So I need to start today by addressing the monster in the room. For those of you who are aware of my current situation, Yes I am still at home dealing with the recent family crisis and no, I cannot tell you anything else about it for legal reasons.
I am very sorry for this but I promise that I will let matters be known as soon as I am able to do so because although the repercussions of recent events are not terribly important on the larger scale, they may make a difference locally.
For those of you who are unaware of what has happened amongst my family then all I am able to say at the moment is that there has been a crisis at home that this has required my immediate presence back at the castle. I cannot go into what this is all about at this stage but rest assured, those people who follow these writings to examine the processes of how a Witcher works will soon have something to examine and ponder as the crisis has involved Kerrass as quite an important player in the entire process.
The side effect of the reality that I am currently living at home is that I can once again be reached by the university and other members of the public who wish to correspond with me on various topics. First of all, let me thank all of you for all of the kind words that you have sent my family and me in this most difficult of times. All of the letters have been read although it would be impossible to respond to all of them. Suffice it to say that they are all appreciated and my family and I are grateful to the extreme.
Things at the castle are at that phase of proceedings where there isn't anything else that can be done until various results come in and permissions have been received for certain steps to be taken. So having spent the last few days wandering around the castle feeling aimless Kerrass, who is much better at waiting for things than I am, advised me to lock myself up in one of the clerks offices and do some work. In the meantime he and my soldier brother have spent the days talking about fencing. A subject that seems to provide them both with endless entertainment.
So I read letters, sending brief replies to those people that cannot wait or will not wait (Royal decrees and University Professors respectively in case you were wondering) and a letter from my publisher to say that they eagerly await the next “Kerrass adventure”.
I'll just let those two words sink into your brain for a minute.
I am becoming mortally afraid that I am making my companion famous. Something that he doesn't want, especially given some of the things that we've talked about, and doesn't need in his line of work. When he talks about other Witchers, the subject of the White Wolf often comes up, as it must when we're talking about famous Witchers, and Kerrass talks of the man with pity and a certain level of amusement.
Even though I think he secretly enjoys the extra attention. More than once I've caught him preening in front of a mirror when he's been introduced to someone important or a member of my family. Checking himself in a reflective surface and so on. I've found that it is easy to deflate him at such times by reminding him that cats lick the back of their hands to get the best possible grooming possible.
He then tends to demand some kind of training routine that leaves me with aches and bruises as punishment.
But even so, fame is hard to avoid for a Witcher. One of the recurring themes of the letters that I have been receiving recently is the question of why do Witchers get involved with politics all the time despite their supposed neutrality?
That's a difficult question to answer but what it seems to come down to is that politics seems to find them despite their own best efforts.
Of course I have a story to back up my point. Otherwise I wouldn't be writing the thing would I?
Sorry, Sorry. It hasn't been a good week.
The way it goes is this. The average village can only generally afford a Witcher to deal with a relatively small threat. Nest of Nekkers, Necrophage problems, maybe a grave hag if it's quite a prosperous village or something.
Anything larger though and a village can't afford it. They club together and send a delegation off to the local lord to beg for his aid in such a matter. The first thing that happens is that the lord sends out some of his/her finest warriors/knights/arms-men/lackeys to dispense with the beast. They inevitably fail but the lord/lady feels as though this is an important step in the process of proving their Lordliness to everyone involved.
Unfortunately this failure makes beast angry and then there are fewer villagers. So Lord eventually decides to hire a Witcher. Witcher turns up and does job before demanding payment. Lords, being Lords, start to make noises about how a Witcher should just do the job due to some kind of feudal responsibility to the local lord. Witcher tries not to laugh, Witcher goes to jail. Does some work for Lord in effort to gain freedom. Lord decides he/she has pet Witcher and suddenly the Witcher is involved in politics.
Yes, I'm aware of the irony of a minor member of the nobility talking about Lords like this.
The long and short of it is that only Lords/Ladies and particularly wealthy merchants can afford the Witchers rates.
Which are justified. I've been there when Kerrass has to shop for some of his rarer potion ingredients to take down a griffin, or watched as he's spent literal hours diving to a river bed to find one herb or another, or rooting through graveyards, or caving or.....
You get the idea.
The other reason is that of all people, and these two facts go hand in hand, it's the Lords and Ladies that have the resources to find a Witcher on the road. But they also have a misunderstanding in that they don't really know what a Witcher does. They hear “hired Monster Killer” and hear “Hitman for hire,” or “Murderer for hire,” or “Bounty-hunter for hire,” because a Lord/Ladies idea of what constitutes a monster is often different from yours or mine.
