One Final Hunt

## (I)

Alenfur, Temeria, 1251

“Say the name again?” asked the bumbling clerk, as he mentally rolled over the various people he had met that day.

The blank faced figure blinked his gray eyes and said, “Viktor. Viktor Zunilt.”

“Eh, Viktor, Viktor…A large bodied figure, big belly?”

The witcher, Ryvlyn, didn’t respond at first, but then replied, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? What do you mean my good sir? Can't you give me any description at all? Eye color, weight, build, even how fat or how slim he is? Eh, eh? Can you only give me nothing?”

Again, Ryvlyn did not say anything for a moment, before finally responding with, “I don’t know. All I do know is that he is a skilled magician, and his name.”

The clerk pondered this all. A witcher, asking for a mage? And one he’d never even met before! Quite unusual…

“Ah, well, I do believe we had some figures pass through here just recently, a mage as a matter of fact. He was accompanied by…well, I don’t know as a matter of fact. Some lady I believe. Personally, I’ve only heard this second-hand, and I never got his name. He, er, could be the one you’re looking for, I suppose.”

The witcher stood up suddenly, surprising the overweight clerk, and he asked “Where is he right now? Did he leave?”

“Mm, no, I don’t believe so. As a matter of fact, he should be meeting with the town’s council right now. He showed up here just a day ago, seemed to be in quite the hurry, and then approached our good mayor. About what, I don’t even know. Now, anything else you would like to know?”

Ryvlyn, still standing, looked down at the sitting clerk, ““No, that will be all.” He pulled out from a bag on his side and put down a single coin, “Thank you for the information.”

“Wait a moment, where are you going?”

“I have business with this mage I need to attend to immediately.”

“Well I am afraid, my good sir, that your business is going to have to wait. You very well can’t go marching on our town’s business like that! Hmm, yes, it would probably be best if you merely waited for him. Yes, that should do! Why don’t you head over to the Black Swan, best ale for miles around. You can wait there and finish, whatever it is you need with your mage friend when he is done.”

Ryvlyn paused at the door, then turned swiftly around, eyeing the clerk. Finally, he nodded, and then departed just as quickly as he came, as silent as he had entered.

The clerk gave out a sigh, “Witchers.”

## (II)

Ryvlyn decided to take up the clerk’s “offer” and sat inside the tight, dingey little tavern. It was cramped and some, and only a few customers were inside. Lyn himself was content to just sit in a corner, silent and quiet.

The entire room was rather sparse, and Lyn wasn’t sure if the ale really was the “best for miles.” But that didn’t matter to the witcher, who was fine sitting, waiting, and planning.

“Hey there,”

Lyn’s solace was interrupted by a large mass of hair and deep eyes, eyes that pored over the witcher. Eyes of deep crimson, and misty red.

Rvylyn took a glance, and for a moment was thoroughly surprised, but quickly hid any emotions on his face, even as he stared at the graceful figure before him.

She sat down next to him. Very close to him, flashing a soft grin at the witcher, and he looked intensely at her flowing brown curls, soft tan skin that was lightly brown, and finally, her bewitching red eyes. The woman’s dress was simple but elegant, a leather cloak around her back and an ornate silver necklace clasped around her neck, like a tight collar, from which sat a single carved amulet. It was then that Lyn noticed two soft horns popped out of her head.

Realization hit him. A succubus. Well, this is interesting. A succubus, and the most beautiful woman he had ever met too as well.

He quickly shook his head and returned her a simple gaze, remembering why he was here in the first place. He could not allow any distractions.

“Can I help you,” he said simply, ending with, “Ma’am.”

She laughed, a soft, fluttery laugh, which seemed to invoke the image of flying butterflies or birds taking to flight for Lyn. Clearly, she’d practiced it before.

“Please, sir, there is no need for formality. You must simply call me, Sellandra.”

“Sellandra,” he responded, giving the tiniest of smiles, “A pleasure.” He bowed his head ever so softly, just like Erland taught him.

“And you are…?”

“A simple traveler. I am here on…business with an acquaintance.”

She smiled, flashing her teeth once more, “A pleasure to meet you, simple traveler. Any other names I can know you by?”

“Rvylyn…of Sanzode,” he barely muttered out the last part, figuring he should have some basis for a home, a place where he could claim residence.

“Well,” Sellandra scooted over to him, causing Ryvlyn to become slightly confused, “Are you going to stand there or order me a drink?”

