Strategize first

“Alright, fine,” Geralt said. “What’s your plan?”

Theora thought for a moment, then nodded. “Bait some of them out, kill them, then the rest of them will come running when they smell their kin dying. As long as we keep them bottled in, we should be fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like much more of a plan than mine,” he said.

She shrugged. “Better than nothing. Come on, let’s get some bait.”

After hunting and killing a boar, they laid it in front of the mouth of the cave and took up their positions, with Geralt at the mouth of the cave and Theora on the ground above the entrance. While they waited, Theora pulled out some sort of decoction and drank it, and the skin around her eyes turned a deep blue/black as the veins on her face darkened.

Hearing the first scuttling sounds of kikimores, Geralt shouted up to her, “Here they come.”

“I hear them,” she said, unstoppering a vial with green liquid inside and taking a swig. The veins on her face darkened even further.

Geralt caught the first glimpse of the horrible visage of a kikimore and readied his sword. It scuttled towards him, and he sidestepped and arched his sword down, slicing into its body and killing it instantly. Two more kikimores emerged, and he dived out of the way as one of them spat poison and thrust his sword up into the other’s underbelly before rolling out from under it as it collapsed. Turning to face the remaining kikimore, he quickly dodged out of the way of its pincers and stabbed into its eye.

“The rest will come any second,” Geralt said, backing out of the cave. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Theora said.

A sound almost like the pattering of rain reached his ears, and gradually resolved itself into the scuttling of dozens of insect-like legs. As the first kikimore rounded the corner, Geralt whirled his sword and an arc of dark green blood splashed against the cave wall, then rolled backwards to avoid the fangs that sliced down at him.

Hearing a grunt from above him, he leapt to the side as Theora jumped from her ledge and plunged her blade into the kikimore that was just about to spit venom at him. Without even pausing to nod his thanks, he formed the Igni sign and a blast of fire burst from his hand, and the nearest kikimores recoiled as the smell of burnt hair reached his nostrils.

The next few moments were a blur of silver swords and thin, spidery limbs until, drenched in sweat and blood, the two witchers were the only ones left standing. Theora wiped her forehead, a fierce look in her cat-like eyes.

“Right,” she spat onto one of the kikimore corpses. “Where’s this queen then?”

Setting the pile of spindly limbs on fire with Igni, Geralt started into the cave, pulling out a bottle of Cat and taking a gulp. He winced slightly at the taste before offering it to her.

“Thanks,” Theora said.

They crept through the cave, setting the piles of eggs that they found along the way on fire as they went. Eventually, the tunnel opened out into a large cavern, and they exchanged a nod.

A slow, horrible clicking drew their attention to the far end of the chamber, and a mound of earth shifted as a hulking shape emerged from the ground. The armored carapace of a kikimore queen loomed over them in the darkness, its pincers clacking together. Four smaller shapes scuttled out, and Geralt’s eyes widened slightly as four kikimore soldiers began rushing towards them.

“You keep the queen busy, I’ll handle the soldiers,” Geralt said, charging into the fray.

Theora grunted in acknowledgement and sprinted at the nearest soldier, then vaulted over its back as it tried to bite her. Going straight for the queen, she dived out of the way of one of its legs and sliced at it, but it bounced off the chitinous exoskeleton. “Shite,” she cursed.

Desperately dodging lunges from its pincers and swipes from its legs, Theora searched frantically for a chink in its armor while Geralt weaved through the fray of spider-like limbs. One of the soldiers fell just as she finally located a crack just to the side of its thorax.

Meanwhile, Geralt felt a burning pain explode in his arm as one of the kikimore soldiers spat venom, and he sank to his knees. Another soldier lunged at him, and he just about managed to roll to the side and angle his sword so that it impaled itself, but even as its life left it he realized his mistake. The weight of its body ripped the sword from his grasp, leaving him defenseless.

Seeing his weakness, the remaining two soldiers lunged at him, and he quickly formed the Aard sign, blasting them onto their backs. He staggered to his feet as they writhed around, and tried to yank the sword out of the corpse of the dead kikimore, but before he could, one of the kikimores regained its footing and leapt at him. He rolled out of the way and sent a continuous stream of fire at it.

Then Geralt buckled as the second kikimore sank its pincers into his leg. His vision blurred as venom coursed through his veins. In a last ditch effort, he , formed the Quen sign, pulled out a Dancing Star bomb, and ignited it.

Fire roared around him. Charging out of the flames, he dropped and rolled to extinguish those that were clinging to his clothes. Though protected by Quen, his skin still seared with pain, and he collapsed, gasping for air. As if underwater, he heard someone mutter, “I mean, I guess that works,” before his vision darkened and he lost consciousness.

Soft lips brushed his head, and shivers ran down his spine. The very tip of her moist tongue lapped at the pre-cum leaking from his cock. Reaching down, he brushed her raven locks behind her ear, and violet eyes looked up at him.

“You scared me,” she said. “You’ve been gone for days.”

“I think I was injured. Badly. Theora, another witcher, she must have saved me,” Geralt said.

“She? A witcheress?” she asked. He nodded. “So, have you fucked her yet?”

“Yen,” he chided. “I don’t fuck every woman I see.”

“Hmm,” she said, a smirk on her lips, as she stroked his shaft slowly. “Well, you’d better get a move on. You’re losing ground.”

“Don’t make it a competition, Yen.”

“What’s wrong? Is the great Geralt of Rivia scared of losing?” she asked, kissing the tip of his cock before fading from his senses.

Slowly, Geralt became aware of footsteps on a wooden floor. Forcing his eyes open, he saw a thin figure bustling back and forth, and groaned as the sunlight streaming through the window seemed to split his skull.

The footsteps paused briefly, then got closer. “Geralt? Are you awake?” asked a voice he recognised. “Well, one part of you certainly is.”

Noticing the tone of her voice, he realized that his member was still rock hard from his dream, and also that, from the breeze on his skin, he was naked. “Yeah, I’m awake,” he croaked, his throat dry.

“Here.” A hand tenderly tilted his head upwards, and a wooden cup was pressed to his lips. Water trickled into his mouth, and he drank gratefully, draining the cup. “I’ll get you some more.”

The footsteps became more distant, and Geralt **** his eyes open again to catch a glimpse of red hair in a pixie cut descending a set of stairs. He silently willed his erection to soften, and by the time the woman returned it had receded to half its maximum length.

Even so, he could sense her eyes linger on it before she sat down next to him and let him drink. “By rights, you should be dead,” Shani said. “As usual.”

“Good to see you too, Shani,” Geralt replied. “Where are my clothes?”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, I’ve seen you naked before. Although admittedly under better circumstances,” she added. “I’ll get you a blanket if you want.”

“Thanks.”

Geralt was bedridden for the next few days, and the burn scars gradually faded under Shani’s care, though his witcher metabolism also played a large part. Theora checked in on him a couple of times and dropped him his share of the reward for the kikimore contract, as well as ribbing him for getting himself blown up.

While Geralt was lying in bed, reading a tome on bruxae, he heard Shani return from treating a patient on the opposite side of Oxenfurt. She stamped her feet to get most of the water off her boots before tramping upstairs. Her red hair was plastered to her face from the rain, and her clothes were clearly soaked through.

“It’s pissing it down,” Shani muttered as she took off her dripping coat. Her nipples, erect from the cold, were practically poking through her shirt, which was also sopping wet. An image of the beautiful young medic lying naked in a boat as the moonlight gave her pale curves an ethereal beauty flashed through Geralt’s mind.

Uncorking a bottle of wine, she poured herself a glass and took a gulp. “I needed that,” Shani sighed. “Drink with me, Geralt?”