As another example of this kind of thing I refer you to the ballad “A question of price” from the works of Dandelion the Bard regarding the first meeting between the Lioness of Cintra, the fabled Ard Rhena, Queen Calanthe Fiona Riannon of Cintra and Geralt, the White Wolf, of Rivia.
However Kerrass and I have a slightly different story to tell. It's a story that still gives Kerrass some amusement and myself a little... well... terror in the base of my stomach because of what it might mean. However it is also a story that may become important in future times. It's a story about a monsters decision and maybe it's a story about the future. Especially when it comes to my families affairs as it would seem that...well...
She wasn't joking.
This year, as soon as we left Oxenfurt it became clear that Kerrass was a man on a mission. There were things to do in his head and places where they needed doing. We headed east and slightly North, heading roughly into Kaedwen in that area of the country that Nilfgaard had taken in the war before the peace agreement had been agreed upon. I don't know where he was going or what he was looking for and to be truthful I didn't ask. The plan was that we were going to head up into Kaedwen where there are regular annual problems with Forktails (apparently) and after that we were going to head back down into Northern Temeria around the Velen region as when the climate warms up, the necrophages will emerge from their holes to feast on the still rotting corpses that are lying around the area. Some of them might be even larger and a good living could be made there over the summer.
Turns out Necrophages hibernate in Winter.
Who knew?
We were heading down the road heading Northish from Southern Aedirn into South Eastern Kaedwen. Although I know that we were well into Kaedwen when it happened.
We were riding along minding our own business when we heard horses approaching behind us. Approaching fast.
In my experience, which is now considerably more than it was when I started this journey, people don't tend to gallop their horses unless they absolutely have to. For a start, it tires the horses out as most horses are built for strength to be able to pull the wagons or carry the knights along. Think about it. The knights on a battle-field don't sound the charge at the beginning of things. They wait, increase to a gentle trot as they reach arrow range and it's only at the last second that they sound the charge. This is for two reasons, the first is so that the full weight of the formation of knights in armour hit the defensive line at roughly the same time. But the other reason, the important one in this instance is that if they all set off at that speed at the same time, the horse would be dying of exhaustion before it got to the enemy lines.
So people only gallop their horses when they're chasing someone, or they're running from someone. We had both discounted the possibility of a messenger on the grounds that they tend to travel alone. This was definitely a group of horsemen and they were coming on fast.
Kerrass was well aware of my thinking and scanned the terrain and lead us on.
Oh, there is another reason why people might gallop their horses. It's because the horses owners are rich pricks who don't really know what they're doing.
I remember that it was a warm day,, a clear sky and lack of breeze making it hotter and that the heat lay heavy on us. Both of us were in our shirt-sleeves and had been riding gently and occasionally walking the horses to keep them from being too winded or worn out. There were large water sacks on the horses which we were using to keep us hydrated along with the horses. It was a farm track really with grass growing down the middle between the wheel ruts, a fairly old wooden fence on one side kept the average traveller away from a tiny flock of sheep and there were several small plumes of smoke that rose gently into the day.
We had been talking about romance. I remember this because Kerrass was teasing me for being a romantic.
The things we remember...
It seems so long ago now, even though it is technically only a few months ago.
But anyway.
Kerrass led us off the road on the other side from the sheep enclosure. There were some woods behind us and the ground dipped just in front between us and the road. I could imagine the dip being home to a small pond in wetter months. Then we waited.
There are of course other reasons. It could be a royal party, or an otherwise armed party, or a hunting party who had decided to stretch their horses legs or some other group of people who would come galloping down the road at such a speed that they wouldn't notice as their horses just ride you down like the peasant the rider knows you to be.
Sorry again.
But anyway. The riding party came into view cresting the rise in the road in an array of armour and colour that would have made any storied knight of Toussaint proud.
One of them was actually carrying a banner as if we should all know the person who owned it.
They then blew a horn and they clattered to a halt on the road facing us as I tried not to laugh. My first thought was about the poor horses as I'd spent a good amount of the past few days worrying about the welfare of my horse and my mind was still stuck in that groove.
Then I thought about the men. Most of them were wearing chain-mail under a tunic with plate shoulder guards and helms. I could almost imagine the sweat trickling down the backs of their necks and shuddered.
