Chapter 103: Sir Rickard came to the rescue (3)

“Quite. Here I want you to meet someone,”

He reached behind him and pulled the small child-like figure around to his front. She kept trying to hide behind Kerrass' legs and it took some effort to get her round so that she could face me.

“Freddie, this is Sally. Sally, this is Freddie. Say hello Sally.”

“'lo,” she said sullenly, staring at her fingers and twisting from side to side in discomfort. She was wearing a plain yellow dress that looked as though it had been stitched together out of a sheet. It was torn, ragged and looked as though Sally had been running through mud and dirt as well as being covered in grass stains.

It had the look of a well worn and much loved dress. She also wore a crown of daisies woven together with Dandelions and a necklace of woven grass. Her hair was plainly filthy but I couldn't see any of the signs of matting that you sometimes see in village and farm folk who let their hair grow and don't take care of it properly. This suggested that someone washed it for her regularly although she clearly promptly ran off into the nearest field and got herself all mucky again.

Like all Godlings, she had blue skin and large luminous eyes which were green.

“Hello Sally,” I said carefully trying to keep myself upright. I held my hand out to be shaken.

I have little experience with children but I had learned a couple of tricks from Kerrass. Those being that you should always put yourself on eye-level with them but otherwise, talk to them normally. Don't be condescending and don't, for one second think that you are smarter than they are.

“I am very pleased to meet you.” I told her.

Sally was already losing interest though and was trying to hide behind Kerrass again.

“Come on Sally, be nice.” Kerrass told the Godling. “Freddie here, is a scholar from the university of Oxenfurt.”

The Godling smiled in joy and enthusiasm. It was as though the sun came out, my increasing headache vanished along with the nausea and acid feeling in my stomach. I still had aches and, I suspected, some bruised ribs but I suddenly felt so much better.”

“You're a scholar?” She said.

“I am,” I answered, smiling at her enthusiasm.

“What do you study?” she asked me.

“At the moment?” she nodded. “I'm studying Kerrass.”

This work is hosted on mananovel.com

“Why?” Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “He's a fairly standard mutation of the Homo Sapient using the mutagens of the cat school of Witchers which were, in turn, derivatives of the Wolf Witcher mutagens. He has some genetic traits of the Elven blood, specifically from that part of the race referred to, internally, as the Aen Seidhe but I would suspect that it comes to no more than one sixteenth of elven blood at best. He suffers from a fairly mild case of depression resulting from some mild psychoses such as....”

“That's enough Sally,” Kerrass came back leading the horses, he was smiling gently. “No point in giving the entire game away.”

“But I just wanted to find out why?”

“It's not about Kerrass the man. It's about Kerrass the Witcher,”

“But you know about what Witcher's do.” she argued

“I might,” I answered quickly. “But the rest of the world does not.”

“Why not?”

“They have forgotten or they have been misinformed”

“Who would misinform people.”

“People who benefit from the lie. People who don't know better.” Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

“But if you know the truth, why do you need to tell people?”

“Do I know the truth though?” I responded quickly. “Do any of us know the truth? Apart from anything else, what is truth? But before we go too deep down that hole How can I be sure that I know what the truth is other than to check. But also, how do I help other people get to the truth if I don't look for it.”

Sally considered me for a moment. “I like him,” she decided. “I'm not sure I approve of him not looking for new knowledge though.”

“But how do I know I haven't missed something though?” I was beginning to feel a bit dizzy again.

“Then you check don't you,” she answered.

I just stared at her for a moment.

“.......Oohhhhhhh” Her comprehension was endearingly child-like.

There was more crashing coming through the grass and a huge man came into view. Square jawed and massively muscled. I started to panic as the sheer size of him made me feel dizzy.

“Kerrass.” The man rumbled, nodding at the Witcher as Kerrass scooped Sally into his saddle. “This him?”

“That's him.” Kerrass tickled the Godling making her giggle.

The man scooped me up into his arms easily.

