Chapter 12: Head of the Hag

Letho had seen everything throughout his years of being a witcher, but not once had he seen a child as peculiar as Roy. Not only was Roy unafraid of witchers, but he also didn’t avoid them like the plague, unlike everyone else. Letho wasn’t kidding. Many children would cry in fear after seeing a witcher’s peculiar looks.

Roy, however, had no such fear or disgust. He had a weird look in his eyes. Letho thought it resembled affection, or even admiration.

I’m getting old. Sentimentality isn’t like me. Letho fell into a trance, but he kept his poker face.

Letho harkened back to the days of his younger self. He’d still been a young boy when someone had come to his hometown of Gulet and brought him to Gorthur Gvaed, the Viper School’s stronghold in Tir Tochair.

Back then, Letho hadn’t gone through the Trial of the Grasses yet. He’d look at his mentor — Ivar Evil-Eye, the founder of Viper School — as he stood on the lectern and taught the Viper School disciples the knowledge of witchers, and his life experience.

He used to have the same look of admiration in his eyes that Roy did, but time showed him no mercy. A few decades ago, Ivar Evil-Eye went missing when he was hunting down a garkain. At the same time, Cat School witchers had been massacring humans on a whim, and it had garnered bad press from the people. Bereaved by the loss of their founder and the hatred from the people, Viper School went into a decline, and fewer people came to Gorthur Gvaed.

The only witchers of the Viper School left were him, Serrit, Auckes, and two others whose trails were unknown. Over the last twenty years, none of the disciples managed to pass the Trial of the Grasses.

We have to revive the Viper School, kill our nemesis, and find Ivar Evil-Eye. Those were Letho’s wishes, and the reason for their activity in the Northern Realms. When he came back to the present, he gave Roy a gentle look.

***

It had been a sunny day, praise Melitele.

The trio made meticulous preparations before they went for the hunt. After all, no human could master their skills even if they’d wanted to, and they didn’t keep that a secret from Roy.

They took out a vial of amber goo from the satchels they kept on their belts, and poured it on the short swords taken from their breastplates. The witchers spread it evenly and slowly, but their movements were still enthusing.

After their short swords had been coated in amber, they checked and double checked the potions on their potion belts, the amount they had left, and how much they could afford to use. Then they tied colorful alchemy bombs where they could easily reach it.

It was already noon when everything was done. After the witchers had departed the village, Roy snuck out at the promised hour behind his parents’ back. At the same time, a few curious villagers came along.

Half an hour later, Roy finally made it to the cemetery after a long sprint. He was huffing and puffing as he held his stomach, and he bent over and retched. The witchers looked at the cemetery not far away from them, and they heightened their sight to observe their surroundings.

“Stay here, Roy. We’ll call you once we defeat the hag.”

“Please let me kill that bastard myself, witchers.”

Letho didn’t answer. He, Auckes, and Serrit took out a vial filled with a brown potion and gulped it down. The moment they did, the blood vessels on their faces turned black and squirmed. Their faces were contorted, and the murder in their eyes was almost palpable.

Roy shivered, but not from the cold.

Letho started moving, and in spite of his size, the man’s actions were as fluid and as quiet as a cat as he bent down and darted into the cemetery. Letho started moving, but contrary to his size, he bent down and darted into the cemetery, fluid and quiet as a cat. Not a soul stirred, and not a leaf rustled. Serrit and Auckes went to the rear and followed Letho.

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The cemetery was laid bare for all to see under the sunlight. It looked tranquil, quiet, and even holy, as rays of light sprinkled upon the tombstones. But beside the skeletal remains of the dead, all the witchers could see when they looked closer were two dried corpses that had turned greyish-brown. From its structure, they deduced that the body had belonged to a tall, sturdy male adult, but it was rotten beyond recognition. The witchers couldn’t discern who he was.

The wounds on the body told of a great struggle before the victim met his fate. Bones were fractured in multiple places, and there were holes on every joint, apparently bored through by a sharp object.

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After the analysis, Letho closed his eyes quietly, and his nose wrinkled as he searched for clues. Not even the rotten stench from the corpses could stop him from finding the monster’s tracks. A short while later, he set his eyes on the cabin in the cemetery’s center. Letho took out a transparent headspace vial and continued his search around the locked cabin.