Lyn blinked. He’d never been asked that before. “I…suppose.”

He did order a drink, but not for himself, quite unused to the entire predicament he found himself in. Sellandra continued to chat amiably, with the witcher only answering her with simple answers, as she waved her hair, flashed her teeth from her tiny lips, and stared softly at him with those crimson eyes. He didn’t turn away from those eyes.

Lyn was well aware of where she was going for this, and how this conversation was supposed to end. Succubi required regular intermingling with men in order to sustain themselves. But, being a witcher…

*She doesn’t know, he thought, She isn’t aware of what I am. With but a single word, I could end this conversation, leave her to pick out someone else.*

But, for some reason, Lyn actually enjoyed their pleasant conversation, even if he was quiet for most of it. She was the first person to speak to him longer than five minutes and without any condescending tone or disdain.

But the witcher reminded himself why he was here. He remembered the broken corpses of the witchers of Kaer Seren, their empty eyes and gaping mouths, the broken walls of the old castle…

Lyn shook his head once again, and once more focused on his purpose in this small little town. He realized how close Sellandra had gotten to him, waving her hair freely past her curved horns. She was saying something softly as well, asking the witcher if he would like to join her later tonight.

Lyn responded slowly, “I’m afraid that I must decline. The members of my order are known for our…disabilities in certain regards.”

“Order?” asked Sellandra, “What, are we a handsome little knight, a member of the Brothers of the Sacred Tree or some other nonchalant little group or even…”

She paused. There it is. Lyn thought. Now comes the uncomfortable look, the displeasing feeling, sitting next to someone who hunts monsters, monsters that could include her kind.

“Oh. A witcher.” To Lyn’s surprise, Sellandra gave a curious little smile, though he could see an odd look of deep sadness in her eyes. Those red eyes. His medallion, the sacred Griffon’s crest around his neck, began to vibrate ever so softly. Lyn remembered that succubi were said to be skilled in the arts of magic, and felt a twinge of unease.

“A witcher,” Sellandra repeated, sounding slightly tense but hiding it well behind a smile, “Well, this is becoming rather interesting. I don’t believe I’ve ever had the chance to meet one of you before.”

The witcher merely nodded, and said nothing. Sellandra continued, sitting back in her chair, “My, my, a witcher. This will be a first.”

That surprised Lyn, and he quickly retorted, “You misunderstand my intentions, Sellandra. I am afraid you will have to go…elsewhere for what you seek.”

Sellandra gave a flirtatious pout, “Aw, am I too much for you, my dear witcher,”

Lyn glanced around the tavern. There were only a few individuals within it, and most were content to remain in their own little corners. That was good, less people to pay attention to a succubus, or worse, a witcher.

“I’m surprised,” he began, “That you’re so amiable to me. After all, my profession is to hunt down monsters that threaten humanity, and some would, and in fact, have, included your kind among them.”

Sellandra scoffed, “Well, of course I’ve heard all kinds of stories about you witchers. Monster-hunters, scoundrels, emotionless assassins almost no better than the things you hunt. But, creatures like us, people like us, we’re the outcasts, the ones no one cares about. We have to, mm, stick together.”

Lyn nodded, even if he wasn’t sure he agreed, though still surprised at how pleasantly she seemed to take being next to a monster-hunter.

Knowing that he still had a difficult task before him however,, he stood up, and said, “Well, I am sorry to cut this conversation short. But I must be off, for now.” He extended his hand out to her, and Sellandra raised an eyebrow of deep brown. “But I wish you well, Sellandra, on your path. And I hope that we will have a chance to meet again someday.”

“Yes,” she replied, taking his hand, but he felt a soft shake in her voice, and her eyes, those deep red eyes, betrayed a very profound sense of pity and sorrow, like she knew something dreadful was about to happen. “I hope so as well.”

## (III)

Ryvlyn prepared himself as he walked down the tight alleys, staying further to the shadows as he drew closer to the main hall for the town, a small little wooden structure for a small little town. He didn’t have to wait long, standing up to a tall oak door and a large, shark-eyed figure burrowed through the door and into the street.

“If that is so!” shouted the short-haired man, clad in a variety of deeply embroidered robes and tunics that seemed to puff him up, “Then curse you and this little town, and your precious little wizard!”

The door slammed shut, and the angry fellow gave a large sigh, cursing under his breath.

