts. Keldar stalked around the trees, making sure he was completely out of sight of the lot of them.
There were five of them, sitting next to the bonfire on conjured couches. Like they were too good for blankets spread over the soft grasses. It was Belleteyn for crying out loud!
"Unfortunately, it continues to baffle even me." The bastard, Ireneus wasn't it?, said as he sleazily admired the woman without any tact or grace, looking at her like one would a particularly juicy cut of meat. It was dishonorable.
Keldar took in a deep silent breath, clearing back out his mind. He had to stay calm in order to not alert these damnable mages to his presence.
"I've taken to studying its blood in recent weeks. A colleague of mine, Moreau -mayhaps you've heard of him?- suggested its blood might hold the secrets to the mutagenic processes." That name felt familiar to him, but Keldar didn't know why. He had never associated with many mages, even before they grew jealous of the witchers and destroyed Kaer Seren- destroyed his home.
"That must be a grueling process." One of the other mages said in such a casual tone that it made Keldar's blood boil. "Especially with as much as you'd need, for all your experiments."
"Not as much as you think." The bastard responded with a flick of his hand, dismissive. "Witchers can bleed longer than a human could ever and survive. Their bodies can replace the blood twice as fast, as well." Pompous arrogant arsehole!
Keldar bit his tongue thinking about how long his brother had endured under this bastard's torture. It didn't matter what school at this point. There are less than fifty known witchers still walking the Path this year. Every one of them is a brother-in-arms. A dying people, for no new witchers could ever be made. Not properly. They themselves had made sure of that.
Keldar thought back to the particularly harried magic crow that had appeared on his shoulder four days ago. It had carried a letter, and disappeared in a puff of smoke as soon as it had been delivered. Tracking him down so deep in the mountains could not have been easy or cheap.
The letter had been from Guxart, because of course it was from the ridiculous cat. Vesemir had reached out to Guxart, beckoning him and the handful of cats left to join back at Kaer Morhen. Nilfgaard was on the move north, conquering and burning everything in their path. Stygga would be checked, and the handful of Cats left there to defend the ruins wouldn't be enough. They would die if they stayed at Stygga and Nilfgaard descended on them.
Keldar hadn't realized the situation across the continent had become so dire.
Four Wolves left total. It was a sad day indeed that so many of their brethren had fallen.
Last he'd talked to the grizzled wolf there had been over twenty but that had been… decades? ago. The Cats hadn't fared better, what with Treyse betraying them all to the human lords and organizing massacre after massacre of witchers, with ten left alive. Five known Vipers, but three of which hadn't been seen in several years. Only two Bears, Junod and Ivo of Belhaven. One Manticore, last spotted in Toussaint of all places.
Keldar couldn't resist the invitation. Had he known… had he known! But alas, he had not. Because he had given in to his heartbreak and isolated himself from everyone, including his own brothers, from fear and cowardice.
And what luck he'd had, overhearing the bastard mage bragging -the gall!- about his captured witcher. His experiment. He'd just stopped by Novigrad to pick up a contract for some coin, to ease his journey to Kaer Morhen. But he couldn't leave now, not without this missing brother.
Witchers were done being the playthings of mages.
Keldar stalked the campfire, watching the mages silently. They drank, and talked, and celebrated the night. He got lucky, his bastard got up to leave early. He said his goodbyes and walked fearlessly into the woods to portal away. Keldar saw his chance.
Thank all the gods above and below Keldar had kept a pair of dimeritium shackles. Griffins had always carried them, to be able to subdue wayward mages and take them back to be handled by human laws.
Keldar let him get just deep enough into the woods he wouldn't be seen by his compatriots before he pounced. One quick cast of Somne, silent and stealthy, and the mage was out. Keldar caught him before he could hit the ground, clicking the shackles into place. That done, Keldar hauled his prey over his shoulders like a particularly nasty bag of potatoes and dashed off in the night.
"…Nhg…" The mage groaned as he started to wake up.
