Chapter Text
They're in the middle of nowhere when Geralt's phone rings, the road stretched out across the plains in front of the horsebox. Jaskier startles where he's leaning out the window, trying to photograph the setting October sun in the wing mirror, almost dropping his camera and Geralt instinctively reaches across the console. He pauses as he sees Triss' name flashing across the screen, and taps accept as Jaskier closes the window, biting his lip, they both know how rare it is for her to call instead of texting.
"Where are you?"
"Hello to you too, Triss."
"Jask? Shut up and answer the question."
Geralt gives Jaskier a look before he can say anything else, and gives her a rough description. He can hear her footsteps as she assumedly paces as she thinks, and the faint sound of yelling and barking in the distance.
"Is the road straight? And are there any other cars?"
"Yes, and it's just us, why?" There's a faint note of panic in Jaskier's voice and he reaches down to scoop Dandi, their half sheltie puppy, out of the footwell where he's been sleeping and into his lap.
Geralt slows down the van, about to ask what exactly is going on, when his medallion vibrates and there's a bright spark in the road a way ahead of them. It expands into a familiar swirling vortex just before they reach it and Geralt feels the sudden tightness in chest and eyeballs as they pass through the portal. He slams on the breaks as both Dandi and Roach make their displeasure loudly known. He agrees with them, looking around just long enough to see they're at the ranch house before closing his eyes and burying his face in his crossed arms where they're resting on the wheel.
There's Vesemir's tap on his window a few seconds later and he reaches down blindly to wind it down as he hears the other door open, Jaskier and Dandi tumbling into the dirt of the driveway. Deep barks come from somewhere close by as Mor, Vesemir's giant mastiff, greets the group. "Come on, Wolf, up and out. I'll settle Roach."
Geralt grunts an affirmative, and Vesemir's footsteps retreat. Roach stops her screams as the van back's lowered but there's the sounds of a brief scuffle, quiet swearing and hoofbeats, then a soft nose is nudging his elbow. He sits back so he can stroke her, resting their foreheads briefly together as she snorts. Evidently deciding he's fine, she turns back to Vesemir peaceably, snuffling at him then neighing, getting a response from the barn and heads off in that direction without prompting.
Leaning back into the cab, Geralt grabs their bags from behind the seats and slides out, looking around properly. Lambert's beaten up pick-up is parked haphazardly by the corral fence and Triss is grinning at him from the front porch. He only doesn’t flip her off because he has his hands full. Jaskier, dogs by his side, has no such restrictions as he starts towards the house.
She heads inside just before they reach it, heading for the coffee pot, and following her they find Lambert scowling and pacing. Geralt drops the bags and immediately gets more or less body slammed by Mor wanting to be petted. Giving in he collapses into the nearest chair, and lets Mor stick her face in his lap.
Unlike his restless partner Aiden is perched motionless on the arm of a sofa with his eyes closed, and breathing steady in a light meditation, not even stirring as Jaskier flops down beside him. Lambert catches Geralt's eye and nods towards the wall above the kitchen countertop. There's a set of crystals hanging there, one for each of the witchers in their pack, the four wolves plus Aiden and Coen. They were enchanted a few years ago by Yennifer and Triss, and glow when the corresponding Witcher is in danger. Geralt tenses as he sees the deep red glow that means Eskel's in trouble, hand absently bushes over his hip where the tattooed sigil that anchors the spell lies. Vesemir generally doesn't panic lightly, Witcher is a dangerous vocation after all, so it must have been activated for hours for him to gather them all together.
Triss sets a mug on the table by his elbow, then weaves around Lambert to join Jaskier on the sofa, trying to encourage Dandi to curl up in the space between them. The door opens again a few silent minutes later, Vesemir glancing their way before grabbing the mug of coffee Triss had left on the counter then leans back against it. Lambert has stilled, shoulders tense, Aiden opening his eyes and reaching out to link their fingers togther. Apparently reading the change in atmosphere, Mor moves towards her bed and Dandi follows, claws tapping loudly on the tile flooring, and he tucks himself against her belly, dwarfed by the larger dog.
Taking a deep breath, Vesemir starts to explain.
