The Divine Hunter

powers and control over vines.
She looked at the four of them, though she paid a little more attention to the White Wolf.

“Ess’ ae ‘n sidh?” She laughed, revealing her pearly white teeth.
The elf had an adorable yet seductive laugh, but when Geralt realized that she was looking him up and down, he couldn’t stay calm anymore, and he tensed.

Roy laughed quietly. Geralt.
You’re nearly eighty years old, and your hair’s all white.
Didn’t think you’d be shy around women.
Wait, is he so popular with the ladies because of this personality trait of his?

What happened next stunned Roy.
The black-haired elf told Geralt, “Bloede caerm! Aen’ne caenn’ wedd vort! T’ess foile!”

She was talking quickly, and Geralt was not fluent enough in Brokilon dialect to understand what she was saying, but Roy was.
“She says you are strong, and she’s very interested in you,” Roy explained.

The elf left, and she was chuckling all the way.
Roy finally understood why Geralt was so popular with women, but there was a little issue. Geralt’s muscular, but don’t these elves care about how he looks?

***

“Look!” Ciri gasped, and Roy looked at her.
“Their houses look so interesting!”

Duén Canell was a gigantic tree that had its roots under the big sinkhole.
Ciri said the ‘interesting houses’ looked like oversized coconuts that were hanging from branches.
Some of them were installed on the treetop, and Roy wondered if they would fall.

“Roy, Geralt!” Ciri whispered.
“The houses are moving! They’re alive!”

“They’re made out of trees.” Geralt had recovered slightly from the awkward situation.
“Dryads won’t use any human tools to make their houses, but they can control the sticks with magic to create a natural shelter.”

“They’re so adorable!” Ciri was apparently delighted.
“Roy, can I have a house like this when I go back to Cintra?”

“You do not have to envy them.
Soon, you shall have your own home,” Braenn said, and she stood before a huge door.
“You may enter now.
Lady Eithné is waiting.
Va fail!”

“What does that mean?”

“Goodbye.”

“Oh! Goodbye, Braenn!”

They went into the treehouse, where the dappled sunlight shone upon the colorful walls.

“Geralt!”

“Frexinet! You old bastard, you’re alive! I knew that dryad wouldn’t leave you for dead.”

Frexinet was covered in bandages Most of his injuries were looking a lot better, but he couldn’t walk too well just yet.
He sat up in excitement, but when he saw the little girl who was hiding behind the witchers, his excitement turned to fury.
“It’s you! You little bastard!”

“No, it’s not me!”

“It is you! So there you are!” Frexinet coughed, and he gurgled up blood.
“Princess Cirilla, you little bastard.
Do you have any idea how many of my men died because of you? I should break your legs!”

Frexinet wasn’t that scared of Ciri after that close brush with death he experienced earlier.

Ciri pouted, and she scrunched her nose.
“I am a princess.” She looked up haughtily.
“If you do that to me, my grandmother will have your head!”

“Then I will gladly give it to her.” Frexinet waved her down dismissively.
“The mission has ended in failure, and most, if not all of my men, are dead.
Your servant should have told everyone that you are missing by now.
Do you know what that means?”

Ciri still held her head up high.

“You ruined your grandmother’s plan!” Frexinet hissed.
He seemed furious about Ciri’s childish act.
“What you did just destroyed whatever chances Cintra had of making an ally out of Verden.
Your grandmother will have to lead Cintra’s army against Nilfgaard in a year or two at most! And without any allies to aid her! Do you think she can hold the line all by herself? What you did just doomed your kingdom!”

“No.
You’re a liar!” Ciri retorted weakly.
Her face became as white as bone, and her delight was replaced by horror.

“Alright, stop scaring her.” Roy sighed.
“No one should ever let a young girl shoulder a whole nation’s fate.
It is unfair to her.”

Not to mention Cintra will fall with or without Verden’s help. He knew Cintra’s fate better than anyone.
Unless all four kingdoms in the north came to help, Nilfgaard would be unstoppable. But they won’t help. 

“Don’t move around too much.
Your wounds will reopen,” Geralt said, shifting Frexinet’s attention away.

Frexinet turned his attention to Geralt and started complaining about the treatment the dryads gave him.
He said they stuffed his mouth full of disgusting, slimy, and rancid stuff.
They talked about their past, like the time Geralt dispelled his curse.

Ciri was listening to their stories intently, and she forgot all about the fear she felt earlier.

A short while later, Braenn came into the tree house, and Frexinet blanched.
His lips trembled.
“Please, no more.
Please don’t feed me that… that wretched thing! I will not allow it! Geralt, and that witcher there! Cover me, quick!”

Braenn looked at him like he was an idiot, and she turned her gaze to the girl standing behind the witchers.
“Come here, you poor thing.
It is time to leave.”

“Leave? Where?” Alarm bells rang in Ciri’s head, and she held the witchers’ hands tightly.
“I am not leaving! I want to be with them!”

“Go.” Geralt smiled bitterly.
“She will take you on a tour around Duén Canell.
It is much more interesting than what we have experienced.”

Ciri realized what was happening, and she whispered, “Braenn didn’t cover my eyes, but she covered yours.
They don’t want you to know the path leading to this place, so that means…”

Ciri started sobbing, and she stared at the witchers pleadingly.
“Am I never to leave this place for as long as I live?”

Braenn crept up to Ciri quietly and pulled the girl into her embrace, pushing her away from the witcher with vines.
Ciri was suspended in midair, and she stubbornly extended her hand to the witchers.

Roy could not let her go just like that, not after she looked at him with trust in her eyes.
He held her hand again and was about to say something to calm her, but then a voice behind him boomed, “None can escape fate.”

Everyone looked in the direction of the voice.
It was solemn, majestic, and full of magical energy.
It came from the highest authority of Brokilon, and it tolerated no doubt from anyone.

Braenn held Ciri in her arms and bowed to the voice.
Geralt knelt before it, while Frexinet was practically prostrating himself before her.
Roy, however, only slightly bowed.

“Lady Eithné.”

The ruler of Brokilon had appeared within the treehouse’s lobby.