Ryvlyn waited for him to calm down, then looked around, his face still as he examined the area around him. There were not too many people wandering around, the sun still high in the sky. Still, he would have rather done this when it was darker. Less people to see, less problems to deal with afterwards, but he had no choice.

He sighed mentally, and approached the frustrated wizard, who turned his sharp eyes toward the witcher, preparing himself for his task.

“And who are you?” the man spat out as Lyn approached.

“Viktor Zunilt?”

The wizard responded back angrily, “Yes. What do you want?”

Lyn looked at the man. His many robes and tunics should have been weighing him down, covered in all sorts of elaborate embroidery and necklaces, like the man had bought charms for every god, demon, and spirit known to man. His black cropped hair contrasted with his stark, sharp, and piercing blue eyes. He looked quite threatening.

“I,” Lyn began, slowly tightening his hands, “am Ryvlyn of Sanzode.” He paused, “Of Kaer Seren.”

Viktor’s eyes opened wide, but then they narrowed sharply, like a viper eyeing prey. His jaw tightened and he clenched his fists.

“So, you’ve finally caught up with me. I should have been more ready, I suppose.”

Lyn’s medallion vibrated, but he didn’t move. And neither did Viktor. What are you waiting for, mage?

“So, you’ve come to kill me?” Viktor asked it matter-of-factly, his hands scrunching up into balls.

The witcher only nodded.

“Well, then,” Viktor continued, “I suppose we should take care of this here.”

Lyn’s medallion began to vibrate again, this time stronger, and the air grew static between the two men. Lyn waited for his opponent to move first, but Viktor continued to stall. Lyn knew that it was foolish to wait, that he shouldn’t have even said a single word but struck immediately before the mage could utter a single spell for defense. That was how he had dispatched most of the other ones, quickly before they even knew who was upon them. But this final one, this one Lyn wanted to give the bugger a chance. Let Viktor know who was coming after him. Let him know fear.

Finally, the mage sighed bitterly, reached down with his hand, and shot forth a great shockwave, intending to knock Lyn back on the ground!

However, Lyn instead reached out and crossed his arms in the sign of Heliotrope, blocking the hit right at the end of his elbows. The energy dissipated, though Lyn’s arms started to feel wobbly, but he shook it off, reaching back and grabbing his steel sword from his back.

Holding the blade in his right hand, he reached out with his other hand and formed the sign of Aard, and suddenly a great force pushed the wizard back, as he collapsed just like Lyn was supposed to moments before.

Lyn dashed towards Viktor with his sword, but Viktor reached down with his hand and scooped up dust, throwing it into the witcher's eyes! The dust, more than should have been possible, choked the witcher, and he coughed and cleared his eyes, trying to clear away from the sudden spell.

By the time he had cleared his teary eyes, he saw a huge fist coming right towards him. Lyn ducked at the last moment and gave Viktor a punch to the stomach, landing a vigorous blow to the wizard's gut. However, he was pushed back just as vigorously, with the two combatants locking eyes once again as they regained their composure.

I’ve got to act quickly. One quick jump and dash, slice the throat, and end it.

Lyn readied his sword and leaned forward, preparing to execute his internal action. Viktor crackled lighting at his fingertips, but suddenly looked behind Ryvlyn, and smiled.

Lyn had no time to understand the meaning of that crooked smile, as he suddenly shouted out in pain and collapsed onto the ground, rolling over from the flames burning his back and hair! He hit the ground with a thud, bumping across the stony pavement and stamping out the fires.

By the time he had done so, his eyes were watering from the smoke of his own hair burning, and he barely had any time to register when a great BANG! slammed into his body, as if he was mauled by a large boulder. The sudden feeling knocked the wind out of Lyn, whose head went hazy as he lay sprawled on the ground.

He looked up, hearing a great amount of commotion around him, and heard Viktor speaking loudly, “Finally, you showed up! You were supposed to be keeping an eye out for him in the first place!”

A soft, elegant, and familiar voice echoed back, “I was. In fact, I did encounter him, just a short while ago.”

Lyn looked up, keeping still but with his eyes locked intensely on a familiar face, soft cheeks and flowing brown hair, with curved horns, and deep blood red eyes. Those red eyes.

Sellandra.

He maintained his defeated position, keeping them unsuspecting as she knelt down, her hair flowing free, and an odd look of sadness on her face.

