170 Toussaint (Part 9)

"By the heron, what happened with you, Bucephalus?" - the knight in full body armor shouted at the horse under him, but failed to calm it down. Black steed felt something ahead, something that scared the battle mount to the crazed redness of its eyes.

The knight didn't wait for anyone and jumped down. Just as he was about to take the reins again, Bucephalus stood on rear legs, kicked him on the ground and galloped away without even looking back.

Alan used vibe on his horse and spread it on Kelpie.

"Are you injured?" - Alan jumped down. The amulet on his neck trembled like crazy and he felt descending darkness ahead even during daytime. The entire road in front was shrouded in dense fog and eerie stillness, as if nothing alive was there.

"No... but my Bucephalus... how did you train your horses and what is happening here?"

"We will talk later. Is the estate of your friend Morivaldi further by the road?"

"Yes, just through that undergrowth and one can see it. Normally some workers will already meet us, but now something is very wrong here." - Fresnes stood up from the ground, took the shield from his back, squeezing it tightly with his hand and unsheathed the sword.

"I doubt it will help. If you see anything, run away."

"How can I, a knight, run away from the fight!" - protested Fresnes.

"Listen to me, you idiot. There are three types of monsters for you. Some creatures won't even feel this lump of metal in your hands and kill you, regardless. Others can move so fast, that your head will fly up high enough to see entire Beauclair before you can even exclaim 'oh, fuck!'."

"And third?"

"Third? You will die without even understanding the danger you are in. Satisfied?"

"I killed a drowner before..." - Fresnes tried to redeem himself and saw the looks that told him how idiotic he is. What made him even more depressed is that both a girl and a young man looked at him with the same eyes. - "I'm just saying that there was fourth... type."

Alan rolled his eyes at the middle-aged man.

"I doubt whatever is there..." - he pointed his finger at the dense mist and swirling darkness. - "Has anything to do with drowners. Listen, Fresnes, this place is for witchers to step into, not you. And not you too, Ciri."

"What? But..."

"No buts! Fresnes, you have a job to look after her."

"I won't stay with him here. I will go with you."

"You won't. Period." - Alan said with a very severe tone, that made Ciri bit her lip in grieving. - "Ciri. Look at me. Please, just look at me. Good. Promise me you won't go inside. Not, don't look away. Promise me here and now, no matter what, don't go inside. If I don't come back by the daybreak, you will leave for the north and find Geralt."

"You..."

"Just do as I say. Anyway, you saw what I can do. I doubt anything can hold me there, at least not when I need to retreat. So don't worry too much and don't seek adventures on your... bright head."

"Fine. But you have to come back to me."

"Sure. Fresnes, you don't go too." - Alan said and dismounted, checking his swords. As usual, the knight peeked at the swords in his hands. He never saw better steel anywhere. That were not just some weapons, but a true masterpieces.

"Be careful, young witcher. If you don't come back by daybreak, I will do as you said and come back with a regiment of knights to get you out of there."

"And all of you will lose your heads there in that case." - scoffed Alan.

"By the heron, you grumble too much. Are all witchers like him?"

"Most that I know, yes." - grunted Ciri and sat directly on the road with pouting face.

"Ciri, actually, there is a job you can do here. And I can trust only you with this." - Alan said in her ear. The girl came back to life this instant. - "Find any witness that saw what happened here. They should be nearby. Can you do this? Their information might be vital to solve this case. Right now we have no idea what caused this."

"Then don't go." - she said stubbornly. - "You are going in blind. That is not how witchers do things. Remember what Vesemir taught us? First – gather information to know what you are fighting with, only after that devise a plan and execute it."

"True." - he nodded and looked at the place of death and decay. - "I don't plan fighting, only reconnaissance. Ciri, I'll be fine. Look for any clues outside. Deal?"

"Deal... be careful out there." - she said in a barely audible manner.

Alan nodded and stepped into the fog. The more he walked at the direction of the Morivaldi house, the more he felt chillness and pressure of death assaulting him.

'What kind of creature did this? Curses don't work that way. They are static in their effect and don't cause completely different phenomenon. This is a work of a very powerful entity.'

He felt intangible pressure from everywhere around, as if the entire mansion was trying to drive away any life away.

A tree leaf crumbled into ash, while falling down. Even the air was still, as if the whole world around became dead. Black forest was fragile and eerie. Touch it and nothing will remain except for a handful of fine dust.

The sun lost its shine here, as well as warmth.

This place was a realm for the dead, not the living.

'No sound, complete silence. Everything is dead. The fields that were thriving with life lay in gray dust like a forest after the fire.'

He walked forward, to the big house, that should be a highlight of the entire lands. Now it was in a strange state of ruin, like decades went past and no one cared about it.

Alan placed his palm on the doorknob, it rusted away too and the door crumbled after a slight push.

