(Warning: Discussion of suicide including religion-based condemnation, the discovery of suicide body, reading of suicide note. Also, a sequence of Male Genitalia being grabbed with dubious consent.)

It was not a good night’s sleep for any of us that night.

There were more questions that I wanted to ask of Trayka and Henrik regarding the story, but Henrik was in his “Shitting through the eye of a needles” phase of recovery from the Echinopse poison. Stefan was feeling uncomfortable at the fact that he had been called out with such accuracy regarding why he was actually performing the mission that he was performing and Piotr was struggling with some demons of his own. So I think that the only person that rested easily was Kerrass.

And even he didn’t have that good a night’s sleep because of the priest. Depending on factors that we could never recognise, he would remain dead from anywhere between two to three hours after someone had killed him. And it was rough. I have made all the comparisons before so I’m not going to waste your time or mine by going over them again.

It was just that, as you began to feel sleep encroaching on you, just as your eyes would begin to pull themselves closed, that was when he would choose to scream something out.

We did all take it in turns to kill him, other than Henrik because Henrik wasn’t strong enough to do anything other than maybe drown him in bodily waste.

Trayka did the deed more often than the rest of us because just as one of us would be getting ready to take our turn with the… stabbing, slashing or shooting. She would get frustrated with the entire thing, decide we were deliberately dragging out feet before she would dash outside, shoot him or stab him and then come back to the stable to aggressively and belligerently pull her blankets around herself.

Yes, you can pull your blankets up and around your neck belligerently. Don’t ask me how. It must have been some kind of special technique that was passed down to her from… I dunno…. Somewhere.

Did I take a turn at killing the priest?

Yes, of course, I did. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

It is one thing to kill someone in a fight when your blood is up and the proposition of killing a man is the choice between your killing him and him killing you. Then it is something else again when the killing is a little bit more of a murder, when you are so utterly enraged at a man and that man is helpless before your wrath. Sometimes, people just need killing. It is an unpleasant thought but there it is.

But this was neither of those. Somewhere between a killing of necessity and a mercy killing. He was just hanging there, wrists limp, head lolling, swinging gently with the force of previous movements. He looked up at me as I approached and begged me to do it. He begged me to kill him.

But it was hard. It was really hard.

It was hard physically too. The problem was that he was both physically emaciated which meant that there was so little blood in his body that his death was going to be tricky. The other problem was that he was already swinging easily in the wind. Which, made things even more difficult. If I placed the top of my spear in the gaps between his ribs, which were clearly visible, and pushed, then he moved with the pushing of the spear. Likewise, with the attempts to push my spear into his throat. Not as easy as it sounds. And all the while that I was doing this, he would be hanging there, begging me to do it, insulting me in an effort to try and make me angry. Building himself up so that he would be prepared to actually lose his life.

In the end, I cut the artery in his groin. His blood was sluggish, dark and almost jelly-like.

I keep my spear razor sharp. I have killed men in armour who died quicker and easier than that old priest that was tied to the church. He died hard.

And then I went to bed and couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the small look of gratitude that came over the priest’s face just as he died. As he felt the life leaving his body.

I have seen many different varieties of that look in a man’s eyes as they die. I have seen shock that it could be happening to them and the fear of what comes next. Of course, I have. How could I not see those things? I have also seen the shock of pain. I have seen rage and anger and hate. I have seen acceptance of their fate as they begin to feel the life draining from them and I have seen relief in the most surprising places. Relief that they would no longer need to struggle, no longer need to fight and no longer need to feel the agony that is life.

I have even seen gratitude in people’s faces as they die. An odd little thing and mostly it is because there is someone there for them in their final and ultimate moments. That is hard, I cannot lie, but it is the duty of the living to be with the dead as they depart. I feel that really strongly. Because the Holy Fire itself knows that I dread the prospect of dying alone without the touch of a human’s hand as I slip away.

But the priest had been grateful that I killed him and I didn’t know how I felt about that, so in the end, I didn’t actually manage to get any sleep until after the next person had killed the priest. I stayed up for a while gossiping with Stefan, swapping war stories and trail recipes. When he rose to take his turn at murdering the old priest, I managed to get some sleep for a few hours.

The morning started slowly and after not sleeping much during the night I slept in. I was not the only person that took advantage of the lazy morning either. Stefan was working on his gear. Trayka was nowhere to be seen and Henrik was snoring. I didn’t blame him. Despite what anyone else might say, shitting through the eye of a needle for an excessive amount of time is rather tiring.

Kerrass greeted me and we trained for a while before we decided to try our hand at the problem of the Priest. We both knew the answer in advance, but even so.

We tried all the things that you might expect. We tried to cut at the vines, both with my third favourite knife and the silver sword. For the curious, the order of preference for my knives goes, belly knife, boot knife, back knife and eating knife. Usable in order of preference in a fight. The back knife is mostly a utility knife that I keep for small chores around the campsite. Making kindling, that sort of thing. SO to my mind, it was the most logical to potentially sacrifice to the possibly enchanted thorny vines.

The answer there was that they were definitely enchanted. They tightened visibly and the thorns tore into the arms of the priest, who was alive at this point. He screamed and the blood ran freely. Kerrass watched the blood flow and where it landed. Then he ordered me to do it again while he held his amulet next to the blood flow. He scowled a bit in disappointment.

“Just normal blood.”

“Could we do something else?” I wondered. “Not really a fan of torturing people.”

“Calm down Freddie. I’m up next.”

Then we tried the silver sword on the vines which did the same thing. We looked at the burnt patch on the back of the church and measured its rate of decay. Kerrass claimed that there was nothing to it and that it was just pulsing a little. Nothing else to really do about it.

We also explored inside the church. It was, as I guessed it to be, a really normal, boring countryside basic church. There are hundreds like it all over the continent. Places of worship that are supposed to be temporary but actually end up lasting for years in the face of other concerns.

We looked at each other for a long moment before shrugging. There was nothing else that could be done for the cursed village. We knew the history of the place, we knew the cause of the curse, we knew the person that had cast the curse and we knew the reasons behind it.

So we shrugged and went on our way. We had been here before. There is a process to removing curses. We had done the investigation part, next came the cure. In this case, we could not disrupt the curse by attacking the caster of the curse, nor could we convince the victim to apologise for the actions resulting in the curse. We were going to go and talk to the Schattenmann, or try to get him/it to lift the curse, and that was the next thing to try. In this case, we were not hopeful.

We had seen this kind of thing as a pair enough to guess what the other was thinking. We agreed that we would meet for some light training immediately after lunch so that we didn’t stiffen up completely after the days rest before we went our separate ways for the rest of the day.

Kerrass went off and did his own batch of exploring. He agreed with Stefan and me about the probable solution as to what was happening here. We also agreed that it was unlikely to ever happen. The priest needed to die, or the Schattenmann needed to release the village from the curse. The cause was all but hopeless.

And we still didn’t really know how powerful the Schattenmann was other than “really fucking powerful”.

I spent some time walking around and relaxing. I didn’t go into any of the buildings because I felt as though I had already seen everything that I needed to see. I had a good idea of what life in the village was like and didn’t really feel the need to see any more.

Sometimes it is good to just take some time to sit out in the sunshine and enjoy the sensation of doing nothing at all.

I watched Trayka help Henrik out of the stable to have another one of his “purging sessions.” Which was exactly as unpleasant as it sounds. Stefan returned to the church in a continuing effort to pray with the priest and attempt to make some kind of contact with him. It was a wasted opportunity really. Stefan was going to need the rest over the coming attempt at the deeper part of the Black Forest and all he was really doing was upsetting himself and winding himself up.

There was no sign of Piotr. I had another insight that he would just be staring out into the trees again. It is rare to find so deeply an unhappy man.

Lunch happened, training happened, Kerrass had a nap, the priest’s occasional outbursts of rage and unhappiness continued and they became almost background noise now, proving once again that a person can get used to anything if they are exposed to it enough.

I made an effort to get in touch with Ariadne. We had a nice conversation about things. She apologised that she had not been in touch as much as she would have liked over the intervening time. It seems that when the Lord, or Lady, of the manor, is away for extended periods of time then the paperwork and administrative matters start to pile up. That and she was finding that there were more social demands on her time. She was no longer scary to the people of Angraal and as such, it was beginning to be noted that there were more and more people that were trying to cause her trouble on the grounds that she was a woman, let alone that she was an Elder Vampire.

That meant more and more visits to the Ducal court of Angraal and more and more meetings with annoying people and “tax collectors” that were trying to prove that she was mismanaging the estates that she had been granted. These would often turn out to be flunkies sent by local lords who were trying to undermine her and jockey for more lands in the face of the Duke’s approval.

Such is the life of a feudal lord. You are constantly under attack from these people.

It was generally understood that the entire thing would be solved when I would get there and could put a “male” perspective on things. Although there would then be people that would argue that my relative youth was a problem and that my presence would suggest that the almighty Coulthard trading company was taking over the entire place.

I have no problems at all saying these things in public on the grounds that Ariadne tells me that these people can barely read and would certainly not read anything that I had written. Also, fuck them.

Ariadne is confident in her position on the grounds that she is still friendly with the Duchess. A relationship that had begun to cool is being reaffirmed. Ariadne’s long absence over the winter has reminded the good lady Duchess of how strong an ally Ariadne was, to her and her husband and so has resolved to reaffirm the links between the Ducal family and Ariadne herself.

So Ariadne has resolved to kill the problem with kindness. She regularly invites these other lords over for dinner and makes a point of spending time with them and their wives. The fact that she is also a mage means that she can also socialise at far-flung locations with relatively little notice.

We talked about some private things between the two of us, expressed how much we missed each other and we discussed the problems that Kerrass and I were facing with the Schattenmann. We dissected the curse a bit and she asked me some pointed questions, pointing me to take some steps that I had not thought of. When I told her the results, she agreed with Kerrass’ assessments. On everything else, She repeated Kerrass’ opinion that Stefan, although friendly, would need to be watched carefully and expressed an opinion that Trayka just needed to find somebody to love.

I thought that this was a bit naive and told her so.

Ariadne’s comment was to wonder why I thought that, given that it had worked on her.

I decided that discretion was the better part of valour there and moved on.

We discussed whether or not we would be able to reach each other when we entered the forest and she told me that she would look into the issue.

Beyond that, we spoke about things that I do not wish to share as they are matters between the man and the woman that he loves.

Dinner was a little tenser that evening. I did my best with the ingredients that we had access to but there was no disguising the fact that we only had dried and preserved goods remaining. Henrik was onto the healthy side of things now. He would still, occasionally get a worried frown on his face before making a mad dash for the door. But he was in relatively good humour. Trayka was thinking about something and I didn’t really want to intrude on whatever it was that she was thinking.

Piotr took his bowl of stew off to the corner of the stable, well away from the rest of us and ate in silence. I had barely seen him all day. Kerrass went to check on him and was told, in brutal, uncompromising tones, to “fuck off”.

Stefan was on edge too.

“So is there nothing that can be done for the curse?” He asked of Kerrass.

“No,” Kerrass said.

“What about using your silver sword to…?”

“Stefan. It has come up several times on our journey now. If you need something doing, hire a professional. If I need tactics to be discussed or a heretic to be addressed, then I shall ask you. If I want to know about a point of history or noble etiquette, then I will speak to Freddie. If I need to hunt a group of criminals through the undergrowth then Trayka or Piotr are the people that I will go to. But this is a curse, as cast by a monster and for that, you hire a Witcher. The only person that might know more about such things is a mage. Are you a mage?”

Stefan shook his head.

Kerrass turned to me. “Have you spoken to Ariadne on the subject?”

“I have,” I admitted, I thought Kerrass was being a bit cruel in shooting down Stefan’s hopes. Although he would argue, not incorrectly, that sometimes the splinter of doubt needs to be ripped out early and brutally in order to prevent problems later.

“I trust that everyone is aware that Freddie is engaged to be married to one of the new Lodge of Sorceresses. In this case a lady with over nine hundred years of experience in these matters.” Everyone knew, but Kerrass was reiterating the point. “What did she say, Freddie?”

“She said that the cause is hopeless from this end. Killing the priest is impossible without setting your might against the Schattenmann. A contest that we would almost certainly lose and lose horribly. She advised walking away from it.”