“Well just finish them! I want to be done with this tiring business of running and hiding from some plowing witcher!” Viktor bellowed, but suddenly was surrounded by a ciphony of important individuals, who all suddenly pressed to the mage side demanding answers to what had happened.

Lyn only locked eyes on Sellandra, but didn’t move, as she sighed and descended lower towards him. He waited, quickly calculating the odds. Viktor was still busy with the rest of the crowd and clamoring officials.

He waited, and then suddenly sprang up, reaching for Sellandra’s neck with his hands! However, she pulled back just in time, and instead he latched onto her coiling gray necklace around her collar, yanking it off as he pulled back!

Viktor suddenly looked back at them, and his eyes opened wide, right as Lyn managed to throw the broken metal right at the mage’s face! Viktor cried out as the metal scratched his cheek and lumbered back, right as Sellandra, in shock herself, suddenly looked at the stumbling Viktor, and Lyn saw only pure, unbridled rage in her eyes.

She pulled back, and threw her hands forward, screaming as flames erupted out of her hands and scattered the townsmen, who all clamored to the side away from Viktor, who suddenly screamed as the fire caught onto him!

Lyn, ignoring the pain of his back and head, jumped up, and quickly found his sword. Grabbing it, he reached out, and dashed toward the burning mage, who was making elaborate gestures and signals. Right as the witcher jumped forward with his sword held high, the mage jumped back, escaping through an arcane portal at the last second!

## (IV)

Ryvlyn kept his face quiet, as he sat next to the tree. He stretched his arm, making sure it felt alright. He still felt a little banged up after the deal with Viktor, and reaching down to touch his stomach confirmed that.

But what hurt most of all was his back and his head. His tunic had protected him from most of the fire, but it was still hot. But the back of his neck and head was where most of the pain was. His hair was singed, and in some cases burnt away, and his neck had still burned with pain.

Now it was manageable. Lyn was finally grateful for all those special healing concoctions he had worked so diligently to produce. Applications to his neck had cooled some of the pain, and the witcher’s mutative properties were fast at work. The healing process was well on its way, though Lyn would still feel the pain for a while.

Lyn looked up from the tree, where he had been sitting for quite some time, and looked up. Deep crimson eyes looked back.

Sellandra was standing only a few feet away from him, and both were quiet. Finally, Lyn cleared his throat, and said simply, “Thank you, for helping me.”

Despite the fact that she had attempted to burn him alive, when the townsfolk discovered the scene of a disheveled witcher and a dirty succubus, who had just previously attacked a sorcerer, they grew quiet discontent. Sellandra propped him up, and using what strength he had the witcher had run off, fleeing before an angry mob could form, and they barely got away with only a few bruises from thrown rocks.

Sellandra had, out of her own volition, chosen to help him. But Lyn was still suspicious of what had just happened. What was Sellandra, a friend? An enemy? Merely a temporary ally?

*She certainly seemed to hate Viktor. But she’s also pretended things before.*

He recalled meeting her for the first time in the tavern, and their pleasant conversation…before she’d tried to burn his back.

“You are…welcome,” Sellandra said, shifting uncomfortably, “I suppose you have questions.”

“Plenty.” he said dryly, trying not to betray a bitter tone in his voice.

“\*Sigh\* This might take a little while to explain.”

“There isn’t much time we have,” the gray-eyed witcher responded, “Viktor is getting further and further away as we dawdle. There will be plenty of time to talk while we travel.”

He slowly stood up, not grimacing as a burning pain seared his neck, “I only have one question for now. Can I trust you to help me kill Viktor Zunilt?

Sellandra bit her lip, then said, “I’ve waited a long time to kill that monster.” She looked up at him, her eyes full of determination, “Yes. I will do whatever it takes”

“Will you listen to me, and follow my commands, no matter what I ask? I need to know if I can trust you.”

She paused, but did not look away, “Yes.”

Lyn sighed, content with that. He looked up, knowing that a difficult journey was still ahead of him.

“Then let’s get going. I’ve got one final hunt to finish.”

## (V)

The two walked in silence for a while, with nothing to talk about. Lyn remained quiet, trudging along the dirt road, with Sellandra in tow. His gaze remained low and stilted, and he only looked ever forward. Towards the path and the horizon, where Zunilt had run off to.

For about a half an hour, not a single word was spoken between them. Then Lyn’s ears picked up a different sound, something else besides the crunch of boots on dirt or the breeze. Horses.