Then I thought of how ridiculous they all looked. On a day like today using an actual signalling horn to tell their fellow riders when to stop and things.
But I didn't laugh.
Kerrass had spent some time teaching me awareness of things or, as he put it, useful paranoia. He would say that it's not paranoia if the bastards are really after you and also this wonderful gem of Witcher wisdom “Some people might call it Paranoia, I call it caution.”
Words of Wisdom.
Anyway.
The thing that got to my mind was that the men were all armed and that those weapons had seen heavy use. You can tell by the markings on the hilts.
The leader was a slightly smaller man than the rest of his knights but the overall effect was offset by the fact that he was the only one wearing full plate harness. He won points from me for not having too much ornamentation about himself other than the fact that his armour was obviously rather expensive as it had the blue sheen of steel that comes from a dwarven forge. His sword was strapped to his saddle along with his shield, both of which were plain and worn but next to them was a contraption that I had not seen before sitting in a new looking leather pouch.
He dismounted easily and strode towards us which was another tell-tale sign that he knew how to move in armour without being massively built.
So I didn't laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire situation.
He was joined by a servant who was carrying a pack and a water bottle, a squire and the man with the banner. He took off his helmet as he approached and waited with what looked like a practised patience while he was announced as Lord Philibert Dorme Duke of Angral by the man with the banner.
I checked on a map. It's a Duchy just south of the border between Kaedwen as was and what used to be Aedern. I expect it was used as a kind of buffer zone between the two nations before the Emperor started to get ambitious.
Lord Philibert won himself a few points by seeming to be kind of bored but also kind of resigned to the heraldic nonsense and I felt myself rise to the occasion.
“Lord Dorme, Allow me to present myself and my companion. My name is Frederick von Coulthard and it is my honour to present Witcher Kerrass of the Feline school.”
My bow was possibly a little more flowery than required from a sweaty man on the side of the road but the kind of noble who would be dressed in full plate and chain on a day like this seemed as though he deserved it. Etiquette used as a weapon.
He echoed my bow, the depth of bow slightly shallower than my own.
“Any relation to Baron von Coulthard of Redaina.”
He was surprised. I could hear it in his voice. So not particularly courtly then. Any real courtier would have hidden that surprise as it was too early in our meeting to give anything away.
“He would describe it as a distant relation My Lord.”
He smiled warmly.
“A younger son then,”
I bowed the affirmative and he turned to Kerrass.
“Master Witcher. Are you available for a hire?”
Kerrass nodded. “As always, that would depend on the hire and the amount of money offered Lord. But I am not currently under contract.”
“As I should expect. May I offer some hospitality while we talk? It's only some small things. Pastries and the like as well as some wine.”
“That would be agreeable.”
We went a small ways along the road to a place where the ground was a little flatter and a pavilion was set up with remarkable speed that betrayed much practice.
“So what can I do for you Lord Dorme?” Kerrass said after eating a couple of sandwiches.
Lord Philibert, who was actually a little older than I had first guessed he was now that we were a bit closer to him, his dark hair was clearly dyed black but there was a sprinkling of grey in amongst the roots, waved off a couple of his hangers on and frowned at me.
“Frederick is my assistant and companion in my professional matters Lord Dorme. He has my every confidence in his assistance and his discretion.” Kerrass' use of language again. He was showing off. I had noticed that he knew the correct way to hold a cup several times.
“It's a little embarrassing to tell the truth,” Now that I was looking for it there was also make-up on his face. The kind that ladies use to hide unsightly bits. He scratched his chin.
“Well, the more you tell me the more I will be able to advise you and help you.”
“I appreciate that.” He took a long swig from a wine glass.
“Have you or your companion ever head of the Black Sun curse?”
Kerrass smirked a little “That stupidity. Yes I know it.” Lord Dorme looked at me and I nodded.
For those people who don't know the story of the Black Sun problem then briefly it goes like this. At one point in the past, tellingly no-one can agree when it was, roughly 50-60 years ago there was an eclipse. Several astrologers, Wizards and priests decided that it was a bad omen and that anyone born under the Black Sun were cursed. Born deformed of body and Mind destined to drown the world in rivers of blood. They then went on something of a crusade, finding these poor creatures, killing them wherever possible and imprisoning them where it wasn't.
