The Divine Hunter - Chapter 539

Chapter 539: Reunion

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Juu was a burly man with red, ruffled hair. He had a room decorated with seal skins and shark bones located in the fort of Kaer Trolde on Ard Skellig. The sun shone upon the sturdy boulder, raining into Juu’s room.

He sat before the windowsill, smelling like salt, seawater, tar, and exhaustion, yet he stared at the golden seas with shining eyes.

Faces appeared on the raging seas. Faces fierce as roaring lions. The warriors were donning fur armor and horned helms, charging into the army of black soldiers, swinging their axes away. Caught by surprise, the cavalry charged into them, the knights slicing their backs open. The warriors fell in the pools of their own blood, drawing their last breath.

So many people who grew up with him fell in that battle. People like Verkul and Tarant, who grew up with him. Even his uncle, the king of Cintra, Eist, fell in that war. Cintra was burned, its walls torn, its grounds filled with mountains of corpses. Flames licked them up, burning everything to ash.

“My brethren!” Crach an Craite’s eyes were red with fury, and streams of white air came out of his nose. He clenched his fist and slammed the table. “I swear I’ll avenge ye. Nilfgaard will pay!”

Once a few months had passed and things had settled down, he would ride his drakkar to the waters of Nilfgaard and raise hell on the high seas. The silver lining in this whole mess was that Cintra’s royal bloodline managed to leave two… no, three offsprings. Crach was glad about that, but then he was worried.

Calanthe was resting in Bran’s bedchamber in An Skellig, and Crach wondered where his son’s childhood friend was hiding. “Please bring Ciri to us safely, Freya. Reunite her with us an’ I’ll refurbish ye temple.”

As if hearing Crach’s wish, a gale howled in his bedchamber. A black square door appeared before his desk, and crisp footsteps came from behind the door.

A heel made of lizard skin clacked against the ground, followed by a long, fair leg.

Crach held his breath once more, and he was met with a petite beauty in a black leather skirt and coat. Her skin was pale, her chin was sharp, and her black curly hair tumbled around her shoulder like black snakes. Her lips were luscious, and a beauty mark decorated its corner.

She was holding a little girl by her left hand, but she wasn’t dressed like a typical girl. The girl was dressed in a gray jacket and leather pants, her short hair shining grey in the sunlight, and her eyes gleamed as green as a prairie. There was excitement and delight in her eyes.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg? Ciri? Thank the goddess!”

“Good morning, count of Ard Skellig, Crach an Craite.” Yennefer smiled and bowed a little at Crach.

“I’ve missed you, Uncle Crach!” The gray-haired girl leapt into the arms of the burly count.

The count held her up by her arms, spinning her around and laughing. “Ciri, my daughter. I knew ye would come back safely. Let me see ya. Been years, and ye be a big girl now. Praise be to Freya. Praise be to the sea and our ancestors.”

“Where’s Hjalmar and Cerys? I wanna hike and ride horses and fish and ice skate and go on boat rowing rides with them. I can’t wait!” The girl smiled, dimples forming on her cheeks. “But first, I want to see Grandmother.”

“They’re fishin’ in Faroe. Gonna take a few days. Yer grandmother’s fine. Stayin’ in an absolutely safe place.” Crach put her down and held her hand, but he was staring at the sorceress, passion flaring in his eyes. “It has been years, Yennefer, but ye be shinin’ as ever. Why’d ye show up in me room? It’s like a dream.”

Crach sighed silently. Yennefer was old enough to be his grandmother, but she was more beautiful than she was before their breakup.

“And you’re looking more heroic than ever.” Yennefer pursed her lips. She was feeling a little awkward. The reason she had the coordinates for Crach’s bedchamber was due to their past, and this was the only coordinates in Skellige she had.

Ciri noticed the weird air hanging between them, and a cunning glint flared in her eyes. She rubbed her chin, hatching a cheeky plan.

Crach patted Ciri’s head. “So tell me, how’d ya know the girl? And why are ya two together? Thought she went missin’ after the war.”

“We’ve been in Novigrad for months.” Yennefer smiled. “I brought her here this time to see Queen Calanthe and escape the people trying to take her.”

“A Nilfgaardian spy?” Crach’s eyes turned icy.

“One of them. Spies from all northern kingdoms too. Skellige’s far, far away from the Continent. It’s a good place to lay low.”

“Aye, smart move.”

“So can you take us to An Skellig for a visit to the queen? We can talk on the ship.”

