The Divine Hunter

“What did the goddess tell you, emissary?” Sigrdrifa blinked, her eyes filled with anticipation and nervousness.

“Call me Linus Pitt. The goddess offers her condolences to those who died tonight. Ulve and the priestesses who passed away have been inducted into her kingdom. You do not have to worry about them.” Roy paused and looked outside the temple, where the young priestesses were staring. He said loudly, “She shall grant you a… um… powerful guardian that will keep this place safe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll know soon enough.”

***

Roy saw Dona an Cinda in the yard, surrounded by his soldiers and holding up a torch. He had a sword strapped to his belt. This man was the leader of Clan Heymaey. He was an elderly person with white hair and a beard that extended to his chest. Despite his advanced age, he was tough and lively.

“You must be the emissary of Freya,” rasped Dona, his voice laced with excitement. “How should I address you?” Dona stepped forward, a big smile hanging on his face.

“Linus Pitt.” The witcher wore his sunglasses and covered up his eyes. “I am no emissary. Just a man serving the goddess.”

“Ah, you’re being modest. The goddess has told me about the events earlier through a dream, but my castle and soldiers are stationed on the other side of the island, and I failed to come in time. It’s all thanks to you, or these bastards would’ve defiled the temple. That’d plunge my clan into the pits of shame. The whole island would’ve laughed at us.”

Fury flared in Dona’s eyes, and he gave his soldier a look. The soldier dragged Morkvarg over and made him kneel before everyone.

The face of the arrogant, blaspheming, and legendary pirate of Skellige was filled with bruises and slap marks. His head looked more like a balloon than a regular human’s head. His clothes were torn from all the clawing, and he looked more like a beggar on the streets of Novigrad than a feared pirate captain.

Roy looked past him and saw two dozen captives in the same situation as their captain. They were on their knees, their clothes drenched with blood or seawater, their faces almost green from the exposure to the night winds. Some seemed crazed, and they muttered things like ‘giants’ and ‘divine retribution’ under their breaths.

Everyone present was giving them death stares. If looks could kill, these people would’ve been dead.

“Morkvarg. You crazed, incorrigible blasphemer. How dare you.” Dona held the pirate’s neck with his callused hand, roaring into his ear, as if that would blow his brains out. “How dare you try to defile the goddess and attack her priestesses! Do you really think you’re invincible just because you managed to escape the soldiers after your looting and murders? We’re going to punish you for every single one of your crimes now. You. Are. Unforgivable.”

The lord whirled, scanning his underlings and the remaining priestesses. He raised his voice. “We shall mourn for the dead tomorrow, and those bastards are going to pay for their sins in blood. They will never return to the embrace of the seas. Their corpses shall be thrown into the wilds, exposed to the elements and starving beasts.”

The silent pirates went white, and they quickly pleaded for mercy. If they were not allowed to return to the embrace of the seas, then that was nothing but hell for them.

“Come at me, ye scallywag.” Morkvarg raised his head and glared at the lord. Death would come for him one way or another, so he had nothing to fear anymore. “Least I’m tougher than ye fools. I exposed Freya for what she really is. She ain’t a goddess. Couldn’t even fight off mere pirates like us.”

He turned to Roy. “An’ she needs an emissary to help ‘er. Ain’t an emissary. Just a filthy witcher.”

Furious, Dona whipped his sword out and smacked the back of Morkvarg’s head. The pirate grunted and fell unconscious.

“Take him to the port and send our men to tell the islanders that the blasphemers will be sentenced to death at daybreak in three hours.”

“Help me, emissary!” A shrill scream came from the end of the crowd.

“Einar?” Roy cocked his eyebrow. He was surprised the repentant pirates were taken in as well.

“Please, help us. We never defiled the goddess. We killed the blasphemers. We repented. We ain’t no sinners!”

“Dona, can you…” Roy didn’t like to turn his back on someone who’d proved their allegiance.

The lord stroked his beard, looking a little troubled. “They’re Morkvarg’s lackeys. If we don’t kill them all, the people will never rest easy.”

Sigrdrifa stood up for them. “Milord, they never hurt any of us. All they did was attack the blasphemers. Freya is a generous goddess. She will not rain down her wrath on them.”

“Very well. Lucky bastards.” Dona gave his soldiers a look, and they untied the pirates. “You’re spared, but just because the emissary and the priestess said so.”

The pirates heaved a long sigh of relief and gratefully huddled around the witcher.

That assured Roy. Alright, I can go ahead with my plan for him.

“Emissary, priestesses, dawn shall break in a few hours. Let us move to the port. We shall give the deceased a sendoff and witness these blasphemers’ executions,” Dona invited warmly. “Once this is done, we shall talk about the temple’s reconstruction and your reward.”

“Oh, hold on a minute.” Roy looked at the priestesses and Dona. “I’d like you to see the gift the goddess has left for you.”

***

A sliver of golden light shone upon the dark ends of the sea, brightening the icy sky. The light flared from behind the clouds, burgeoning and rising until it rained down a sheen of golden light on the raging seas.

A great crowd was gathered at the plaza before the northern port of Hindarsfjall, an air of festivity spreading around. Everyone was watching the gallows on the stage. The soldiers were carrying out a ritual of old. A ritual of cruelty.

The pirates who invaded Freya’s temple were standing in a long line. In groups of three, nooses were hung around their necks.

Standing before the gallows was the legendary pirate, Morkvarg. He was made into a human flag, buffeted by the wind as he awaited divine retribution. His mouth was stuffed in case he spouted anything sacrilegious.

