Chapter 48

At the very instant the scream rang out, Old Aaron and the villagers of Auridon, waiting outside the woods, all shuddered violently.

Even the birds roosting among the trees seemed startled by the cry, bursting into flight with a clatter of wings.

Lannor emerged slowly from the shade beneath the trees.

His tall frame was wrapped in heavy, solid armor. Before the rest of him stepped out of the darkness, those glowing cat eyes appeared first.

Had the villagers not already built up a fair amount of trust in the Witcher over the past days, these ignorant peasants might well have screamed “devil” and scattered in blind terror.

But in the end, they did not. Though they breathed hard and their legs trembled, they still looked to Lannor with concern, and with worry for the missing child.

“Lan, Lannor?”

Old Aaron was the first to step forward, moving cautiously toward the Witcher emerging from the forest, testing the waters as he spoke.

Though savage bloodstains marked the young Witcher’s body, he still gave a nod in answer.

At once, Old Aaron let out a breath of relief.

“Hah ... hearing that screaming in there, I thought you’d gone mad. Well? Did you get anything?”

“Enough.”

Lannor did not much feel like speaking, so his answer was brief.

The village elder did not press for details. He knew full well that his little fishing village had no power to involve itself in what came next.

“That man-eater ... what did you do with him?”

“I cut the tendons in both his hands, then I left.”

Old Aaron’s pupils contracted. He swallowed and forced out a dry laugh.

“Ha, hah ... well, that’s no more than he deserved. A man with all four limbs ruined, bleeding out in the middle of a forest ... Hells, a death like that could turn him into a spirit without surprise.”

“Perhaps, Old Aaron.” Lannor lifted a hand and wiped the blood from his face with his fingers.

Those eyes were cold as iron.

“This land will soon breed many spirits. But that’s all right...”