He moved to the side of the path, listening and looking forward. A rider was approaching, someone atop a chestnut mare, heartily whistling a tune as they went. The rider approached soon enough, and Lyn was able to get a good look at the man.

He was some kind of merchant or other, a well-rounded but not too plump fellow, with his own large jerkin and feathered hat atop his head. There were several small pouches on the side of the horse, which seemed to be full. Lyn didn’t care, however, about anything the man was wearing or holding, not his happy tune he was whistling, not the bright blue eyes that presented a happy face. Lyn only looked at the horse.

“Good day to you, strangers!” the man said as he approached them, clearly thinking he would say hello to fellow travelers, and then ride right past them.

That was not, however, what happened. Suddenly, Lyn jumped in front of the rider, and with a swift movement reached back and pulled out his sword. The man reigned back his horse in shock.

“Good, sir, what is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“Get down off your horse,” was all Lyn replied.

“Please, sir! I am but a humble merchant making my wares!” the rider began to bumble along and shake.

“I don’t care. Get off the horse.” Lyn didn’t flinch, pointing the sword high at him.

“What are you doing?” asked Sellandra.

Lyn didn’t answer her, but this time growled out at the merchant, “Get OFF your horse. Now.”

The robust man quickly did so, stepping back and whimpering.

“Please, leave me be! I have a wife and children, and have nothing off value to you, you brigand!”

Lyn pulled the horse over to him, moving next to the saddle bags, but keeping his sword aimed at the merchant. Looking over, he flipped open one of the small bags. The gold coins jingled as he touched them.

Lyn looked back at the merchant, whose face grew even more wide-eyed.

“Please, I beg you good sir, don’t harm me. I can‒can give you whatever you want!”

Lyn scoffed, “I very much doubt that.”

“Are you seriously going to just rob this man right now?” asked Sellandra.

Lyn looked at her dispassionately, then at the bag coins.

*Pox it all.*

He then grabbed the saddle and loosened the straps to the pouch, keeping one eye on the merchant. When they were all loosened, he grabbed them and threw them at the merchant’s feet. Several of the coins clattered out onto the mud, and the merchant looked up at the witcher with surprise.

Lyn quickly jumped onto the horse, and put his hand out to Sellandra.

“Get up, we’d better get going.”

She didn’t move for a second, looking at him with some anger in her eyes.

Finally she huffed and grabbed his hand. Lyn pulled her up into the saddle, and he moved the horse to face the merchant, who was staring at him strangely.

“There’s a town a short ways down the road, and no one barring the way. Keep your coins and head there.”

And with that, wheeled the horse forward and began to trot away.

## (VI)

Ryvlyn finally began to talk when they had boarded a small room in an inn. By the time they had approached the small town, it was dark. Lyn had barely enough coins to board a room for the two of them, which was small, crude, but worked for his purposes, and he was starting to regret leaving the bag of coins behind.

*Erland wouldn’t have approved though. But then again, Erland isn’t here.*

He had remained quiet their entire ride, having no desire to start up a conversation with Sellandra, and she doubtless felt the same.  When, however, they were together in the room and settled in, he began.

“So, to start with, tell me who exactly you are, and how you ended up working with Viktor Zunilt.”

Sellandra raised an eyebrow in slight surprise, somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. She sighed, sitting on the bed.

“You want to start this now? I’m dreadfully tired as it is. We’ve been traveling all day, I’m terribly dirty, and I don’t even have a comb to fix my hair.”

Better get used to it. We will be traveling a lot.

Lyn, however, did not say that to her. Instead he replied, “Just explain it to me. Why were you working for Viktor, and why do you want him dead?”

Sellandra sighed again and began to speak, at first with some hesitation, but as she continued to talk her voice began to slow and sooth, as if a strange sense of calm came over the succubus, “It’s a bit of a long story, but here we go I guess. My name is Sellandra, and I am what you humans call a succubus. But you already knew that."

Lyn nodded, showing that he did, "Go on."

She did, "Viktor Zunilt, that beast, saved my life. I was almost burned alive by an angry mob in some godsforsaken village, but he saved me. In return, I had to…help him. He first used me in whatever way he liked.”

Lyn nodded, understanding her meaning, and Sellandra continued.

“In addition, I was tasked with eliminating his opponents. Rivals, past lovers," she smirked at Lyn, "and even vengeance-seeking witchers.”

