(A/N: Contains some spoilers for Witcher 3. Also, some views expressed here reflect the attitudes and knowledge of the characters rather than the author. Thank you for reading)

Kerrass came to see me in the morning.

I was still getting ready to go. For some reason it was taking me a lot longer to gather my things than it would normally. I kind of want to put it down to having new bags and new belongings with unfamiliar shapes and sizes which meant that no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get them all into place in a way that I found satisfactory.

I was also tired. That bone aching, mind numbing place that exists beyond simple physical tiredness. The kind of thing where you spend time just looking at things and wondering what they are for and why they are in your hand in the first place. The state of mind where you are staring at a leg of chicken that you have already taken a bite out of and wondering why you are holding it. Or when you wander around looking for your travelling cloak before realising that you are already wearing it.

My day had still not ended after the Jarl meeting.

After the conference of the Jarls we had been taken back into the main hall so that we could have something to eat and so there could be a formal declaration about the mission would be setting off in the morning. The Queen stood on the dais and announced, in broad terms, what we had found out. She told us that the Skeleton Ship had been looking for something and thanks to the heroic efforts of the crew of the Wave-Serpent as well as the “noble Witcher, Lord Frederick and the Empress of Nilfgaard”, we now knew what that thing was.

I did manage to spend a bit of time teasing Kerrass about the “noble Witcher” part.

She told the hall that the ship had been hunting for a person and that in the morning, Jarl Hjalmar of clan An Craite would be leaving to go and obtain this person. This, in an effort to ensure that this passage of the Skeleton Ship would be the last passage of the Skeleton Ship. She also directed Hjalmar that he should take the survivors of the Wave-Serpent with him as part of his expedition along with fifty of the Imperial Guard to help ensure that there would be no future attempts on the life of the Empress.

There were questions. I noticed that a number of men wearing the clan colours of clan Tuirseach were the primary question askers despite Jarl Ingiumnd folding his arms next to the dais and looking grumpy and including a very unhappy looking Lord Dreng. They wanted to know who this man was and where he was. The Queen didn't hide this knowledge, she was quite open and honest about the subject really, telling the crowd that the object of the Skeleton Ship's search was hiding with the Druids in their sanctuary and that that would be the final objective of Lord Hjalmar's mission.

Then someone asked what would happen if he had taken refuge with the druids and that the druids refused to give him up. Again, I thought that the Queen was very diplomatic when she told the assembly that she had every faith that wisdom would prevail and that the Druids would see the wisdom in handing over such a person for the Queen's judgement. She had made her voice hard as she said this last and I don't think that there were many people who had any doubt as to what the result would be.

She also announced the formation of a new clan. Thus distracting the assembly from the fact that she had just ordered her brother to invade the Druid's sanctuary, against their will if necessary and violating the traditional neutrality of the Druids. She went on to say that there would be a series of games and challenges that would be set by the Jarl's council in order to select who the new Jarl would be and that these tests would take place during the time of “The Thaw.”

According to Svein the time immediately after the passage of the Skeleton Ship through the harbour of Kaer Trolde is called “The Thaw” as everyone, basically, has nothing to do other than to wait for the rest of the world to emerge from it's blanket of snow and ice so that life can get back to normal. It is generally supposed to last for a period of about a week, give or take a few days depending on the time of year.

Tradition states that this time is to be some kind of public holiday where people eat, drink and be merry. There were jokes that I heard being made that there was often some kind of population boom nine months after the Skeleton Ship disappears. I suppose that there is very little else to do other than to sit and watch the fire when you don't have books to read.

Knowing that we would be setting off early in the morning, I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep, as exhausted wasn't the word for it. Instead, Kerrass and Ciri ganged up on me and forced me to a bath and some hot food as well as an examination by a healer in order to check if I had suffered any frost bite during my travels.

The older man coldly informed me that I was lucky before admonishing me to take better care of myself in the future. The fact that we had been ambushed and that all of my belongings had been destroyed along with the Wave-Serpent was not seen as an adequate excuse by the healer for my condition. He was not alone in the brotherhood of healers and doctors in assuming that the rest of the world is terminally stupid, which it is, and that they are the only true holders of wisdom. Which they might be. Dr Shani sometimes has a similar attitude about herself when she is chastising her patients for doing stupid things.

After that, I had another go at contacting Ariadne, which failed, before I climbed into a bed and pulled the blankets up and over my head. I remember this movement. I remember pulling the blankets up and over myself but I don't remember much else.

I woke up, incredibly stiff, to find a thrall shaking me awake and telling me that it was time to wake up. Another thrall was rebuilding the fire in my room while a third was depositing bundles of clothing on the ground. The first thrall, who appeared to be in charge, told me that this was a gift from Lord Hjalmar and that it would keep me warm during the journey as well as a full set of cold weather gear to replace the stuff that I had lost. My old clothes, that I had worn since before the Wave-Serpent had died, had been taken away and presumably burnt in order to protect the world from the stench of my cold sweat.

The final blessing was that someone had given me a large drink of the hot drink that the islanders love. There are several varieties of tea in the world but the stuff that the islanders make is particularly lethal. Ivar had once joked to me that it's meant to be brewed strong. So strong that you can stand a wooden spoon up in it before you put the honey in to blunt the edge of the taste which he likens to a chisel up the nostril. It's a uniquely bitter brew and the islanders claim that they like it that way despite the fact that only a couple of them, that I ever saw, drank it without adding some cow or goat milk to it and adding a spoonful of honey.

One of these people was Helfdan.

Kerrass hated the stuff despite drinking it out of necessity. He would normally add a couple of spoonfuls of honey into any herbal drink that exists on the continent but in the case of this stuff, Kar had once teased him by asking if Kerrass wanted any tea in his honey. I normally prefer my tea a little more bitter than Kerrass does. Especially in the morning when I want it to scour the morning fuzz out of my mouth, but even I was having to double the amount of honey that I would have added to the stuff.

One of the benefits of it though is that it really does seem to wake you up that little bit faster. You can't stay asleep when you have a few mouthfulls of that stuff in you so I was grateful to those nameless thralls for bringing it to me. Food is always a communal experience in Skellige so I knew that breakfast would be served in the hall, but that Skelligan tea was needed. Plus, probably, a few more cups of the stuff before I was done.

But, although I was awake and the shock of the still chilly room meant that I had gotten dressed in the blessedly warm clothing with astonishing speed, the tea doesn't wake up your brain. Especially when you are already exhausted. So I was looking at my saddlebags which were the only things that I still had access to from my original gear. I had left them back at Kaer Trolde as I hadn't thought that I would need them with travelling by sea.

I was stood, suited and booted, looking at the saddlebags and all the stuff that was needing to go into the saddlebags. Then I had kind of frozen in space as I stared at the two things. It was oddly as though my brain was switching from one to the other saying “Stuff, Bags. Bags, Stuff. Stuff. Bags. Stuff needs to go into bags. Stuff. Bags”. All without making the connection that I needed to be the one to put the stuff into the bags and that they weren't just going to get up and march into the bags by themselves before carefully arranging them for ease of carry, convenience of access and comfort to the horse. It just hadn't occurred to me. I was that kind of tired.

I was still stood there, looking down at my bed with the pile of orderly things that needed to be packed and trying to decide how I should set about doing these things when Kerrass knocked and entered the room.

“Freddie. We need to.... Are you alright?”

“Hmmm? What?”

“I don't know but you've spent an awfully long time just standing and staring at the pile of stuff on your bed.”

Something clicked inside my head and I started packing my meagre belongings. “Sorry Kerrass, it's just taking me a long time to wake up this morning.”

“If it's any consolation.” He said, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. “You are not alone. The Empress was heard to be complaining, most bitterly, at the prospect of having to leave her, and I quote, “her pit” before a more suitable time.”

I winced. “Did the offending Thrall survive?”

“It was actually Lord Voorhis that could be seen retreating down the corridor.”

I chuckled at the thought before letting myself recognise the concern in Kerrass' eyes and became serious. “What's going on Kerrass?”

Kerrass took a deep breath. “I need you to start preparing yourself for something.”

“What?” The arrangement of stuff wasn't all fitting inside the bags, so I was in the process of taking some out and refolding it in a futile effort to get more in.

“Freddie. Look at me.”

I put the fur lined mittens down and turned.

“I need you to start preparing yourself for some disappointment.” Kerrass told me. “I need you to start getting yourself into the head-space that Lennox is not going to tell us anything about your sister, or give us any clues on where to go next.”

I sat down on the bed as I absorbed that. Then I blinked. “Sorry, my brain isn't fully working yet. What?”

Kerrass nodded to himself.

“Freddie, we're going to go and get him. We're going to go and break into the Druid's sanctuary one way or another right?”