The crowd was red with fury, spitting and cursing at the pirates all the while throwing stones, mudballs, salted fish, and even excrements at them.

“Blasphemers!”

“Sinners!”

“Ye whale shit!”

“How dare ye hurt ye own mother?”

One of the ladies was about the size of a big barrel, and all the running took everything she had. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she fell unconscious.

“Alright, calm down! Calm down, people!” Dona shouted from the stage, his reassuring voice calming the chaotic scene down. “The ice giant is no enemy of ours.” Dona grinned. “It is an emissary. One who came to protect the temple at the summons of the goddess. Its name is Leviathan!”

The giant is an emissary?

The crowd looked at Dona and the giant dubiously. This was certainly something they’d never seen before.

“It’s the one that destroyed the drakkars of the great blasphemer last night!”

Morkvarg felt like screaming. If he’d known the witcher and this monster were here the night before, he would never have invaded the temple. In fact, he would’ve stayed ten thousand nautical miles away from it, but alas, he couldn’t turn back time.

“In her generosity, the giant is now stationed on Hindarsfjall as a protector of the temple, preventing any more blasphemers like Morkvarg from showing up!”

“Praise be to Freya!”

The crowd whooped and cheered, but some had questions.

“It’s staying?”

“What’s it gonna eat?”

“It won’t attack us if it gets hungry, will it?”

“It smells so bad!”

The giant thumped its chest and roared, then it stepped onto the port, slowly making its way to the execution site.

The crowd could feel their hearts racing faster with every step the giant took. When it was ten yards away from the site, it stopped and touched the back of its head.

Sigrdrifa was beside Dona. She gritted her teeth and did her best to keep her smile up, then she rolled her sleeves up and slowly lugged a wooden bucket full of fish toward the ice giant. The stench from the ice giant was stronger than any fermented seafood she’d ever smelled, and she almost fainted from it.

I’m going to set up its home downwind from the temple, or no believers are going to come. She whipped an icefish out of the bucket, and Leviathan looked at the cloaked figure in the crowd, licking its teeth.

Master said listen to priestess. No eating human. Eat fish. The giant extended its left index finger, took the fish, and popped it into its mouth, and it chewed on the fish.

“Bear witness! I promise that the guardian appointed by the goddess will not attack her believers!” Sigrdrifa stood tall, her face gleaming golden. “It shall keep us safe, and from now on, Leviathan will stay near the temple.”

The crowd said, “But the legends claim that ice giants kill indiscriminately.”

“This is the power o’ the goddess!” some believers were shouting in fervent devotion. “Who else can tame it but the goddess?”

“Oh, can we touch it? Can I visit it?” the crying boy from earlier asked with excitement as he sat on his father’s neck.

“Respect it like how you respect the goddess. You may see it from afar, but do not disturb its rest.”

“Aye, havin’ an ice giant we can stare at every day ain’t bad,” a local said. “Not like ya can see this anywhere else.”

Dona smiled. As the lord of the isle, he was coming up with ways to make profit through this. The ice giant could attract a lot of tourists, especially since it was harmless and listened to the priestesses’ orders. With it around, Hindarsfjall would see a great influx of tourists, surpassing the other isles in terms of tourism. Which means taxes. A lot of taxes. That’s going to be enough to cover the reward for the emissary.

To thank Roy for his assistance, Dona gave him the coins of the moneylender in Novigrad. It was a secret he pried from Morkvarg. All Roy had to do was lay claim to it.

***

“The time has come, and the leader of the blasphemers shall meet his end now.” Sigrdrifa turned to Morkvarg sharply, and she commanded Leviathan, “Do it, Leviathan!”

Leviathan came to the flagpost, its shadow looming over Morkvarg. It yanked Morkvarg off the flagpost and grabbed his limbs with both hands. The giant then held the pirate up in midair, showing him off like a crab.

“Morkvarg! You have enraged the goddess, killed her priestesses, and destroyed her temple! Your sins are many and unforgivable!” Sigrdrifa exchanged a look with the priestesses in the crowd. Coldly but sacredly, she announced, “By the power vested in me, I sentence you to amputation! And you shall be left to dry under the sun!”

A cruel smile curled Leviathan’s lips, and it pulled.

A fountain of blood spurted into the air, and Morkvarg’s limbs fell to the ground. Without his limbs, Morkvarg looked like a human bat, and he fainted from the intense pain and loss of blood.

The punishment was far from over, however.

Golden light flooded Sigrdrifa’s finger and draped over the fainted pirate, staunching the bleeding. The giant swaddled the pirate in a white cloth and hung him on the flagpost.

Over the next few days, the pirate was exposed to the elements, his flesh pecked by the birds. Bugs bit away at him freely, and the punishment continued until his soul had fallen to hell. All the while, he was closely watched by some soldiers.

After his death, his corpse would hang on the port forever as a deterrent for anyone who would try to blaspheme against the goddess.

Once the punishment was done, the soldiers took the corpses of the pirates away. The lord, surviving priestesses, and the crowd held up torches, pushing mistletoe-covered rafts to the beach.

On the rafts were the bodies of the priestesses who were sacrificed in the invasion. They would be set alight along with the raft and float into the endless sea.

“Time to see Ciri and Calanthe.” Roy looked away. The witcher had gained the goddess’ enlightenment and a necklace from this trip. It was great, and he left without saying goodbye.

***

***