***

“So the White Wolf found her?” Crach was seated around the table in the cabin, sucking on a cockle. He stared outside at the crashing waves. A school of marlins leapt out of the sea, swimming alongside the drakkar.

“That’s how the Law of Surprise works.” Yennefer took a sip of the mead and frowned. No matter how many times she had mead, she couldn’t get used to the sickly sweet taste.

“I belong to Geralt.” Ciri was beside Yennefer. She bit off the head of a lobster and munched on its flesh. The girl put on a stern look and adamantly said, “Geralt belongs to me too. That’s fate. That’s why he could find me anywhere. Even back in Brokilon, and even in outer Rivia.”

“Alright, ye cheeky girl. Yer right.” Crach glossed over the topic and looked at Yennefer. As if nonchalant, he asked, “So ye got back together with Geralt? Stayin’ at the witcher’s… um… base now?”

Yennefer was silent for a while and pulled her hair back. When Ciri didn’t exist, every time she met Geralt, it was either on the bed, in a fight, or a session of silent treatment. However, when they reunited at the orphanage, she had one more thing to talk about with that white-haired guy: Ciri.

Yennefer looked at Ciri. She placed the lobster shell away and started feasting on the mint and salt grilled sturgeon and mashed carrots. The sorceress pulled a napkin and wiped the grease off the girl’s lips.

Ciri smiled at her sweetly. The girl was a lubricant in this relationship, minimizing the fights that happened between her and Geralt. They were like parents trying to raise a child. It was clumsy and hard, but they would happily take care of the cheeky girl.

She enjoyed this peaceful life, but… “No. Not yet. I haven’t forgiven him for his foolish and selfish behavior.”

“What do you mean not yet? You’re still observing him?” There was anticipation in Crach’s voice. Even though he was married and had a family, he would feel lonely sometimes, and he wished he could relive the short affair he had with the sorceress.

What Yennefer said next dealt a great blow to him.

“Technically, yes. What happens next depends on him.”

That’s just like getting back together. The count hung his head low and took a deep breath, his beard trembling. For a long time, silence reigned. The only sound was the waves crashing against the hull.

“I’ve been curious, Crach. Since Queen Calanthe is still alive, why didn’t she…”

“I know what yer tryin’ to say, but she thought this through. She has her own reasons. Well, a surprise, more like. A gift from the goddess.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Crach looked outside the window. The drakkar was closing in on the coast of An Skellig. The few seagulls standing on the dark, hard reefs leapt into the sea.

“Congratulations, Ciri. In a month or two, ye be havin’ a new aunt. Your grandmother’s going to have another child.”

Ciri lost all her appetite, her eyes as wide as saucepans. The fish and drool dribbled down her mouth, and she fell into a stupor. “A baby? I’m the youngest again? I don’t want to call a baby auntie!”

Crach and Yennefer teased Ciri, and the girl sobbed.

The Ringhorn slowly closed in on Urialla Harbor, a port with even land situated in the southern part of An Skellig.

The count led Yennefer, Ciri, and a group of bearded, armed warriors down the drakkar, entering the dark, ugly, and mud-covered port. They made their way north, quickly reaching the fortress of Bran the Conqueror.

Despite being the ruler, Bran’s abode was a far cry from the resplendence of Kaer Trolde. The fortress was petite and only housed two towers and a yard. Bran received the news once Crach’s ship had docked, and he was out here welcoming them.

Even though the king was already in his seventies, he was still lively and in the pink of health. His hair was white as snow, and he had a body as powerful as any young man. The king had a red cloak draped over his shoulder, and chainmail armor was hidden beneath his shirt.

He thumped his fist on the chest of his heavyweight nephew, bellowing in laughter. He then turned to the girl beside Crach, a hint of affection flaring in his eyes. “It has been a while, Ciri. Finally here to see me, eh?”

“Grandpa Bran!” The girl sprang into Bran’s embrace, burying her head in his chest. She avoided his beard and looked up at him, shedding some tears. “Grandpa Eist is gone, and my home’s fallen. I only have you and Grandmother left!”

“I knew Destiny could never hold you down, the Lion Cub of Cintra and the Swallow of Skellige Isle. You will always return to us safely, but I did one thing wrong. I should’ve led the undefeatable fleet of Skellige myself and crushed the southern bastards.”

Bran held the girl tightly, his eyes glinting with icy fury. With steel-like conviction, he said, “But I swear that as long as you’re in Skellige, none can harm you.”

The girl cried.

“And this is…” Bran looked at Yennefer quizzically.

Yennefer nodded at him, smiling.