I nodded.

“So what happens then? We demand Lennox's side of the story. Either on the spot or we drag him back to Kaer Trolde so that he can be judged by Queen Cerys and everyone else. Back here where he's going to plead. He's going to beg that he not be given to the Skeleton Ship. You with me so far?”

I nodded again.

“There is only one thing that he has to bargain with which is information. He can explain who he is. He can explain why he has done what he has done. He can give us all the reasons as to why he should not be consigned to the darkness of returning to his curse until that curse is played out in whatever way it will eventually play out. He will try to appeal to our morals. He will point out the fact that we are literally sacrificing him to this thing. We are putting the lives of the many people of Skellige above his own. Lets not try and kid ourselves that we are doing anything other than Human Sacrifice here.

“Jarl Udalryk was right when he said that being under the thrall of a curse is one of the worst things imaginable and we are consigning a man to that.”

He stopped and tried to make eye contact with me. He failed.

“But he has one other thing up his sleeve.” He told me. “One more trick that he can pull.”

My tired brain finally caught up with what Kerrass was telling me. “He can say that he knows what happened to my sister and threaten to withhold that knowledge unless he is kept from the Skeleton Ship.”

Kerrass leant back and I let the realisation sink in for a moment.

“There are things that we can try.” Kerrass told me softly. “The man is a coward and is obviously not stupid. I'm no torturer but the threat of such things is often enough to convince a person to tell us what we need to know. If we had time, our options would open but the Skeleton Ship is days away from it's final passage so...

“We could steal him away.” Kerrass suggested gently and without conviction. “You and me against Skellige and the might of the Imperial Guard on the islands, letting him loose on the continent after the Thaw. We would need to steal a boat to get him back to the continent after the ice had melted. It would be difficult but not impossible....”

I shook my head. “Skellige and the Empire would come for us. They would go after Emma and Sam and Mark and they would not be wrong to do so.”

“I agree.” Kerrass said slowly. I didn't look at him but I thought that he was watching me carefully, trying to guage my capacity for doing something stupid.

“He could be convinced.” I tried but I knew that I was reaching. “Ciri, Ermion, the Queen.... All of them could manage to get through to him.”

“They might.” Kerrass admitted. “But they won't. This is a man that has hidden for years. Hidden in plain sight. Every single person that has passed, including me, would have helped him if he had just come to us and asked them for help. But he didn't. He hid and protected himself. He's not going to tell you what you want to know out of the goodness of his heart. He's going to keep it until the last possible moment and then he will twist the knife. If he can't be free of his curse then he will see to it that you can't be free of his.”

I considered.

A whole fantasy scenario spread out in front of me. Kerrass and I staging a daring rescue where we would kidnap the man Lennox, put a bag over his head and steal away to some remote part of the islands until the sea started to thaw. We would buy, or hire a boat to take us back to the mainland where we would hide from the wrath of the people that would be coming for us. Then, gradually we would earn the trust of Lennox so that he would tell us everything that we wanted to know. I would use that knowledge to rescue my sister and to buy my way back into favour with Ciri and then.... and then....

“We can't do it can we.” I said aloud.

“Can't do what Freddie.”

I took a deep breath. “We have to see this through.” I said. “We have to get him. I must accept that he's not going to tell me everything that I want to know. And when the time comes, he must be thrown to the ship in order to lift the curse from the Skelligan Islands. And I must live with that. I must know that I gave up the opportunity to find out something else so that the Skelligans can live free of the terror of the Skeleton Ship.”

“We do.” Kerrass agreed steadily, still watching me carefully. “I don't want to Freddie. Leaving aside the moral question of throwing a man back to a curse. I don't want to. I want to get you your answers. I've spent all night trying to think of ways that we could get this done. But over and over it comes back to this. We can't do that.”

“I know.” I stood up after taking a deep breath. “I need to pack.” I told him.

“I will see you in the hall for breakfast.” He replied.

I turned away, all pretence of order having left, I was jamming the clothes and goods into the saddlebags with angry gestures, forcing them inside until I could no longer see for the tears.

Kerrass put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed briefly before leaving.

After he left, I had a little weep to myself before putting a bit of time into repacking my bags before leaving the room and moving into the hall. A thrall took my bags off me and reassured me that they would be waiting for me on my horse when it was time to get going.

The group was in full swing by the time that I got there. It was still relatively early morning so the vast majority of the people in the hall were those people that would be coming with us. Hjalmar had chosen fifty of his finest warriors as his personal guard. Technically under the command of Gudavsson who had found himself back in favour since his actions the previous day. I have no idea what he had done to fall out of favour enough that he had been guarding the gate during the approach of the Skeleton Ship, but whatever that had been, it seemed as though he had been forgiven.

It seemed absurd to me that it had only been the previous day that we had made it back but I suppose that's what happens when massive events have you caught up in the midst of things.

Those fifty warriors were joined by another fifty members of the Imperial Guard who had personally been chosen by Lord Voorhis for their skills and unquestioned Loyalty.

Queen Cerys was there, still in the same clothes that she had been wearing the previous evening leading me to wonder if she had gotten any sleep at all. But she was full of smiles and jokes, exhorting her brother onto feats of action in the coming mission.

The burst of activity proved a welcome distraction from what Kerrass had told me earlier and I was able to put it out of my mind with a bit of ease the same way I used to dismiss the knowledge of how close the exams were getting. I was sat at the high table, between Ciri and Kerrass, opposite Helfdan on the other side of the table with Hjalmar opposite Ciri who were the pair closest to the Queen. Helfdan looked uncomfortable with all the noise and things and was doing that kind of eating... I don't know how else to describe it other than this. A man, who isn't hungry or thirsty, but knows that he needs to eat and drink. I have done much the same on mornings before those exams I mentioned earlier. He didn't look up as I sat down and arranged my spear next to me.

Although the Thrall had taken my bags, he had not taken my weapons. As we were setting out, we were all armed and armoured. As it was, there was a debate going on at the table as to whether or not the Imperial Guard were going to freeze to death, given the cold conditions and the nature of the metal armour that they wore. Hjalmar was complaining, loudly, that he would not have time to stop and check to see if any of the armoured knights would have frozen to death on their horses.

Apparently the guard had ways round that although none of that was discussed.

Ciri squeezed my shoulder as I sat down while giving me a sympathetic look. “Did Kerrass talk to you?”

“He did.” I didn't want to talk about it and I must have given off that impression. There was a strange kind of disconnect in the way that Ciri was dressed. She was back to dressing like an Empress. She was wearing a fur lined version of the riding coat that she had worn when being introduced to the court back in Toussaint. High coloured with the fur giving her an illusion of bulk. She had leather gloves on as well as a flashing symbol of the Golden sun over her heart and voluminous skirts that were also heavy looking and fur lined. The coat was held down by straps that were the same, although made out of richer leather, that she wore so that she could carry her sword on her back.

I wondered how long it had taken her to convince Lord Voorhis and the royal dressmaker to agree to these straps needing to be made and the relevant adjustments to her coats and dresses when it came to these kinds of events. She also had a fitted set of metal shoulder guards, vambraces, bracers and gorget that were visible over the top of the coat and obviously tailored around that same coat. The armour looked pretty, delicate and ornamental but I guessed that if Ciri had agreed to wear it then it would also be of the highest quality

The disconnect was that although she was dressed like the Empress, she was still behaving like my travelling companion. She was laughing at Hjalmar's bawdy humour and gently teasing Helfdan with cautious affection. The only difference that might have shown that she was beginning to move back to her more Imperial state of mind was that she would occasionally watch Helfdan with a kind of calculating expression. She was watching him the way a lecturer watches a student when they are concerned that the student is either too clever for their own good, or just clever enough to be taken under their wing. I had no idea what was going on there and I was not in any kind of mood to ask.

“Skirts?” I teased her with a raised eyebrow. “I didn't think you would want to be wearing skirts when there might be danger.”

“I don't,” she answered with a grin. “But for two things. The first is that they really are very warm.”

“And the second?”

She put her own cup of Skelligan tea down. She takes hers black with honey in case you are wondering. Then she reached towards her waist and undid a button and pulled the waist of the skirts away.

“Ah.” I said. “They come off.”

“They do indeed.” She redid the button. “My Dressmaker hates me. Occasionally I have to let her have her way and design and make a dress that is just a dress. Without secret pockets for me to hide knives or that crossbow that you gave me. Or to have room to fit my sword harness beneath it with a hole just over the shoulder so that I can also get the sword in. Or that the dress meets Lord Voorhis' requirements for being properly armoured.”

“I take it that the two of them hate each other.”