The enemies of these men and the Black Sun Theory point out several facts. They say that any evidence that these girls were malformed was destroyed after being dissected by proponents of the theory, that the results of the persecution of these women wholly benefited the theorists or their allies and any monstrous act caused by these girls could also be explained away by the persecution that these girls had received at the hands of the priests, wizards and Astrologers.
As a historian, the only thing I can say is this. The sun did not turn black, it was an eclipse. One that had been predicted at that. As for the rest of it. There are so many holes in the theory that both sides can argue themselves hoarse for days on end without conclusion. I also noticed that all the subjects of the curse were young and attractive girls and all of the main proponents of the curse were single, lonely old men.
For further information on the Curse of the Black Sun I recommend the works of Dandelion the bard, specifically that work called “The Lesser of two evils” and the original prophecy is discussed in “The curse of the Black Sun,” by the arch-mage Etibald or the counter treatise that is a much larger book called “The Mania of Mad Etibald” by several different authors.
“Good, however it's not that bit that's really embarrassing although it is embarrassing enough. I am the Duke of Angral, making me second only to the King of Angraal. We don't call it that anymore of course as according to both Kaedwen and Nilfgaard I am a Count and the King is a Duke of those realms but that scarcely matters in the local area. It is governed by the King and we are a relatively small patch of land, of no strategic importance to either state so as long as the taxes turn up on time we can call ourselves what we like,
“I won't go into the whole messy business of the hereditary ruler-ship of Angraal as it's a waste of everyone's time. But suffice to say that there isn't an heir for Angraal soon then the balance of power in our little realm would crumble. Which, in turn, would mean that we would probably come to the attention of someone important. They then might decide that Angraal would make for a nice gift to some lackey of theirs and the whole thing falls apart. Much though I dislike the King, he and I both agree that this problem needs sorting out.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He scratched his chin again.
“So you need an heir?” Kerrass put in.
“Yes,”
“Then I don't understand the problem. Get married and make the woman pregnant in the usual fashion.”
“Here comes the problem though. That problem being my mother.”
I nearly laughed but Kerrass didn't.
“I'm not a hitman,” he said coldly.
“Holy Flame no, that's not the hire. Believe me, I have read the works of the bard and know exactly what it is that Witchers do.
“My mother is a traditionalist and as such she is responsible for choosing my bride. Unfortunately I am something of the apple of her eye being the only living son that she was able to produce and as such she has decided that I deserve the best.”
“I see,” Kerrass said, “None of the ladies the King has sent you meet her requirements.”
“As you say,” Lord Dorme scratched his chin again, it seemed to be a nervous habit. “She finds some fault with them all, turning them away one by one, often before I meet the ladies in question and without regard for my personal tastes. We finally managed to get out of her what the problem was and that problem is that she is looking for a Princess of the type that I deserve.”
“There aren't that many princesses about nowadays,” I commented.
“Precisely,” said Lord Dorme. “All the time men are telling the King to have me killed as a threat to his rule and other men are hassling me to raise my banners in rebellion and take what they think, and my mother secretly thinks, as my rightful throne.”
“I also have no time for politics.” Kerrass put in rising to his feet.
“I understand master Witcher. I really do. Please hear me out.”
Kerrass settled down again and there was another chin scratch.
“In the end though I found a Princess,” he paused for a long moment. I couldn't help it, that thumb scratch to the side of his chin was drawing my eyes like the flash of a rabbit in the undergrowth.
The silence dragged.
“There's a huge 'but' coming isn't there,” I heard myself say.
“Indeed,” That fucking scratch. I wanted to offer him some kind of salve to help with that itch.
“Otherwise I wouldn't need a Witcher would I?” I was getting to him. I couldn't quite decide whether that was a good thing or not. If it was a problem Kerrass would interrupt me though.
“The thing is,” Lord Dorme went on, “is that the Princess in question is one of the victims of the Black Sun mania,”
“She was one of those girls that were locked up in a tower when the curse came to light?” Kerrass asked,
“We believe so. We found the records to say what it was and where it was and things. We even know her name as being Princess Jasmine,”
“Forgive me Lord Dorme but...” I began. “The Black Sun mania took place, even at the most extreme end of the scale, over forty odd years ago. Even if she was locked up at the very end of the mania then she would be well past the point at which she could bear you a son, if she's even alive.” I don't know what I was expecting. Some kind of shout down I suppose.
“You are not wrong,” he said ruefully, “but, it will appease my mother which means that she will relax her hold on my wedding preparations. If we can go there, get past the protections that have been placed around the tower, get in and categorically state that it's empty then my mother has promised that I can marry who I like, rather than press me into being one of the many suitors who have sent their suit down to the new Empress.”