Stefan was appalled. “You’re not seriously considering…”

Kerrass held up his hand. “I will be honest with you Stefan. If I had come across this case on the Path, I would have told the people that had been cursed that they had brought the problem on themselves. If the monster was assailable then I would have charged extra. If the monster was sapient, I would have refused the contract. If the monster was as powerful as this one obviously is, I would not have even paused to investigate before moving on.”

Stefan stared at Kerrass for a long moment. “How could you be so cruel?”

I could see Kerrass’ temper beginning to rise. “If this is going to be another discussion about Witchers and their emotions then…”

“Sometimes.” I said, jumping in. “A community needs a shock. People need a shock. They need someone, an outside someone, to stand in front of them and tell them that they behaved poorly. That the problem is their own fault and that they brought it on themselves. Otherwise, they will continue to blame the thing on something else, someone else, anything else rather than examining their own behaviour. That is sometimes the purpose of a Witcher. Does the Great Sun have a tradition of Confession?”

Stefan stopped, unhorsed from his original line of thought, wondering where I was going with this. “It does not.”

“That is a shame. Having that outsiders perspective is something that I have found very useful over the years. It is true that the priest often takes advantage of the matter to collect more money or personal favours or… Well, I’m sure you get the idea. But still, being able to lay your problems at someone else’s feet so that they can give you that perspective can be invaluable. This is another facet of life as a Witcher that I had not understood when I first started travelling with Kerrass.

“There is no doubt as to what was happening here.” I continued. “The priest led a group of settlers into the heart of the Schattenmann’s territory. To the Schattenmann, that was an invasion. They did not seek permission, they did not pay their respects. In fact, they were outright insulting and dismissive of his power.”

“Stefan opened his mouth to speak.

“And before the words, ‘he needs to be reasonable’ head towards your mouth. I would point out that he has been, and was. Both Piotr and Trayka’s stories prove the existence of consideration between the Schattenmann and surrounding villages. Many of whom have lived in peace with the Schattenmann for… Flame knows how long. It is only when they break their agreement with the Schattenmann that he gets angry. He doesn’t place himself above those people, he doesn’t even demand worship any more than the small ancestral gods or field spirits, such as Godlings or Sylvans, that exist all over the continent. He certainly doesn’t place himself above the religions of those villagers. As Landlords go, I have seen much worse from Human Lords.

“And as for this village. He gave them every opportunity. There was time enough for them to clear this land, build these houses, set traps and hunt to provide the food that we have all seen in those houses. We don’t know if there were signs or portents or messages to warn the village to wind their necks in a bit. The priest brought this upon himself.

“Let me remind you, he did no research, he did no investigation and he ignored the warnings of the other people in this area. Which includes other priests. This is like the man complaining about being haunted by the wraith of the woman that he raped and murdered on her wedding night.”

“It’s not the same.” Stefan protested.

“It’s exactly the same.” Trayka of all people came to our support. “In fact, this is worse because the priest got all those other people killed as well.”

She wiped the inside of her bowl with some travel bread before continuing.

“I hate the Schattenmann too for taking my brother. But when I force myself to think logically, even I have to admit that my brother and all those others that were taken that night, broke a tradition that had been in my village since, very likely, the founding of my village. My brother broke the deal and from an outside view, he had what was coming to him. I admit that. I know that. Except that it’s my brother. I also know that if my brother turns up still alive, then I will forgive everything.”

She frowned at her bowl for a moment before looking up again.

“Every other person for miles around, including the priests of the Great Sun, of which I am a follower, by the way, agree with Lord Coulthard’s assessment. That priest brought down doom on himself and the other people that lived here. He deserves what he got. My excuse is that the Schattenmann took my brother. Why do you feel so strongly? The Great Sun is not as all-forgiving as all that.”

She collected the other bowls and took them to clean them up.

Stefan had nothing more to say.

All things considered, I slept pretty soundly that night.

We woke up early, but slowly. That kind of lovely waking up that you always wish happened when you didn’t actually have to get out of bed. The slow creep towards consciousness. The awareness of warmth and comfort, the feeling of being able to stay there for just five minutes more. There is nothing quite like that feeling.

Then you cough or the urgent need to urinate starts to overcome you and you force yourself to open your eyes. As I woke I could hear people beginning to stir themselves and pushed myself outside to find a handy spot to relieve myself. Breakfast followed, porridge with some dried fruit and honey mixed in for sweetness and energy over the course of the day. Something warming and restorative to drink.

I checked that Henrik was ok. He was alright, he had finished purging the poison out of his system in the middle of the afternoon and had essentially slept for the rest of the day and night.

There is no night’s sleep quite as good as that found on the other side of being ill for a length of time.

We packed up slowly and carefully as we would not be coming back to this place. Small words were exchanged. We had been travelling together for a while now and although we were not as tight-knit as Kerrass and I might have preferred, we had a routine.

When we were all packed up, we left our bags near the stable and went to look at the priest one final time. We stood there in a row, looked up at his sorry state and exchanged some glances.

“If I borrow a shovel.” I heard myself begin. “And put it back, will I get cursed?”

“That should be ok,” Piotr replied, he seemed subdued.

I nodded and marched off to where I had seen a shovel. Henrik joined me and between the two of us, we dug a grave. More Henrik than me I will admit, but the thought was there. It was not particularly deep but I think it was deep enough. I doubted that it mattered anyway. When we were done Kerrass took his silver sword from his back and passed it over to Stefan.

“You will need to cut at the wrist,” Kerrass said as Stefan took the sword.

Stefan swung with all the effort and skill of a trained swordsman and the hand was removed. The priest screamed and swung from his remaining bindings. Dull, thick and souplike blood seeped from the wrist. It was almost like Jelly. Another blow separated the other wrist and the priest finally slumped to the ground. Another blow and the priest died. He was not holding onto life with too much effort.

Henrik and I carried the priest and threw him into the hole that we had made. We made no real ceremony out of the thing. We had no coffin and nothing else to say or do. We filled in the earth on top of the poor, limp and helpless body while Stefan prayed. When we were done, we stopped and stood around the pathetic gravesite for a moment. Stefan pronounced the service for the dead and using the corner of one of the shovels, he carved the Symbol of the great Sun into the dirt. It wouldn’t last in the elements but the effort and the sentiment were there. Sometimes, that is all that you need.

When he was done he bowed his head in prayer for a bit longer and we all waited for him. There was an air of “A priest has to do what he has to do” before, in one of those moments that I can’t explain, we all moved off as one.

Henrik and I cleaned the shovels off and took them back to where we had found them before meeting the others back at the stable where we shouldered our gear and moved off towards the treeline. It took us a while to find a path into the depths of the trees. This was wild woodland now, no established track and it was made out of fallen logs, thorn bushes and all kinds of unpleasantness. In the end, Trayka found us a path and she led us into the trees.

As Kerrass followed her, I turned and looked out at the village for the last time. I was struck, and not for the first time, that in the sunlight, it looked like quite a pleasant little village. It was a tragedy what had happened here. Although I knew who was to blame and where I would lay the fault if it came to it, I don’t think there was any belligerence or hate behind it. It was a tragedy born of ignorance and stupidity.

I took another breath of fresh air before turning and following Stefan into the undergrowth. Already, there were things pulling at my legs and catching on my cloak and armour. I was struck with the sudden and ridiculous urge to remove all my gear so that there was nothing for the trees to catch hold of and keep me back. Ridiculous because of course, without those protections, the same thorns and things would still be there, only now they would be tearing at my skin rather than at my gear.

It was slow going, step by careful step as we forced ourselves through the undergrowth until Henrik stopped.

“Piotr’s not with us,” He said.

“What?” Kerrass turned, signalling to Trayka to stay where she was and walked back, forcing his way past us in the narrow confines of the undergrowth.

“Piotr’s not following,” Henrik said. “In fact… look. He’s still stood there looking into the trees.”

I pushed forward and stood. It was dispiriting as to how little progress we had made. I could clearly see the outline in the undergrowth that we had carved out for ourselves and the silhouette of Piotr was clearly visible.

Fucking leave him,” Trayka snarled. “If he’s not willing to even do…”

“TRAYKA,” Henrik snapped. “You of all people should know that a man’s courage…”

“Is what?” Trayka demanded of her father, “Best found at the bottom of a bottle?”

Henrik took a deep breath. “You can insult me all you like.” He said, his voice trembling only a little with… anger I think. “Great Sun knows that I gave you that right when I deserted you and your brother. But you of all people should know that courage takes all forms. A man can face death at the hands of enemies, monsters, disease and magic. And yet still be afraid of the dark.”

“Your Father is right,” Stefan told her. “Piotr has a history here and there is nothing worse than having to face your past.”

Trayka was about to turn on the churchman but Stefan turned his back on her which, much to my astonishment, shut her up.

“Someone should go and talk to him,” Stefan said. “This is an impossible moment and I think that every time he does this, it hurts him. Someone should go and help him through it.”

“Who then?” Henrik kicked at the floor.

“Well, you can forget me,” Trayka snarled. “Cowardly fuck can…”

“Be silent.” Kerrass hissed. “You have no idea what it is like and until you do, do not judge him.”

There was a long pause as we all avoided each other’s eyes.

There is a moment that comes when you realise that it’s going to be you that has to go through the dark hole first, that you must throw yourself on the blade or make that run through the fire so that others don’t have to. I looked up and realised that Henrik, Stefan and Kerrass were all looking at me.

“Fuck.” I muttered before sighing, unslinging my spear and handing it to Kerrass. I would have taken my pack off too but that would take too much work and then I would just have to put it on again.

Picking my way back over the torn vines and the trampled leaves was easier than going the other way, but that doesn’t say a great deal. Not really. I emerged back into the sunlight, the breeze and the fresh air and I couldn’t help but take it all in.

Which, in and of itself didn’t bode well for the continuing journey.

But I took a moment to take that in before I turned to Piotr. He was frozen in place. Same as when we had left him. He was trembling with the effort of just putting one foot in front of the other. His hand was gripping his sword hilt convulsively until his knuckles turned white. Sweat was pouring from him and tears were running down his face.

I waited for a moment, experience of dealing with Kerrass when he’s in this kind of a situation told me to be cautious, this man was a trained warrior and he could probably kill me pretty quickly.

After all, I had left my spear behind.

I took a couple of deep breaths to see if he was going to react to me or even notice if I was there.

“Piotr,” I said quietly.

“I can’t do this.” He whispered. “I can’t do this.”

I nodded. “I know,” I told him. “It’s alright. You don’t have to do this, you got us here, that’s as much as you have to do.”

The man literally folded and fell to his knees. It looked, for all the world, like one of those things that you see on stage where people suddenly feel a bit faint before they fall to the ground.

“I thought I could do it this time,” he began. “I’ve come here so many times, meaning to make this the leaping off point where I set out into the woods. To find my courage and to face down the Man of Shadows. Why didn’t he help us? Why didn’t he come then, when my wife was in danger. Why didn’t he… But I can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked.

He looked up at me, horrified. “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before.”

“Have you asked yourself that question before?” I wondered.

He considered for a moment. “I don’t know.” He said. “I always think… What would…?” He stopped abruptly.

“What would your wife think?” I asked.

He bowed his head. “How did you know.”

“I’ve seen this kind of thing before, admittedly not on this scale.” I told him.”Sorry to say, your story is not unique.”

He accepted that surprisingly well, just nodding and staring into space.

“Look.” I began. “The others are waiting for me. Go well, Piotr.”

“Wait,” He said, I turned. The thought “Oh now he wants to talk,” Scuttered across my brain.

“It’s true,” he said. “Every time I come here, I get to this point and then I think, what would my wife think. If…. When I die, what will my wife say when I see her?”

I nodded and thought about it.

“What would she say to you. What would she want you to do?” I asked him.

“She would want me to go home.”

“Why don’t you?” I wondered. He glared for a second and I held my hand up “Just a question.”

“I can’t go back.” He muttered.

“Of course you can’t,” I agreed.

“What?” He was shocked. “Everyone says I should go back.”

“Not everyone has been traumatised,” I told him.