“Oh, everyone hates Lord Voorhis. I think he enjoys it if we're being honest with each other. But the dressmaker does seem to get more angry with him than most. To be fair though. When I do let her go mad and design and make me a dress for this ball or that soiree (she pronounced it Soyrey. Obviously she knows how to say it but just so obviously, she doesn't really enjoy them. Except when she decides that she wants to enjoy the thing and then all kinds of entertainments turn up.) then they do look really good. And wearing them, I look amazing. Although to be fair, in those dresses, the average in bred cousin of the far reaching parts of the Empire would look beautiful.”

She grinned happily as she watched my brain conjure the image.

“You didn't bring any with you did you.” I accused.

“Of course not. It's far too cold in Skellige for such things. Even at the height of summer I would freeze in such contraptions.”

“How is Lord Voorhis doing?” A thrall deposited a plate full of bacon, Sausage and all the other things that I never really have the stomach for in a morning. “He's fine. If he wasn't so angry with himself, I would suspect that he was having quite a good time to tell you the truth. Nothing he likes better than to get to the bottom of a treasonous plot.”

“Was it a treasonous plot?”

“He doesn't think so. He thinks it was a convoy of ships who took matters into their own hands when they heard that Helfdan was trying to destroy the Skeleton Ship so that he could gain favour with Queen Cerys and get in her pants.”

“Not that he thinks like that.”

“Nor does she. But a lot of other people think like that so therefore they assume that he must think the same way. And none of them knew that they were wrong. All they knew is what people were saying about Helfdan, which was that he has an unhealthy obsession with the Queen. They knew this because various people thought that they could gain favour with Hjalmar and the other people that hate Helfdan, by spreading those rumours.”

She sighed as she took a mouthful of her tea.

“They were right too.” She admitted. “Hjalmar still doesn't like him although, to be fair to him, he's really trying. But Morvran thinks that these traders heard this in the pub. They had heard about Helfdan's murdering one of their fellows on the docks when he departed and they knew about his competence. The Captain of the flotilla looked at his profit margins. Which are always large when the Skeleton Ship passes. And reasoned that Helfdan is a competent and feared Skelligan raider and that if anyone can get rid of the Skeleton Ship, with a famous Witcher in tow, then it would be him.

“They thought that if they could prevent this then they would preserve their profit for the future and sailed around looking for the Wave-Serpent. The Mage that was with them was hired to make sure that the ships could get away afterwards by influencing the weather for their benefit so they could cut through the ice and he was able to scry our location.”

She shrugged.

“When they saw that we were making a straight line for home, they leapt to the proper conclusions and sailed to intercept. According to lord Voorhis and his interrogations of the Mage and the docks agents that work for that trading company (Freddie: Again, I have removed the name of the trading company at Lord Voorhis' request) they had no idea that I was aboard. But,” she shrugged. “Ignorance is no excuse and now they must be destroyed to prevent other people from using the idea in the future.”

“What are you going to do?” I was making an egg and bacon sandwhich out of the stuff on my plate.

Ciri shrugged again. “The Mage and the docks agents as well as any survivors from the flotilla will be handed over to Queen Cerys for punishment. When we can get through to the main land, the ships masters will also be arrested, interrogated and shipped to Skellige for punishment according to Skelligan laws.”

“And the rest?”

“Well,” She shook her head. “The trading company will be destroyed. Utterly I'm afraid. When the Skeleton Ship has passed and we are able to contact the mainland again, you can contact your sister and tell her that another of her major southern Competitors are going to be facing charges of Treason.”

I shook my head. “All that death because they didn't want to lose a profit margin.”

She looked at me strangely. “Come on Freddie. I know that you're not that naïve. The First Great Northern War was waged because my father had a lot of people that he wanted to get rid of so he gave them enough rope to hang themselves. The second Great war started because the Northern Kings and Queens wanted to appear like the good guys when they believed that another war was inevitable. They were right of course, it was inevitable but that's beside the point. Even now, my forces are invading Cidaris and Vergen because those monarchs refuse to stop cutting down the Brokilon forest so that they can sell the wood for.... profit.”

“And because you need to find something for your armies to do.”

“Correct.” She took another drink. “I am far from innocent in these kinds of things Freddie. They played the game and they lost. Now I must punish them and, I suspect, a good number of people who were ignorant of these events, because they played the game badly. Their mistake was in not making sure they knew exactly who was aboard the Wave-Serpent. If they had known, then they would almost certainly have backed off. And if they had succeeded, then even their children and their children's children's friends would be impaled slowly on spikes. Lord Voorhis is my presumptive heir and he would not take my assassination well. So it would be investigated and the truth would soon come out.”

“I did not know that.” I told her. “That he is your heir.”

“Presumptive heir.” She clarified. “It's one of the things that I need to sort out. This adventure has done me a power of good when putting a number of things into perspective. I don't think I'm ready to marry anyone yet, let alone get pregnant. There will be all kinds of efforts to take the throne off me when that happens on the grounds that “I will be too emotional” so I need to make sure that those things can me minimised and so...”

She talked for a while. All kinds of political things that kind of went over my head if we're honest with each other.

We all talked and gossiped. I learned that the there was another little layer that might explain why I hadn't heard from Ariadne. This being that the Skeleton Ship's winter is magical which can distort magical communication to and from the islands. I also learned that there were a number of so called “lesser” magicians who would be travelling with us as part of the Imperial Guard contingent. Their jobs would be to keep us warm and to keep us from freezing to death. It was one of those peculiarities of magic that I found tricky. On the one hand, trying to dispel the cold of the Skeleton Ship is impossible as the Ship is known to defend itself fiercely against anyone or anything that even tries such things. So instead, they would be setting up camp-sites to keep us warm. They would be providing hot foods and ensuring that camp-fires would not just be snuffed out by the cold.

I asked, and didn't understand the answers, about what would be the difference between doing this and attacking the Skeleton Ship directly but there was some mumbling and hand waving about “lines of force” that I cannot claim to understand. But I was told that we would be travelling in relative comfort at least.

Which was nice.

There was a certain amount of pomp and ceremony when we set off. Not as much as there had been when Kerrass, Ciri and I had first set off on the mission, way back when, but there was still a certain amount of it going on. After all, it's not every day that the brother to the Queen and the Empress of most of the known world set off on a mission to extract a cursed individual from where he was hiding from the sure and swift justice of the Queen's wrath, is it.

I wasn't really listening. I missed Ariadne a lot. It had been ages since we had last spoke with each other and I felt that lack keenly. I had assumed that there was something going on. Some kind of shield that had been preventing us, or that the she was busy or some other form of. “She can't answer you at the moment.” But the truth seemed much more boring than that. “The Skeleton Ship makes magical contact to and from the island go a bit squinty.” was literally the response I got when I finally managed to catch one of the Imperial Mages and ask him some questions.

“Is there anything we can do to....” I got that far before he interrupted me with a shrug. Telling me that it wasn't really his field and that I should ask someone else. But in the meantime, he was busy.

So I kept finding myself alone in a crowd and with not very much to do. Once again, I was being confronted with the truth that the more people that are travelling, the longer it takes everyone to get moving. I got the feeling that Hjalmar was just as frustrated as I was but at the same time, he was the one that was making sure that we all had enough water. That we were all wearing the correct protective clothes and that we were all properly prepared for the coming journey into the freezing cold weather.

So it gave me a lot of time to look around. I noticed, for instance, that Lord Ingimund was prominently stood forward in the crowd that came to see us off. The other Jarls were there as well but something in the corner of my brain, where my court training lives, noticed that he didn't really need to be standing that far forwards. Not really. I also noticed the look of absolute disgust on Lord Dreng's face who was stood nearby. I wanted to know about that but there was not really a lot that I could do to get the information out except walk up and ask him.

I got to realise how much I was missing Ariadne. The women of Skellige had resumed their efforts to catch my eye and I had had several attempts by various members of the An Craite Shieldwomen to have one of their number come and keep me warm during the long night. I count it as more luck on my part that I hadn't been caught by that trap the previous evening as I was more tired than anything and would possibly have agreed to anything in order for a bit of piece and quiet. But I suppose it's just as likely that they realised how tired I was and that I wouldn't be much good to them as a man. I would have seen the bed, my head would have hit something soft and then that would have been it.

But the looks that they had been sending my way reminded me that Ariadne had promised to come and see me while we were in Skellige so that she could protect me from the prying and insistent women. I missed her, deeply.

I was also lacking in distraction from the more maudlin thoughts that came with my short conversation with Kerrass that morning. There were many things that were happening here that I was not pleased with. The fact of what Lord Udalryk had said the previous night. About how we were sacrificing one man in order to save others. At the time, and indeed when I sat down and properly began to think about it all, I had little sympathy for the man we were hunting after. He had brought this upon himself. When he had fled his situation he had brought a terror into the Skelligan isles that the world had never seen before or since. He was, indirectly, responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of men, women Vodyanoi, Elves and Flame knows what else over the course of the centuries. So I found that I had very little sense of pity for him.