My dizziness returned as I began to feel as though I was loosing my grip on the situation.

-

I crouched next to Sally's body and it was almost as though I could hear that giggle echoing around along with the sound of the wind in the grass.

For a while as I listened to the wind I could feel a lump form in my throat and my eyes begin to burn. I covered my face for a moment before I forced it back down. There would be time for that later.

I took a deep breath and wrapped the body up in the blanket as tight as I could. I tried to think of a more dignified way of carrying the poor girl but in the end I was forced to just sling her over my saddle. “She wouldn't mind.” I told myself. Given that she was a Godling there was even a better than evens chance that she was already out and dancing in the trees somewhere and in a way that I did not understand and couldn't see.

I hoped so.

I checked around to see if I had missed anything before gathering up my horses reins and led it on. As I did so I could begin to smell the burnt wood and the slight difference that meant I could also smell burnt paper. I sighed. Not only were they dead but their charge had also been destroyed.

My first thought was that it meant that our little detour out to search the library had ended up being wasted and that we were wasting our time. I nearly wept again then with self-loathing. It was an involuntary thought but even so, I found that I hated myself for a moment then.

I remembered that the main cabin was in a clearing surrounded by an almost marshland and a thicket of thick, deliberately placed bushes inter-weaved with twigs and plants designed to make passage difficult if not impossible.

But the undergrowth had been swept aside. First, I guessed by axes and other bladed weapons but after that it had been decimated by fire. I saw Kerrass standing there walking around absently staring at the floor. I had to take my eyes of him for a while as I picked my way through the roots and undergrowth.

But when I got through and saw what was there, I groaned aloud.

There was no other way that it could have gone. Of course they were dead and their home ruined, but until I had actually seen the bodies there was a wild hope. Of course they were dead. They would have died to defend what they had but at the same time. I had hoped.

I had hoped.

The other two of them were there. The Succubus and the Doppler.

The Succubus was badly burned and wasn't really recognisable. But even under the charring it was plain that her body had been torn apart. Looking at the marks on the ground I guessed that she had been tied to a set of horses and pulled apart.

The Doppler had been nailed to one of the big trees nearby where he had been crucified. I could see glittering metal at his wrists and ankles. The fuckers had bound him with silver. Presumably in an effort to keep him from changing shape. I felt bile rise in my throat. They must have nailed him there and he had been forced to watch. While his life's work and the body of his wife and lover burned before him. I wondered if the struggle had hastened or prolonged his death.

Poor man.

The lump was back in my throat.

By my guess, the blaze had been arrested by a rainfall at some point. The cabin itself had been gutted, the roof had collapsed in and what remained of the walls were charred and crumbling.

I walked over to Kerrass and put my arm on his shoulder. Offering strength and what comfort I could. But I may as well have been trying to comfort a statue.

“I'm going to...” I began before having to clear my throat again. “Dammit, I'm going to check inside.”

Kerrass nodded. “Good idea.” His voice sounded as though it took a lot of effort to produce.

I tied my horse to a post, the poor beast was restive and unhappy. I couldn't blame it. Not only was it surrounded by death and ash but also the smell of burnt non-human.

I thought I smelt rain and looked up at the horizon where rain-clouds were beginning to gather.

Fucking wonderful.

I picked my way into the ruin, for ruin it was.

“The knights came here first.” Kerrass' voice drifted to me over the sound of the wind. “They came here and did this before going back into the village to carry on.”

I grunted an agreement.

“Probably having too much fun to leave,” Kerrass' voice was bitter.

It was a large cabin. Well built. I had never got around to asking how long the three of them had lived here. I know Godlings, to all intents and purposes, are immortal. I had no idea about Succubi and Dopplers but they were magical creatures so there was no reason to believe that they weren't all but immortal. Nor did I know how long the three of them had lived here but the cabin was well built. I remember asking the Doppler about it and he told me that he had learnt to build a house by reading a book.

I picked my way through the wreckage carefully. I had heard far too many stories about ruined and gutted buildings collapsing on people that were exploring it.