“I’m not…”

“Let me ask you another question,” I carried on. “Would your wife want you to live the rest of your life, alone, on the road, an increasingly bitter old man, fucking whoever you can talk into letting you near them? Or would she want you to help others? I know your wife was a healer. I know she loved you and I know she cared about others. More than anyone ever needs to. When you do see her again, would she be happy with the life you lead?”

He said nothing.

“Are you happy with the life you lead?”

He still said nothing.

“Ok look,” I said. “You’ve been through some shit. I won’t lie. But I have some things to do and I don’t have a lot of time. Also, you weren’t very nice to me. But here it is. You wouldn’t be going back. The place is different now. I can understand that you still want to hate…. Whatsisname. Your father in law. I get that. If you were thinking rationally I would argue that better men than he have been reduced to being lesser due to religious fear. But you aren’t thinking rationally.

“All I will say is that some people fought. Some people tried and you are not alone. There are people in that village that need your skills. There are people in that village that miss your wife too. And there are people in that village that love you. Including a certain Herbalist that I met. Grief is a tough thing to deal with. But it is easier when you share it with someone else.”

I climbed to my feet.

“Go home,” I said. “After your wife’s death, you went back to war, even if there was no soldiers, sides or battlefields. But you act like a soldier at war. You treat people like a soldier does. It is time to go home. Don’t go back to your home village if you can’t bear it. But it is time to stop fighting.”

He nodded.

“Thank you.” He said. “I don’t know if I can do as you command.”

“Try it,” I told him. “Go to…. Rose’s house and knock on the door. I guarantee she will take you in. I even guarantee that if you asked, she would go with you to any other village you might name.”

“I doubt that.” He smirked.

“I bet you a hundred marks,” I told him.

He climbed to his feet and held his hand out and I took it. He was no longer sweating.

“You are the first person that didn’t try to tell me that I was being foolish and stupid.” He said.

“I’ve been where you are,” I told him. “One day, you will recognise the same thing in the eyes of someone else. Be kind to them as well.”

He nodded. “Farewell Lord Frederick.” He fumbled at his belt and produced a pouch. “Give this to The Witcher. A contract is a contract and I have not fulfilled my end.”

We shook hands again and I turned and marched back into the woods.

“Well?” Henrik asked as I approached.

“He’s not coming.” I declared.

Henrik nodded.

“Well?” Kerrass asked, much quieter as I passed him the pouch.

“He’ll be ok,” I said and Kerrass nodded before we set off again.

The truth was that Piotr was not that great of a loss to us. His presence had been sullen and angry and I found that I actually moved with lighter steps now that he was no longer in front of us, scowling at how little progress we had made, or behind us, scowling at the people in front of him for… reasons of his own I suppose.

Coupling that with the fact that he had been hired as a guide and we had already arrived and passed the place where he had been guiding us to, meant that he would have been superfluous to us now.

Trayka led and her process of trailblazing was slightly different to Piotr’s. She moved around the obstacles rather than forcing her way through them. She would look for the easier route and then direct us. I don’t mean that as a lesser on Piotr’s skills as there might have been other factors. Not least the fact that when we were travelling with Piotr, we were following a premade track.

The side-effect of this was that we seemed to have been travelling for hours on end and actually managing to get nowhere for our efforts. It was all too easy to spend what felt like hours, ducking under branches, stepping over vines and when all of that failed, cutting our way through the undergrowth, only to look back and see how little actual progress we had made. Even at my laziest, nobleman’s son stage, I would have been able to walk that distance in under an hour, let alone taking the morning to do it.

There is no way to adequately describe what it’s like to march through that ragged, primitive forest compared to the carefully cultivated woodland of the noble hunting grounds, or the farmed and regulated woodland of the established timberlands. This woodland had only rarely seen man’s touch and there would even be a believable statement about us being the first people to walk this particular path.

There wasn’t a path. We were forcing our way through rough terrain.

We had stopped for a rest when we heard it again. Standing in a line as we passed the day’s water cup backwards and forwards for Kerrass’ carefully prescribed couple of swallows of liquid.

“HEEELLLLPPPP MEEEEE.”

We didn’t even look at each other. The water cup was put away and we carried on moving as we listened to the priest howling his protests into the uncaring sunlight.

I had not expected our little effort to kill him and keep him in his grave. I had not expected it. Not really. It was all but certain that someone else had tried precisely that in the past. So I didn’t expect us to have succeeded where so many other people had failed.

But I had hoped, and somewhere in the bottom of my soul, I had even believed. Such is the price of optimism.

We kept moving, step by painful, tearing step. Following a course as set by Trayka’s experienced woodsman senses and Kerrass’ instincts.

We stopped early, exhausted because the next thing we had to do was to clear a campsite. Henrik wielded his axe with expert, experienced blows to clear us all spaces to lie down while Stefan and Kerrass employed Hatchets to clear what was left out of Henrik’s actions. The first place that was cleared was the area meant for cooking and I got to work making the evening meal while Trayka took her bow and climbed a tree to act as a lookout.

Cooking was not hard, but it was labour intensive. Kerrass heated a rock for me and the trick was in cooking without allowing anything to catch on me or make me drop items or utensils.

When the bowl of trail… stew had been handed out to each of us Kerrass called us all to order.

“We all need to talk,” he told us, “or rather I need to talk and you all need to listen. Up until this point, we have been able to travel without an explicit order of things or group authority. We have been able to accept the word of experienced people and accept that some of us know more than others. But make no mistake, we are walking into danger now and there can be no confusion like there was when we fought the Echinopsae.

“Therefore, the first thing to say is that the marching order is going to be this. Trayka will be in the front with me following her. She is the trailblazer while I scan for threats of the magical, monstrous or mundane variety. After me comes Freddie, then Stefan with Henrik bringing up the rear as our other experienced woodsman.”

“But…” Stefan began.

“No buts.” Kerrass overrode him. He did not snap or otherwise yell or anything even remotely forceful. It was just… authority. “You might be the better sword but at the same time, Henrik is the better woodsman and knows more about what it is like to travel through woodland than you do. He knows what to look for, what to listen for, and you don’t.

Then we need to talk about Freddie’s role in all of this.”

My head and eyes jerked up. This was new.

“We are heading into a dangerous place,” Kerrass continued to speak. “It is a magical place and has already given us several monsters to worry about. I have been travelling with Freddie for several years now and we have been through a lot of things together. No one knows me better, not even my brothers at the Feline keep. We have developed a shorthand and a set of signals between the pair of us to keep each other safe and to keep things moving. Therefore, you should all treat him as though he is my second in command.”

I was appalled. I don’t think I was alone either. Trayka frowned, Stefan muttered something. Henrik was outside of my sightline.

“For those of you behind us, Stefan and Henrik, if Freddie tells you to do something, he is passing you a message from me and it will almost certainly be something that will save your life. And yes Freddie, this means that you need to step up a bit. You are no longer just watching out for yourself, you are watching out for everyone here as well.”

I nodded. Saying anything else seemed superfluous.

“I… Ummm…” Stefan started to speak. “That is all very well but… Lord Frederick, for all his skills and experience, is not exactly a fighter.”

“He killed one of the Echinopsae,” Trayka said, surprising me with her coming out on my side. “Which is more than anyone else did. He saved my life and when he did that, he set about saving my Father’s life. No one is allowed to kill Father before I am.”

She smiled at her father in a way that chilled my blood, before nodding to me. Then she glared at Stefan until he subsided.

And that was that.

We set a watch that night, splitting the night into five parts according to an hourglass that Kerrass carried.

In the morning we set off again, making painfully slow progress. Kerrass led us well. The canopy of the forest started to become stifling and warm. Even though we barely seemed to exert ourselves, the sweat poured off us and there were times when it just seemed impossible to breathe. Kerrass spotted this kind of thing frequently and would make us stop to have a small cup of water each and to take a breather.

I have no idea how far we went into the heart of the Black Forest itself. It had felt as though we had been travelling downhill for a good chunk of that time as though we were travelling down into a steep valley. The other problem was that we would occasionally come to sudden drop-offs that would be disguised by foliage. The ground was uneven and treacherous, made up of a lot of rotting vegetation that hadn’t seen sunlight in… years maybe? What that meant was that instead of travelling through the greenery, vines and the like. We were travelling through the fallen debris of the upper branches as well. I don’t know how the vines were able to survive on the lack of sunlight but they did and I guessed that if Kerrass held his medallion close to the plants then it would be shaking.

We nearly lost Stefan as he misplaced his footing and nearly slid down an embankment. Henrik’s quick reactions meant that he was caught before he could fall too far and injure himself. But the fact that Stefan was still insisting on wearing his armour meant that Henrik was unable to pull him up by himself. That was nearly bad before Kerrass and I got there and were able to pull the armoured man back to his feet.

On the second full day, we found one of the older expeditions into the Black Forest, or at least, we found signs of them. We found an old campsite that had been cut out of the forest floor.

Trayka spotted it first because of course she did. She pointed and we all moved over in that direction. What we found was a couple of very basic tents. Little more than some tarpaulin that had been stretched out with one end of the tarpaulin propped up with a long stick and tied to a nearby tree in order to leave an entrance.

I had a quick look around, justifying the time spent as getting us clues about the route or what might have happened to these people. It was a delay that certainly Trayka seemed to resent but Kerrass overrode her saying.

“You would be surprised as to how often Freddie’s little hobbies and investigations have saved my life.” He told her. I think Henrik was annoyed, but he too bent to examine the camp.

It was just a basic campsite, more remarkable for what was not there than anything else. Namely, bodies. And why would you leave your tarpaulin behind? If you were making tents then you take the tent with you surely.

I did find a satchel in the corner of one of the tents and opened it, much to my joy I found a journal and had a flick through.

“Treasure hunters,” I said after a couple of moments. “Seemingly convinced that there was loot to be had in the middle of the woods.”

“How does it end?” Kerrass asked.

I flicked through until the last entry.

“‘We lost Pellas yesterday,’” I read. “‘It is becoming clear that we do not have enough supplies to see us through to the end of our expedition, largely due to Regos eating too much. Pellas saw something and fired into the b undergrowth with a cry of “Got him”. He charged off before we could stop him so that he could claim his kill. Tripped over his sword and fell against a fallen branch. Damn fool broke his damn fool neck.’ We could do little else for him other than lean some branches over him as we lack the tools to give him a proper burial and take his share in order to give them to his widow. We will carry on in the morning. Father remains undaunted in our goal.’”

Henrik had been bent over, examining the edges of the campsite.

“How old is the… journal?” He spoke as though he was trying to remain calm.

I flicked through a couple of pages. “Ten, fifteen years ago. They speak about the return of the Emperor as though it’s a recent thing. It seems that “Father” was someone who had supported the usurper and they were looking for some way to buy their way back into favour with the Emperor.”

Stefan snorted at the thought. I had to agree, the Emperor had been a man to hold grudges.

Henrik looked at me for a long moment before nodding. “We should move on.” He said.

“Why?” I wondered, “We might learn someth…”

“Like us,” Henrik overrode me. “These people cut down undergrowth and things to make their campsite. This piece of wood that has recently been cut still has new growth on it. This campsite was cleared, maybe a day ago?”

“Have we moved through time?” Stefan wondered, the first edge of panic in his voice. “Is that why the Black Forest is the way it is?”

“No.” Kerrass said. “There is no magical effect like that in existence. Elves have rituals that can give that effect, but even they cannot slow down or alter the course of time. And their rituals would leave me able to feel it.”

He took a deep breath.

“Henrik is right. We should move on, someone left us this campsite for us to find which means that we are being watched. Bring the book, Freddie. It might be a warning, a message or… Goddess knows what.”

I did as I was told. The thing that Kerrass didn’t say was that the deserted campsite might be a threat.

It was not the last time that we found signs that other people had been through this particular part of the world before us.

A day later we found a dead body a little off the path. The body was long since rotted away along with any kind of clothing that they might have worn so there was nothing that could have been told about them. The only thing that was left on their bodies was the boiled leather belt and harness that had presumably been used to carry the person’s gear and weapons.

There were no weapons on the body though. I found that chilling although I could not venture a guess as to why that might be the case.

“How many people have come through these woods?” Stefan asked no one in particular as we all stood around the dead body.