Grave hags fear the sun. They would cover up any places that would let the light into their nests. No sunlight should pierce through their hideout, but this cabin was prepared for the gravekeeper. There must be an entrance somewhere.

Letho found the window a few moments later, but the grave hag had covered it with mud. It’s not rock. This will work. Letho threw his knife and easily made an opening before chucking his alchemy bomb into the hole.

The smashing of the glass window was heard, and Letho darted back without hesitating. He leaped onto the roof, not unlike a cat. He then signaled to his teammates, and Auckes and Serrit, who were already waiting, dashed to the cabin’s front door, waiting to flank the creature once it came out.

Serrit made two triangles with his left hand that resembled an hourglass in the air and pushed it forward. A faint, white light shot up into the air, and a ten foot radius magical circle appeared on the ground, flashing softly.

Auckes made a sign in the shape of an upright triangle with his right hand, but he didn’t push it out yet. He was waiting for the opening.

A moment later, the door was kicked open with a loud bang, and the misshapen, lumpy creature shot out into the open. The moment it took its first step, it slammed into an invisible wall. It trembled for a moment, and fell face first.

That was the opening Auckes was waiting for. He pushed the Igni sign forward, and a stream of fire erupted from his palm, expanding out into a cone, and the flames licked the fallen monster. Before it came out, the grave hag had already been splattered with oil by the bomb Letho tossed into the cabin. Igni’s fire quickly traveled along its body, turning the monster into a writhing torch.

Tortured by the pain of the fire, the grave hag let out a shrill scream. It raised its gnarly arms and with its body, tried to break the magical barrier Auckes had erected.

It was then that someone leaped down from the roof and stood before the grave hag. What awaited the monster was a barrage of slashes. The short sword cut through the creature without mercy, drawing arcs across its body ten times in a moment. The weapon glinted cruelly as it circled it, slowly whittling its life down with every cut.

Roy was watching from afar, and no matter how he did it, he still couldn’t see the witchers’ movement clearly. It was far too swift for him. Letho was the only one attacking the grave hag, but Roy saw three afterimages around it.

A few grueling moments later, the grave hag fell down helplessly. Most of its body was burnt and cut by the blades. After, its limbs broke off from its body, as if realizing they had been cut off one second too late. What was left was a limbless creature, squirming and hanging on to life by a thread.

Auckes went up to it and pressed down on its back with his kneecap. He had a glove over his right hand, and he quickly yanked something from the grave hag’s mouth. It was a long, thin, prickled tongue out. And ignoring the monster’s ghastly wails, Auckes cut it off and tossed it into a canister he’d prepared.

Letho took out a blue cloth from his satchel and wiped the green blood off his short sword, his movements gentle and meticulous. The grave hag was severely injured, but Letho didn’t suffer any wounds at all. He was as calm and collected as the moment Roy met him. Nay, he didn’t even break a sweat. It was as if he wasn’t the one doing battle with the monster.

The battle had come to an end at that point. The witcher with the red headband, Serrit, called Roy to join them, and he came out of his hiding spot. “This monster is still living, but barely. As per our agreement, the kill shall be yours.” Serrit looked at the crossbow Roy was holding. “Will you be ending its misery with that?”

As Roy came closer to look at the limbless creature, he was at a loss for words. He had prepared a speech, but the visual impact made him forget about it.

Even though he knew of the witchers’ strength, and was prepared to see them easily kill a monster, their skills still blew his mind. The whole battle only lasted two minutes. Before anyone could warm up for the show, the deed was already done.

The monster that had killed Seeger, Fletcher, and Brandon so easily was now a mere sitting duck before the Kingslayers. Ironic. I should show some respect though. This is vengeance, after all.

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Roy had hunkered down and unsheathed the short sword on his back. He’d found it in Fletcher’s house. He stuck the edge on the grave hag’s nape and looked at the pair of corpses in the cemetery. He put on a mirthless smile and shouted to the heavens, “You’re avenged, Uncle Fletcher, Seeger, snotty brat!”

Roy made one final slash, separating the grave hag’s head from its lifeless body, and the big, ugly thing rolled toward Letho. At the same time, a new message appeared on Roy’s character sheet. ‘You have killed a grave hag. EXP gained: 100 (103/1000).’ This monster gives ten times the EXP a beast would?

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