“Yennefer.” Crach explained, “For quite a while now, she has been teaching and protecting Ciri.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer.” Bran held Ciri’s hand tightly, leading the group into the castle. “Come. Let’s see her. She’s dying to see you.”

***

The group walked past the beautiful hall and traversed the staircases spiraling around the hall. They were led to a bedroom on the second floor. It was bright, and warm flames crackled in the fireplace.

A plump woman was standing beside the window, her hair tied in a ponytail. Her face was a little round, and the love of a mother shone in her eyes.

She was wearing an oversized and warm blue cotton jacket that acted like pajamas, her baby bump conspicuous. She caressed her belly and stretched her arms. Feeling something, she turned around.

The moment she met Ciri’s eyes, surprise burst onto her face, and tears glistened. “Ciri, my dear granddaughter!” Calanthe slowly moved toward the door. “Come, let me kiss you.”

“Grandmother!” Ciri let go of Bran and ran toward Calanthe. Right before she came in contact with her, the girl skidded to a halt and stood before the queen of Cintra, looking delighted and curious.

Calanthe held Ciri’s hand and kissed her forehead, and Ciri kissed her cheek.

The jarl of the isles and Yennefer watched the scene in silence.

“My dear Ciri, I was worried sick when I was told of your disappearance. I was so scared that something might happen to you. I’d be alone if that came to pass.”

“No, that won’t happen.” Ciri turned around to look at Yennefer. “Geralt, Yennefer, and everyone in the House of Gawain protected me well. Took care of me like I was their family.” There was light twinkling in Ciri’s eyes. And gratitude as well.

“They didn’t force you to become a witcher?”

“I wish. They wouldn’t agree to it.”

“At least they held up their promise. It’s good to see you here. We’re finally reunited.”

“We’ll never be separated again, Grandmother. And I’m sorry for being so cheeky. I’m sorry for making you mad all the time,” said Ciri resolutely.

Surprise found its way to Calanthe’s eyes, and then she patted the girl’s head, feeling glad. Glad that the Lion Cub of Cintra had finally grown through the war. Now she was being understanding towards her, and for that, she thanked the witchers.

Ciri extended her hand, trying to touch Calanthe’s belly, but she was worried about hurting the baby within. She raised her head and whispered, “Is my… aunt in there?”

“Just touch it.” Calanthe held her hand and placed it on her warm belly, gently drawing a circle on it. Ciri held her breath, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

She stuck her tongue out, gasped, and made a lot of faces she learned from Auckes, then she stuck her ear close to the belly. “Oh, I hear her heartbeat.” A smile curled her lips, and she felt a bond forming between her and the baby. An inexplicable delight filled her heart.

At long last, she had another family member besides her grandmother, Geralt, Yennefer, and Roy. On top of that, she felt a special bond forming between her and the child. There was great power within this bond. It was similar to the ties she felt with Roy. It was something they shared. Something that pulled them closer.

Yennefer, however, saw something different. The moment Ciri hugged Calanthe, the chaos energy around them started spiking and moving at a blistering rate. The elemental particles quickly swam around them, as if summoned by something. The energy piled and piled until it was enough to unleash a powerful and destructive spell, and it was still gaining more momentum.

“Ciri!” Yennefer stepped ahead and yanked the girl’s arm. To everyone’s shock, she took her away from Calanthe, and the ball of chaos energy dispersed. The sorceress heaved a sigh of relief and gave the queen an apologetic smile.

“Your Majesty, just for your safety, Ciri shouldn’t come anywhere near you.”

“What is the meaning of that?” Calanthe arched her eyebrow. Imperiously, she asked, “I cannot hug my own granddaughter?”

“No, you’re taking this the wrong way. That’s not what I’m trying to say. You should know that the Fiona and Riannon line of your family carry an ancient and noble bloodline. A bloodline with enough power to topple the world as we know it. Ciri and the child you carry, if I’m right, have inherited that bloodline, and they do not have the power to control that bloodline even now. Should they gather in one place, their bloodline will resonate and cause an unpredictable change that will end up harming you.”

“What?” Calanthe had a look of horror on her face, and she was reminded of an old memory. One where her late daughter, Pavetta, was hovering in the air, blasting off magic. “But Ciri hasn’t displayed that kind of power, and my child is yet unborn. I haven’t felt anything from her.”

“The girl’s magical talent is outstanding.” Yennefer looked at the setting sun and added, “It’s late, everyone. Let’s talk over dinner, shall we? I have a lot of questions to ask, Your Majesty.”