But the worrying question about what I would do. If you took all of that context away. If you removed all of my knowledge about the man Lennox and put it in a box and took it away from me. In philosophy lessons they would ask the question. Is the sacrifice of one man worth the lives of millions. It is not an exaggeration to say that this is the most common example of how good men and women start down the path towards evil. They see that first step as being necessary and then the next step is that little bit easier, and then the next step and the next step and the next step.

It was that line coming back to haunt me again. His actions, or lack thereof, reflect badly on him. But what I was about to do reflect badly on me. And I didn't like that. I didn't like that at all.

I was stood with Kerrass at the time, as I often am in these kinds of circumstances. Ciri was conferring with Lord Voorhis about something and Hjalmar was shouting. Helfdan was stood quietly some way off doing his best to ignore all the noise and the hubbub. He would wince occasionally and the other survivors of the Wave-Serpent were doing their best to shield him from view.

So in the absence of anyone else, I turned to Kerrass and put the question to him. Were we doing the right thing? Leaving aside the morals, that this came about as a result of him setting us the impossible task as payment for giving me information about my sister and that he had kind of brought this on himself. Leaving aside all of the other things as well, what was the right thing to do here.

Kerrass sighed and scratched his chin with a gloved hand.

“It's tricky. Speaking as a Witcher, a contract is a contract is a contract. He told us to find a way to get rid of the Skeleton Ship. We have done that. He is almost certainly going to withdraw from his side of the agreement so....”

“I'm not talking about him Kerrass. I'm talking about me. And us. We're throwing a man to the curse. We're not even consigning him to death. We're throwing him towards an impossible curse that we do not, even remotely, understand.”

“I agree with the others Freddie. He kind of has it coming. Curses don't happen for no reason. They can happen carelessly, but they don't happen for no reason. I will be stunned rigid if this all turns out to be as the result of something that other people have done and that he is an innocent victim in all of this. I will lay a ten percent share in your families company against my next fee that this is all due to something that he did originally. That he jumped over board was his efforts at avoiding the curse rather than confronting it head on. But the original fault is his.”

“No bet.” I told him. “Apart from anything else. I shouldn't be making important decisions based on a bet. But again, I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about the situation in general. I don't like that we're throwing someone to the wolves. To the torment of madness and worse than death because we think that it will solve our problems. That can't be right.”

Kerrass thought about this for a while.

“It isn't right Freddie. It's never right. But sometimes, it's all there is. Rulers, generals and the like are always making decisions based on this very equation writ large. Do we sacrifice that unit of troops so that the greater army may live? Do we send the relief food to that village or the other village? Who does the doctor give the medicine to. The old person who has lived their life anyway, or the younger person who is more likely to survive the disease?

“It's not a new question for me either Freddie. It sucks every time. But in this case, the man that we are destroying, the man we are condemning is so obviously guilty that it's not even really a question. I will throw him to the Skeleton Ship myself and the only reason that I will feel bad about that is that we are probably throwing the information that he has into the water with him. But even that is not entirely reliable. It's just as likely that he is pretending to have knowledge so that you will feel sorry for him and do your best to rescue him.”

“I know all of that Kerrass but as I keep trying to tell you. It's not about him.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“But it is Freddie. It always is. That's the only way that you can get through it. There is no such thing as the context-less situation. There is no situation where you can look at it and remove all knowledge about the situation from your own mind.

“I have read the philosophy books too. I was given a book on philosophy so that I could wipe my arse with the pages one year and instead of doing that, I read it. It was quite interesting. Utter bullshit but still quite interesting. I finally gave up on the situation which asked the reader what they would do. If they were confronted by a situation where two people unknown to you were about to fall off a cliff and you only had time to save one of them, which would you save?”

“It's the impossible question.” I said automatically having either read the book or one just like it. “Quite common in philosophy texts. It's designed to make the reader think.”

“Which it did.” Kerrass admitted. “It made me think that the book was bullshit. Such a situation would never, never come up. There are always other factors. I would never be equidistant from the two of them. One would always be older than the other. I might know one and not the other. I might think, looking at them, that one of them could make the climb. One might be a male and the other a female. We might like to think that race and gender don't make a difference but they do. For example, Elves are much lighter than Dwarves are.

“And if none of that were true. If I was looking at a pair of identical twins that wore identical clothes and spoke in perfect synchronicity while they hung off an ideal ledge of equal footing, crumbling at an equal rate all along the ridge line. Then I would save the one on the right. Because my left foot is stronger and I would be able to spring from that foot in order to get to them that little bit faster.

“Context is always key. Always. It's just as much the key for the judges as it is for the criminal as it is for the victim. And make no mistake Freddie. This man is a criminal. There might be some victim in there as well but I absolutely believe that he deserves what's coming to him. He will achieve freedom when he confronts the cause of his curse and makes amends for it. That's how these things work.”

I was taken aback by how angry Kerrass was. And I couldn't figure out why either. Shortly after he finished his little speech, Hjalmar announced that he was satisfied and that we were ready to depart. The cup of leaving was passed around with it's fortifying mixture of herbs and mead and we mounted up and headed out into the cold.

It wasn't that bad. The crew of the Wave-Serpent amused themselves by laughing at the various warriors of Clan An Craite who complained about the cold while we regaled them with stories about how we had done the same journey, bereft of magical assistance while, essentially, wearing rags.

But joking aside. It really was fucking cold.

So I was surprised at how sedate we were being. We all but took our time. We weren't cold, the magic of those mages that came with us made sure of that. Our cloaks kept us warmer than they would otherwise, we had hot food and drink. The horses were wrapped up in barding and blankets at all times and special care was given to the care of the mounts.

The Imperial Guard were armoured but again, it turns out that campaigning in freezing snow and cold in their full plate mail is something that has come up before. Apparently, it is considered a waste of resources to have a mage keep the soldiers warm in battlefield conditions. But these men were protecting the Empress and as a result, cost was not an issue. That says something about the way soldiers are treated compared to how mages are treated in the various militaries of the land. But I am not wise enough to be able to properly analyse that right now.

But we took our time. Scouts were sent out and the rear guard was also carefully monitored and checked. We set up camp early and rose relatively late. This was not a head on rush into the unknown. This was a calm and surprisingly collected movement of armed troops. To say that I was surprised was an understatement given everything that I knew of Hjalmar and his emotions regarding the mission that we were setting out on. It all seemed a little more cautious than I was expecting.

It was also a little boring if we're being honest with each other and I resented this boredom. While travelling under Helfdan's command, especially after the battle with the Ice Giants, it had become necessary that we all do our parts. That even Kerrass, Ciri and I who were, in theory, guests of the Wave-Serpent, were required to stand guard and do their bit around the camp. This was no longer the case despite all three of us doing our best to do exactly that.

The Imperial Guard in particular were falling over themselves in an effort to be accommodating to Ciri. There was never a time where there weren't people offering to take care of her horse, to make her tent up and to fetch her something to eat or drink. This effect seemed to pass down to Kerrass and myself as well. Which meant that I couldn't turn around without finding a cup of something hot and fortifying in my hand.

Hjalmar found this endlessly entertaining and openly wondered why he didn't receive the same treatment from his men. His men then roundly turned on him and informed him that if he wanted his arse wiping then he could damn well do it himself. That certain members of the Guard heard this and took offence only seemed to add to the hilarity amongst the Skelligans.

But the fact that I had gone from having to do a lot of these chores myself, including standing guard and things, to having it all done for me was jarring. The novelty of not having to worry about taking care of my own tent and belongings soon wore off. The other problem being that it also left me with too much time to think. I didn't want to think. I wanted to lose myself in the activity of things. I didn't want to think about what was going to happen when we got to the Druid's sanctuary or what would happen afterwards. I wanted to train. I wanted to cook. Hell, I would even have been happy with digging out the latrine trench. I would have been bad at it but it would have given me something to do and helped me to sleep at night.

At first, during our slow progress, I worried about the time that I felt we were wasting watching the world go by and the Skeleton Ship sailed past us until Helfdan, who was also feeling like a tool who people have no use for, broke it down for me. He told me that it takes about eight days for the Skeleton Ship to make a full circuit of Ard Skellig. It had been sighted off Kaer Trolde the day after we had crashed which meant that there were still six days, at least, before the Ship would sail through Kaer Trolde harbour which was when we needed to be back. At current rate of march it would take two days to get to the Druid's Sanctuary and two days back. Thus leaving two days for margin for error and politics.