The hatch that I was looking for was open. Black smoke still drifted gently from the hatchway and I could still felt warmth. I tried to look through the hole but it was too dark and I reluctantly withdrew.

I stood in the middle of the cabin and looked around. This had been a nice place once. I would have been quite happy living here myself.

Another memory took me by surprise.

-

The huge man carried me into the cabin easily, moving through the main room which was part living area with a large fire pit and elaborate cooking apparatus nearby. Pots and pans hanging from the roof along with a cleaver and several, wickedly sharp looking knives. Several large and comfortable chairs lined the walls and there was a metal hood situated over the fireplace that I assumed would carry the smoke from the fire outside and into the open air. Also in the corner I could see two desks set up easily in a way that would make most scholars, including me, nod with approval. Stacked vellum and parchment, a place for inkwells and a sheaf of quills wrapped together along with a sharp knife for quill trimming. Above the desk there was a small shelf on which rested a lantern which was held so that it could shine onto whatever the desk user was working on.

As well as all the comforts of home there were numerous lecterns around the place. Made from wood and metal, places where books could be propped and read easily. I noticed one, particularly large one was situated next to the cooking area.

“Welcome to my home?” The huge man rumbled. I began to recognise his accent as being Skelligan originally. He moved through the living area to a door in the back which opened into a bedroom. Large and luxurious with a huge bed, tables on either side of the head board. There was an arm chair next to the window that, again, looked exceedingly comfortable. The chair had a small table next to it on which rested another book and a cup of some kind.

I was a bit put off by the large, thick and strong looking leather straps that were situated at the four corners of the bed.

I must have protested a little when I saw them but he wasn't having it.

“Don't worry about it.” He told me. “Those aren't for you.”

“Who are they for?”

“Me,” he said with a huge grin. “Or sometimes her. It depends on what mood we're in really.”

My mystification left me unable to speak for a moment and the huge man took that moment to deposit me on the bed.

“Try to stay awake,” he said. “You have a concussion and it might be dangerous if you go to sleep.”

“I know,” I tried to tell him but he had gone. At first I had thought that the bang on my head was causing me to hallucinate as he turned from being a huge, heavily muscled man into someone with a much slimmer build. He left the room.

The bed was really soft and I really did struggle to stay awake. In the end I did my best to push myself up the bed so that I could lean against the pillows. The effort hurt though and I found that I was having trouble breathing.

I heard voices from outside. It sounded like a woman's voice scolding Kerrass.

“I could have killed him.” She was yelling at him but I could tell that she wasn't too angry.

“But you didn't,” Kerrass told her. “In fact, how many men have you killed outright.”

“That's not the point,” she told him. “I could have. That was a cruel trick you played on him Kerrass.”

“He'll be fine,”

The man came back in and this time I was sure of it. He had shrunk a good foot in height and had changed from being a heavily muscled Skelligan to someone who wouldn't have looked out of place on the streets of Oxenfurt. Thin, dark haired with the hair pulled back from his face and a scholarly air about him. He had put on a shirt and a jacket and was carrying a basin of water from which there were tendrils of steam rising and he had a cloth of some kind draped over his shoulder. On his other shoulder he was carrying a satchel.

“Alright, lets have a look at you,” he told me. Setting the basin of water on the floor. And the satchel on the bed. From the satchel he took a small glass phial of a clear liquid which he uncorked and passed under my nose.

It smelled like needle had been jammed up my nostril and straight into my brain. It did have the side-effect of clearing the grogginess out of my brain though.

“Try not to move,” the man said. He was grinning, presumably at the effect that his little potion had had on me.

“Those are some smelling salts that you have there.” I told him.

“My own recipe,” the man said a little smugly while peering into my eyes.

“I know a number of people that might pay good money for that recipe.” I told him, doing my best to submit to the examination.

“I know, but then you'd have to tell them where you got the recipe and we value our privacy here.” He seemed satisfied with his examination and moved me so that he could examine the back of my head where he made a tutting noise.