Eskel had been contracted to find something that had stolen five people from a rural town over the last week. He'd been making enquiries yesterday and had reached out to Vesemir and Triss about some spell work, theorising it was a sorcerer rather than a monster. He'd planned to see what he could find in the woods in the evening as thats when most people had gone missing, but his crystal had lit up just after dusk and not dulled since. Almost twenty-four hours now. The two of them had gone to investigate in the morning, finding only his trailer, empty of both equipment and animals, and the traces of spellwork too faint for Triss to identify.
And that brings them to now; whatever, whoever, took them is obviously active around sundown. And there's four fairly distressed witchers and a powerful sorceress ready for a hunt. Geralt takes a moment to be glad that Ciri is away with Yen for the season, getting some more experience in magic and terrorising any politicians they come aross on the way.
--
It takes them less than half an hour to kit up; weapons and armour checked over, potions gathered and the earpieces they rarely use because there's not enough of them to warrant it dug out of storage. Geralt forcibly drags his mind away from the last time he used them, a griffin nest with Eskel and Coen, instead watching Jaskier bite his lip and fuss over what he's able to do.
Geralt reaches out, wrapping his arm around Jaskier's waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Bring him home, yeah?"
"We will."
Hands come up to cup his face and a lingering kiss is pressed to his lips before Jaskier steps back, both dogs settling around his feet. Geralt falls back in with the other witchers, rolling his shoulders and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Triss nods to them, and starts to open the portal, she'll come through later, when they have a more solid idea of the magic used but she and Jaskier will both be on comms.
With a final glance at each other they go, Aiden first because he's the quickest and has the sharpest overall senses, Lambert close behind, then at a gesture, him and Vesemir. The portal closes behind them with a soft crackle, silence rushing in as they look around.
They're on a dirt road, trees gathered close on either side. Although the woods aren't dense the thick fog that blankets the area makes it hard to see much beyond the first few. It also deadens the sounds, the usual animal sounds missing aside from the occasional hoot of an owl or sharp crack of a breacking branch.
There's boxy shadow on the road ahead, which reveals itself to be Eskel's horsebox as they move closer, rear doors standing open. Closing his eyes Geralt focuses on the surrounding forest, but he can neither hear or smell anything close by. Opening his eyes he finds Aiden next to him who shakes his head, nothing from him either, then carefully eases himself up onto the van roof, crouching on the edge and drawing a throwing dagger.
Geralt hums quietly to draw the others attention, then mimes whistling. After a moments thought Vesemir nods, and Geralt whistles loudly, cutting theough the fog, the oscillating call that all their horses are trained to come to. If Scorpion's nearby then he should return to them.
Instead there's a rustling, too small to be the warhorse, and a Pygmy goat slams into his knees, too small to move him at all. Lambert hastily stifles a snort of laughter, heading up the ramp to hopefully see if he can find any goat food, Eskel usually has some around. Geralt scoops them up, and they bleat unhappily, trying headbut whatever part of him they can reach. One of the stalls has a makeshift divider, making a pen the correct size for one tiny goat, answering the question of whether they're Eskel's or not.
It only takes them a few moments to get the goat to settle, fed and boxed in, the van's back door locked with the spare set of keys, as Vesemir rechecks the cab, for anything he'd missed earlier, coming up empty handed. Nothing else has appeared from the trees, Aiden a silent guard up on the roof.
In the end they decide the spilt up; Aiden and Lambert to follow the road further into the woods, Vesemir and Geralt to head towards the town from here. Check ins over the comms every few minutes, immediate contact if something is found.
The first half hour passes slowly, the fog lying heavy across all their senses. There were moments Geralt could have sworn he could smell Eskel close by, but it passes almost instantly despite the sill air, only resulting in rising frustration.
Then out of the fog to their left is the sound of slow, steady hoofbeats. With a quick look at each other they fall back behind thick treetrunks, drawing silver swords as their medallions start to vibrate.
A figure on horseback emerges from the fog, familiar but wrong, too short, with an odd dripping sound. Geralt can't help the low whine that ecapes him as it reaches them.
Eskel and Scorpion.
Eskel.
Headless.