His words, not mine.

But this was not as reassuring as he might have thought it was.

So I chafed at the relatively slow pace. Ciri, Kerrass and I had done the same distance there and back again in about the same period. But we had been under the impression that we were, essentially on a holiday. Travelling with the Empress and making sure that she had the time to chill the fuck out a bit. This time, there was a time limit and I wanted to get it done and over with sooner rather than later.

Then I found out why we were moving so slowly.

We were ambushed. A group of around fifty armed men just appeared out of the rocks, screamed and charged us down. They were terrifying to look at. Wild, ragged and painted in strange body paint that seemed to glow in odd ways. Hair flying this way and that with blood curdling rage dripping from their lips. Some of them were plainly so far gone that they had bitten through their lips and tongues so that blood was literally dripping from their mouths. That or it was the berries that they had eaten in order to work themselves up into the required frenzy.

It was not a battle. The Skelligans simply turned, braced shields and threw small hand-axes through the gaps. The ranks of the enemy rippled as most of them died before the remaining attackers simply bounced off the shield-wall. It was over before it had begun really. Over before I had time to realise that I was in a fight.

I am sometimes, still a little relieved that I can freeze at the sudden onset of violence. That it still takes me a little while to get into the swing of things and to properly get myself into a killing mood. When all of this started, back when violence happened in the village with the Nekkers, I remember recriminating myself because I had frozen in place rather than reacting with speed and decisiveness to the threat of violence around me. I remember being pleased as Kerrass' training as well as the circumstances of learning how the world works eroded at this delay between the fight starting and getting up to speed.

Now, I am reassured that I am not so far gone into violence that I react so carelessly. Reaching for a weapon and killing at the slightest disturbance.

But it was all over in less than a minute. The attackers had refused to be taken alive, much to Hjalmar's disgust and quiet admiration. We wouldn't have known who they were except for Svein looking down and recognising one of the men from his days working with Clan Drummond. He was actually quite upset with the matter as he looked down at a hairy, skinny man. He pointed and shook his head, genuine tears in his eyes and said “There, but by the grace of Helfdan, do I lie.” Helfdan was made uncomfortable by the attention.

It wasn't really a fight. Not really. The poor things were half-starved and mostly frozen and completely drunk. The unreliable shield of drunkenness keeping them safe against the cold. It had not worked. A quick scout around found their camp site and refuge where we found another twenty men frozen to death. The verdict was that these men were religious and traditionalist fanatics who had heard, or been told, about our mission and had set out to stop it despite the obvious hopelessness of the situation.

But that was why we were taking our time while we travelled.

It happened twice more before we reached the Druid's sanctuary. The second time was even worse than the first. A paltry dozen men attacked us with old rusted weapons. They visibly shivered while they charged and the blue on their skin was not from any kind of paint. It was an odd feeling to feel sorry for the people attacking us. I have felt pity for men that have been outclassed or similar but this was more a kind of condescending feeling of “Oh loves. Let me get you a blanket and something hot to drink. Then you can charge us again later when you're feeling a bit stronger.”

The other time was when we were attacked at night time. This was, by far, the best equipped and most organised of the three ambushes and I was not alone in thinking that if all three had gotten together to coordinate things then things might have gotten sincerely dangerous. As it was, these were the men who were dressed that little bit warmer and could therefore take their time and choose when they attacked, rather than desperately going for it in an effort to get their deaths over and done with as soon as possible.

But this was the only one that actually caused any casualties. We lost two of Hjalmar's guards and one of the Imperial Guard. The guardsman was taken by surprise as he was coming out of his tent. The worst possible case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time according to those men who saw what happened.

Apparently he had just stepped out and the enemy warrior was standing in his blind spot. The expression of the Nilfgaardian's corpse was one of disgust. As though he was disappointed with himself for dying in such a stupid and pointless manner. The two Skelligans were sentries who were killed by stealth. With the howling of the wind and the driving snow and sleet, no-one could blame them.

The guard's mages were able to deal with the rest of the wounded with relative ease. The fact that we were warm, rested and fed made all the difference in all of these engagements. That Hjalmar knew the terrain and that he properly consulted Svein and Gudavsoon about deployment meant that we were as well situated as we could expect to be.

But it also should not be made light of the fact that we were warm, dry, rested and well fed. I think that even Hjalmar would agree with that.

That's not to say that the journey was pleasant. The mages could not stop the wind from howling, nor could they keep the snow from falling. They could not keep the rear ranks from having to march through the slush that was formed by the marching feet of the front ranks. That last was a particular problem and was, possibly the single thing most responsible for our slow pace. I hated to think what the road would have been like if we had taken all of Hjalmar's warriors as had first been mooted. Or if Ciri had been forced by Lord Voorhis to take a full company of a hundred men of the Guard with her. I dread to think what the road would have been like then.

We came to the cross-roads where Kar and Thorvald would be turning for Helfdan's home village. Kar was going because he would be wily enough to ensure that the small party would make it back and Thorvald because he would be able to offer more spiritual guidance towards the families of the fallen. They would be travelling with half a dozen of Hjalmar's warriors and, not to be out done, a half-dozen members of the Imperial Guard. I was concerned about their lack of magical support to keep them warm but Kar waved off my concerns.

“At the pace we're going to be riding?” He told me. “We will be there by nightfall. Think of that Scribbler, while you're shivering in the Druid's sanctuary, arguing with pompous, dried up old men. I will be sleeping in my own bed with some strong whisky and a nice warm woman.” He shivered in expectant and hopeful delight.

“There will be no woman.” Thorvald confided in me. “I suspect that there will be many tears at his news of the fallen and that he will drink himself beyond the point where he will be of any use to any of the women that would accept him as a partner.”

Kar snorted at this and went to mount his own horse.

“I intend to join him in his grief.” Thorvald told me in passing when Kar was out of earshot. The older man had aged since the death of the Wave-Serpent. He was now older to look at than even Ivar had seemed when I had known him and I wondered if the priest of Hemdall had any intention of sailing again. He looked dreadfully sad and old. I hugged both of them, making a show of checking that my purse was still there when I broke the hug from Kar to some laughter.

“Never from you Scribbler.” He whispered after hugging me again. “Never from you.”

“I will see you again soon.” I told him.

There was a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye as I watched them mount up and ride away with their escort. Kar and I had never been close and I had struggled with his humour some times. But I missed him when he went.

It wasn't that far from there to get to the Druid's sanctuary though and the increasingly extreme weather meant that standing there and watching Kar, Thorvald and the rest of their escort go was a little impractical.

Instead, we turned our horses and went on our way

The wind picked up and someone from the head of the column came down the line and tied all the horses together. It seemed a little strange for that to be happening in that I was perfectly warm, but they were right. I could barely see in front of me and it would be all too easy to get lost and be taken away from the magic of the accompanying mages.

We came round the way and finally started in towards the Druid's sanctuary. I had the strangest feeling come over me as we approached. As though I was lost somewhere in a place that I didn't recognise and that I was very far from home indeed. The thought occurred that I could be any traveller on any road in a snowstorm, just determined to put one foot in front of another, tugging my cloak and hood that little bit tighter around myself in order to keep the weather out of my face. The feeling was made worse by the fact that speaking to my companions was now impossible over the howling wind as well as the paradox that meant that I was quite warm while, at the same time, it obviously being freezing cold with the driving wind and snow that my horse, also, was beginning to struggle to force it's way through.

Then it just.... stopped. I shivered as I seemed to pass an invisible line somewhere. I saw no marker to show where this was. Nor could I easily see the markers when I looked back. But I shivered. In the same way that you do when you have hot water poured down your back.

But the cold was gone. The cold and the driving snow that blew into our eyes and obscured our sight. We could see again and it was no longer as cold. It was the winter of idyllic Yule paintings, a gently falling snow that contributed to the soft blanket of snow that lay covering the ground.

Automatically I lowered my hood. I looked up, blinking the snow from my face and relaxing my hold on my cloak so that I could see properly and I found that we were close to the Druid's sanctuary. The hill with the old, wizened tree on the top where the formal announcement of new monarchs is made. We had approached it a different way to how we had done it with Kerrass and Ciri. Something to do with certain paths being closed off with the elements and weather being what they were.

“Oh,” Hjalmar called out to those of us that were assembled. The way he spoke made it sound like he was moments from laughter. “Well that's interesting.”

Arrayed against us were more warriors. I knew enough about the tartans and clan colours that the different warriors of Skellige wore. I would struggle to pick up on the subtleties that denote what rank they are or what village they belong to. But I can tell a member of Clan An Craite from member of Clan Heymaey fairly easily along with a man of clan Tordarroch.

