Siren's Call

A Miscalculation

As Geralt headed out to Roach, he could hear Jaskier behind him, like some kind of ever-present mosquito that had decided Geralt was its favorite person. He double-checked all his gear and weapons, readying the ones he would need for the fight. It was already beginning to turn to dusk, and he would need to move quickly if he wanted to take advantage of the last lingering bits of daylight to set up an advantageous position to fight the monster from.

"So what is it we're fighting again?" Jaskier asked, curious, but strangely enough, not smelling of fear. Well, strange for most humans, not strange for Jaskier the unknowingly, stupidly, fool-hardedly brave.

Geralt sighed. "I am fighting a frightener. You are going to stay with Roach."

Jaskier pouted, there was no other word for it, and opened his mouth to protest, but Geralt turned and cut him off with the fiercest glare he had in his arsenal of quite impressive glares. Jaskier, thankfully, shut up. Somewhat less thankfully, he immediately smelled of arousal, and his body language wasn't exactly contradicting Geralt's suspicion as he casually moved infinitesimally closer to Geralt. Melitele's ass, did the man know no fear? Well, he thought with a slight twinge of regret, they didn't have time for any of that now. But, later...... He let his thoughts briefly go down a pleasant rabbit trail before he pulled himself back to the present and climbed up on Roach.

"Come on." He held a hand out to Jaskier, who looked both surprised and gratified.

"I get to ride Roach?!" He asked excitedly. "What an honor! What a treat! My dear sir you will not-"

Geralt interrupted him by bending down, grabbing him under the armpit and hoisting him unceremoniously up behind him. "We need to move."

Jaskier gasped, a mixture of surprise and indignation, and let out a few protests, which Geralt summarily ignored in favor of setting off in the direction of the merchant's path that would lead out of the forest and through the desert. If he followed it till he found carnage, he would almost undoubtedly find his monster.

Jaskier, unsurprisingly, had opinions to voice. "So what, exactly, is a frightener? I mean, that's a completely unoriginal and uninformative name. All the monsters you fight are absolutely terrifying so what distinguishes this one? Is it just especially terrifying? You've got to admit that doesn't give you much to go on."

Geralt sighed. "Have you ever watched a praying mantis hunt down smaller insects?"

Jaskier paused, startled. "Well, yes, I suppose, when I was young, but what does that have to do with this?"

"Imagine a massive, heavily armored, incredibly fast, magical praying mantis hunting you like a ladybug and you will have some idea of what it is we are facing."

There was a silence behind him and he could hear Jaskier swallow. "So...how do you kill it? Just choppity chop and relieve it of its' head?"

"It's not that simple." Geralt figured if Jaskier wanted to go along with him, he might as well know the ins and outs of what they were up against. "the last time I fought a frightener I had help from other Witchers. They can be rendered helpless with loud sounds, but they're still formidable."

"Wait...it took MULTIPLE Witchers to take down ONE monster?" Jaskier seemed flabbergasted at the prospect. "I didn't even know you guys collaborated, I thought you were all wandering around doing the scary death brooding loner thing."

"We used to." Geralt said shortly, unwilling to elaborate.

The information and lack of loquacity on the subject seemed to excite Jaskier. By the time they actually made it to the edge of the desert he had asked leading questions on the subject 9 times and referenced what a great story a "pack" of Witchers hunting together would make 13 times. Geralt counted.

He ignored him, and also chose to disregard the fact that Jaskier's arms were clinging rather closely around his waist, even though Roach was going slow enough he probably didn't need to hang on at all. The bard was rather a lot smoother in his songs than in real life.

Before they'd gone out from under the shelter of the trees he stopped and dismounted. Jaskier, suddenly robbed of the tight grip he had, almost fell out of the saddle and was forced to do a rather undignified scramble to get back. "Geralt?" He questioned. "I, uh, thought you said the thing was, you know, actually IN the desert."

"It is." Geralt pulled open Roach's saddlebags, rifling through to get the equipment he needed.

"So then." Jaskier asked in a faux show of patience. "Why exactly are we stopping?"

Geralt sighed. "This is as far as you go."

"WHAT I thought..."

Geralt cut him off. "If you want to live, stay back here. I'll be too busy fighting to save your ass."

As he started to stride off into the desert, he heard the faint shifting sounds of someone thinking very hard about getting off a horse and following him. He stopped. "Jaskier I swear if you even think of following me I will hogtie you, leave you in that inn, and continue on my way. This is not a rule you can break and escape the consequences of with your silver tongue."

There was a faint and indignant denial from the direction of Roach, but as Geralt continued following the caravan's trail into the desert, Jaskier stayed on Roach and did not follow him. Good, at least the bard was smart enough to know he was serious.

He came upon the wreckage of the caravan closer to the edge of the desert than he'd expected. He unsheathed his silver sword, glancing around. Fuck. Jaskier and Roach were still within eye sight. Nowhere near far enough away to be safe. He briefly contemplated going back and shooing them farther away.

This plan, and every other one, was interrupted by a very large body mass slamming into him. As he scrambled to swing his sword at the armored mass and alien head above him, he heard Jaskier scream his name.

He'd miscalculated. The frightener had already been there.