“Not many, but not a small number,” Trayka said. “The rumour of magic in the depths is more pervasive than anyone is entirely happy with. And there are always local lords that are willing to fund expeditions. The timber rights to the Black Forest would be worth… a lot.”

Stefan seemed to shrink on himself a little. Since that initial point had been made about his own mission, he was sometimes a little sensitive about that.

The feeling of the forest started to change. It never stopped being hard to travel through, there was always roots that tried to trip us up. Vines and thorns that got caught on clothing and straps. Masses of old, dry and rotting vegetation. But gradually, the feeling of oppression started to be replaced by a different feeling. The closeness seemed to open up as we descended further and further in what felt like a large bowl or valley. The canopy was much further above our heads now and I felt it possible to breathe easier. It started to feel like we were walking through some kind of church or holy site.

We didn’t speak much, preferring to communicate in gestures. When we did speak, it was almost as though we all preferred to speak in whispers so as not to disturb the great woodland that we were travelling through. There was no discussion about it, as I say, we were barely talking by this point. The camp chores were always the same. I would cook, Kerrass, Stefan and Henrik would clear the camp and then Trayka would stand watch. We travelled and slept with the daylight as Kerrass and Trayka insisted that there be no firelight and therefore no torches or lanterns.

And so we picked our way through the undergrowth, moving painfully slowly which, surprisingly, left me more tired at the end of the day than a full paced journey would have.

I spent my evenings reading from the journal of the expedition. It was not pleasant reading and I felt sorry for the people involved. It seemed to me that the main sin of those people that entered the Black Forest was that they did not come here with any kind of research done. They just came in and expected the world to part for them and for them to find what they were looking for. In return, A father and, possibly, a Son was missing. I stowed the journal in the bottom of my pack, our going through supplies meant that there was room.

In the morning, we would rise and cook ourselves the morning’s porridge which would be flavoured with some dried fruit of various kinds and some honey which would keep us going for the day. While I cooked, Trayka and Kerrass would retake their bearings by the old trick of taking a needle and scraping it with a steel and hanging it off a thin, light piece of thread which would point to just slightly off north. Then we would take a direction of North-East off that needle trick.

I can’t pretend to know why that old needle trick works. That is one area of study that I’m afraid I don’t really care about. Something to do with magnetism and the make up of the atmosphere and our interactions with the other spheres and what our ground is made up of and that means… and that’s about the point where I start to go crosseyed. I can’t even recommend any good texts for you.

Sorry.

But then we would carry on our journey in the same way.

I remember one major conversation at that part of the journey.

We were moving along and, again, Trayka noticed something off the path and led us to it.

We found a man, hanging by the neck from a tree by a thick rope.

Henrik winced. “Yikes.”

Stefan spat in disgust while Trayka went towards the body curiously, only to be held back by Kerrass who was reaching inside his tunic to pull out his medallion.

“Do not judge,” I told Stefan. “No-one ever thinks that they are going to kill themselves until suddenly the rope is around your neck, the poison in your glass or the blade is in your hand. We have no idea what led this man to this point. Don’t judge him.”

“Self-murder is still murder,” Stefan told me. “The Great Sun will turn away from him.”

I forced a laugh, “Then I hope that the Eternal Flame will guide him home. Sometimes a death can be mercy as you must have seen if you fought in a war. Say no more on this subject, Stefan, please, I do not want to think less of you.”

Stefan looked as though he wanted to argue before he nodded and turned away.

I moved to stand next to Henrik while Kerrass finished his inspection.

“Strangled,” Henrik said, “His neck didn’t break. Nasty way to go.”

It was true, if the neck had broken then looking at the state of the body, the noose would still have been there but the body itself would have been in pieces on the floor.

I thought of the vision that Jack had given me once. Of an Elven woman in a run-down swampy town square.

I blinked and shook my head.

“Freddie,” Kerrass called, straightening up from something on the ground which he passed to me. It was a long, hardened leather cylinder which I recognised as a scroll case.

Books are expensive. If you can’t carry one but still want to write on paper while you are travelling, you have a scroll case. A thick leather tube, varnished and treated so that it’s waterproof. Often lined with oilskin as a backup in order to keep things dry.

“It’s safe,” Kerrass said. “No magic and no traps that I can see, smell or hear.”

I nodded. There had once been a scroll case in a deserted manor house that Kerrass and I were searching back in the first stages of our career. There had been a poison gas bomb inside. Luckily, the gas had degraded to the point that it only made me violently sick. And I had not been the one that opened it.

I took the papers out and had a quick glance through them.

“It’s a last will and testament,” I said. “Should anyone find this then…blah blah…. Love to my sister… blah… distribution of goods and funds… ordered for a portion equalling no less than… whitter whitter. Here we go.” I took a deep breath. “He left a suicide note.”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Henrik said.

“Read it, Freddie,” Kerrass said. “It might be important.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I cleared my throat and tilted the paper a bit more towards the light.

“I have little hope that anyone will find and read this annotated version of my last will and testament. But if you do, then this replaces the other that has been used within maybe six months.” I read.

“I am done and I know it. I have no idea where I am anymore and I remember enough that I could be hacking my way through the undergrowth for days yet and still not find my way out. I cannot hunt anymore and even if I did, Vilhelm caught and roasted that rabbit despite the guide telling us not to. In the morning he was gone.

“They are circling me now, watching me, waiting to see what I am going to do. I can’t see them, I can never see them. Rodric was the last of my companions and they caught him easily. He drew his sword and charged them so that I could get away. I heard him scream as he was taken. That was, maybe two days ago now, I think. I cannot travel at night as I can’t see, unlike the filthy monsters that hunt me, but I crouch there with my back to the biggest tree that I can find so they can’t sneak up behind me. Then I wait until I can see to move.

“I can’t do that anymore.

“I will not allow myself to be taken. I will not allow myself to be subject to their filthy rituals and their profane rites. I can no longer run. If night falls again then I will sleep, I know this now. Already I see things that aren’t there, or at least, I hope that they are not there on the edges of my vision.

“Self-slaughter is a crime, my priest used to tell me. I wonder what he would say if my choice is being taken for their filthy rituals in order to continue their monstrous, dirty species. Or I die.

“I cannot go on. I have a day’s food at best and no water. My teeth are loose in my gums and I feel feverish. If I do this then I must do this now before weakness and madness take me. My blade is no longer sharp enough for the job and I am not confident that I could do that deep enough to make a difference. So that leaves the rope. I only hope that I can climb high enough to break my neck properly.

“Into the rays of the Sun, I commend my spirit.

“Forgive me.”

I carefully rolled up the paper and put it back in the tube. “Poor fucker.” I said.

“What kind of monster would have rites that would need a man?” Stefan asked, appalled and, I hoped, a little guilty.

“Unfortunately, too many to count,” Kerrass said. “Kikkimores lay their eggs in human bodies when they can, so do Arachnomorphs. Some Necrophages have rites around feeding, I’m thinking of the hags and the like. Nekkers have rudimentary hierarchy and religious practices if they can found a colony for long enough. Any of which is too horrific for words. It is also more than possible that there is something else going on here. There is not a lot of information for us to go on and if this was a hunt, I would certainly want more to go off before committing to the hunt itself.”

We all nodded.

“Let’s move on,” Kerrass said.

We made camp and I was examining the handwriting between the journal and the suicide note to see if it was the same. I had just decided that it was not. And that the two documents were from different expeditions when Henrik spoke up.

“I will ask the question.” He said. “When do we give up and turn back?”

“Giving up already old man.” Trayka snarled.

“No,” Henrik answered calmly, I got the feeling he was expecting the question. “No, I’m not giving up. I want to know what happened to my son, even while I do not believe him to still be alive.”

“He’s alive.” Trayka declared. “Maybe if you’d been more of a father to him then…”

Henrik sighed. Bored and exasperated more than anything. “I am not having this old argument again.” He told his daughter. “Not here and not in front of these people. I am hired as a woodsman first, as are you. I think the question deserves to be asked and answered of the leader of the group.”

“I agree,” Stefan said. “I do not like what I have seen and learned so far on this expedition, I want to go on, but this forest has claimed plenty of lives. I do not want to give up, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel underprepared. I want to be with more people and I want more supplies. I can’t be the only one that things that my water skin feels too light for comfort.”

Kerrass held his hand out to calm the warrior monk.

“Trayka, how long would it take us to get back?”

“I’m not going back, I’m going to…”

“That’s not what I asked.” Kerrass put a hint of steel into his voice.

“We are six days into the woods now.” She said. “It would take us two to three days to get back.”

“Why the shorter time?” Kerrass knew the answer, but I think he wanted us all to hear it.

“Because we would be following our own back trail that we have hacked through the undergrowth.”

“But we have been travelling downhill.” Stefan protested. “It will be harder to go back up hill.”

“It would.” Trayka snapped, “Which is why I said two to three days.”

Kerrass held his hands up.

“We have plenty of supplies. If we have not found anything in three days then I will cut the rations in order to prolong the journey time. But I think that we can easily continue for another week before we need to be seriously concerned about the question. I would be stunned if we don’t find something by then. And if we don’t, we can always force the issue.”

“How?” Trayka’s belligerence vanished, replaced by curiosity.

“Freddie?” Kerrass prompted.

“He will kill a Rabbit. I will cook it and eat it, then Kerrass will guard me.” I told them.

I saw the three of them absorb the statement.

“You’re a braver man than me, Lord Frederick.” Henrik decided before going to his blankets.

“Have you two done this kind of thing before?” Stefan wondered.

“More than once,” Kerrass said as he went to his own bed.

Trayka watched me appraisingly as I went to sleep.

Two days later, we saw our first effigy hanging from the trees.

We were getting used to the gloom now. The lingering promise of some extra light meant that I would have a splitting headache when I eventually emerged into the sunlight but that’s just what you had to do. The travelling itself was still harder work than I would have liked but it’s strange what a body and a mind can get used to after a certain amount of time.

Strange lights started to dance in the treetops well above us. Lights that Kerrass guessed to be fireflies and the various forms. The vegetation also used to occasionally give off a strange kind of luminescence that I hadn’t seen before, greenish, blueish light that radiated outwards. I quite liked it, the glow was oddly reassuring and put me into a kind of peaceful, meditative state.

Stefan was not as keen on it though, the warrior monk was beginning to turn in on himself, a trend that was worrying to both Kerrass and me but when we tried to talk to him about it, he would inform us that he was fine and anxious to get to grips with the mission. We told each other that it was the waiting that was getting to him and we moved on.

Then we saw it in the morning as we rose ourselves with the dawn.

Henrik saw it first.

“What’s that?” He wondered.

“What’s what?” I felt stupid after asking that most childish of answers. But cliches exist for a reason and the oldest parent-child interaction in the world exists for a reason.

“That,” he pointed, “off, in the trees. You see it, there is a shape there, twisted against the…”

I went to stand next to him, Kerrass joined us.

“Trayka, you’re with me.” Kerrass decided. “Everyone else, weapons out, be ready.”

“What for?” Henrik wondered idly as he picked up his burdens and readied his axe.

“Whatever might happen,” Kerrass muttered before saying a bit louder. “Follow Freddie’s lead.”

Stefan, Henrik and I stood ready. We all shouldered our packs and I had Kerrass’ next to my foot, just as Henrik had his daughter’s next to his.

I am considering another book entitled “Lord Frederick’s guide to travelling through dangerous places.” I might even write that one if I wasn’t so busy with my other projects. One of those pieces of advice is that if you have a chance to prepare, or if there is a circling attacker that is waiting for you to make a mistake. The first thing you should do is to ready your weapons. The second thing you should do is to put your pack on. It is tempting that, if you must flee, to flee as lightly as possible so that you might get more speed in order to get away. But this is an irrational fear, if they are going to catch you, then you are better off hiding, getting up a tree or other situation. If you find yourself there with no food and no water, your chances of survival plummet.

Kerrass actually advises having at least two packs. When I asked him why two packs, he said “because three is impractical”

The point is that you have a pack of things that you can afford to leave behind. Clothes, food seasoning, gear maintenance things. And then there is the survival pack. The food, the water and the medicine. Pick up the survival bag and dump the rest.

