Well, I felt the need to write something new, so here it is. Right, I've only read the two books that have been trnaslated into English (as sadly I don't speak Polish) and so I'm not sure about all character backgrounds etc. I know that Coen is from a different area, but I don't know much about it and so I have diverted frothe story a little. Despite my diversion I hope you enjoy this, should only be a couple of chapters long. Please R&R
The rain crashed down onto the empty and abandoned streets. The icy water washed away the dried and crusted blood that stuck desperately to the cobbles. It killed the fires that had still been eating away at the charred remains of small village houses. Slowly it clensed the ruins of the now forgotten village. The only sounds that could be heard were the thundering rain and the occassional patter of crow's feet as they searched for a fresh corpse to peck at. There were plenty of those scattered across the village. Deep, dried gashes covered their chests, limbs lay abandoned and distant from their owners, heads, arms and legs covered the ground after being severed from their owners by harsh blades. The air stank of death, the darkness caused by the heavy, black clouds covered the village in an unwelcoming aura. Occassionally, a crow would cry out, calling its companions to join it as it feasted upon the innocent eyes and flesh of men, women and children. As the crows dug their beaks into the crisp flesh of their evening meal a tall man, with hair whiter than snow and completely lacking in pigmentation stood before the burnt arch that was once the gates to the village. As he walked through the arch the crows looked up, disturbed from their feast and scattered as he approached, their frantically flapping wings causing the sky to become an even darker shade of black, something that would not have been thought possible. The white haired man narrowed his eyes and scanned the villagers as if searching for something that he had lost. After pausing at the entrance for a brief moment he began to walk down the barely recognisable path that once led to individual shops and houses. The tall man took in his surroundings as he walked. His eyes searched each building as he walked past, one had tightly clasping the hilt of a sword that he had strapped to his muscualr back. He passed what used to be the bakers, for although the structure was destroyed part of the brick oven that baked fresh bread every morning remained. Even after passing the ruins of family homes that still contained charred bodies of whole families, who in their final moments had clasped onto each other's hands, his face remained emotionless, the only expression it contained was a sense of deep concentration. It was soon clear what he had been searching for. Just outside the remains of a small house a child sat, arms wrapped tightly around its knees, their head squashed between its two shaking arms. As the white haired stranger approached he could tell the child was a boy, no older than 10. Slowly, the man walked around the boy until he was standing directly in front of him. The boy did not move. Frowning a little, he knelt in front of the boy so that they were level before introducing himself.
"My name is Geralt, child. I have come to take you from this place." Geralt reassured the child. Slowly, the boy raised his head, his eyes flecked with tears, face covered in old scars and new cuts. His whole body was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold Geralt did not know, but he assumed it to be both. "What is your name, child?" Geralt asked softly. The boy lowered his eyes to the wet and blood stained ground.
"Coën." The boy whispered,his voice trembling as much as his body.
"Coën, take my hand, stand up. I will take you to
Kaer Morhen, there you can become a Witcher." Noting the uncertainty the boy was feeling Geralt continued hastily, "Any place is better than this, child. You will be fed, clothed, dry and free from the evil that surrounds you in this place."
Coën's eyes glowed a little at the mention of warmth and safety, and with the help of Geralt managed to stand shakily on his feet. Geralt guided the boy through the village, shielding his eyes from the horrors that lay around them. The witcher knew that Coën had already seen it, but did not want further evils to plague his already haunted mind. Roach was tied just outside the village, waiting for her master. As Geralt returned to her she raised her head as if questioning the boy. The white haired man allowed Coën to stroke Roach's head as he ensured her saddle was secured and all the bags were tied on properly. Once checked, Geralt lifted the boy onto the saddle before jumping on behind him.
"Have you ever ridden a horse before, Coën?" Geralt asked. Theboy shook his head nervously. "Don't worry, she's a good horse, she won't do anything to hurt you." Coën made no response as Geralt kicked Roach into a gallop as they hade their way to Kaer Morhen.
It took a day and a half to reach Kaer Morhen. The sky was still weeping when they arrived and it had not stopped through the whole journey. Geralt knew it would cease soon enough, for the air was growing colder as winter was fast approaching. Within a week the ground would be covered in a thick layer of snow for already the witchers had come to Kaer Morhen where they spend every winter. Geralt rode through the gates where he was greeted by three familiar faces. Vesemir, the oldest and wisest of the group stood in front of Eskel, Geralt's childhood friend and Lambert, a witcher in training who was about the same age as Coën. Geralt slowed down to a walk as he neared his fellow witchers and as he pulled the horse to a halt Vesemir came closer and looked at the young boy who sat shaking on the saddle.
"So this is what you went out for?" Vesemir smiled as he helped the boy off the saddle. "He's a little old, but we'll see if he can pass the trials." The older witcher looked up at Geralt, "That is what you brought him here for, isn't it?" Geralt nodded in response as he dismounted. "Good, then we best get him settled in." Vesemir turned his attention back to the boy who had remained exactly where Vesemir has placed him. The witcger pushed him gently towards the others. "This is Eskel," Coën was introduced to a tall man with a great, disfiguring scar across one side of his face. Eskel smiled and shook the boy's hand. "This, is Lambert, he's about your age, so you two should get along well." Lambert, a spoiled looking boy didn't shake Coën's hand, instead he turned and raised his head, eyes closed. Ignoring Lambert's reaction Vesemir introduced himself. "I, am Vesemir. What's your name, child?"
"Coën." The boy said shyly, obviously nervous being around so many people.
"Well, Coën, it's lovely to meet you. You must be tired. You'll share a room with Lambert, which I'm sure he'll be fine with." Vesemir glared at Lambert, inturrupting the protest that was about to begin. Reluctantly, Lambert started to lead Coën up to the room that they would be sharing. Once the two boys were out of sight Vesemir's face turned serious.
"Put Roach away and then meet us in the dining hall, we must discuss what you saw." Vesemir whispered. Geralt nodded in response as the three men parted ways.
Coën was intrigued by Kaer Morhen. He quite liked the fact that he would be staying in the ruins of a castle. The fact that most of the white brick walls were crumbling didn't really bother him, in fact he saw it as a bit of an adventure, this was soemthing that he could only have dreamed of. The only thing he didn't like so far was the boy he was meant to be sharing a room with. Lambert had started talking about what Coën coulkd and couldn't do in his room since they started walking, and after the first minute or so Coën had stopped listening. All he really wanted to know right now was when he would be seeing his mother again and what this witcher thing people were talking about was.