There were two colours in evidence here. The first was the purple of the now defunct Clan Drummond and the grey of the clanless.

“Should have seen that coming I suppose,” Ciri muttered as she moved to hide her face again. Like the rest of us, she had begun to lower her hood in the new protection from the weather but she lifted the hood back into place. It seems that there is a time and a place to reveal your identity and this was neither. She muttered something to the commander of her escort. I didn't catch it but the man moved towards the head of our column where Hjalmar and Helfdan had ridden and I moved to join them, Kerrass coming with me.

Hjalmar was in the process of dismounting from his horse. He looked.... amused I suppose is the closest emotion that I can suggest as to what his mood was. I got the feeling that this wasn't unexpected.

“The Empress' compliments milord.” The knight commander of the Imperial guard saluted Hjalmar crisply. “And I am to place my men and myself under your command in preparation of any violence. Barring six men that I will attach to the person of the Empress herself.”

Hjalmar's eyebrows rose as his amusement grew. “Have you told her that you're holding those six men back?” He asked innocently.

“No my Lord.” The full face plate of the guardsman's helmet kept his expression from view. “But I love my Empress. Although I fear Lord Voorhis' vengeance more if anything happens to her.”

Hjalmar laughed at that. He turned to look for her and saw that she was keeping herself from view at the back of the column. “My friend, if some assassin or fighter can catch that woman off guard, then he deserves to kill her.”

“I appreciate that view my lord. However Lord Voorhis was most insistent.”

“I bet he was.” Hjalmar's eyes scanned the warriors facing us. “No Druid's.” He observed, “only warriors.”

“That doesn't mean much.” Helfdan muttered.

Hjalmar nodded before shrugging. “Well, we can't worry about that now.” He turned and called back to the men “Hardhand?”

Svein stepped forward having dismounted with Helfdan. “Yes Lord Jarl.”

“The field is yours Svein.” Hjalmar told him. Deploy and command the battle. Put me where you will and you have to assume that we will have to attack to break through.”

“That is going to be unpleasant.” Svein commented. “Doable though. If you could find out who's in charge, that might be helpful if I know them.”

“Just for you Svein,” Hjalmar clapped him on the shoulder. “I will do what I can.”

“Thank you, Lord Jarl.”

Hjalmar turned and addressed the waiting knight. “You work for him now.” He pointed at Svein.

The knight saluted Svein who was remounting and the two men moved towards the men conferring closely.

“Right then.” Hjalmar rubbed his hands together in a gesture that almost looked like glee. “Let's go and see if we're going to have a fight today. Helfdan, Scribbler, you come with me. Witcher too please.”

“I didn't know that parley happens on Skellige.” I commented as we dismounted and started walking up the hill.”

“Oh yes. Especially when forces are lined up like this.” Hjalmar chuckled. “He'll pick a fight with me, I'll pick a fight with him and then we'll do our very best to murder each other. It's the honourable thing to do. They may even try for a contest of champions although I doubt it.”

“I thought that Clan Drummond, such as it was, were not really known for their honour.” I commented. “And some of these men are clanless,”

“And mercenaries and men and women in disguise.” Hjalmar agreed. “But what's your point.”

“Wait. In disguise?”

“The warrior, third from the right of the grey rock with the circle carved in it.” Helfdan commented. “She is a Shieldmaiden of Clan Tuirseach. Or she was.”

“Then, given that, this is probably supported by Jarl Ingimund.” I commented. “What's to stop them just killing us when we approach.”

Hjalmar laughed. “Oh, we should only be so lucky if such a thing would happen. That would give the other clans the power that they would need to wipe the remains of Clan Drummond from the face of the islands. Cerys can outlaw being clanless, insisting that men must either join other clans or leave the islands all together and these men can be taken alive and interrogated without problems.”

He grinned at me.

“And cousin Rolf has long wanted to be Jarl. To the point where he keeps trying to chase the women away so that I don't get married and produce an heir. But don't tell him that I know that. It makes it more funny when he fails.”

Four men stepped out of the lines to come and meet us and Hjalmar started laughing.

“Snorri is that you?”

One of the men grinned. “Fuck you Hjalmar.” He said with warmth. “Still alive?”

“Only just although I persist in attempts to drink myself to death.” Hjalmar told him. “Yourself?”

The man Snorri shrugged. “We all have to die some place.”

“How's your cousin. What's her name?”

“Runa. She's fine. Married a fisherman and moved to Undvik. She's a woman of Tordarroch now. More sensible than me.”

The leader who had been getting increasingly angry at this exchange spat.

“She, and other traitors will be put to the sword as well as all who stand against us.”

“It is no treachery to choose life.” Hjalmar snarled. “Nor is it dishonourable if you are not a warrior and so ordered. I remember Runa as a weaver, not a Shieldmaiden. Seriously Snorri, what are you doing standing with Svartlebrand here?”

“Some have more honour than others.” The leader hissed.

“Really?” Hjalmar's eyebrows rose. “I have come to pay my respects to the Druids and yet you stand in our way, obstructing our passage. Move aside.”

“These are not your lands, An Craite.” The man spat. “These lands belong to Clan Drummond. The rightful rulers.”

“Who we conquered.” Hjalmar told him. “We beat you. And these lands belong to us now.”

“We do not recognise your authority.”

I saw Hjalmar and Snorri exchange glances. Snorri shrugged a little sheepishly.

“I wish I had known that I could do that.” Helfdan spoke up, speaking seriously. “I wish I had known that I could simply say that “I do not recognise the authority of the people ruling me.” My life would have been so much easier if I could do that.”

“Raiding who you want.” Hjalmar agreed with his Sea-Captain.

“Sailing where I want. Keeping all my taxes and goods, ignoring the summoning to arms.”

“Marrying who you want.” I said slyly to a black look from Hjalmar.

Helfdan didn't react and carried on talking. “So much simpler if I could just ignore the orders of my Liege Lord.”

“I mean, it's not as though it would be breaking the most sacred laws of our people. Passed down to us from The God-King himself.” Hjalmar commented before, aprubptly, the humour left his voice. “These lands belong to me and through me, the Queen. You will stand aside or you will be made to. Such is the law.”

“It is also the law to leave the Druid's sanctuary inviolate.” The man, Svartlebrand snarled.

“Who said anything about the Druids?” Hjalmar demanded, quick as a snake.

Svartlebrand said nothing.

“Actually,” Helfdan spoke up again. “That the Druids rule this land is not a law at all. It's a tradition. Lord Ermion was named a Lord of Skellige so that he could speak at assembly and address the Jarls without fear of reprisal, but that Lordship did not come with a deed of land ownership. He himself said that man does not own land, only nature does and he refused.”

Hjalmar grinned. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around Lord Helfdan although I should remind you that I still expect my taxes to turn up on time. Don't get any ideas from Svartlebrand here.”

“Of course not.” Helfdan seemed genuinely shocked and insulted until he realised that Hjalmar was joking.

Hjalmar turned back to Svartlebrand. “Traditions can be broken any time we want to. And if I choose to go into the sanctuary, then I will.”

“The Druids will stop you. They are on our side in this.”

“I doubt that.” I heard myself comment. “How will the rest of the islands react if they learn that the Druid's attacked a Jarl who was coming to see them.”

“Ermion attacked our Jarl.” Svartlebrand insisted.

“No he didn't.” Hjalmar replied. “The Madman was enraged at the choice of the Jarls. He was declaring civil war while under the threat of Nilfgaardian invasion. Ermion went to calm him and was forced to defend himself from The rage of the Madman. The druid would now lie dead at the hands of the Madman if the White Wolf hadn't been there.”

Svartlebrand spat again.

“So who's side are you on here Svartlebrand?” Hjalmar was relentless. “Do you hate the druids for what happened to the Madman or do you want to protect them? Anxious minds want to know.”

“We will not let you past” Svartlebrand declared as though that was the end of the matter. “The Skeleton Ship must be preserved and the Druids must be protected.”

“I would be fascinated to learn how you knew about all of that.” Hjalmar told him. “I have not said that that was what we were here for.”

“The Druids agree with us. The Skeleton Ship must be preserved for the good of all of Skellige. It has made us hard. It has made us tough. The Druids will be on our side and agree with us when it comes to keeping the Skeleton Ship on the water.”

“Will they?” Kerrass wondered in his grating, killing voice. “Will they? Or will they prefer that the world returns to the natural rhythms of life. Where the seasons come when they are expected and...”

“I will not listen to this blasphemous...”

“And the sudden cold does not kill animals, plants and crops.” Kerrass overwhelmed him with force of will.”

“You will not be...”

“You will let us past,” Hjalmar snapped, “or you will suffer the same fate as your dear, unlamented lord who deserved what was coming to him.”

