Novigrad (Part 7)

"Coen, stay with me, don't lose consciousness..." - said Alan in a raspy voice while panting. A trail of blood was following them on the move. With great difficulty, he was dragging wounded witcher away.

'Fuck, how did it come to this? What the hell is that strange power in his wound?'

He tried everything. Potions lost effectiveness the moment their medical properties and magic came close to deadly energy inside his wounds. Spells didn't work at all. He spent all his reserve of mana and could barely stop bleeding for a while, but it soon started again.

"It will be fine... just don't die on me, ancient fossil. Do you hear me? Don't you dare to die!"

They were making their way through the forest, leaving crimson blood on the grass and bushes.

"A-lan... go..." - said Coen in a barely audible voice. It was an eerie calm. It was the voice of a man who was ready to die this way long ago.

He was a witcher. None of them died in bed with the family. None of them have a peaceful ending.

They were created for constant battle. They lived there and died there.

"Shut it! You are not dying on me! Not you too!" - Alan would have screamed if he too didn't have several glaring wounds all over the body. But his bloodline did wonders for the body functions and recovery.

Deep stabs and long lacerations were bringing him pain he disregarded and severe weakness, but at least his blood loss stopped. Right now, all he could do is drag Coen forward.

"Just shut up, Coen, shut up for me, and wait. We are near." - Alan dragged him as fast as he could, but it was hard. He was standing due to sheer will, as his body was in no condition to do so.

'It should be near. I need mana, I need a fucking ocean of it and I will get it. It is near. The intersection of force lines is somewhere here, I can sense it... just... I need to get there...'

"We are near, Coen... Coen? Talk to me, Coen!" - Alan tripped and fell on the ground, standing up with difficulty. The pain was fleeting, but the coming weakness made him irritated.

His legs gave in and refused to move.

'Fuck, stand up for me! Stand up, I said!'

To feel them again, Alan directly stabbed his hip with a hidden blade several times. It worked, he could feel legs again and stood up. Under elixirs, the self-inflicted wounds closed in seconds, but the ones inflicted by that creature refused to do so.

"Coen... it will be fine..." - his vision gave in, making world darker and his mind plunged into a bout of sleepiness, that he shook off with a forceful entrance into the battle state of Eternal Mind. He felt like he was controlling himself from the distance, but didn't mind.

As long as he can move forward.

Coen was barely conscious at this point, staying in this world with just superhuman abilities of the mutated body. They truly are death machines, nearly undying warriors. But it never made him immortal.

'Ciri prophesied his death even after all the training I gave her. She still did it back then in Kaer Morhen, for both Coen and Geralt. I never knew that my involvement changed things. No... he can't die. I won't allow it.'

Old witcher suffered grievous wounds, but the most serious one was a direct stab through the heart.

Stab in the shape of two teeth fork, inflicted by an antler.

'It is here... it is near, under this rock... slowly reach to it, connect and draw out the power.'

A huge torrent of unstoppable might engulf him in an instant. It went through mental barriers in seconds and slammed into his magic network like a battering ram. Alan felt his body and soul receiving severe damage, but the latter immediately recovered and brought calmness to his will.

He pressured the energy into control and conjured the most sophisticated healing spell he had developed so far. Contour with magic runes and lines appeared around Coen basking surroundings in pale white light.

Magical power of the entire forest went berserk and force lines tensed up, pumping it into one direction. This spell even influenced space itself because of its energy levels. Alan was but a conduit to it and raw natural mana wreak havoc in his body.

He felt blood in his mouth.

He read in books that the process of usage of raw mana on the intersection of force lines could be painful, and he easily put it to second place in his personal ranking of pain. This was pure torture and a very dangerous one.

'I might die like that.'

The might from the whole forest went into him and later spell. Trees and plants around withered as if drained of water and life, the grass turned to gray ashes and even some animals didn't escape the fate, as they are near the lines of force.

A vast expanse of land turned into a lifeless desert while Alan experienced severe retaliation. It was like a sledgehammer of enormous proportions slammed into his body, crushing bones and muscles.