For context. Kerrass has three belts or body harnesses, two packs and huge saddlebags. There are his sword harness, his potions harness and his immediately useful pouch belt that contains his essential survival stuff. Flint, tinder, whetstone, some food and a small water bottle. His packs are deployed as I describe. And then his saddlebags carry his alchemy gear which he moves to his pack as needed, his sample collection, less essential supplies, rope, climbing gear… you name it, if you need it on the road, then Kerrass has it.

So when readying for a potential fight, ensure that you are prepared to flee and that you have the stuff you might need for survival on your back.

We watched as Kerrass and Trayka picked their way through the trees, weapons at the ready. They stood underneath the odd twist of branches and exchanged some words before coming back.

“What is it?” Stefan called.

“It is some twigs and vines twisted into the shape of a man,” Trayka told him as she picked up her own gear. “It had a crown of antlers. Shame you didn’t see who put it there old man.”

“We don’t know when it was put there.” Henrik protested, seemingly finally sick of his daughter’s needling. “It might have been put there on your watch. It might have already been there when we made camp.”

“It was not.” Kerrass snapped over the growing noise. “The thread and the various damage to the wood was new.” He turned on Trayka. “It was dark last night and whoever put the effigy there knows the woods and the trees better than we do. They could have put it there on your watch for instance.”

“Or mine.” I volunteered, only to be glared at by Trayka and Kerrass both.

Kerrass’ face was stone. “We move, keep your eyes out for more of the same. We might learn something new.”

We travelled slowly and carefully that day. It was a day of jumping at shadows, of movement in the corners of your eyes. It was a day of seeing shapes in the undergrowth and branches that weren’t there, of hearing whispers in the wind blowing through the leaves and the branches high above us.

Dr Shani and I have had a number of conversations about madness or brain sickness if you prefer. She doesn’t like that second term because there is a difference between the kinds of the very real sickness that exists in the mind of the patient that can lead to madness. And there is the sickness of the body that affect the brain. It is dangerous to get the two confused.

She told me that there is no definitive list of ways that you can tell a man is sick in his mind. But one of the telling things is that if you see, or hear things that aren’t there. If you see patterns that don’t exist and hear messages on the wind. The matter is further complicated when that could turn out to be evidence of some kind of latent magical talent as well.

But that was what it felt like. Everywhere I looked, I was looking for signs of this symbol, this crude figure that would be shaped out of some twigs. I would be looking and the branches of the trees that we passed would seem to come together in an odd shape before I would take another couple of steps and the shapes would pull apart to reveal that they were nothing to do with the shape that I had imagined. It was worse when Trayka and Kerrass had to stop and find an alternative route through the undergrowth which led me to stand and stare at a particular group of trees.

I swear, I swear by the flame and by the love that I have for Ariadne, that those trees were looking at me and I swear, that the upper branches of those trees formed a crown of antlers.

Then we moved on and I couldn’t find that group of trees again, no matter how hard I looked.

It was made more uncomfortable when Trayka cleared away a particularly nasty piece of bushland, only to find a deer skull sitting on a rock, looking at us.

She gave a little yelp when she saw it before, reacting in anger at being shocked she drew her heavy hunting knife and shattered the skull into bits before Kerrass could stop her.

There was the sound of wings from nearby and the trees seemed to shake in a heavy wind. There was no other sound as the five of us stood there, all but back to back, and waited for the next shoe to drop. It was one of those times when my spear just appeared in my hand, together in one piece and at the ready to be used without my actually deciding that that’s what I needed to do.

“In future,” Kerrass warned her. “Do not strike any of these symbols. Do not cut through vines that have charms or teeth interwoven in them, or are hung from posts that have skulls on the top. Follow me, I will lead from now on.”

And so, our marching order changed. I had to force myself to put my spear away. But I would be lying if I tried to tell you that I didn’t march with one hand on my dagger hilt at all times.

The next symbol that we saw was carved into a piece of a tree where the bark had fallen away. After that, there was another straw doll hanging from the branches above us.

We set up camp a little earlier that night and decided on longer watches, Kerrass taking the middle watch while the rest of us doubled up. But as the gloom deepened Kerrass strapped his swords to his back and stood up, pulling a potion bottle from his pouch. “I’m going for a look around.” He told us before drinking the contents of the bottle and carefully putting it back. He grimaced and gritted his teeth as a spasm shook him. His skin went paperwhite and when he opened his eyes, Stefan gave a little yelp.

Kerrass grinned nastily at him.

His eyes had become completely dilated, giving the indication that his eyes were just black circles in the whites of his eyes.

“If I’m not back in an hour, follow the route out of the forest.” Kerrass’ words came out elongated, the consonants had a sibilant hissing feeling to them. “Freddie will lead you.” He turned and vanished into the undergrowth.

I sighed and settled down, taking the journal out and having another quick read through the now, well-read, pages.

“You’re not worried?” Stefan was shaking.

I looked at him for a long moment and decided that he needed some reassurance. “I have found,” I began carefully, “after a lot of experience in these matters, that when Kerrass gets like that, it is more useful to worry about the thing that he is hunting.”

“What do you mean?” Henrik asked.

“He is angry,” I told him. “He wants a look at whatever is playing with us. Whatever else Kerrass might be, he’s also well suited to the Cat Witcher school. He likes to be the hunter and is offended whenever something hunts him. And whatever else might be true, we would slow him down.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?” Henrik asked.

I hope I managed to keep my fear from my face. “Then we do as we are told and head back.”

“But your friend might be dead.” Stefan was trying to find a reason to get angry and I refused to give him one.

“He might.” I agreed. “But he stands more of a chance by himself than he does while carrying us. And Kerrass has always warned me that that might be the way our journey’s end. His death and my departure.”

Stefan frowned and looked away.

“Do not worry,” I told him. “This is not the first time Kerrass has done this. As I say, it is far better to be afraid for the person that he is hunting rather than Kerrass himself. We’ve been through worse than this.”

“I find that hard to imagine.” Henrik examined the woods around us.

I chuckled. “Oh much worse. This time, Kerrass has use of both his hands, I am not ill with blood loss, exposure and malnutrition and we have companions.”

Trayka snorted.

After all that, Kerrass returned after about an hour, back to his normal skin tone and frowning.

“Did you find anything?” Stefan wondered but Kerrass shook his head.

I took that cue to start preparing dinner and I took Kerrass his bowl of the trail stew made from the salted meat and dried vegetables. I still had plenty of seasoning in my begs so at least it wasn’t as boring to eat as some versions of the stew I have made.

I had my own bowl with me and sat next to him.

“So what did you find?” I wondered.

He smiled as he took the bowl. “We need to stop this.” He told me. “You are far too good at reading me nowadays.”

“It’s not that hard,” I said. “It’s getting to Stefan, I don’t think he expected this kind of journey.”

“No one ever does.” Kerrass took a spoonful of the stew. “We are surrounded now, it will not be long. They are watching us and deciding what to do.”

“What’s watching us?” I wondered. “Who’s watching us?”

“I wish I knew. Whatever they are, they are better in the woods than I am and I have tracked everything that exists. They move with the trees, not against them and although I can find scuff marks and occasionally broken foliage, I can find no prints or patterns that can tell me what they are. I see shapes and movements and I can feel their eyes. There are at least three watching us now.”

“Where are they?” I wondered.

“There is one over in the branches of that tree with the red leaves, just up from your left knee. Another one is behind you to your left although I don’t know where it is and if you look over my shoulder, you will see a white stone that is wedged under a tree route. There is some growth on the top of that root and there is one behind that bush.”

I carefully allowed my gaze to wander over to where Kerrass indicated. I found the stone and the root, then I raised my gaze to the bush above it and found the bush. He was right, there was a shape behind the bush, just a hint of a shadow but the leaves and the branches of the bush obscured the shape so I could not tell any features.

It waited, I do not doubt that it saw me watching and marked me. I could almost feel it laughing at me. Then the shape was gone. I blinked and it wasn’t there.

“What are they doing?” I wondered.

“They are waiting for instructions.” Kerrass finished his stew. “Get some rest, Freddie. We will need your rational mind in the days ahead.”

The following day was hell. Some people have argued that the confirmation of Paranoia is actually relaxing. It is no longer Paranoia if you know that they really are out to get you. I disagree, or at least, in this instance I disagree. Knowing that there really was something out there that was out to get me, made my paranoia worse.

I would jump at every noise, wince at every movement, duck at every small movement of the undergrowth and flinch at every animal call, of which there really were a couple.

Even worse was when I actually managed to see something. When I saw a branch or a bush moving against the wind in a way that I did not expect. When I saw a spray of dirt on the ground from the footfall of something leaping out and into the undergrowth from where I had first seen them. And for one memorable time, when I looked and I had time to see the thing that was watching us. But I still couldn’t tell you what it was.

I saw a shape, little more than that because it was moving even as I saw it. I could not tell if it moved on two feet or whether it moved on four. It was carrying something.

I kept trying to identify what it was that was hunting us. I kept desperately trying to tell what was happening. It was a useless gesture and I knew that too which meant that I was getting more and more frustrated. I didn’t know what they were, neither did Kerrass which was saying something. Of all of us in the group, there were three people, vastly more experienced in woodland than I was and Stefan could be conceived as a soldier. For all of Kerrass’ advice and encouragement, I was far from convinced about his declaring me his second in command.

I kept trying to go through the things that might be in the woods, going through them before dismissing them from my mind with a dismissal born out of logic. Small, pack movements, almost cowardly attitude would suggest Nekkers. They had the tool using capabilities that we were seeing and was suggested to me from the thing that I had seen the shape carrying.

But Nekkers, although more intelligent than Ghouls, were not that intelligent. They would have attacked by now as they are not known for their patience. It was possible that they were servants of the Schattenmann and that he was keeping them in check. But Kerrass knows Nekkers, there was no way that he would NOT know that they were Nekkers in the trees.

The same thing could be said for Ghouls or other, more intelligent Nerophages. The more intelligent the Necrophage, the bigger and more solitary it is and we were being tracked by multiple things. Of that, there was no doubt.

Why hadn’t they attacked yet?

I kept asking myself that particular question as well, over and over and over again which was especially annoying because I knew the answer.

We were being hunted. In hunting, you drive the quarry to where you want it to go. If you have a royal or noble visitor, you would take the time to push the quarry towards that person so that they can make the kill and you don’t have to. You give the boar, stag or whatever enough room to wear themselves out so they don’t provide too much of a challenge for the visitor.

I was uncomfortably aware that that was what was happening.

I broached the subject with Kerrass that night.

“We are being steered,” I said. “Remember in Redania, we are being pushed to where they want us to go. We should try and break free from that, don’t let them dictate where we meet.”

“There is a difference here Freddie,” Kerrass told me, more kindly than I was expecting. Back then we were a band of upwards of thirty people, men and Elves. Now there is only five of us.

“Back then, if we were attacked or tried to break free, we were a seasoned and experienced force, many of whom were experienced in working together. If we attacked, we would seriously damage the enemy and although it proved futile at the time, we might make real headway. Here? There are only five of us and we are inches away from shattering like glass. Stefan is near panic although he hides it well. You are bearing up well, considering everything that this must be reminding you of but you cannot tell me that you are doing alright with this. Trayka is too consumed by her objective to be affected by it all and although Henrik is plainly terrified, he is here for his daughter first. Where she goes, he goes.

“To break loose, we need to be coordinated, calm and be able to keep our cool. Do you think we can do that? With the terrain the way it is as well. Back then we were fleeing through the cultivated woodland of a well-settled countryside. Here we are moving through the untended, barbarous, wooded, wilderness where our opponents, not enemies yet, know the land and the terrain far better than we do.”

He was right, I knew it and he knew it.

He continued to speak. “These bastards can take us any time they want to. If we did anything that they don’t want us to do, we would fall almost instantly. I suspect that the only reason that we haven’t been taken already is that we are armed and they don’t want to close with the Witcher, the soldier, and the three experienced fighters.

“And finally, we are here to talk. We just need to hope that they let us.”

“And how hopeful is that?” I wondered.

“They haven’t killed us yet and we are completely within their power.” He said. “We have to hope that if they wanted us dead, we would be dead.”

“That is not reassuring,” I told him.

He shrugged.

I am hesitant to use the word disaster when it doesn’t properly apply. There are degrees of disaster after all, but sometimes, one person’s disaster is a minor inconvenience.