"Move and perish." Keldar spoke, voice pitched low as he lay his naked blade against the mage's bare throat. The mage blinked slowly before he hissed in a breath, finally realizing his position. He spat a soft curse in Elder, looking smugly up at the witcher for all of a few seconds before fear crept into his expression. Keldar smiled at that. He should be afraid.
"Where am I?" Ireneus's voice quivered just a bit.
"We are currently at your residence on Temple Isle." Keldar spoke softly as he cast a quick Igni with his free hand. The logs in the hearth caught easily, spilling light into the well appointed room. Keldar had placed the mage in the middle of the room, away from anything he could grasp or use as a weapon. He grabbed the mage's bound wrists and yanked them up, making the firelight glint off the greenish metal.
"How?" The mage stared at him.
"Witchers have their ways." It had been stupidly simple to figure out where the mage lived. He pretended to be bringing the 'passed out drunk' mage home, but didn't know where. Apparently he was well-known to the guards of the city, entering and leaving at odd hours of the night. They were very thorough in their directions. "Now, where are you keeping him?"
"I'm not…" The mage tried to stutter but Keldar just pressed the blade closer.
"The witcher you were bragging about all night. Where is he?" Keldar had never been one to suffer fools gladly, even when he was a trainer. The mage was shaking all over, terrified now that his power had been taken away so easily.
"In a old ruin, just outside of Oxenfurt." The mage's heartbeat was frantic. He reeked of fear.
"Lies. He's nearby." Keldar hissed. "You walk to his prison every night. Do not lie to me again." He warned, voice dark and full of dark promises.
"Th-th-there's a path!" Ireneus gasped out finally. Keldar let up on the pressure of the blade just enough where he could talk. "Down to the sewers. There's a hidden room where I keep my research." Keldar let the man stew for a minute more, glaring down at him. "I have the key. On the mantle." Keldar let one eyebrow tick up at that.
"You mean this key?" He held up a small silver key. It had been in one of the mage's pockets. It reeked of sewage and refuse.
"Ye-yes. That key."
"I warned you not to lie again." Kelder raised a hand to the bastard's face, giving him just one second before he signed Axii. He felt the moment his sign took control of the mage, power pouring into it to dominate the mage's mind. "You will not speak. You will show me to your experiment room in the sewers."
The mage complied, eyes vacant and unseeing as his body moved, compelled as it was. Keldar didn't particularly enjoy the feeling; the buzz of magic was constant in the back of his mind. The mage didn't even resist. How in Melitele's name did this incompetent bastard capture a witcher?
Probably by surprise, after a hunt, when a witcher is at his lowest. Probably hurt to begin with, no matter what the mage had done since. He only hoped the lad was still of his own mind. Keldar would put him out of his misery if not. Give him a proper witcher burial. Take his medallion, if not his name, home.
It was a relatively short trip. The sewer system beneath Novigrad was massive and Keldar knew he'd have to find another way out if he did rescue the witcher. The entrance was too deep in the city. There would be no chance of them escaping undetected that way.
The concealment spell fell away as the mage approached. That was a neat bit of spellwork, honestly. Also very convenient since Keldar wouldn't need the mage to lift it. There was just a very sturdy wooden door set into the wall. The silver key opened it easily, the door swinging inward on silent hinges.
The first thing that hits Keldar is the stench. Blood, both dried and fresh, then bile and waste, and the corpse-like scent of rotten flesh. Oh. He might not be bringing the lad out alive. Torches stood ready next to the inside of the doorway, and a quick Igni lit the first one. It isn't enough for a human to see by, but more than enough for a witcher's eyes. Two bright red eyes shone in the sudden light, staring at Keldar from behind bars. They blinked, slowly.
Keldar's shocked that he's still alive.
The lad is in chains, even though the cage looks to be made very well, with some kind of magic reinforcement on it, judging by Keldar's medallion's reaction. His hands were shackled together at the wrists, with a long chain tethered to the wall behind him. It looped up and back around to the shackles on his ankles, keeping him from standing at all. A final shackle around his neck like a damn collar was chained to the wall as well. At least it was at a correct height for the lad to sit, albeit uncomfortably straight-backed against the stone.