Svartlebrand snarled and went to hurl himself at Hjalmar before being restrained by Snorri and one of the other men.

“I will kill you Hjalmar.” Svartlebrand declared. “You and your blasphemous Witcher friend and your illegitimate whore-bitch of a sister. Our oldest traditions must be preserved. The Druid's sanctuary must remain sacrosanct. The Skeleton Ship must sail and we will kill any that try to stop it.”

“You will fail.” Hjalmar was suddenly as cold as ice. “ Too many know how it's done now. Snorri? I hope you survive. I will do my best to have you taken alive.”

The man Snorri shook his head, pushing Svartlebrand to the back. “Clan Drummond will never die so long as one man wears it's colours.” He told us. “And while the clan lives, then do I serve. Then do I fight.”

Hjalmar sighed and shook his head sadly. “It was good seeing you Snorri.”

“And you Hjalmar.” The two men clasped hands before Snorri turned to Helfdan. “Say hello to Svein for me would you Lord? Tell him that some of us know that he did not deserve what was done to him.”

“If you live.” Helfdan told him. “Come and work for me. I need good men.”

Snorri shook his head. “You are still An Craite. My lord ordered us to war. Otherwise I would serve you happily.” Then he turned and walked back up the hill.

“Fuck,” Hjalmar said, a little sadly. “I liked him and now I must kill him.”

“Who is he?” I wondered as we turned and walked back down the hill to where our forces were lining up.

“I liked his cousin.” Hjalmar told me. “Goddess but she was amazing. Would have broken me in half but it would have been so worth it.” He grinned. “Glad she married. It would have broken my heart a little if she had been one of the ones to be destroyed by the Madman. Snorri was a good man. Went on a few raids with him back in the day. Knew what he was doing, kept his head, cared more about success than he did about personal glory and plunder. The sort of man that we all want sailing on our crews. Will never be famous, never make a name for himself. But Skellige lives and breathes on the backs of men like that.”

“It will be a shame if he dies.” Helfdan added. “Svein always spoke well of him.”

“Skelligans really do know everybody don't they?” I commented.

“If we don't” Hjalmar agreed, “Then we know a man who does.”

“Or a woman.” Helfdan added.

Svein came to meet us. It seemed that the Imperial guard were arranged in the middle with the Skelligans on either flank.

“Who is it?” Svein wondered without preamble.

“Svartlebrand.” Hjalmar told him.

Svein snorted. “We used to call him Svartlebrand the lightening.” He told us. “Back in the day, that was his nickname. He took it as a compliment and he had the design engraved on his shield and his weapons. I heard that he even had it sewn into his cloaks. What he didn't know was that he got the name as an insult because one of his lovers said that he didn't last long in the bed chamber. That it was all over “Lightening fast”. He's like that in life as well. Quick to anger and impetuous. This isn't going to last long.”

“Snorri is here.” Helfdan told him.

Svein shuddered and paled. It was as though Helfdan had slapped him in the face. “Damn.” He swore before taking a deeper breath. “Ah well. I liked him but I don't think he will make much of a difference. To be here at all people will be a group of hot-heads.”

“I think we're looking at a group of individuals.” Hjalmar told him. Suddenly serious. “Bands of small numbers being brought together. I would also be willing to bet that the attacks that we had earlier were part of this group once, trying to get some glory for themselves.”

“Glory hounds then.” Svein nodded, recovering his calm. “Mercenaries as well?”

“I think so.” Hjalmar agreed.

“Then I think that the plan stays the same.” Svein told him. “Suck them in and then wrap around. This is terrain for a battle, not for heroes.”

Hjalmar nodded. “Where do you want us?”

“If you lead the left, I will lead the right.” Hjalmar nodded as though he knew what Svein was talking about.

I had no idea what was happening but I did my best to practice Kerrass' mantra.

I should leave it to the professionals and do my best not get in the way. Just in case you are wondering.

“Where do you want the rest of us?” Kerrass wondered.

Svein was rubbing his chin. “They will have two ideas.” He said. “The majority of them, men like Svartlebrand, just want to die as martyrs. They think that they are dying for some kind of holy cause and that in doing so, the islands will rise up and overwhelm the unholy forces of the enemy.”

Hjalmar snorted with laughter at the thought.

“Snorri though,” Svein shook his head. “Snorri's a different kind of bastard. He would refuse to plan for something where the objective is to die. He will have a plan and I think that means that he's going to try and kill Kerrass. They have clearly been told that the Witcher knows how to dismiss the Skeleton Ship. They will decide that he has told the Scribbler, the Empress and a couple of others but they will, I think, assume that the Witcher would have kept something back in order to earn his keep. So Snorri is going to try and kill the Witcher, I think. He will charge down the middle in an effort to break through and kill Kerrass, Freddie, Ciri and Helfdan.”

“Then why hasn't he attacked already?” Helfdan wondered. “We've been standing here for a while.”

“If it was just Snorri then I think he would have done.” Svein said. “Honour be damned and there is nothing more honourable than victory and success anyway. But Svartlebrand wants to be a martyr and so needs the illusion of legitimacy that a proper battle will give him. He has the moral thinking that he is standing guard over the druids so I think Svartlebrand is holding Snorri back until we attack.”

“And we are going to attack?” I finally asked one of the questions that had been brewing in my mind. I couldn't hold it in any more.

“Oh yes.” Svein looked at me as though I was stupid. “It's been years since I've commanded a good battle sized battle.”

“The Frost Giants.” Helfdan commented with a half smile.

“That doesn't count.” Svein protested. “That was a fight really. Small unit tactics. This is a proper battle.” He grinned at his Lord. “So I want the Witcher, The Empress, The Scribbler and The Bastard behind the main line. Nice and close behind the Imperial Guard. Those bastard black ones are just itching for a fight as well and I would be stunned if Snorri gets through even the first rank.”

“He will jump.” Helfdan warned.

“He will miss.” Svein declared.

“It will be hard.” Helfdan said. “But we should try and take Snorri alive. Make him a thrall for a year and a day and see where he comes out afterwards. Him and any who come with him. There are good men on that hill as well as the mercenaries and the people in disguise. It would be a shame if Skellige loses their strength.”

“I will pass the word.” Svein said as Hjalmar nodded his agreement.

“Besides.” Hjalmar said. “I want another crack at his cousin.”

“Didn't he say she was married?” I wondered as we turned to walk back to our side.

Hjalmar shrugged for answer.

With a clatter, the Imperial Guard opened up an avenue so that Helfdan, Kerrass and I could move through to where Ciri was stood. She was scowling.

“I know,” she snapped at me when I looked at her. “I know that I need to be behind everyone and I know that I need to be kept safe. But I was just getting used to being able to do things dammit and now...”

Helfdan said nothing and took his place.

“So how do these things start then anyway?” I wondered aloud. “Do we all just.... oh here we go.”

I didn't see a signal, or hear one. The guard just started marching forward at a fairly steady pace. They clattered as they marched, the uniformity of their armour meant that each step clashed like a cacophony of discordant bells. I was terrified, let alone anyone else. I could hear shouts and things coming now but couldn't tell you anything else.

There were shouts, screams and that now, oh so familiar sound of metal on metal. Metal on leather and wood. Metal on flesh.

I shuddered and Kerrass tugged me back into place so that we were tucked in close behind the marching guardsmen.

It didn't last much longer. Not because we were the stronger or that we were the better equipped. But rather because the Druids decided that now was the time to intervene.

How do I know this? The thunder rolled and the lightening flashed. It still snowed but now there was a storm like quality to the weather. It would seem that the Skeleton Ship is quite happy to accept things and magic when that magic goes along with and emphasises what it was already doing.

The cold came back. There was a mage nearby and he paled, falling to his knees as blood started running from his nose. Suddenly we were freezing and shivering with it.

Apparently there had been a handful of blows exchanged. Maybe, half a dozen casualties and most of them were wounded rather than seriously hurt.

But Holy Flame, those druids know how to make an entrance. The side of the hill seemed to open as a dozen, terrifying old men walked out. Black robed men with deep cowls, long beards and tall staffs of office. They strode from the hill like the very fury that their faces betrayed and when they gazed about them, we quailed before their wrath.

At their side walked huge Wolves, shaggier and scarier than any that I had seen before, drool dripping from their teeth. Behind them walked giant men that seemed to be shaped from the trees that surrounded the hill and above them flew the crows that lived in those self-same trees.

That part of me that persists in giggling at even the most tragic of stage plays noticed that Lennox wasn't among them. I felt the laughter tickling at the back of my throat. He will have been hiding somewhere in the back of the hill, quaking in his boots.

