The complications of the path(2)

The bear and the wolf took their time to reflect on today's events. The hunt had ended in success. The monsters were dead and burned, with nothing but shriveled carcasses remaining. Their findings, although grim, were not unexpected, especially in their line of work. However, the long trek back had considerably calmed their spirits.

As a result, while traversing the wintry path through the forest, they revisited the case with a clarity of mind, which led them to notice some troubling inconsistencies.

"In conclusion, a wagon carrying a group of four was attacked on their way north. Their destination was probably Ard Carraigh or one of the smaller towns nearby. While traveling, they were chased by ghouls. The horses got scared and veered off the road, with the monsters hot on their trail. At the end of the path, the rider couldn't steer the wagon properly, and one of the wheels hit a rock, dislodging it," Geralt summarized.

"Out of balance and riddled with fear, the horses ran off the cliff, plummeting into the valley with incredible force. The man died instantly from the impact. Two of the three females either shared the same fate or died shortly after. The youngest miraculously survived and managed to flee, as the ghouls were content with the meal in front of them and did not pursue. That gave her time to hide, but unfortunately, the cold ended her life," Atram added.

Geralt nodded approvingly. "What concerns me is that we didn't find their nest along the way, nor were we attacked as we investigated the area. Furthermore, the tracks were one-way only, implying that they haven't returned to their nest yet. But why would they attack only in small numbers and not as a larger force?" He pondered.

"Maybe something or someone prevented them from doing just that," Atram commented, ducking under a dangling branch.

"Hmm, that's a possibility." Geralt replied thoughtfully.

"Also, we found no weapons in their possession, which means they were civilians. Who travels in such weather conditions without protection and on roads devoid of life?" Atram asked.

Geralt sighed. "Someone desperate? Someone who has no other choice but to do just that?"

Atram hummed in agreement. "Whatever the case, let's get back to the girl." He looked at Geralt, his armor covered in soot, grime, and blood. "But before that, we should clean ourselves."

A cast of the spell Clean washed over them, removing all traces of dirt and blood from their bodies. Feeling refreshed and with better expressions on their faces, they arrived at the main road.

Atram took a deep breath and whistled with his fingers, the sound piercing the silence of the forest. A moment later, two horses and a girl emerged from the thicket. Elsa's expression was a mix of relief and apprehension as she approached them.

"Are you alright? Did you find anything?" She questioned, her voice tinged with concern.

The men nodded, their eyes scanning the area around them. "We're fine, and we found where the tracks led." Atram responded cryptically.

Elsa frowned, unsure of what he meant. "Well? Tell me. Don't keep me out of it." She argued, handing over the horses to their riders.

Atram exchanged a look with Geralt, the latter giving a shrug. Sighing, Atram relayed their findings, omitting the gritty details. 

As Elsa listened, her face grew pale, and her eyes widened in shock. "Sweet Melitele," she whispered, offering a prayer for the deceased. "Such a tragedy... There's no consolation for the loss of innocent lives, but at least with the monsters dead, the road's safer to traverse."

Atram nodded solemnly and extended a hand to help Elsa onto the saddle. "I'm afraid our work ain't over yet," he stated, snapping the reins to set the horse in motion.

"Shaerrawed's near, and I've a feeling we'll run into the ghouls' nest there," Geralt noted.

Elsa swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "I... I shall remain hidden this time as well," she said timidly.

Atram placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, and turned to Geralt. "We'll need a plan, so let's start with the landscape. You must have passed through Shaerrawed countless times by now. Apart from being an ancient abandoned elven palace , what else do you know about the area?"

Geralt furrowed his brow in thought before responding. "Well, it's surrounded by a dense forest, and there's the Lixela River flowing south of it, but it is an hour's ride away. We could also take advantage of the rubble-strewn ruins of the former palace," he explained, recalling the details.

Atram tapped his thigh with a finger as he weighed their options. "What bombs do you have on you right now?"

Geralt took stock of his arsenal and replied, "I have one northern wind, three grapeshots, and two samums."

"Hmm, depending on the situation, I have a good plan for the northern wind," Atram said with a mad gleam in his eye. "Toss me a samum just in case I need it."

Geralt handed over one of the samums, and the party gradually fell into silence, knowing that danger was imminent. They traveled at a comfortable trot to avoid tiring their horses, allowing Geralt to hear everything around them with his enhanced senses.