He's emaciated and so very still. Keldar can hear the faint rasp of his breathing, and the witcher-slow heartbeat is a steady counterpoint in the quiet. There are all kinds of alchemical equipment on tables surrounding the cage, and a large stone slab right in the middle, with more heavy chains. It reminds Keldar too much of the Trial rooms, bringing back all those nightmares. Years of torture, watching children being strapped down just like that, screaming until they die or the mutagens take hold.
"Go sit on the table." Keldar ordered, swallowing back the bile in his throat. The mage complied and ah, there, a hint of resistance. Not enough to matter, not now. Keldar strapped the mage down around his middle and ankles, not bothering to check if it would be too tight before stepping up to the door to the cage.
The lad looked up at him from behind a dirty black fringe, tilting his head just a bit, trying to move the stray hair from in front of his eyes to see better.
"Easy, lad. I'll get you out." Keldar said softly, hoping to get something from him. The boy just blinked.
"Mage. Run." Two short words, choppy and barely a breath. A warning.
"Don't worry about the mage. He won't hurt you again." Keldar's voice was dark and full of emotion that he normally had better control over. There was a simple padlock over the door to the cage, which Keldar snapped off with an easy twist of his hand. He was across the cage in two steps, and paused when he heard the mage start struggling on the table. The magic must nullify everything inside the cage. Not like the lad could summon the strength for a Sign, but it explained how the mage kept him from blasting out at the beginning.
"Let me go!" The mage was shouting now, but Keldar made sure he wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. He could stew. "Foul beast!"
"Boy." Keldar spoke softly when he noticed the lad had flinched back from him. "I need you to look at me. Can I release you?" He asked as he sank to his knees next to him. Red eyes stared at him for a long minute, almost uncomprehending.
"...yes…"
"I am Keldar of the Griffins, boy." Keldar said as he slowly leaned forward to grasp the chains. They were sturdy, but had no enhancements on them. He carefully telegraphed his movements before deciding it was probably best to melt them. There was a weak point at the link attached to each shackle that if he got it hot enough, he could probably pull them apart. And he did just that.
He held a flame from his fingertips, careful of the lad's skin. And here now, close up, he could see some of what the bastard had done. There were perfectly cut lines up and down each of the lad's arms, from his fingertips to his elbows. They were in precise little squares, and Keldar could see that some of the squares looked thinner than the rest. Had the fucker tried to skin him alive?
The boy watched him as he worked. Some of those wounds were closed and mended over, but the ones near his wrists were still bleeding. He'd probably reopened them himself at some point before Keldar arrived. The mage had fallen silent at some point, just breathing heavily atop the table, waiting to die.
"Got anything in your system?" Keldar asked as he broke the last of the chains, the one to the collar. He had leaned the boy's head forward just enough, trying desperately to not catch his hair on fire. The boy slumped forward bonelessly as the chain holding him up snapped. Keldar caught him and gently leaned him back against the wall.
"No." The boy couldn't hold his head up any more, leaning back against the wall again. Keldar nodded before he pulled a Swallow from his belt. He'd have to be careful and not overdose him.
"This is a Swallow. I'm only going to give you half right now, okay?" He asked as he held the potion up. It glittered as it caught the weak torchlight and the boy stared at it for a long time before looking back to Keldar.
"Mhkay." He slurred out. He was tired, that much was obvious. Keldar tipped his head back gently, holding the bottle up to his lips. He tipped the bottle up just enough to get a few drops in his mouth and sighed in relief when the boy swallowed it.
"Good lad." Keldar said softly before he re-corked the bottle and stored it. "I'm going to get you out of here now." He carefully lifted the lad up and carried him out of the cell. He set the boy down next to the door, right under the torch before turning back to the captured mage.