I smiled sympathetically. There wasn't an unmarried nobleman in the northern Kingdoms that wasn't having romantic dreams about sweeping the young heir to the throne of Nilfgaard off her feet, no matter how unrealistic those dreams might be. From what little I had heard she had proclaimed loudly, and forcefully if rumour was to be believed, that she was too busy for that kind of thing.
Kerrass was shaking his head though.
“Lord Dorme, I'm not sure what you want me to do. Leaving the political problems aside, I think you would be better off with a Sorcerer or Wizard of some kind. The enchantment that protects a tower like that would be old by now and unpredictable, even if it was built to last so you might even be able to find yourself a village Witch who could serve, or even a priest. I am a Witcher and my training is rather.... focused towards other areas.”
“I understand Master Witcher, I really do but unfortunately you are the best of what is available to me at the moment and things are coming to a head at what we think of as our royal court. Isn't my understanding correct that Witchers would prefer to lift curses anyway?”
“Yes, but not to remove them from castles.”
“I am willing to pay handsomely.”
“Money is not the issue, I am more concerned that what you are asking is simply beyond my capabilities.”
“Master Witcher I... I need this to be done I...”
He looked desperate. Unhappy and desperate. I leapt to a conclusion. The wrong one as it would turn out.
“Have you chosen a bride my Lord?” I asked quietly with a grin and a wink.
Lord Dorme said nothing but I did see his eyes twinkle a little.
“I'll offer this Lord Dorme,” said Kerrass after a long pause. “How far away is this tower?”
“If we set off now we could be there by tomorrow morning.”
Kerrass nodded to himself.
“Very well. In return for dinner and breakfast on the road towards the tower as well as say, twenty florins for the lost time. I will come and look at this tower of yours and make a recommendation. If I can get you in I will, but the price will need to be renegotiated there. If I decide that it's too dangerous or that I can't do it. The two of us ride away with the 20 florins in pocket.”
“Agreed.” The response was a shade too fast but I put it down to the desperation of a romantic soul.
“I decide whether I proceed and only I decide. If I decide to move on, we're moving on and you won't try to stop us,” Kerrass was staring at Lord Dorme to emphasise his point.
“I agree,” Lord Dorme confirmed.
“Very well.”
The ride itself was relatively pleasant. We rode at a pace that was a little faster than I think either Kerrass or myself were comfortable with given the sunlight but it really wasn't long. Turns out that Lords like to work hard and play hard on this kind of thing. We rode until it started to get dark, down farm tracks and wooded lanes mostly, the paths and things becoming thinner and more overgrown as we went. I noticed that Kerrass in particular was paying close attention to the route so quite frankly I just let him get on with it. To my mind we were heading roughly northwards towards a smallish outcropping of mountains.
As it started to get dark Lord Dorme announced a dismount and we led the horses through some undergrowth and we came to a clearing that had obviously been prepared before hand. A much larger pavilion was up and there were already many other men there, servants, grooms and squires as well as a number of other men-at-arms. Lord Dorme told us that this was one of many armed camps that he was maintaining in case the King decided to listen to his advisers and come for his head after all. He didn't think it was likely but at the same time he didn't think there was any such thing as being too cautious.
He disappeared into his pavilion and dealt with things. A number of messengers and knights went in after him and so there was quite a lot of talking and indeed a lot of shouting to be heard through the canvas walls. Kerrass and I made sure that we saw to it that our own horses were well cared for and looked after before pitching our own little camp where we were told to.
I remembered the lectures that Kerrass had given me about orderly camping at the beginning of our partnership and as I looked around at the furious pace of work all around us I found myself remembering those talks and shouting matches and thought that Kerrass had actually let me off easy.
We dined with Lord Dorme and his inner circle that night. The food was pleasant enough despite being disguised trail food along with some venison, cheese and some actually fairly good wine but there was a tension in the air. The laughter had a stifled feeling to it as though people were uncomfortable.
I remember thinking at the time that it was just that the two of us were strangers here and so some of the nuances were lost on us.
We rose early the following day, ate, watered our horses and saw to our own needs but even though Kerrass and I took our time we were both ready long before Lord Dorme's troop was ready. People were dashing in and out of his pavilion very quickly and more sounds of argument came from indoors.
