The Divine Hunter

“So you’re keeping the news of your survival a secret on purpose?” Yennefer asked, a little surprised. She pulled her hair back and massaged her temples. “Because you’re pregnant?”

Calanthe leaned back in the spacious chair, caressing her belly. She fell silent, a little nervous from the questioning, but her silence was answer enough for the sorceress.

Everyone else enjoyed their food in silence.

Bran was chomping on the roasted piglet on his plate, tearing it apart like a warrior digging his fingers into an enemy’s throat. His queen stood behind him, placing a peeled lobster into young Svanrige’s plate. The boy looked resigned, and he put the lobster back into his mother’s plate defiantly.

Crach an Craite looked outside the window, his profile filled with frustration. Ciri was seated across from the crowd, munching down on the seafood. She stared around the room, the conversations everyone was having moments ago making no sense to her young mind.

Mousesack, consultant of magic to the king, stroked his long beard, and he broke the awkward silence. “That was not a decision Calanthe made alone. Her Majesty wishes to cleanse her home of those invading curs even now. She yearns to rebuild Cintra to glory.” Mousesack’s voice boomed across the room. Patiently, he explained everything to Yennefer. Evelyn had told him everything. This sorceress had the backing of a brotherhood of witchers, making her a force to be reckoned with.

“She wishes to destroy the dark soldiers and avenge her fallen home. Her people. Her family. And the men of Skellige. All who have valiantly fallen in battle.” The druid looked at the queen, whose face was ashen and dim. He had spoken loudly of the queen’s intentions. “When she first arrived on our shores, she was beside herself. Oftentimes she would be found crying before the grave of the late King Eist, and she lost sleep, day after day. The torment took a toll on her health. She came down with a cold, a fever, and even anemia. Her Majesty almost lost her child.”

“What?” Ciri put her cutlery down and looked at her grandmother with concern. “Are you alright, Grandmother?”

Calanthe had a smile dancing on her lips.

“It might have missed you, Ciri, but I’ve nourished myself back to full health and then some.”

“We got news from Evelyn back during the war. The witchers didn’t find Ciri. She escaped the castle and went missing,” Svanrige interrupted.

Ciri’s face burned up a little. She was a little uneasy about the mention of her cheekier past.

“We thought she might have died, so that means Calanthe’s child was her only living family left in the world. The only child her husband, Eist, had left for her before he so valiantly fell in battle. Should the news of Calanthe’s survival make it to the Continent, she will be buffeted with a slew of troubles. The refugees of Cintra, the sorcerers of Nilfgaard, and the spies of the northern kingdoms will all come to her. It would prove nigh impossible for her to keep her child if she were to shoulder that much stress. We had to create an environment where she could carry the child to term without worry.”

Yennefer was beginning to put herself in Calanthe’s shoes. If she was stuck between avenging her fallen country and keeping her unborn child safe, she would choose the latter without any hesitation. That was her maternal instinct speaking to her. Something a lot of women had.

“And that’s why we convinced her to stay.” Crach shook his head, his frustration turning to lamentation. “To set aside her vengeance. Plans can wait until her child is born. Ain’t gonna let those dogs run free, though, that’s for sure. We ain’t lettin’ our brethren die for no reason. Drakkars ‘ave been waitin’ to taste blood too.”

“He is right.” Bran wiped the grease off his beard. “Calanthe carries the future of the Cintran bloodline. I must keep her and her child safe. Can’t face my fallen brethren otherwise.”

Birna agreed with her husband, and she speared a piece of pig’s hoof for him.

Yennefer, however, saw Birna’s eyes glint with a hint of cunning. The queen is up to something.

***

“Surely that is not your only concern?” Yennefer asked.

“Hm, you are a representative of the esteemed witchers. Ciri loves and trusts you as well. Very well, if I’m being frank.” Bran stroked his beard. Coldly, he said, “Cintra has been overrun and completely taken over by the south. We cannot change the situation, at least not for now. The south has begun constructing defenses in Cintra’s vicinity, all the while spreading the religion of the Great Sun and the culture of Nilfgaard. They have also changed the local currency into floren, admittedly a coin with higher gold content. They are also sparing no expense in garnering support from the people left behind in the local towns and villages.