But it was the following afternoon that disaster struck.

It was becoming a struggle to stay calm, even without Kerrass pointing out the fact that we were being chased, the others began to see it and like me, they were jumping at shadows and moving improperly. They wanted to run, to attack and to do something. That was a mistake and I knew it, Kerrass knew it and Stefan knew it with his more military training knew it as well. Even as he wanted to attack.

Henrik had an older man’s calm acceptance of the coming circumstances. He tried to keep Trayka calm but Trayka was going through a spate of disagreeing with everything that her father told her to do because it was her father telling her to do the thing.

So we chafed at the slower pace, even more than we had been. We resented the pauses that Kerrass forced us to take to drink some water, have something to eat and maintain our energy in the punishing terrain.

So we were still some time from when we were due to stop when Stefan spoke up from behind me.

“Wait,” he called. “Where is Henrik?”

Trayka who was back to being first in the marching order pushed back, past Kerrass. “He was supposed to be behind you, don’t you know?”

At the same time, Kerrass tried to catch her as she passed with a short and spoken “Wait,” but Trayka threw off his grip and pushed past me as Kerrass tried to stay calm.

“When did you last see him?” I asked Stefan.

“You were supposed to be keeping an eye…” Trayka hissed at him at the same time.

Stefan sighed. “A little way back.” He told me, ignoring Trayka.

“FATHER,” Trayka yelled in the growing panic.

“Calm down everyone,” Kerrass snapped with enough steel in his voice that everything seemed to collapse. Kerrass gave a little glare at Stefan who seemed to shrink a little under Kerrass’ gaze. Kerrass tried to put a hand on Trayka’s shoulder which she threw off angrily and Kerrass took a breath.

“Right.” He began. “Henrik was still with us at the last water break which was not that long ago, let’s backtrack until we find where he went. He’s a bit man, sign will have been left.”

“Good.” Trayka stormed off towards the back trail.

“TRAYKA,” It was Kerrass’ turn to get angry. “You have every right to be concerned, but tracking needs a cooler head and although you know plenty about woodscraft, I am the better tracker.”

For a moment there, Trayka clearly wanted to argue before she nodded.

“Be the rear guard,” Kerrass ordered.

It was not that far back when we found the place where Henrik was taken. Still not good from Stefan’s point of view that he missed it but still.

Kerrass gestured and we waited back, Trayka dancing from foot to foot as she waited, leaving me wondering if she knew that she was doing it.

Kerrass beckoned us forwards.

“He was dragged to the ground here,” Kerrass said, pointing. He was held for a short while before they dragged him off Northwards.”

“Henrik is a big man.” Stefan wondered. “How did they bring him down without…”

“It’s not hard.” Kerrass began, “All yo.. Fuck.”

This last as Trayka charged into the undergrowth, hacking around with her blade to make room, “FATHER.” She screamed. A desperate edge in her voice. “FATHER.”

She got maybe three steps before Kerrass gestured, a white light danced over her head and she stilled so that Kerrass could drag her back.

“All you need is a good place to stand and knowledge about how the body works.” Kerrass finished. “It doesn’t matter…” He was interrupted by Trayka throwing off the stunning spell and struggling in his grip. “Trayka, listen to me.”

Trayka stilled.

“There is no blood, your Father was captured alive. If they wanted him dead, if they wanted any of us dead, that would be it. Remain calm, we will find out what happened to him but if we charge off through the undergrowth, we will just get separated and torn apart. Let’s make them work for it.”

That got through to Trayka and she nodded.

“I will take rear guard.” She said. “And Great Sun help them when they come for me,... and you.” She snarled at Stefan. “You were supposed to be working with my Father and helping to guard him, just as he was guarding us. If he dies or is lost because you weren’t doing your job, I will take great delight in cutting off your balls.”

“I would like to see you try.” Stefan, finally under a threat of violence that he could understand, seemed to perk up but Kerrass wasn’t having it.

“That’s enough.” He snapped. “I take point, Stefan’s with me, Freddie then Trayka in the rear, let’s keep it close.”

We started with our movements and our new routine. I had a dim theory that Trayka might have volunteered to be the rear guard so that she could sneak off and look for her Father. But it seemed that she took her responsibilities as rear guard seriously. She nodded to me every time I turned around to check where she was which I did frequently. “Nice to know that someone cares.” She told me one time when we stopped for a break.

I really missed the camaraderie of Rickard and the Bastards then.

“Everyone has their job in the marching order,” I told her, trying to make conversation. “And there is a reason that rearguard is a dangerous one. Try and scream if nothing else.”

I did manage to get a smile out of her for that, but the conversation died soon after.

We camped early and I had another question for Kerrass that night.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

He shrugged, “I hate to say it, but I think we wait for them to take us.”

“Lovely,” I said.

“Tracking Henrik is pointless.” I sat and let Kerrass justify his decision to me. Why he felt he had to I don’t know, but I wasn’t going to argue. I was too tired and strung out.

“They know the ground far better than we ever will.” Kerrass went on. “I really believe that if they wanted to kill us, they could do that any time they wanted to. We would do some damage, but…” He shook his head. “I think they will try to talk to us before anything happens and then we will need to be charming. Which means that you need to be charming.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. It came out more bitter than the joking that I intended it to be. “How are you doing though, really?”

Kerrass took a moment and scratched behind his ear. “I am tired and worn down. More than I should be. This place… This place seems to suck at me. We’ve been in worse spots than this you and I, but I don’t know what to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “Can you reach Ariadne?”

“I tried last night,” I said. “Either she is busy somewhere or I can’t reach her here.”

Kerrass nodded. “There is a low level magical… hum about the forest.” He told me. It crashes like a wave, making my medallion shake. Sometimes it’s just a slight vibration and then it builds until it’s almost overwhelming. But then it falls again until it’s just a background murmur.”

He smirked at me, unhappily and with frustration. “It’s keeping me on edge.”

“We should all get some rest,” I said, getting up to suit deed to word.

“We should.” Kerrass agreed, “But would you sleep if you were her?”

He gestured to where Trayka was sitting, crosslegged next to the cooking pot, staring… no, scowling at nothing. As we watched, the scowl dissolved into a look of fear and sorrow. Then she would realise what was happening and scowl again.

Stefan was taken that night.

I have no idea how they managed it. Not as to how they took Stefan, that bit was easy. It was more that the rest of us didn’t notice. The last time any of us saw him was after he woke Kerrass up so that Kerrass could take the middle watch, the nighttime watch for which Kerrass was better suited than the rest of us due to his ability to see in the darkness better.

But for the rest of us? I was on the early watch and I went to wake Stefan up for his morning porridge to find that he simply wasn’t there.

My first thought was that he had gone for a piss or to otherwise relieve himself. One of those early morning thoughts that come to you when you aren’t quite awake and your brain isn’t quite matching up with the things that you are seeing or hearing.

But then I saw that his sword was still there, lying on the ground next to where his body should have been laying. Like me and all people that have found men with their dicks hanging out, their trews around their ankles and their throats, slit, Stefan always took his weapons with him when it is time to relieve himself. The sword was slightly off centre as well, as though he might have grabbed for it as he was dragged off.

I wish I could say that I began to get panicked, that I was worried for the man that I liked and what was going on, but instead, I felt a tired kind of resignation.

I went back to Kerrass who was sitting with Trayka who was stretching and yawning hugely.

“Stefan is gone,” I said.

“Oh,” Trayka said, “Fled has he?”

It was the matter of factness of our voices that would get to me later.

“No.” I sighed as I divided Stefan’s porridge between the three of us. “His gear’s still here, including his weapons.”

“Oh,” Trayka said. She was hollow-eyed as she stared back at her porridge for a moment as though she was trying to remember what it was. “I rather prefer the idea that he fled.”

We were tired, hollowed out and something had snapped inside the group now. Trayka had clearly not slept and if she was anyone else, I would say that she had been weeping. Except my brain just seemed to sheer off the idea that that was the case. Kerrass was tired himself and as for me?

I felt like I do when I am training against someone that is better than me. Especially early on in my journey, training with Kerrass was an exercise in perseverance. He was better than me, I was never going to be that good, so why bother trying. There was no point. And that was how I felt now. I was tired, it felt like the enemy could take us at any time, so why bother keeping going. All we were doing was tiring each other out. Which might as well have been what our enemies wanted in the first place. That and Kerrass’ defeatism from the previous night had depressed me.

What little amount of camaraderie we had been able to find during the stay back in the village had vanished. We were not despairing, not really, but we were not… As Kerrass said, we were waiting for the end.

We went through the motions, Kerrass had a look at the ground where Stefan had been taken. As best as he could tell, Stefan was simply dragged off and it seems all but impossible that we couldn’t have heard anything.

Stefan had been sleeping in his armour. Now that’s an awful idea, even if you wear relatively light leather armour, you take it off before going to bed. Why? Because by its nature, armour has to protect you which means that it’s stiff and not exactly form-fitting. Therefore, it will push your body in ways and directions that your body isn’t used to. Also, it damages the armour to have a heavy, weighty body resting on it for extended periods of time.

It’s the sort of thing that you are only supposed to do in emergency situations. Defenders do it in sieges or attackers are getting ready for a dawn attack. Or like Stefan, when you know that you may need to get up and repel an attack at any moment.

But we had not heard him being taken. All that metal was ready to jingle about and we had not heard him.

Stefan was a trained fighter. Like Kerrass, he kept his sword near to his hand so that if he woke up suddenly he could be ready for battle all but instantly. I’ve seen Kerrass get up, draw his sword and defend from a strike before he could reasonably be described as being awake and Stefan was almost as good with a sword as Kerrass was.

But he had not had time to do more than tip his sword out of position.

He had not had time to scream.

Kerrass took Stefan’s sword along with his own.

Then, for the rest of that day, they left us alone. It was awful. Cruel even.

The chase through the woodland of North Redania was bad and I’m not going to say that this was worse, just so that I can sell more copies of the magazine. This was nerve shreddingly different.

The point behind Redania and the cult of the First-Born was that we were so badly disabled. If Kerrass and I had been operating at full strength we would have made better time, been less strung out, been able to pick off the cultists piecemeal. We could see the cultists and the terrain was much easier than the one that we found ourselves in.

Here, in theory, we were at the height of our powers, but the terrain was awful and our enemy was unseen. And all we could do was to keep going. The direction hardly mattered now, forward or to either side, we were still forcing our way through hostile forest. The only feasible alternative to what we were doing was to follow our own back trail which would, in theory, allow us to make better time.

But then we would lose Trayka as she would not be turned away from the rescue of her family. Because that was what she was doing now, not just her brother but her Father as well.

So our pursuers chased us down for another day, leaving us to it, letting the terrain and the nerves wear us out.

I had to force myself to eat and even then, I could not eat much because my stomach rebelled and I could not keep it down. Trayka was more focused than I was given what was at stake for her, and it was only Kerrass that seemed unaffected by the nerves. But he was clearly frustrated himself.

It was almost a relief when they finally came for me.

It was the third day after Stefan had been taken, we were getting slow now, the nerves and the reduced sleep were taking their toll. It was a struggle to keep ourselves focused.

I think that their real target was Kerrass. I presume that they had identified him as our leader and had decided that it would just save time if they removed him. Trayka was the rearguard again with me in the middle. As best as I could tell, it was the middle of the afternoon. We were moving along and Kerrass clapped his hand to his neck and pulled something out.

“Poison darts,” he called to us and we did as we had agreed. We crouched a little to get below the foliage line and came together, putting our backs together. Obviously, Kerrass was immune to their poison and he was fine although I saw him take a quick potion in order to make sure.

So there we were, standing in a triangle, facing outwards, ready for anything to come at us. Our mistake was that we were scanning for a remote threat, looking for the dart thrower, blowpipe wielder or whatever they were.

But the real threat came from near my feet.

I was crouched with my spear ready. Just the shorter, bladed section as the longer spear would get snarled in the undergrowth.

It all happened so fast.

I heard a sound and I turned, it was as though the forest itself was rushing towards me. I lifted my spear, mouth open to shout a warning.

Something stamped on the side of my ankle. I heard a snapping sound. Agony tore through me, making me swallow my cry of warning and I fell.