“What is this place?” I asked. It was a toss-up as to what question I asked at the time but the top contenders were either that one or asking who the man was.

“It doesn't have any kind of grand name or anything. We don't call it “The library” or “The Collection” or anything quite so ostentatious although it is both of those things. Mostly, the three of us just call it “home”.”

He moved round to the front and was examining the insides of my mouth to check for any injury. Having a strangers fingers inside your mouth will put a crimp on conversation.

“I know that's not an answer that satisfies though.” He said as he seemed satisfied by what he saw. “Lift your shirt up please.”

I did as I was told. Always best to do what the Doctor tells you to do. He bent to feel around my bruised midriff and to listen at my chest.

“Breathe in,” he commanded. “And out.”

I complied.

“Ok. You're not that badly damaged.” He told me. “A few bruised ribs which are going to hurt like the devil for a while, a minor concussion which is going to leave you with a hell of a head-ache. And you've bit the inside of your lip. I'll mix some stuff together to help with that and the injury on your head and we'll strap up your ribs. I'd tell you not to exert yourself but I think that that would be a waste of words don't you?”

He said that last with a smile.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Never mind.” He said He had opened the satchel and was pulling out various pots and bottles, mixing some of them together to make a salve.

“So who are you and what is this place?” I asked, going for both questions at the same time to see if it would trick him into answering at least one of them.

He laughed. “Sorry, yes. Kerrass did say that you were a scholar and that you wouldn't be satisfied with short answers.” He moved my head so that he could start smearing stuff over the back of my head. They normally warn you that this process stings but in this case it didn't. Instead it seemed as though it was abnormally cold to the touch.

“My name is Pula. I am a doppler.”

“Oh.” I said just before my brain caught up with my ears. “Oooohhhhh”.

“Yes. I take it you know what a Doppler is.”

“I think it would be fair to....Ow....say that I know what a Doppler can do but I don't know what one is.”

“An honest answer. Good.”

“You can change shapes but only within relatively confined parameters of roughly equivalent mass. You could probably change from a human to an elf or dwarf without much effort but you couldn't turn into a troll or a beetle.”

“Correct on most counts. It doesn't also mention that when we get someone's shape that we also get a smattering of their memories, skills and talents as well. For instance, you met the Skelligan stonemason but he wouldn't have the first idea how to deal with your injuries.”

“So who are you now.”

“A Dr Nathanial Torrence.” He began to work on strapping up my ribs, putting my arm on his shoulder. “He came here to consult one of the books about twenty years ago. A skilled Doctor but a bit limited in his understanding of anything outside what was going on with his patient.”

“I know the type.” I said wincing at the tightness of the bandage. I wondered at how well I was taking this whole situation and considered whether I was going into shock. “Highly intelligent but relatively few social skills. Hell, I've been that type more times than I care to think.”

“Honest of you. But since then, this is the shape I use when I'm reading up on anatomy and medical techniques. He has this trick of absorbing medical knowledge with an ease that my other shapes struggle with.”

“How many shapes do you have?”

“Quite a few. But if I'm honest I only use about half a dozen on a regular basis. Unless she has any special requests.”

“She?”

“My wife.”

“Your wife's a Succubus.”

“Oh yes. We are well suited to each other.”

“I can feel bits of my brain shrivelling up and waving surrender in protest.” I commented after thinking about this for a while.

He laughed for a long time.

“Let me get you something to drink.” He told me. “And I'll tell you the story.”

He came back a few moments later with a cup of, well, it looked and smelt and tasted like mulled wine except. The cup was cold so whatever heat that came from it must have been some kind of chemical reaction to what herbs had been put into the drink. It was delicious, not tasting like any medicine I had had before.

The Doppler had changed shape again, now dressed in an undeniably handsome shape. He looked like a rugged out doors type. The kind that always had the female students going all gaga and using descriptive words like “dreamy” and “lickable”.

I swear I'm not making those words up.