“His own personal assassin.” Lyn mused, stroking his chin.

Sellandra spat, her face contorting into one of anger. Her long curls flowed freely from her reddening face, as she ground her teeth.

“Essentially, yes! To his credit, he did provide for me, and even trained me in some magical arts.. But that monster was ambitious and without any scruples, “perfecting” me to be his sweet little killing servent. I've been a slave to that monster for years, unable to so much as leave a room or talk to another person without his permission!”

“You said that he forced you to do so. How?”

“You’ve already seen it. That choker, around my neck. It bound me to his will. He’d enchanted it so I could never take it off, and could not leave the general area where he was. Trying to resist his commands only resulted in unimaginable pain, like a dozen swords stabbing into your body all the time.”

The succubus shuddered, and then looked back up at him, with a display of genuine emotion.

“You…freed me, by tearing it off and breaking his control,” she bit her lip, “Thank you. I really am grateful.”

Lyn spoke softly in return, “I’m…glad I could have helped. It seems we both have our reasons to hate him.”

“I guess so. Whatever did he do to you, a witcher, to make you hate him, chase after him, so fervently? He never told me the details, but when he heard of the deaths of some of the others he was known to associate with and that a witcher was responsible. I finally got to see something I’d never seen in him before. Genuine concern and fear.

Lyn gave half a smile, the thought of Viktor afraid of a young witcher.

“He should be afraid.”

Sellandra gave a soft laugh.

“And why is that?” she asked quietly.

“Because I won’t stop. I can’t, not until he’s dead.”

“Why? What has he ever done to you? A witcher of all people?”

Lyn didn’t respond and looked away, remembering, going back and playing the vivid memories over again in his head. He rekindled the taste of stone and dust, the smell of crushed stone, the sound of screams and cries for help.

“He killed my entire school, the closest thing any of us had towards a family. People I’d fought, trained, and bled with. People I love, and even people I hated. All gone. Buried under a pile of rubble and rock.”

Sellandra gasped softly, her eyes opening. “By the gods, you're from the School of the Griffon! You survived the destruction of Kaer Seren in the north!”

He looked back at her and nodded.

Sellandra shook her head, “So he was one of those plowing sorcerers who destroyed it. No wonder you want him dead.”

“You didn’t know he was part of that group?”

“No. He only tells me what I need to know. We merely traveled to Kovir, and afterwards I heard…about what had happened, how a group of mages had gathered together and destroyed the keep.”

She swallowed uncomfortably, “I'm sorry about that..”

Lyn didn’t say anything, making sure he remembered dragging his beleaguered body out of rubble, and staring into the eyes of dead witchers. Dead friends and brothers, hands outstretched, eyes glaring open like phantoms…

Lyn shook his head from the memory, realizing Sellandra was still talking.

“And when he told me about you, all I knew was that a vengeance-seeking witcher was after him, someone who’d already killed other sorcerers”

“My reputation precedes me, it seems.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much witcher,” she said coyly, “Viktor is no fool and no easy target. But yes, he was concerned when he heard about you. So he ran to Alenfur to seek asylum. And he tasked me to do what I do best.”

“Find, seduce, and kill me.” Lyn spoke matter-of-factly, although he couldn't deny he was a little sore about that last bit. “But surely he knew about witchers, and our…inabilities.”

Selladra looked down, “Doesn’t matter. Even witchers can be, er…distracted. And it didn’t matter too much how I did it, only that you were dead.”

“Did you know who I was when we first met?”

“No! No, of course not! I…just thought you were another person. It was when you revealed that you were a witcher that I figured it out, and then I followed you.”

Lyn nodded and said, "Then, there is only one question left to ask. Where will Viktor be running to?”

That was it. The main question that had been lingering in the conversation.

Sellandra paused, brushing aside her curls and thinking for a moment.

“There are plenty of places he could go. But I think I have an idea.”

## (VII)

“Is this it?” Lyn asked.

“Hopefully. I bloody well don’t know where else he could have gone.”

Lyn nodded. They were so close. He could feel it, after two weeks of hunting the cursed wizard.

As it turned out, Sellandra’s ideas for where Viktor had gone were less helpful than either of them thought. She knew of several locations he prefered to visit, but at any village or forsaken wilderness they arrived at there was only echoes of his presence.Former locations he’d visit, abandoned towers or halls for the magically-inclined, or the homes of former lovers or allies of Viktor (unsurprisingly, he had very little)

However, the two kept on, following any rumor of his travels. Lyn had remained as quiet as ever, but had grown used to the company of Sellandra. It was…strange to have a companion to talk to, little as he did.