Thorns ripped at my flesh as I was dragged into the undergrowth. I was gripped by the wrists, prone on my back and I took a breath to try and call out to Kerrass.

“FREDDIE?” came the cry, he was close.

Something cloth-like was pushed into my open mouth and my answering call was muffled. I was still being dragged somewhere, quickly. I could feel the blood running freely down what bits of my skin were exposed to the thorns and the ripping vines. Hands took my spear away, My wrists were bound.

“FREDDIE,” Kerrass called again, joined by Trayka, still close by.

I tried to scream again, round the gag.

A bag was forced over my face and something tightened around my neck. I felt more hands relieving me of my belt knives and my boots. There was a pinprick in the side of my ankle, another.

I tried to scream again. Kerrass was so close. All I had to do was to reach him.

Part of the thing around my neck was loosened, another sharp prick there and I could feel the poison starting to run through my system. It was cold at first as it spread but in its wake, it left a pleasant, numbing warmth.

I tried to fight off the panic but only made it worse.

I tried to lash out with my head. I tried to kick which caused a wave of agony to rip through my leg. Someone grabbed my ankles and I was bound there.

Kerrass called for me again, but I was losing the ability to distinguish the words. It was just a woolly sound now.

I tried to stay calm, tried to think. Tried to figure out a way that I could escape. But I could feel the urgency leaving me.

I tried to breathe, tried to see through the fibres of the cloth.

There was another prick in the neck and the tide of cold with its following numbing warmth became a tidal wave. I could hear it in my ears like the sounds of gentle waves on the shore.

And the leaves in the wind.

And I was gone.

I did not dream in that state. I saw things. There is a difference that I cannot otherwise describe. I have no idea if these sights or visions are relevant. They might be, or they probably aren’t.

I cannot tell and as I get further and further away from the events, I remember less and less of them. They included things that happened recently, memories and things, but also things that I had forgotten from long ago. I saw sights that I could not comprehend and simple things that I only faintly recognised.

I remember seeing a flower blooming. I saw the sea, it was raining. I saw the shape of a woman rising above me as though we were in the middle of an act of sexual congress.

I heard Jack laughing.

I saw a hangman’s noose swinging in the wind and I saw two Knights that I didn’t recognise crashing together in a joust. I saw stars, lots of stars and a mountain, the top of which was aflame.

There are more specific memories.

I remembered the huge, muscle-bound teenage girl that had constructed my spear and the way that she had looked at me as though I was painfully stupid. I remembered the dwarf that had run their little blacksmith’s shop taking his helmet off, removing a cloth from inside the helmet in order to wipe his brow before putting the cloth back inside the helmet and putting the helmet on his head. At the time, I had struggled not to laugh. Now, I knew that it was not uncommon behaviour for dwarves.

I remember the sight of Marion’s face and the sight of all of those graves just outside her village. The awe of all of those people living and dying in the service of a teenage princess that might as well have been a Goddess.

I remembered the Goddess in the fire and the rain.

I remembered Edmund and the way that he used to make Francesca cry by pulling the legs of a spider. I remembered Mark taking a cane to the back of my legs under Father’s watchful eye as a penance for not saying my prayers properly. Mark had tried to pull the blows but Father had spotted it and instructed Mark to lay them on properly.

I had forgotten that bit.

I remembered Emma telling me about Laurelen and the awful fear in my sister’s face as she spoke.

But over and over again there was one coherent thought and image that came through my head.

There was a tree. Giant. It was the largest tree that I have ever seen. The wood was black, the bark and hide of the tree was old and craggy. The leaves were huge and the violent scarlet of fresh red blood. In the middle of the trunk of the tree was an opening and from that opening, darkness flowed.

And yet it was not a frightening image.

Mostly though, there was just green in front of my eyes. Dark green with red rivers seeming to run over it. I could hear the pulsing of the trees around me as though it was my heartbeat and the constant sound of wind running through the leaves.

There was one moment in the middle where the visions stopped.

Agony ripped through my leg. I could feel bone grinding on bone and hot wetness around my ankles. I have no idea how long it had been since I had been taken. It might have been a few minutes or it might have been several days. But the pain was so bright and so awful that I came out of whatever drug-addled state that I had been in and I howled with the agony of it.

I heard voices. Or rather I thought I heard voices. I was still in a strange dreamlike state but given the context, it seems likely that I heard voices.

“Shut him up.” Someone said.

“He’s in pain,” Someone else answered. I could make out no details as the voices had an echoey feeling to them. As though I was hearing it through the vibrations of glass. Or that my ears were still full of water after a swim. They were speaking Elven, or Elder Speech if you prefer.

“So give him some more of…”

I was also still trying to scream. I still had a gag in my mouth and a weight pressed down on my mouth. I struggled to breathe for a moment before the cold pinpricks came back. Several pinpricks around my ankle and another into my neck.

I fell back into the raft of visions much quicker this time.

There was more the second time. I saw Ariadne, working away in a laboratory I think. She was wearing a dark working robe. One of the ones that she wears to do her Alchemy work in because the dark colours don’t give away the chemical spills. I tried to call out to her and she tilted her head to one side for a moment as though she was listening. As she worked, a large spider detached itself from a shadowy corner of her lab and approached her. I was struck with an absurd desire to warn her as it looked as though the spider was sneaking up on her.

She turned just before the spider reached her and reached into the maw of the spider’s mouth and grasped hold of one of the fangs. She then milked the fang of its venom into a glass container. The Spider did not enjoy the process but Ariadne said something and the Spider stilled. When she was done, she rubbed the spider just behind the head and the spider pushed into the caress in gratitude and affection.

The sight reminded me of a person and their dog.

I saw something that I’m pretty sure was Emma and Laurelen’s first kiss. Emma was riding back from Novigrad to the castle, I’ve walked that road so many times that every stone and every tree is familiar to me. Laurelen was waiting nervously next to the road. She was dirty, sweaty and a far cry from her currently well-groomed and relaxed state. Thinner too, dangerously so. There was a feeling of stress about the Sorceress that was no longer present in her carriage or her attitude.

Emma was being escorted by some family guards when she saw Laurelen. She dismounted quickly and ran over to the Sorceress, seizing her hand and hiding behind a tree. Captain Froggart, our now retired Captain of the Guard ordered his men to take up positions of protection while the two women talked. Laurelen was getting visibly upset about something, she looked scared, confused even. Another unfamiliar emotion on the Sorceresses face. Emma was asking forceful questions and Laurelen was shaking her head. Emma seemed relieved at Laurelen’s answers before Laurelen said something and Emma looked confused, astonished, briefly joyful before looking afraid.

Then Laurelen kissed her. Emma pulled away, plainly shocked before looking around to see if anyone had seen the kiss. Then Laurelen kissed her again.

One or two of the guards saw it, chuckled quietly before pointedly looking away.

I saw my Father. He was was out, by himself somewhere, lacking in all the servants and guards and things that he normally went everywhere with. He was sat in a clearing somewhere, poking a small campfire over which hung a tea pot of some kind. He looked as relaxed and happy as ever I have seen him. I called out to him.

A quicker image after that. I was sitting in the strange tavern that Jack had taken me to in the strange, hellish city that he had called Lone-don. I could see myself chatting with Jack at another table before Jack rose to get some more drinks and as he passed me, leaving my younger self looking confused…

I really do look stupid when I’m being confused,

Jack came over to my table and looked straight at me. “You need to focus.” He said.

I saw Kerrass, on the back of his horse looking down at me. He was injured and the rain was dripping from his eyebrows and the end of his nose. He didn’t recognise me.

The visions were getting shorter again, less distinct, kind of blurry round the edges.

I saw the blonde prostitute in the cold light of dawn as she completed my healing after the Beast of Amber’s crossing.

I saw Father Jerome beating a thief with a stick. I remembered the incident as it had been the time when Jerome had caught a man stealing some food from an elven mother and her child. Jerome had beaten the man soundly and thrown him out. I had barely paid attention at the time as I was fighting off a memory from Amber’s Crossing. My lack of attentiveness shamed me now.

I saw Helfdan kill a man on the docks of Kaer Trolde. One, very precise, almost off-hand movement and a man that had been alive was suddenly… not.

I saw Ariadne again, in a summer dress in the gardens of Angraal. She was eating a huge pastry and brushed the crumbs from her hands and face as she saw me coming. She smiled.

I saw a clearing in the trees where a girl was being assaulted by six bandits. I charged in, my spear lancing into the back of one of the men. He looked astonished and almost offended as he fell.

There was cool water in my throat.

“Easy now.” Said a voice. “Drink slowly. You need the water.

I could see the tree again. Black trunk with the red leaves. It looked as though it was bleeding.

“Easy.” It was a woman’s voice. A sharp pain dug into my ear lobe and I winced. “You need to wake up now.”

There is an old joke about a person being woken up for a magical or a medical sleep only to ask for five more minutes. I had always thought that unlikely but what did I hear coming from my mouth?

“No,” I protested. “I’m too tired. Just a bit longer.”

The woman laughed in a surprisingly musical tone. “I like you. I might ask if I can have you. But come on, it’s time to wake up. A man should face his death on his feet. Although in your case, that might be more difficult.”

Not a lot of that conversation made sense to me as I was waking up. And I was waking up. I tried to sit up and strong, but small hands helped me.

“Easy,” She said. “Nice and easy.”

It took me a moment to notice that I could see.

I was sat down and my right leg was stiff, tied to a stout branch. I was barefoot, part of my trousers had been cut away, and my ankle was bound in strange green bandages. I looked around but saw that I was in a shelter of some kind.

My hands were bound.

“Right,” I decided. “What happened?”

The woman was behind me and I could not easily turn to face her. “Your ankle was broken when we were taking you.” She told me. “We had to dose you pretty strongly to stop you from crying out in pain.”

“That’s a bit embarrassing.” I joked.

“You should not feel ashamed.” She told me. “You were drugged and unconscious. A person cannot control an involuntary pain response while unconscious and sometimes, the body just needs to scream. But that meant that it has taken you longer to wake up than the others. The Witcher, of course, was immune. Here, drink this.”

I tried to see my captor as she came round to my side and forced a cup into my mouth but then I needed to focus on drinking at the pace that she poured the stuff into my mouth. As medicines go, I have tasted far worse.

“Yes.” She said, “Your friends are ok for now. The border guardian is coming to decide your fate soon.”

“How much danger am I in?”

The woman moved off again. “You? Not much I think. You are young enough and male enough that you should satisfy. Your friends?” I suspected that she shrugged. “It’s too early to tell and the decision is not mine. I am a healer and we are renowned for being soft of heart. I would save all of you if I could but that is not the way of survival.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Thistle Flower.” She said.

“Ok,” I said, realising that I had asked the wrong question.

She laughed and finally moved into my sightline.

She was not a large woman, she was small but compact. I knew that she was strong from the way that she had pulled me into an upright seated position but I could see it in her frame. She was a strong woman, “built” might be a better word. She had long, yellowish hair that was twisted into dreadlocks that hung down her back, even though she had tied them into a tight knot at the back of her head to keep them out of the way. She was wearing a loose, greenish brown tunic that was belted at the waist and some trousers beneath it. Her belt had some small bags and pouches on it, including a long knife.

In form, she looked somewhere between human and Elf. There was a certain amount of upsweep and pointed nature to the ears and but her face had more of the rounded, muscled nature of a human.

Her skin, despite mostly appearing like normal flesh, had a certain greenish, golden tint to it. It was a slight thing, the kind of thing that briefly suggests to you that you are seeing a trick of the light.

“Dryads,” I said.

She laughed again. “You sound surprised.”

“I am,” I told her. “I thought that the only dryads to be found were in Brokilon to the North.”

“What is a Brokilon?” She asked before visibly dismissing the question. “No matter. Not my problem. I have no doubt that they will call on me when it all goes wrong. But still. Let’s get you to your feet. I’ve made you a crutch that’s by the door, there we go.”

She proved her strength again by hauling me to my feet.

I had to stoop to get out of the small, conical hut that I had been in. It seemed to be constructed by leaning all of the branches together at the top before strapping several large skins of leather around it to keep the elements off and the healing “vapours” in. It’s the same technique that is used in a lot of military medical tents. My doctor helped me out and just outside I found another, much taller woman. She carried a spear and was darker in both skin tone and hair color.