Keldar stared down at the man as he broke, crying and begging the elder for his miserable life. It was pathetic.
"You should at least be honorable enough to accept the consequences for your own actions." Keldar hissed at him, all poise and grace. "You will pay for your transgressions against my brother with your life."
He should make him suffer. He should make him beg for his life. But witchers do not torture, and Keldar gives him a merciful death. Quick. Painless. A knife to the heart, straight between the ribs in one fluid motion. It was more than he deserved, but the boy needed tending.
Keldar didn't bother looking through the room. He'd come back later and clean up. He had to get the boy out of these sewers and somewhere safe.
Keldar bandaged the boy's arms quickly and efficiently with what few clean ones he had on hand. He'd have to go to a healer for more supplies soon.
"Come on, boy. Let's get you out of here." Keldar said once the wounds were all wrapped up, carefully pulling the boy to his feet. He swayed, unsteady.
"Where?" He asked as Keldar slung him onto his shoulder, wrapping a hand around the boy's waist to keep him there.
"Don't know yet. Just out of here." Keldar led them out of the room and back into the sewers. This would not be pleasant. And he needed to keep the boy awake. Bright red eyes stared, glassy and unfocused as his head drooped against Keldar's shoulder. "What's your name?"
"...Kiyan…" Keldar can feel his eyebrows raise in surprise. He knew of this poor tortured Cat.
"You're a Cat, then?" He asked when he felt the boy relaxing, jostling him just a bit as they slogged through the muck of the sewers. Keldar did not trust that no one else could pop in to check on the now dead mage. There could be others, like that Moreau the mage had mentioned.
He had to get them to safety. Once he was a little more stable, Keldar could come back. Get his swords and medallion at least. Burn the mage's work. He was starting to be able to smell the harbor, faintly.
"Mmm…" Kiyan rumbled an agreement. "How?" The question came several moments later. Oh, that was a great sign. Meant he was processing everything, albeit slowly.
"I know your father-surprise. Guxart and I used to walk the Path together, back in our youth." Keldar explained as they came to a crossroads in the tunnel. He closed his eyes and smelled, trying to parse the correct direction. "He thought you dead for the past half a century." Keldar picked up the conversation once he decided on the left tunnel.
Kiyan didn't respond to that, but Keldar could tell he was thinking hard about that. His eyes were closed, but scrunched in concentration not sleep; his breathing was still strong and a little too fast.
"Guxart… died?" Kiyan finally asked as Keldar spotted the grated off exit of their current tunnel, right underneath the city walls. Thank fuck for that. He'd be able to get a camp set up sooner.
"Are you asking or telling, boy?" Keldar asked.
"Treyse said… said Guxart died. At Hertch." Kiyan rasped and Keldar stopped dead in his tracks.
"What?" He blurted out, thoroughly stunned before he regained his composure. "No, nevermind that right now. We need to get you healed up." He hoisted the cat back up onto his shoulder a little higher as they finally stepped out into the weak morning sunlight.
"Mhkay…" Kiyan's voice was weak and slightly out of it. He was fading fast, but his heartbeat was still strong. He'd survived months of torture from that bastard mage. He was going to survive his rescue. And, Keldar was going to bring this lost cat back home.
"You'll heal, Kiyan. I promise that now." Keldar said, sure and confident. "After that, we're going somewhere safe."
"Safe? Warm?" Keldar couldn't help the small chuckle at that.
"Can't promise warmth that far north." Keldar had visited Kaer Morhen before, and even in the middle of summer like it would be when they arrived, it was never warm. But it was well-guarded, and solid. It would be a place that Kiyan could heal at without worry. "But I think you'll find someone you lost there."
It wasn't easy dragging the injured cat across the Continent. It took over a week before they could leave the small campsite near Novigrad, Keldar feeding potion after potion into the lad to heal him. But he did it without complaint.
And the look of pure unadulterated joy on Kiyan's face at seeing Guxart, hale and healthy and standing in the middle of Kaer Morhen, was completely worth it.