Fighting stopped up and down the line as men backed away from each other with the general air of school children who have been caught out in a fight and the priest in charge of the school is walking along the hedges with that, oh so particular glint in his eyes. The two sides moved away from each other.

The Druids were led by Ermion. Tall, pale and terrible. He stood forwards in his robe and glared about him. Holding his staff aloft he swept it around himself in a circle. There was a majesty in the gesture. Majesty and a regal sense of purpose and direction so powerful that everyone there knelt.

Including Kerrass and myself.

Everyone knelt but one person.

“Uncle Mousesack.” Ciri shrieked at the top of her lungs and charged through the kneeling men, squealing in delight, throwing herself at the older man with her arms held wide.

I have seen the warm, furiously thinking ruler. I have seen the passionate person. I have seen the remote thinker and the terrifying, cold rage that lives in the Empress' heart. I have seen the warrior, the killer, the leader and the fighter. I have seen the awesome will that she can direct at others in order to get them to do what she wants and I have seen a terrible pain and loneliness that lies in the very depths of her eyes.

But until that day, I had never even dreamed that I would see the gleeful little girl that she once must have been.

Ermion himself looked as though he had been struck by a pole-axe.

His eyes widened, his mouth fell open in amazement and it was a solid several heartbeats before he, almost reflexively, returned the embrace.

“Well?” Ciri demanded with more than a little petulance. “Are you not going to say that it's good to see me?”

“But....” He protested. Kerrass and I had followed behind the rest of her personal guardsmen. “But....” For a man who is renowned for his self-control and calm in the face of crises, Lord Ermion was not handling this very well.

“Because it's so good to see you.” Ciri exclaimed loudly. I'm telling you, the world changes when you see the most powerful woman on the continent snuggling with a favourite uncle. I will never be the same.

Finally, Ermion's hands and arms seem to come under his command again adn he took hold of Ciri by the shoulders and held her at arm's length so that he could properly look at her.

“But, we were told that you died. That the Wave-Serpent was destroyed.”

Ciri laughed, reached out and booped him on the nose. For those people that don't know what a boop is, and I didn't until I saw Ciri do it, a boop is where you reach out and deliberately and firmly press someone's nose while saying “boop” in an abnormally high pitched noise.

Ermion laughed in astonishment and joy before bringing Ciri into a firm embrace. Ciri's arms flapped around in mock protest at the fierceness of the entire gesture.

I might have been wrong, I was some distance from the gesture and I cannot be sure, but I thought I saw tears in Lord Ermion's eyes. I could well believe that The Empress has been booping Lord Ermion on the nose since she was a baby and giggling at the silly faces and noises that he pulled as she did so.

“But...” Ermion asked again as he seemed to be doing his best to smother the Empress with his affection. Literally smother her. He seemed to be laughing and weeping at the same time.

“We were betrayed.” Ciri finally pulled away, wiping her eyes. “You would think, after all this time, that I would be used to it. But it still stings.”

“And so it should.” Ermion told her. “And so it should. You must come in and tell me all about and by what miracle you come here alive.”

“By no miracle,” she told him. “This man,” she gestured to Helfdan. “A man who has no reason to love me, almost killed himself to see me here. Many of his men died, his ship died to see me to shore.” She had raised her voice so that all could hear it. There is a time and a place for oratory and part of that skill is knowing when to use it. The Empress is a very good orator.

Ermion looked over to where Helfdan was shifting his feet uncomfortably. “Then I embrace you as a son.” Ermion moved and threw his arms round Helfdan who was so obviously mortified and massively uncomfortable that it provoked laughter from both sides of the brewing battle. But I had seen the blood drain from Helfdan's face and I looked to see where Svein was. He was over on the flank of our forces and his own face, even beneath his helm looked stricken.

I stepped forward and spoke quietly. “Lord Ermion. The gesture is well meant and well accepted but Lord Helfdan has taken some.... injury or illness as part of our adventures that makes....”

Ermion pulled away from Helfdan and looked away. “Of course, of course. I should have seen.”

Helfdan shuddered and had to turn away for a moment. Kerrass moved with me to block other's view of him as he stood there and sweated, breathing deeply for a moment. Then he looked up at me and I could visibly see him returning to himself from a sense of almost panic. He was breathing deeply now and brought himself back under control. He didn't thank me, nor did he clap me on the shoulder or make any other kind of gesture of gratitude. Instead he looked me in the eye for just a fraction of a heartbeat. It was like I had tossed a drowning man a rope.

“So still,” Ermion began again. “You and your fellow survivors must come inside. We must talk about your adventures. I scryed for you you know. I used all the skills that I have and I could not find you.”

“We have reason to believe that you were blocked.” Ciri told him, speaking a little more formally this time. “There are.... other factors.”

“Still, you must come inside and we can...”

“MY LORD.” Svartlebrand bellowed, stomping forward. “You CANNOT.”

Ermion turned, lightening fast and held his black staff out at arms length so that it pointed at Svartlebrand's face. “Cannot?” He hissed with such raw menace that I shivered. His words seemed to echo around the place. Amplified by something that I could not see or understand. “I think you will find that I can. Furthermore, I. Will.”

Ermion looked around. I was a little closer than others so I think he did very well all things considered. I will place money that in the heat of the emotional shock of seeing Ciri alive again, he had clean forgotten about the presence of the two small armies that were facing each other.

“What is the meaning of this?” He whispered. It was definitely a whisper but it was heard by every man there. “You come to our sanctuary armed for war. And you, who would keep my niece and nephew, if not by blood from entry to the place where both of them have rulership?”

“We come here as escort.” Hjalmar called from the other flank. “The Empress, Helfdan, the Witcher and Lord Frederick have been attacked and betrayed by many who should have given them aid. The Queen, my sister, thought that they might need protection. The Queen, my sister, was correct.”

I particularly liked how he repeatedly reminded everyone listening that the Queen was his sister. Hjalmar is about as subtle as a warhammer to the testicles. I know that women have no frame of reference for that so I am informed that I should say that he is as subtle as a warhammer to the tit. Not my words so don't be cross with me.

“We have been attacked, twice, by outlaws and traitors on the way here and now we find many here who would keep us from visiting you.”

“Why would they want to do that?” Ermion wondered.

“Lord Ermion.” Svartlebrand had sunk to his knees against the point of Ermion's staff. A point that had not moved by the way.

“Hmmm?” Ermion lowered his staff and looked surprised to see that Svartlebrand was still there. I think he was pretending but at the same time, he could not have delivered a more effective rebuke to the man if he had tried. Telling someone that they are beneath notice can be awfully powerful at times.

“Lord Ermion.” Svartlebrand took a moment to get his thoughts in line. “We are here to preserve the inviolate nature of the Druid's sanctuary.” He was visibly trying to stay calm in the face of everything. “These people intend to destroy and dismiss the Skeleton Ship.”

“So?” Ermion wondered. “That would only be a good things for the islands and the people that live on it. It would mean that life could become as nature intended it to be, rather than at the whim of some kind of curse.”

“But.... But....” Svartlebrand. “The traditions...”

“Traditions do not interest me as much as results.” Ermion waved a dismissive hand. “Besides, their mission was only to find out who it would be done, not to actually get it done. I know this because it's still fucking freezing so it clearly hasn't been done yet.”

“The whore-bitch has decided.” Svartlebrand protested. “She has decided that centuries of our culture and actions should be set aside in favour of a foreigner's...”

“Careful Svartlebrand.” Helfdan snarled. There was a raw edge to his voice that promised violence. “You will keep a civil tongue when discussing the Queen or I will remove it.”

“I am Lord Svartlebrand, Bastard and you will treat me with...”

Something had reached inside Helfdan and triggered his temper. “I am Lord by the right of my Jarl and my monarch. You have no Jarl as he was a traitor to the islands in time of war and....”

“He was...”

“Be silent, both of you.” Ermion snapped. Exactly like a tutor calling his class room to order.

Hjalmar had moved towards the conference now and put a calming hand on Helfdan's arm. Helfdan flinched away at the sudden touch but nodded when he saw who it was and moved off a little way.

“To be fair, Lord Ermion.” Hjalmar spoke up. “And to tell you where we are. The Queen took a vote of the Jarls to help her decide what must be done. That vote was tied, three to three.”

Ermion winced. “Poor Cerys. We really must look into getting a new clan and a new Jarl to avoid that kind of thing.”

Hjalmar grinned. “The Queen agrees and means to address the matter. I have no doubt that if you travel back with us, she would accept your advice.”

“She should properly reinstate Clan Drummond to it's rightful place.” Svartlebrand snapped. “She should return to us the lands that she has taken, aid in our rebuilding and pay us weregild on the lives lost in her unjust persecution.”

“Oh shut up.” Hjalmar snapped.