'No paintings or furniture remained intact. This place is a graveyard. And this chillness...'

He saw several skeletons. Yet none can show what happened. They were the same as every living thing around.

Black, fragile and completely dead. Not even a shred of mana remained inside. They were sucked dry even on an energy level. The last lead was the head of Morivaldi house himself.

Yet he wasn't a god or lucky person either.

Alan went up the stairs that crumbled under his steps just like the wooden floor. Good thing this house was built like a fortress, with stone everywhere.

'Just like I thought. I don't know whether it is baron Morivaldi or not, but even if he is not, that skeleton near the one lying on the bed will be.'

Alan looked around and noticed that aside from glass and stone, power can't touch couple other things.

'Hmm, silver is intact. Looks like the power of that creature can't contaminate it. I can understand that, but what is wrong with this cloth. It is just a regular white cloth made from the local analogy of cotton! By all means, it should have crumbled like every cloth. It should be a clue to figure out what happened here.'

The entire mansion was empty. Everyone died, cattle, plants and humans alike.

'Time to go back. Nothing to find here.'

Alan took a silver knife and a cloth for certainty. Who knows what purpose it might serve later?

The road back was a great deal more relaxed. The pressure lessened with every step and he understood how deadly this place can be for anyone with weak bloodline and no magic to protect oneself. Good thing Fresnes didn't follow. The atmosphere alone would have eaten decades of his lifespan.

He smelled grass and heard distant songs of birds. He felt a breeze on his skin and sun warmed his very being.

"How was it?" - Ciri was already here.

"Dead. Everything is dead. Hard to explain. It felt like the part of another world, one belonging to the dead."

"By the heron..." - exclaimed Fresnes and looked uphill with slight trepidation. It was fine to fear. He was right to do so. That only shows he was not a fool. - "Have you figured out what happened?"

"No."

"What do you mean? Who if not you will know?"

"Nothing of that sort was mentioned in any books I read in Kaer Morhen. To tell you the truth, either witchers of the wolf school never had encounters like this..."

"Or it is a new blight! By the heron! We need to report this to the duchess!"

"Wait, don't go yet. It might be something new, but I have several findings."

"We too." - said Ciri and nodded in the tree's direction. There, under the crown, stood a man with a frightened look. He gazed at the sky and everywhere around from time to time.

"What did he tell you?"

"He not only told us, he drew the thing. Turns out the man is a painter and rather well-known one. He likes wildness and was painting some plants when that all happened." - Ciri said with an ever present frown. - "Well, he won't let go of the painting... and I never saw what is there. The old man is relentless. What's so great in some painting, hmph. I can fight with a sword, hmph." - she added with irritation.

Alan came closer to the man, and the man looked at him like one will at the bandit on the road hunting for his daughter and wife for pleasure.

"You won't take it away! You won't! No, no... this is my best creation, yes yes! The best, the masterpiece of death and power, the epitome of prowess in painting and depicting of the darkest secrets of the world! You can't deprive the continent of its best creation."

"Jaskier would have disagreed. About the best creation." - sighed Alan with tightly clenched teeth. Those two would have either killed each other, or loved each other to death.

"Ha, the poet, what can he know about the true art of painting!" - spat the old man on the ground and turned to the side with a suspicious look, hugging the canvas.

"I won't take it away, just need a look."

"You can look it at my upcoming exhibition! I will present it to every person to see. Even duchess can't..." - he froze on the spot.

"I see you recognize this sigil of Her Highness. Showing or not?"

"Yes yes, showing, showing..."

"And I thought it is useless." - mumbled Alan and took the canvas under the look full of grief.

He unfondled it and frowned on the spot.

"Fuck it!" - Alan threw it at him. - "The hell is that... multicolored shit?"

"How can you! It is preposterous! It is an art, yes yes! The masterpiece of new epoch, a work true to the nature of expressionism! I drew it with revolutionary technique, when you use emotions to throw the paint you take in your hands, yes, yes! It is the closest expressionism art in history, the dusk of a new era! Yes, yes!"

Alan looked at the big colorful mess on the canvas and sighed.

He thought Jaskier was a mess of a man.

He thought there was no one like him.

He was wrong.

"Can you describe in words what you saw? I think it will be more informative than this... painting of yours."

"Blur... it came from the sky, yes yes."

"That's it?"

"It was big... I think... no no..."

Alan sighed heavily.

"Oh, and it cried a word, a word, yes, yes!"

"What word?"

"Returning." - said the painter. This time he was certain.

Alan thought for a while, and after a moment his face contorted in shock and seriousness.

'It can't be... witchers never found the proof of its existence... fuck... that is one hell of a mess.'

Alan turned around and looked at the duo. They looked back with puzzled looks.

"I think I know the name of the creature... but I have no idea how to kill it." - said Alan with dark look and gazed at the emptied land again.

This hunt will be a long one.