The succubus herself, despite some outward appearances, was very keen on finding Viktor as well. She was able to get plenty of information out of the burly men of each village they passed through, charting a course that led them right on the tail of Viktor.

And so they had come to one last lonely little village, several miles away from Brokilon, the dreaded forest of the dryads. The small cottage-strewn settlement of Avan.

Sellandra made sure her cloak was on high, covering her curved horns. She had positioned the hood so that it covered her entire head in a natural manner, not revealing her abnormal features. The folks in such lonely regions tended to be superstitious and mistrusting of non-humans.

Lyn himself received plenty of strange looks, though this was in large part due to his twin swords on his back and the light armor he always wore.

Lyn began to notice, however, that people in the village began to grow quiet as they arrived. Villagers working in their huts or out in the fields began to whisper, and gather together. Soon enough, they abandoned whatever task they were doing, grabbing their carrots or pitchforks or whatever they were holding onto, quickly dashing towards their own houses. Children were quickly grabbed by their mothers and hauled away.

He looked at Sellandra and nodded. They both dismounted, and began to walk boldly down the middle of the dingy dirt path,

The witcher squinted around, using his mutant senses to discover anything unusual. He recalled what his old instructors always used to say. “Know your surroundings, know your enemies, and know yourself.”

However, there was little need to do any searching. Lyn and Sellandra both saw them. A whole gang of burly men. Thugs would actually have been a better description. There were about five or six of them, each glaring at the two. One of them held a large club in his hand, another a short sword. He looked to be the leader of the group, a scar running down the side of his face. He looked grumpy, sour, and mean, not to mention very threatening with his brooding face and large muscular arms.

Here we go, Lyn thought, stopping a few paces away from the group.

Sellandra stopped next to him, taking off her hood and pulling her cloak back. They two stared down the thugs, who didn’t move at all. Lyn reached back with his hand, starting to pull his steel sword. He wouldn’t need his silver one for these men.

The leader finally stepped forward, cracking his fingers.

“You Ryvlyn, of Sanzode? The witcher?”

Lyn nodded. He stared down the man, carefully noticing the entire group start to come forward.

The man chuckled, “Heh heh, well, I guess we found our target boys!”

There was a slight snicker among the rest of the gang.

Lyn’s eyes narrowed and turned short and thin, narrow like a cats. He took a deep breath and calmed his body and mind, but not once lowering his sword.

“Well, that’s enough dallying boys. This witcher’s just a boy, so let’s give him a good introduction to the town!”

Here we go.

The leader then charged, swinging his sword up high at the witcher, with his fellow thugs following suit.

The witcher lunged forward, then side-stepped right before he came to blows with the leader. Acting only on his trained skills and witcher instincts, he swung his sword to his left, slicing up the man’s defenseless left side! The elegant blade slit through the simple leather and cut through the man’s flesh, as he cried out in pain and collapsed. Blood was starting to pour out the wound, but Lyn barely had any time to pay attention.

The rush of combat flooded his systems with adrenaline, and he quickly reacted to the next threat coming his way. That threat turned out to be the large thug with the club, a huge beast roaring and charging at Lyn.

The witcher dodged the big man’s club, swung up with his sword, sliding it straight into the thug’s throat. He gurgled and fell, and Lyn heard a scream behind him. He didn’t have time to smile or gloat, but he knew Sellandra was proving her worth with those fire spells.

Lyn brought his sword forward and impaled another man in the stomach, before punching him with his fist and knocking him down. He didn’t slow a beat, jumping forward at the next man. The witcher knocked him to the ground and brought his sword up for the killing blow and…stopped.

He paused, looking down at the terrified boy, barely 18 years old, staring back at him. He looked nothing like Lyn, but he had a recognizable face of utter fear in the face of death. Lyn hesitated, but moved his head back to hear Sellandra scream right behind him.

This time he didn’t hesitate, turning around immediately and punching the boy, knocking him out cold.

Gripping his sword, Lyn sprung forward. He aimed his weapon forward at the shaggy-looking thug, who was holding Sellandra with a knife on her throat, pushing her forward.

“Put the sword down!!” the thug shouted, clutching tightly onto the lithe succubus.