The new woman looked at the healer and took me off her. “We will be moving soon,” The healer sighed and nodded before ducking back into the hut.

“Can you walk unaided?” The new Dryad asked.

I tried out my new crutch, decided that I was ok with it and nodded.

“Excellent, then we are going this way.” She walked in front of me, pushing aside the branches and bushes aside for me so that I concentrate on remaining upright.

“So?” I wondered. “Are you my guard or my escort?”

She actually smiled. “Are they not the same thing?”

“Ok,” Am I your prisoner, or your guest?”

“That is yet to be determined.” She said. “You seem to be young enough though so I would suggest that you will probably survive what is to come. In the meantime, I see no reason towards being rude.”

“Thank you for that,” I commented.

“Besides. Your ankle was broken and you are still healing. Even with the efforts of Thistle Flower, you would not be able to run far enough that I wouldn’t catch you in a matter of heartbeats.”

That was true enough. I tried to see how my ankle felt. It was well bound and splinted and I found that if I concentrated enough, I could feel a dull throb. It was like feeling the memory of pain. I looked up to find that she was watching me.

“Why heal me if you are going to kill me?” I wondered.

“You ask a lot of questions.” She commented with a slight smile. “We healed you because the decision to keep you alive or kill you is made by someone else. And if you are kept alive, then you will need your strength and be of sound body.”

“Normally people say ‘of sound mind and body’.”

She seemed to consider that. “No.” She said. “Being of sound mind is not important. Apart from anything else, you can’t be of sound mind and body if you decided to enter the heart of the Black Forest. That takes a particular brand of stupidity, we have guarded our privacy carefully. Here we are.”

She led me into a clearing. There were another four humanoid shapes there. Tied at the wrists and ankles with bags over their heads. I recognised Kerrass immediately. I would recognise Kerrass in a pitch-black room. After that, it was not hard to identify, in order, Trayka, Henrik and Stefan. They seemed to be in good repair. Kerrass was being patient and waiting, conserving his strength. Trayka was testing the confines of her bindings and Stefan would go into spasms of struggling before giving up and lying still again. Henrik was alive and awake but not moving.

I could see a pile of our gear on the edge of the little clearing, recognisable due to my spear and Kerrass’ swords. The clearing had been made in the same way that we would clear our own camp-sites although it all looked much less harmful than our more brute force techniques.

Off to one side was a small group of other women, presumably Dryads, who were watching the captives and discussing the virtues of each. My impression was that they were laughing at Stefan, considering Trayka and Kerrass and seemingly ignoring Henrik. They were dressed like Hunters. Hard wearing, hide based clothing. To a woman, they had the builds of people that ate properly and led active lives. Some were short, some were tall, but all of them were well-muscled and healthy-looking. A couple carried spears, others carried bows and quivers of arrows on their person with enough variation that suggested they were equipped and armed according to personal choice. The only sense of uniformity about them was that their hair was all in dreadlocks. Some of them had charms and things sewn into their locks. A couple had headbands and one of them had a copper pendant around their neck.

“I have another question.”

“I am unsurprised. People like you always have more questions. Make it a good one as it might be your last.”

“Does the Schattenmann exist?” I wondered. “Or are you responsible for him and his reputation through, magic or whatever in an effort to keep yourselves safe?”

She stared at me for a long moment. “Personally,” She began cautiously. “I would have asked how to survive what is to come.”

“The thought had occurred. But if I am to die, I would rather satisfy my curiosity rather than ask a question where there is clearly no defined answer.”

Her eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re the spear man aren’t you?”

“I am.”

She nodded. “I will remember. The Schattenmann is real. If you survive, you will meet him and drink of his blood if he considers you worthy.” For a moment, she almost looked afraid.

“And if I’m not worthy?”

She nearly answered before she smiled. “You only had one question.”

One of the other Dryads walked over to us. “Put him with the others. She is nearly here.”

I was moved and stood next to where Kerrass was bound. Two of the Dryads took large, hunting bows and fitted arrows to them.

“Listen to me.” We were being addressed as a group now by one of the older Dryads. She had some strands of silver in her hair. “You are about to be unbound and lifted to your feet. You are covered by two of our finest archers. If you make an effort to escape or to harm any of us, or each other. You will be killed without hesitation. Do not test us on this..”

Stefan stilled.

Trayka kept doing what she was doing, much to the amusement of the other Dryads that were watching her. They commented and pointed, a couple laughed but to my eyes, they looked approving.

Henrik was released first and hauled to his feet. Bag pulled from his head and his bindings cut. He stared at the woman that freed him with an open mouth.

Stefan was next and when he opened his mouth, he too gaped at the women that surrounded him. Then he visibly realised what we were dealing with and his mouth shut with a snap and he scowled.

Trayka was lifted up and released. She seemed unconcerned with what was going on and instead, scanned the clearing found our weapons, noted my injured state which was quickly dismissed and looked for the gaps in the undergrowth of which there were two, which was where the archers were standing.

Kerrass rose and when the bag was off his head, he was clearly wearing his Witcher face.

“Freddie.” He greeted me calmly. “You alright?”

“Broken ankle,” I told him. “They’ve looked after me though.”

Kerrass didn’t look too much the worse for wear. He had a large bruise on his temple and some blood had matted the back of his head but other than that, he looked fine.

Trayka had some bruises and was favouring one of her legs. Henrik seemed fine.

“Well,” Kerrass went on. “I’ve heard that there are no better healers than Dryads so… you will almost certainly be fine.”

“I also might be dead,” I commented. “They have made no pretence about what might happen here.”

“And what is that?” Kerrass was curious.

“They are going to decide if we are going to be of use.”

“Ah.” Kerrass acknowledged before sighing a little “Poor Trayka.”

“Wha?”

“Silence now.” Said the older Dryad who was clearly the one in charge. “We will not make you kneel as she is not your Lord. But otherwise, be respectful.”

A woman came out of the trees and into view. She was white-haired but had an upright stance. Unlike the other dryads, of which she clearly was one as well, she wore a white robe that was belted with a series of interlocking leaf shapes. From the belt hung a cloth bag and a long knife which seemed to be the one distinguishing factor between all the women. She was escorted by two other women who carried large, wooden shields and long, sharp looking spears. They were dressed in armor that looked similar to chain mail in the way that it moved and tied to their belts were large, heavy looking wooden clubs.

The white haired woman came to stand in front of us and frowned.

“I am Flax-seed and I am one of the Elders here. I am merely the first in a long line of people that you must convince to allow you to live” She began, she was speaking a stilted form of the more modern Elder speech that is spoken in the south. It seemed strange on her tongue.

“Over and over again this happens.” She went on. “Strangers from strange lands come into our forest for reasons of their own. We set watches, the local villages are aware of the dangers and there are warnings all over these lands that the heart of the Black Forest does not belong to man, or to Elf, Dwarf, or anything else. Even we, the Dryads, are merely tenants here and we pay our rent by keeping these lands safe. But over and over again, people refuse to listen and therefore, over and over again, you people must pay the price.”

“We do not acknowledge your right to…” Stefan began.

“Shut up Stefan.” Kerrass hissed. “Shut up before you get us all killed.”

The older Dryads said nothing until Stefan subsided. “We are not subject to your outside laws.” She said. “You are in our lands now. You were told to keep out. You were warned about what happens if you don’t keep out. And yet you came anyway. Now you must suffer the results of your temerity.”

“Where is my brother?” Trayka demanded.

The woman looked surprised and examined Trayka in detail. “Yes,” she said. “You do look familiar. You may learn if you are worthy.”

She turned back to the rest of us. “You are now the subjects of the Schattenmann and we must see if you can be useful to him.”

She reached into the pouch at her side and pulled out a large plant bulb. She held it in her hands and came towards me, guarded by the others.

“Drop your trousers.” She ordered.

I took a deep breath and did as I was ordered. I so desperately wanted to ask what for, I wanted to check with Kerrass, the warrior that had helped me into the clearing, or the smaller healer Dryad that had helped me. But something in the authority of the woman was all-pervasive.

“And your undergarments.” She instructed.

That I did wince at the prospect of but under her unapologetic gaze, I did as I was told, leaving my manhood swinging in the breeze. I heard a couple of the other dryads passing comments. Flax-Seed reached and grabbed my testicles in one hand while she held the bulb in another. I felt an odd tingling sensation in my testicles which was not entirely unpleasant but I had to force myself to remain still. Flax-Seed examined the bulb for a moment, a small spider ran over the bulb and her hand which seemed to surprise the older Dryad. She turned and looked at me again before nodding.

“You may clothe yourself.” She told me. It might have been my imagination but she seemed to speak a little kinder and more relaxed. “You are young, fertile and not too badly damaged. You will be of use to us.” She declared. “Go and stand over there.” She pointed to where the healer woman was. She smiled as I limped over.

Then she went onto Kerrass. She took one look at him, noticed his eyes and nodded.

“You are a Witcher and the decision as to Witchers cannot be made by me as you are not useful to us in a traditional sense. But Witchers are special cases. You answer to a higher authority. Go and stand with your friend.”

Trayka was next.

“Remove your shirt.” Flax-Seed ordered.

“What, in front of…”

“Modesty is a construct child and is, therefore, a weakness,” Flax-Seed said, not unkindly. “Would it help you if these other women displayed their breasts to the world?”

Trayka did as she was told. I deliberately looked away and gazed off into the trees so I did not see the examination.

“You may put your shirt back on.” Flax-Seed ordered. “Despite your own best efforts, you are still young enough and fertile enough. You will need to take some healing draughts I think, but it is not an insurmountable obstacle. Go and stand with your companions.”

Trayka frowned at that but did as she was told.

Stefan was not happy. “I will not be subject to your filthy… I do not recognise your authority and I will not take part in your…”

“You are presuming that you have a choice in the matter,” Flax-Seed said. “Drop your trousers and undergarments if you are wearing them.”

The fight went out of Stefan.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Don’t make me… My soul is…”

Flax-Seed sighed audibly. I was still looking away.

“Restrain him.” She ordered. I looked back then as two of the Dryads came forth and wrestled Stefan to the ground. He fought but the two women knew what they were doing. His trousers were pulled down and his undergarments followed. Flax-Seed crouched, near his groin when Stefan’s legs were pinned. I looked away again.

Stefan moaned.

“You may cover yourself,” Flax-Seed told him matter of factly.

Stefan was helped to his feet but he seemed to me to have lost something. He seemed shrunken, lesser than he had been.

“You too are young and fertile enough to serve our purposes. Go and stand with the others.”

Stefan limped over. Shoulders hunched.

Henrik had already calmly pulled his trousers down. Flax-Seed said nothing as she touched him. “You may cover yourself.” She told him before stepping back.

“You are old and used up.” She told Henrik who nodded. I still wonder if he knew what was coming. “He is here out of love.” Flax-Seed told her guards. “Make it quick.”

The guards stepped forward and with one movement thrust the spears into Henrik’s body and they exploded out of his back with a crunching sound of bone and a spray of blood.

He coughed and spat more blood onto the forest floor as he turned to look at his daughter. The two guards pulled their spears out and from somewhere, Henrik summoned a groan as he fell forwards.

“NOOOOOO.” Trayka screamed, surging towards her fallen father. “NOOOOO.”

Kerrass caught her.

Henrik was on his knees now, still upright.

He smiled.

Trayka thrashed around and struggled in Kerrass’ grip. She might have made it too but another dryad, caught her and pulled her into a hug.

“NOOOOOO.” She screamed.

Henrik looked up at the guards, one of which had drawn her knife. He closed his eyes as she leant forward and cut his throat. It is much harder to cut a throat than it looks on stage and Henrik’s neck was a powerful one. The blood sprayed and the Dryad danced aside to avoid it as Henrik fell forward.

“NOOOOOO.”

It did not take long for Henrik to bleed to death. I thought of the kindly old man that had bound my injury without being asked when I first met him and the gratitude on his face when I helped him with his poisoning.

“NOOOOOO.” Trayka screamed again. “NOOOOOOO.”

The medic dryad stepped forward with a thorn and pushed it into Trayka’s neck.

“Nooooo.” She moaned as she collapsed into Kerrass’ arms.

I scrubbed the tears from my eyes with the back of my arm.