“Venzlav is an honorable man,” said Yennefer. “He is just, accepting, and a peace-loving king. Two years ago, he sent Geralt into Brokilon and signed a peace treaty with the queen of the dryads. Verden and Kerack, however, still see the dryads as their enemies.”

“Vissegerd is doing well in Brugge. When we exchanged news last month, I was told that the army was at four thousand strong, and they were still expanding at a blistering rate.”

Everyone had smiles on their faces. Yennefer was a little surprised to hear that. Four thousand soldiers was nothing to be sneezed at. The fact they joined the army even though there was no hope of reclaiming their kingdom given the speed Nilfgaard took them down meant their will was stronger than iron.

“So Vissegerd knows where you are?”

“He has always been a loyal minister to the kingdom. We’re like siblings. There is no need to hide anything from him. We exchange news and information every month.” Calanthe looked at Ciri, who was wolfing down a grilled squid. “He too spared no efforts in the search for Ciri. Once my child is born, I will have nothing holding me back anymore. I can once more give myself to the work of reclaiming my kingdom. Once the North and South start their war once again, my chance will show itself. The army Vissegerd is rallying in Brugge and Skellige’s men will strike the soldiers that have taken over Nilfgaard. We will stop at nothing to reclaim what is rightfully ours.”

Calanthe had a captivating smile on her lips, and her eyes twinkled a bright emerald. “When I escaped Cintra with my tail between my legs, I made an oath to those who had fallen in the war. The people of Cintra, the warriors of Skellige, and Eist. One day, I will reclaim our lost land, and the dark soldiers will pay the price. Just you wait.”

Gusts of gale slammed upon the windows. Everyone around the table had light shining in their eyes. For a moment, the fires of ambition flared in Yennefer’s eyes. Should she succeed in helping a queen reclaim her lost kingdom, she would gain an unimaginable amount of wealth. She then looked at innocent little Ciri, and she shook her head, smiling.

To hell with ambition. I have to take care of Ciri.

***

“So, Yennefer, ya mentioned someone chasin’ Ciri? Took her to Skellige to stay outta the hunter’s sight?” Crach wiped his greasy hands on his deerskin coat.

“Yes. Rience, a sorcerer and a spy,” said Yennefer. “I suspect that he works for the king of Kaedwen.”

Calanthe pursed her lips. Her mind was conjuring the image of a white-haired witcher and his younger, heterochromatic-eyed companion. She still hadn’t thanked them for all their help. With her kingdom taken over, she could never give Roy the reward she promised. “If he’s noticed Ciri, then the witchers might be at risk.”

Ciri looked at Yennefer. The sorceress shook her head and confidently said, “Danger is part of their lives, and they can handle it.”

“The Novigrad witchers are more than meets the eye.” Mousesack stopped fiddling with his antler headpiece. He praised, “Evelyn, a member of the Isle’s circle, is now in service to them. She has nothing but compliments for the witchers, especially one named Kiyan.” Felt like a wife praising her husband too, if you ask me.

“She claims that the witchers brought back seeds of plants she had never seen before. They claim that the seeds were prizes from their exploration of an unknown territory. I do not know how they procured those items, but with such power at their disposal, a spy is nothing to be afraid of.”

Bran turned to his side so Birna could wipe his beard better. “In any case, the witchers have protected Ciri, keeping her out of the kingdoms’ grubby hands. That makes them our friends. Our brethren.”

He looked at Yennefer. “Should they need help, ask. We can always spare a few hundred Skellige men for them.”

Yennefer gave him a grateful nod.

“Yennefer, there is another pressing matter at hand.” Calanthe stared at her granddaughter. “What do you mean Ciri and my unborn child possess an ancient bloodline? Does that mean I can’t even kiss my dear little Ciri before the child is born?”

***

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