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Not an hour had passed, yet as they neared their destination, signs of conflict emerged. Broken branches and trampled foliage indicated the recent passage of something in great numbers. Moreover, crimson drag marks on the snow led deeper into the forest, suggesting recent violence.

"Many have passed through here, humans and monsters alike. The footprints suggest there was a futile struggle against them, and most of the travelers were dragged to their nest, which is uncharacteristic for ghouls, unless..." Geralt stated in a grave tone, surveying the scene before him.

"There is a leader in their pack, an alghoul." Atram chimed in.

"Mm-hmm."

Elsa wanted to ask why there were no bodies, but after seeing the assortment of bones half-buried in the snow, she quickly retreated with the horses.

Atram and Geralt watched the girl turn a corner on the road, her figure disappearing behind the tall trees. As she did so, the pair began their preparations.

Geralt coated his sword in necrophage oil and then selected several potions from his belt, consuming them one by one. First, he uncorked a thick, glass jar containing a black liquid—a black blood potion. Next, he drank from a metallic-lipped bottle holding an iridescent purple fluid—a tawny owl potion. Finally, he held a small volumetric flask containing a vibrant green substance. He decided to keep the thunderbolt potion for later use, considering its high toxicity and short duration.

As he consumed his potions, he emitted an unearthly growl. Black veins started to spread across his pale skin, and his body shivered in delight as it grew accustomed to the phenomenal effects they bore.

Atram, meanwhile, extended his ki to every part of his body, surrounding himself with an aura of invulnerability. With his senses now heightened, Geralt could discern the sound of Atram's muscles stretching and surging with power, emitting a leather-like sound as he prepared himself for whatever lay ahead.

With their preparations finished, they followed the easy-to-track footprints left by the monsters, leading them deeper into the forest. The trees grew thicker and taller, while the sun 's rays created a dappled pattern on the snow-laden floor. They could feel the weight of the forest pressing down on them, as if it were alive and watching their every move. Until, finally, they came across a spacious clearing.

Atram was awestruck by the beauty of the elven ruins. The ancient structures were overgrown with vines and moss, but their intricate carvings and delicate arches were still visible. Everything was made of marble and granite, giving the ruins a sense of grandeur and permanence. He couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the almost-extinct civilization that had created such a work of art.

"In both worlds, elves never cease to impress. Their craftsmanship and attention to detail are unparalleled," he mused to himself.

Geralt hummed in agreement. Squinting his eyes, he noticed the hideous forms of their adversaries skulking around the palace grounds, marring the beauty of the elven architecture with their vile presence. Tapping the still-baffled Atram on the shoulder, he pointed towards the ghouls, the latter giving a nod of understanding.

"Have your northern wind at the ready. I will gather them together, and when I throw the samum, you'll freeze them," Atram whispered.

"Can you outrun them? We don't even know their numbers or where the pack leader is." Geralt replied skeptically.

Atram gave him a wide grin. "Of course I can." He declared with absolute confidence. "But why outrun them if I can juggle around them?"

Geralt lifted an eyebrow, but seeing that Atram wasn't about to explain, he hid behind a tree and waited for the appropriate moment.

Atram strolled calmly toward the center of the squarish clearing, his gaze fixed on the group of ghouls as he gathered ki on his palm. Some of them took notice of the hulking man approaching and began growling and snarling, their eyes glowing with feral hunger. He remained unfazed, his concentration unbroken, waiting for them to come closer together. As they approached, he gathered more and more energy, causing the glow on his palm to intensify and the air to grow hotter around him.

When he realized he couldn't keep his construct stable any longer, he aimed and released the ball of concentrated ki with his will. The projectile, now faster than before, struck the oncoming horde of enemies with a deafening explosion. The ground shook beneath his feet and the air cracked with the force of the impact.

As the dust settled, it revealed a scene of utter annihilation. The ground held a hollow spherical crater, its surface sizzling with an orange tint. Bodies lay scattered across the ruins. Three ghouls had been almost disintegrated into nothingness; their stumps were melting into the ground. Others had survived, but they fared no better. Charred skin, missing appendages, and blindness were among the many injuries that marked their twisted bodies.

Atram's jaw dropped as he surveyed the aftermath of his blast, energy crackling around his fingertips. "Why the... How did I... Am I a prodigy or something?" he boasted to no one in particular. However, his mood was immediately dampened as he felt the heavy cost of this overwhelming blast. He almost fell to one knee; a large portion of his vital energy had been drained, and he panted heavily as he tried to figure out what had gone wrong with the execution.