It seemed like a counterattack of laws of magic themselves, a price one needs to pay for overstepping one's boundaries. The world was ruthless.

Endless mana supplemented the spell he created. It went into Coen body. His consciousness was fading away and on the verge of losing it, he made the last effort to pump as much mana as possible into the spell.

Actually, he didn't even see whether it was effective.

The next moment, just before his bloodline flared up all of a sudden, all went dark.

* * *

Several hours before. Outskirts of Novigrad.

"Coen... you told me about the place, but I never thought this so-called cart is as huge as a truck! It should have weighed several tons..." - Alan stood by the road and witnessed a place of slaughter. Blood and dismembered bodies were everywhere, some crushed to an unrecognizable state.

"Truck? What is that?"

"Ugh... a big cart in my homeland. Don't mind it. But you are right. By all signs, it should be a fiend. Hoof steps are very similar to the one even in size. And those marks on the ground looked like something that plowed it with claws left them. It should be because of its charge."

"That's what I'm saying. Look here, fiend rammed into the horse and threw it away after impaling with its antlers. The distance between them is nearly two times longer than normal. That fiend is huge and it can easily lift a grown horse. Also, see the man... well, what's left of him." - Coen pointed at the trail of blood and a smashed body without a lower body. - "His lower part is there. One strike of an arm. It didn't send him flying, but was so fast that directly blew off the upper part. Can you imagine the power and speed?"

"Freaked out?"

"Yes, Alan. I can't help it. This is not normal. I'm afraid this beast is beyond us. We need to plan properly. Normally fiends are very territorial creatures and have special preferences in food. Maybe we can poison it to weaken and use traps if we find its lair. Normally fiends fear fire, but that one might not. And don't forget their third eye."

"Fighting a monster like that without proper planning is suicide. It is something new. Have you noticed the marks its flame left? That are not just some burns from regular flame. It is similar to acid. And it reeks of decay and death."

"Hmm, it might stop regeneration abilities, so Swallow will be useless. We need some real firepower here. I'll make some bombs."

"And I think we need a pile of Northern Wind. But I'm unsure about the nature of this fire. Ice and water might not influence it. Any poison against relicts?"

"Well, I can make something different from regular oil. Fiends don't live near nightshade. Its aroma irritates their eyes and nose. With concentrated dozes, we can blind it for some time, but the third eye won't be influenced at all. Other lethal poisons proved useless, they only anger it."

"Then all that's left is to track it down to its lair."

"Yeah, normally it is easy. But that thing seems to be avian. Ah, what a pain in the ass."

"That I can help with. The residual aura if its flame is unique." - Alan looked around and directed mana to his eyes. - "Just like I thought, the trail is quite clear. Let's first prepare, I'll scout ahead."

"Wait, it is dangerous alone."

"Have you forgotten that I'm a mage? I can teleport, Coen."

After a reminder, the witcher shuddered with a grieving look.

"You think I can forget how you cockblocked me? Fuck, I'm still having nightmares! Alan, you little prick, do you know that every time I bed with a woman now, I fucking struggle to not think about this shit. Last night I nearly went limp before entering Kira!"

"Old fossil, spare me the details, please. I already lost count how many times you complained about it! For the love of your bitches, don't mention your bedtime in front of me. I already can compile a fucking worldwide encyclopedia of names with all of your women I heard off."

"Jealous, little virgin?" - smirked Coen nastily.

"Are you itching for a finger snap?" - Coen went slightly pale, Alan chuckled with a feeling of victory. - "Don't think I don't know how these weeks you and Jaskier colluding with each other to watch over me and don't let me drink. I tell you what after we kill this shit I'm drinking! Drinking like never before!"

"Wait, Alan, we need to talk about this!" - Coen panicked. He thought it will be fine as long as he wasn't near. But after the youth teleported him straight from the bed, he changed his mind. He felt there was no escape.

He found the finger snap was omnipotent, everlasting, and unbeatable.

"Let's leave it for later." - Alan looked at the forest and traced the sea on the horizon with his vision. - "I feel unsettled about all this. As if something bad is about to happen."