The weight on my shoulders was immense. Tightly woven vines bound the two hunters to me. Else the rise and fall of my footsteps would've shaken them free. In my arms I held the sleeping Radkin. Every step required all of my strength. At my back the sun was gradually rising, offering a gladly recieved warmth.
The two hunters were delirious with exhaustion and fear. Chaotic and jumbled words spilled out from their mouths. Their shirts were wet with the water I had coaxed down their throats. With the rest of the nest butchered at my hands, dehydration was by far the most pressing concern to their safety.
They had been through hell. The spiders had bound them from head to toe in lashings of webbing and adhered them to the ceiling of a dark cave. Trapped in darkness with dozens of ruby red eyes eyeing them hungrily, such a fate was enough to make a man's heart stop. Fortunately these two had managed to endure.
Just a glimpse of one of the beasts would be enough to cause nightmares that lasted months. These two had been ensnared in webs and forced to watch spiders crawling across their bodies for days. Their bodies were in good health, save for exhaustion and hunger, but the mental trauma would remain with them for life.
The sun continued to rise higher in the sky, warming the air and casting speckled beams of light through the trees. It seemed almost impossible to connect this beautiful forest with the hellscape I had spent the night slaughtering my way through.
At last the trees began to thin. The dense canopy above shrunk with every step. Finally the sun's warmth could kiss my skin without constraint. The tall and thick walls of the village came into sight. Carrying three people was as much as I could bear. I was eager to relieve myself of my human burdens.
I spotted a child's head peeking over the wall. The youth's blue eyes anxiously scanned the forest. His eyesight was far poorer than mine. It wasn't until I was almost at the forest's edge that he caught sight of me.
The child's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. His lips quivered and twitched incessantly. After a few moments his mind seemed to catch up with his body. Like lightning he disappeared from the viewpoint.
His voice had not yet broken. Excitement and disbelief raised it further by a few octaves, "Dad! Dad! He's here! They're back! They're back!"
Footsteps. Fast and frantic. The face of a woman crested the walls, her cheeks were flushed and her hands trembled. With teary desperate eyes she searched. Her eyes met mine. The tears that had been held at bay flooded out.
She held her hand and clutched it against her chest, as if looking for reassurance that this was not one of the nightmares that had plagued her sleep. It was not.
The woman tried to speak, to call out to the man I presumed to be her husband. But her voice caught in her throat. Muffled sobs were all she could manage.
The gate started to squeal. Raised and hurried voices hastily heaved it open. The boy I had seen on the wall rushed out. Tears streamed down his face. His small hands pulled at the vines.
The boy was far too small to bear his father's weight. I placed my hand on his shoulder and pushed him back a step. His eyes darted up and stared at me. He looked exhausted. I doubted he had slept more than a few hours. His fists were clenched as if he might swing them to rescue his father from my grasp.
"Henry! Stop!" The elder roared. His cane thumped against the earth as he limpingly forwards. His wrinkled hand grasped the boy by the shoulder and pulled him back.
Trembling, the elder tilted their chins to look more closely at the men's faces. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and spoke in a voice raw with emotion, "Thank you."
"They've spent the last two days bound by webs without sunlight. Their bodies are weak, but with rest, they'll recover."
I've rid the forest of the pests. I hope this will bring them some comfort.
Their minds have suffered a great blow. They've seen far more than a man should, their spirits may take some time to heal." My words seemed to reassure the child. The anger in his eyes vanished and was replaced by gratitude instead.
Several strong men hastened to catch up. The tallest among them smiled awkwardly at me and asked, "Master witcher, let us carry them to their homes."
I agreed immediately, "Yes, they require rest."
The men approached. One drew a knife from his waist. He raised it slowly and non-threateningly, "Master witcher do you mind if we...?"
The vines were too thick to be broken with hands alone. The twists I had tied were too complex to be easily undone by those not well-versed in knots. It would be quicker to cut through.
The men required rest. Excessive disturbances would hinder their recovery. Their eyelids were beginning to flutter at the sound of the men's voices. It would be more comfortable for myself and them if they awoke in their own houses rather than tied to my shoulders, "Of course, continue."
The man wielded the knife with meticulous efficiency. His hands smelled of iron. Perhaps a butcher. The two men were quickly freed and carried back to their homes. Their wives cried softly and stroked their hair.
Radkin was twice as heavy as an ordinary man. The density of his bones and muscles far exceeded human limitations. I lay him down to rest inside the elder's home. Some colour had already returned to his cheeks. Before nightfall he was likely to be back on his feet.
The elder forced a bulging bag of coin into my hand. The return of the two men seemed to have given him back a decade of life. He held his back straighter when he walked and his limbs moved with newfound vigour.
"Thank you, if those two hadn't returned I-" His eyes began to mist up. He shook his head gently and left his sentence unfinished.