Lyn stared at the man, and then Sellandra, keeping a completely composed face. But his eyes were very narrow and intense. A moment passed, and the thug shouted again.

“Put the sword down right now you stupid witcher or I slit this girl’s throat!”

Unfortunately for the thug, however, Sellandra shifted forward and punched back hard with her elbow, right into the man’s stomach!

He coughed and cursed, but his grip had loosened up and just as Sellandra fell forward away from his reach, Lyn moved in. He swung his sword and slashed it across the man’s throat, who collapsed on the ground.

Lyn paused, and took a deep breath in. He reached his hand over, and pulled Sellandra up.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, “thanks to you.”

Lyn looked around at the collection of dead bodies strewn around them. Lyn was still surprised at what he was capable of, able to kill so many individuals so quickly. But there was something missing in all of this.

*Where is Viktor?*

Sellandra seemed to be thinking the same thing, and spoke out loud, “So he hired thugs to take you–us–down? Interesting.”

“Yes, but where is he? Where is that son of a–”

“–Lyn look out!”

The gray-eyed witcher barely had a chance to react, before suddenly getting struck in the back and crying out in pain! He fell to one knee, hearing Sellandra shout something, yet he couldn't move from the pain. It was a searing and unnatural feeling, tingling his nerves in unpleasant ways, like a spasm of hot irons pricking every inch of his body!

He yelled, collapsing on the dirty ground. His body convulsed, and he heard Sellandra shouting something, and his amulet shook furiously. There was a smack, the sound of a hand slapping skin, and a cry.

Before he knew it, Lyn felt a powerful kick to his side, knocking him on the ground. He cried out again, looking up to see the face of that hated figure, the one who’d been haunting his every thought since he’d escaped from Alenfur.

Viktor spat on him, giving the fallen witcher another jab into the stomach.

“You stupid witcher!” Another kick. This time, Lyn was sure something was broken, but a strange feeling made everything hazy and warped.

“You stupid, ignorent, foul, and cursed witcher!” Viktor screamed in anger, pummeling Lyn with his feet and hands.

“I'll burn your hide, roast you alive, spill your innards out and throw it to the dogs, you scoundrel! Filth! You are done hunting me down like I’m some rabid hare willing to be hounded around the countryside!”

Lyn was suddenly lifted up from the ground, still shocked from the multiple blows he’d received from the mage. His body levitated off the ground, and the witcher felt a tightening on his chest and throat. He reached up, clawing at invisible hands squeezing his body, and he let out a gasp and gag of air.

The sorcerer smiled cruelly, the smile of a rat who turned the tides on a pursuing cat. He gestured with his right hand, and with his left punched Lyn hard in the gut. The witcher coughed violently, just as he was hit again, and again, and again.

This wasn’t the end, however, as Viktor reached out with his right hand, and suddenly a sphere of fire burnt around his fingers. Lyn felt the flames on his skin, as he was pulled closer, still floating, towards Viktor.

“Oh yes, feel that pain, understand that suffering! You’ve failed witcher, just like your mutant brothers did as well. How can you even think to challenge me, a master of powers your Signs can barely copy?”

Viktor spat. Lyn gritted his teeth, and made a movement with his right hand.

“You, witcher, are going to die here, just like your friend. I’m going to roast you so they won’t even have a corpse left to bury!”

Lyn wheezed, “Go…burn yourself!”

With a quick movement Lyn brought up his right hand, and in front of Viktor’s rat-like face he made the sign of Igni.

Viktor screamed, the flames that poured out of Lyn’s hand licked up the mage’s face. Viktor fell back, his face and chest on fire, screaming and smacking the fire in an attempt to put it out.

Lyn fell, freed from the spell the sorcerer had held him in. He didn’t pause, looking for his sword. With a swift movement, ignoring the pounding pain in his head and body, he jumped forward, nimbly aiming and swinging swiftly with his sword.

The blade sang true, and sliced through Viktor’s throat, silencing him.

Lyn breathed heavily, hearing Viktor gurgle and gasp for air, before he came quiet. Lyn grabbed his side, gasping at the touch of his hand upon the areas he was kicked and punched.

He collapsed, the world growing heavy and hazy. He tried to move, but felt so tired that he couldn’t do anything.

*It’s over,* he thought, before darkness overcame him. *It’s done. The hunt is over. For Kaer Seren.*