Geralt didn't waste a second before closing the distance, silver blade flashing in a hard diagonal cut meant to end this quickly if he could, and the vampire simply wasn't there anymore, a blur that left Geralt's strike cutting through empty air, his balance thrown just enough for the counter that followed. Claws raked across his ribs before he could fully recover, tearing through leather and flesh, and he staggered back with a sharp grunt, one hand pressing instinctively against the wound.
"You are no match for a higher vampire," the creature said, almost gently, circling him now. "None of you are. I have watched your kind rise and fall, White Wolf, I'll remind you why you Witchers never take contracts on Higher Vampires... This ends the same way it always does."
Geralt gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright, blade raised again despite the blood already soaking warm down his side. "Talks a lot for something that hasn't actually won yet."
The vampire's smile widened in amusement, and then Ciri was moving, closing the gap in a blink of silver-green light, blade already swinging before he could properly register the shift. It caught him across the forearm, and he hissed, more surprised than pained, as the limb came away severed clean at the joint, dark blood spattering across the frost-crusted ground.
He staggered back a step, cradling the ruined stump, studying her now with something far sharper than idle curiosity. "I begin to understand," he said slowly, "why he wants you so very badly."
"Who," Ciri demanded, blade still raised, breathing hard. "Who wants me? What do you even want with us, attacking this keep like this!"
"I confess," the vampire said, already flexing what remained of his wounded arm as though testing its limits rather than mourning the loss, "I am not, myself, the one who wants you, girl. I am here purely for the witcher with the scarred face. The rest of this..." he gestured vaguely at the chaos consuming the courtyard behind them, "...is merely a courtesy, extended to an ally."
A crossbow bolt hissed through the dark a heartbeat later, aimed squarely for Ciri's chest and Geralt's hand snapped up on pure reflex, Aard tearing the bolt apart mid-flight in a shower of splintered wood.
"It's me who wants you, princess," a new voice called from the shadows, rough and amused, and a man stepped into the firelight, weathered and scarred, eyes pale and flat as a winter sky, already reloading, entirely unbothered by having just missed.
Ciri's gaze snapped to him, something cold settling in her chest at the sight of him. "You're no vampire."
"Perceptive," the man said, inclining his head slightly. "Leo Bonhart, at your service, such as it is. I'm here for your bounty, girl.. and it's a considerable sum, I'll have you know, resting on that pretty head of yours." His eyes flicked briefly, appraisingly, to the severed vampire arm still smoking faintly on the ground nearby. "Though after watching that little display just now, I confess I might reconsider the terms.. Alive's still the preference. Mostly."
Geralt's grip tightened on his blade. "Strange company," he said, voice low, "for a man to keep. A human and a higher vampire, working together."
"Life is full of surprises, White Wolf," the vampire said, already turning back toward him, his wounded arm already beginning to knit and reform with unnatural speed, dark tendons weaving themselves whole again before Geralt's eyes. "Now.. die."
Geralt and Leo met blade to blade with a crash that rang out even over the chaos consuming the rest of the courtyard, and within the first exchange Geralt felt the shock of it settle uneasy in his arms this was no ordinary bounty hunter swinging wild for a payday. Every strike came probing for weakness, he was just a human, but he could tell that his skill with a sword was not.
"What an honor," Leo said, grinning as he turned a parry smoothly into a riposte that nearly found Geralt's shoulder, "fighting the White Wolf himself. Didn't expect the pleasure so soon in my career."
"Emhyr sent you?" Geralt bit out, circling, blade low.
"The Emperor?" Leo laughed, genuine and unbothered. "No, no.. I'm not nearly important enough to warrant his personal attention. Someone else sent me after the girl. Though I'll be honest with you, Witcher.. the bounty's lost most of its charm. I want her now for entirely different reasons." His eyes glinted, searching. "Here's the real question on my mind, though. Where's the other witcher. Dark-haired one. Thought for certain he'd be standing here beside you tonight."
Geralt said nothing. He answered instead with a hard, driving cut that Leo barely turned aside, steel ringing bright in the firelit dark.
"Ah." Leo's grin sharpened. "It couldn't be. Did something happen to the lad? Poor boy." He clicked his tongue, mock-sympathetic. "I hunted him for a good stretch myself, you know. Managed to carve through a few of his little traveling companions before he ever caught wind I was behind it."
Something cold and furious settled behind Geralt's eyes, and his next strike came faster, harder, forcing Leo back a full step for the first time.
"Oh! careful now." Leo's smile didn't waver even as he scrambled to keep his footing. "You'll go and ruin my good sword, swinging like that." He recovered his stance smoothly, studying Geralt with interest. "I'll say this much for you, though.. you're a different breed entirely from the witchers I've put down before. Reputation's earned, it seems."
Across the yard, Ciri traded blows with the higher vampire in a blur of silver-green light and dark, grasping claws, her blinking strikes landing hard but never quite finding the clean opening she needed, the vampire matched her teleportation beat for beat, his own form dissolving into drifting black mist and reforming a half-step ahead of her every single time, always just out of reach, always careful, never once pressing for the kill despite clearly having every opportunity to take it.
"You fight well, for someone so young," the vampire said, almost admiring, as he caught her latest strike on one claw and shoved her staggering back. "A pity your control lags so far behind your raw gift. I could teach you, in time, were circumstances different."
"Not interested," Ciri snapped, already vanishing and reappearing at his flank, blade slashing and again he was simply gone, mist curling where he'd stood, reforming a stride away with maddening ease.
Geralt caught the exchange from the corner of his eye and broke off from Leo mid-swing, driving Aard into the man's chest to buy himself a half-second of space but Leo rolled with the blast, absorbing most of the force, and was already back on his feet before Geralt could fully turn toward Ciri.
"Oh, no you don't," Leo said, almost cheerful, closing the gap again with startling speed. "I'm not nearly done with you yet, Witcher!"
Geralt bit down a curse and swung for the vampire anyway, desperate to break Ciri free but the creature simply dissolved into dark, roiling mist the instant his blade should have connected, reappearing in the same breath directly behind Geralt's exposed back, claws already rising.
"Careful Geralt!" Ciri's voice cracked out, and she vanished in a flash of silver-green light, reappearing a moment later between them, her blade catching the vampire's claws mere inches from Geralt's spine, sparks screaming off silver steel meeting something far harder than bone.
"Nicely done," the vampire murmured, genuinely pleased, withdrawing a step. "Your instincts, at least, need no improvement."
Near the smoking ruin of the gate, Vesemir drove his blade through another fleder's skull and staggered back a step, breathing hard, surveying the carnage scattered across the courtyard. They'd killed a dozen of the things already, maybe more but there were still a good five or six left circling, fresh and vicious, and Lambert was flagging hard beside him, the gash on his forearm bleeding freely despite the makeshift bandage wrapped hastily around it.
"How many more of these ugly bastards are there!" Lambert ground out, parrying a fleder's lunge with more effort than the motion should have cost him.
"Enough," Eskel said grimly, cutting down a katakan that dove at him from the shattered gate's archway. "Vesemir, we need to think about ground. This is getting worse, not better."
"Fall back," Vesemir barked, already retreating a step toward the inner courtyard, dragging a staggering Lambert with him by the collar. "Further in... we've got the bomb crates stored near the old well, enough to even these odds properly."
"Running from vampires," Lambert muttered, wincing hard as he moved. "Never thought I'd see the day."
"Would you rather die standing on principle?" Vesemir snapped, hauling him bodily toward the inner yard as another fleder shrieked past overhead. "Move, boy! Don't forget we have someone else back inside that needs protection!"
/-\
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