"You brought them back. All of us owe you a debt beyond money. For as long as I and any of my blood live, we shall spread this tale. The two kind witchers who bolted into the night to save our people." I could hear the sincerity in his voice.
Before I could gather my thoughts to respond, a knock on the door redirected my attention elsewhere.
The elder hurried to open it. Two women stood at the door. Behind them several children were lined up. Their snotty noses and red eyes showed that they had not long finished crying.
I recognised the first woman from the gate. The second was unfamiliar to me. The instant she laid eyes on me she burst into tears. With incredible swiftness she sprinted towards me and threw her arms around my shoulders. Her voice was muffled by my chest, "Master witcher, thank you!"
The sudden embrace caused my mind to freeze for a moment. I could hear the pounding of her heart and smell the scent of rosemary in her hair. It was the closest I had ever been to a woman. I held no thoughts of lust for her. Her actions made it clear that she loved and cared for her husband. Nonetheless, the softness of her body and her scent stirred up passions within me.
The conflict between the sudden stimulation of my body's instincts and my rationality threw my thoughts into chaos. Awkardly I returned the hug. After a short while the woman seemed to return to her senses. Red-faced she hurriedly diverted her gaze to the ground and retreated to her children.
The woman who I had seen at the gate pressed a carefully wrapped parcel into my hands. Beneath the wax cloth I smelled the alluring scent of berries and oats. Gratitude and thanks poured endlessly from her mouth. The teary-eyed children took turns to thank me also. Bunches of flowers were held between the small hands. The crudely broken stems suggested they had picked them themselves. I accepted them all with a gentle smile.
The flowers felt countless times heavier than the bag of coins. The heartfelt thanks of the women and their children warmed my heart. I raised the flowers to my nose and inhaled their scent. Beautiful.
The women and their children filed out of the elder's house. They said again and again that I was to ask if I needed anything at all. They did not have much. But they were willing to offer the little they had.
I began to understand why Radkin thought this place was so special. The people here were truly kind to me. I knew that witchers rarely received such treatment, perhaps some had never known kindness from a human. I would hold Troben's generosity dearly in my heart for centuries to come.
Snacks were brought to me at every hour. My satchel overflowed with pork pies and fruit tarts. The elder was so desperate to repay the safe return of his people that he asked incessantly if there was anything he could to do help. After several attempts I relented and asked whether the village had any skilled seamstresses who might be able to repair the tears in my clothing. He agreed without a moment's thought.
Evening arrived and Radkin began to stir. His eyes opened and he looked around with a grin. There wasn't an ounce of concern in his bones. Sitting up he stretched his back and addressed me cheerfully, "Aye I've wanted to do that for bleedin' years. Bet it looked bloody spectacular. Don't get your knickers in a twist little bird, ol' Radkin doesn't lose his mind every time a bug squeals. Thought it would be a nice little test for you to finish the job."
He was roguish as ever. I restrained the urge to throw a fist at his head, "Touch of warning might've been nice, I made sure the village saw you getting carried like a sleeping princess. The hunters were fine. Scarred no doubt, but still in one piece."
Radkin got to his feet and twisted his waist and shoulders. The casual action demonstrated an inhuman flexibility. He alternated between touching his elbows to his toes and curving his arms into impossible shapes, "Aye that's good. Beasties like that savour the taste of fear. Humans are a delicacy to them, stars know why they like the taste so much, I'd rather eat chicken. They'd let those shit-scared hunters marinate for a day or two longer before tucking in."
He patted me heartily on the shoulder, smirking, "Vessemir was right about you little bird, said it wouldn't take you long to get your feathers. You're making your ol' grandpappy witcher very proud!"
The elder knocked at the door. Radkin's voice was both loud and unmistakeable. He had likely heard every word that was said.
"Radkin is that you?"
Radkin threw open the door and strode out, "Aye, champion of the poor and charmer of the beautiful! It could be none else!"
The elder blinked rapidly, digesting what he had just heard. Then he roared with laughter, "Who else! Thank you friend, I owe you and your apprentice more than these old bones have to give. He carried the three of you back unharmed, the people have been stuffing him with cake and pie all day long."
Our time in the village lasted for another day. Both hunters recovered enough strength to thank us personally. Carrots were provided almost constantly to the horses during our stay. They whinnied sadly as we lead them back onto the trail. At the gates a crowd had gathered to bid us farewell.
In a vial ordinarily used for elixirs, the most charming flowers I had recieved were safely stored. The purple petals shimmered when the sunlight struck the glass. Honey filled the vial, warding off decay. Nonetheless, the petals would inevitably degrade with time. While they lasted I would admire their beauty.
Onto the next village we pressed. Once more it was only the two of us and the sounds of the forest. The last few days had been spent surrounded by people. I had grown used to and fond of my own company. It was pleasant to listen to my thoughts with only the birdsong as backdrop.
The journey continued.