Unfortunately for him, his opponents wouldn't give him time to contemplate his error as an earth-splitting roar echoed from inside the palace. Turning his attention towards the sound, he saw a ghoul descending the stairs. However, this was no mere ghoul; it was an alghoul, a larger, bulkier, and far more intelligent variant of its species. As if that wasn't enough, sharp spikes protruded from the top of its head all the way down to its tail, and the claws on its hands were as long as daggers.

Jumping from the high stairway, it landed with unerring grace. Its infernal sockets scanned the surroundings before growling a guttural order. As if on cue, the other monsters emerged from the palace's entrance, their eyes full of bloodthirst. With the alghoul in the middle, the pack moved as one, their movements well coordinated. They formed a semblance of a circle around their leader and approached Atram slowly, their growls growing louder with each step.

Yet, this pause had afforded him some much-needed time to catch his breath. Atram flashed a grin at the looming monstrosities. "Intelligent you may be, but in the end, you're still beasts," he taunted, his voice unwavering despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The creatures snarled in response, their eyes fixed on him with unrelenting intensity.

Atram initiated the fight by closing in on their vanguard. Surprisingly, instead of attacking the ghoul, he backstepped to avoid its claws and jumped on its back. With his feet firmly on it, he used Flash Step to launch himself in the air, and in an impossible display of athleticism , he latched onto an archway.

He dangled his body over the courtyard below by gripping the edges of the marble structure.

The ghouls naturally pursued, clawing their way up the column, but he was already gone.

He leaped to the top of a nearby pillar, the chase continuing relentlessly as the monsters pursued him through the ruins. Evading them, he scaled the dilapidated buildings like a monkey on the prowl. However, he was aware that he couldn't keep it up indefinitely, nor did he need to.

His juggling had served its purpose well. The ghouls were seething with anger, bordering on madness. Even the alghoul lost its composure, leading the charge to chase him down. Atram waited until the last moment before landing with a roll, his enemies hot on his tail.

He retrieved the bomb from his pocket, lit it with Produce Flame, and sprinted toward Geralt's location. Stopping a few meters away from his friend, he counted the seconds as the bomb ticked down. Sensing it was about to detonate, he hurled it at the oncoming horde and swiftly turned around. The explosion rang out with an ear-splitting sound, engulfing the already vision-impaired ghouls in blinding brilliance.

Geralt, who had been awaiting his signal, emerged from behind the treeline and hurled his frost bomb at the frenzied crowd. The device exploded upon impact, covering the area with a thick layer of ice. Blades of grass, once dancing gently in the wind, were now frozen in place, and the ghouls found themselves trapped in a sudden stillness. Knowing that the effects were temporary, Geralt infused his silver sword with ki and charged forward.

His first victim was the alghoul, who had taken the brunt of the explosion. The creature was decapitated with a quick and precise strike, its head rolling off into the snow. Geralt continued his assault, taking down one ghoul after another with ease.

At some point, they switched roles with Atram, who was better equipped for smashing solid objects, and Geralt attacked the ghouls that had begun breaking through their icy cages.

Battered, scorched, blinded, and with a dozen other afflictions, the ghouls perished under the monster slayers' onslaught.

While catching their breath, Geralt felt a sense of satisfaction as he looked at his companion. He had faced countless monsters in his life, but his efficiency had increased dramatically now that he had Atram's assistance. It wouldn't be wrong to say that if it hadn't been for his...unusual tactics, this fight would have taken much longer and been far more dangerous.

Atram grinned at him, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "That was intense," he said, clapping Geralt on the back.

Geralt scoffed and crossed his arms. "For you, maybe. I essentially did nothing. Ploughing glory hount!" He exclaimed teasingly and gave him a smirk.

Atram chuckled and sat with his back against a tree. "It was all part of the plan. I get to have fun while my dependable minion cleans up. Equal division of labor and all that," his chuckle became a low, contented hum as he closed his eyes and let the warmth of the sun wash over him.

Geralt blinked several times in disbelief. "You mean..."

"Get to work, my friend. I did all the heavy lifting while they were alive; now it's your turn," Atram said with a smile, lying like a big, fat cat on the frigid ground.

Geralt clicked his tongue and, with a grumpy expression, began gathering the bodies.