Eventually though we were all up and organised and we set out With Lord Dorme dressed in his armour. His squire was also carrying a wrapped up box, just a small one but I saw it and was momentarily curious about it.
It's easy to look back with hindsight and think that we should have paid more attention to different details but at the time I was too busy checking my gear.
Priorities right?
Anyway.
It was another crisp and clear morning as we set out and I enjoyed myself. Kerrass had both swords on his back that morning and had spent the time that we were waiting for the others reading from a large and weighty tome that he carried around with him. He frowned as he rode, obviously deep in thought and I decided that I wouldn't disturb him.
The sun was out, trees were beginning to find their leaves and there was a general sense of the world returning to life. There was also an excitement amongst the other riders, a contained energy and sense of purpose. They rode on either side of Kerrass and I who were riding just behind Lord Dorme who was someone else who seemed deep in thought.
We rode through fields and small windbreaks of trees, fields divided by fences and loose grey stone. Piled together in that way that would remain standing for decades, if not centuries, if no-one interfered with them. Lord Dorme seemed to know his route though and led us confidently and surely. Farm workers bowed to us as we passed, sheep and cows were herded out of our way and rabbits were poking their noses out of their burrows to watch us cautiously as we rode.
We were heading towards a range of hills, the mountains still off in the distance but these seemed to be the foothills that would lead up to those mountains. Rocky outcrops could be seen cresting the top of them and suddenly I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
Kerrass is a great believer in these kinds of premonitions and instincts. He declared once that instinct is the left over from our savage past and that we should always listen to them. I looked sharply over to him to discover that he was watching me closely.
As carefully and nonchalantly as I could I drew the pole attachment out and fastened it to the end of my spear and took the cover from the blade.
Kerrass nodded and I saw him palm a potion bottle to his mouth under the cover of clearing his throat. I wouldn't have seen it if I wasn't looking for it.
I was not the only one on edge as a few of the knights started to shift around in their saddles and a small amount of muttering could be heard.
Lord Dorme ignored all of this and just carried on riding.
We entered a woodland track. The trees themselves seemed strange and far too uniform. The older trees seemed to be uniformly planted in rows. Younger trees sprouted all over the place but the older ones all seemed artificial in some ways. It reminded me of an orchard that had been left unattended for some years to recover from over-pruning. I remember thinking that it might be quite pretty later on in the spring but the thought just seemed to wither in my brain like an un-watered flower.
The path started to weave between the trees, this way and that way as well as becoming narrower. More than one of the nights had shifted their shields onto their arms and rode with their hands resting on their sword pommels.
I was no horseback fighter though so I adjusted my stirrups so that I could easily leap from them at a moments notice.
Just as I began to think that there would be no end to woods, they started to thin again and become unhealthy in their appearance. Stunted, brown and black leaves and trunks with the sickly sweet smell of wood rot and mould lying heavily in the air.
Despite the winter and the early spring rains, the grass grew in clumps rather than as a blanket across the floor. We had ridden into a deep valley. You could climb up the sides of the valley but you would struggle to lead a horse up there as well as there being loose stone up the banks.
The patches of grass died out and the ground became almost burned. Black and brown and utterly dead.
But that was not the thing that caught the eye.
“Oh Fuck off,” I heard myself whisper in wonder and disgust at almost exactly the moment that the horses started to freak out.
Ahead of us was a....
Now I've spent a long time trying to think of the proper word or words to describe the building that greeted our sights as we we merged from the tree line. Calling it a castle summons an image of a curtain wall, maybe some trenches and hillocks around the outside to confound siege-works, maybe some battlements, crenelations along the top of the walls. Towers with arrow slits as well as a keep kept well back from the walls. You probably start to think of moats, drawbridges and portcullis's.
This thing had none of those things.
From the earlier talk about Princesses and the Curse of the Black Sun I had expected a tower. Not a fairy tale one with a ridiculous room perched on top of an impossibly thin spire and a red tiled roof.
It wasn't a fortress either, small, squat and ugly.
It didn't stand on a rocky outcrop, silhouetted against the sky with ominous foreboding crows circling it. I don't really know what one of those things is called but whatever they're called it wasn't one of those.
I find that the word 'Citadel' has the right kind of over tones to it.
What it was was a spike in the ground. It was difficult to judge how tall it was from this distance but spike it was, broad at the bottom and tapering up to a rounded off point at the top. It wasn't jagged or sharp looking. Indeed it looked smooth from this distance. There was also a spray of similar spikes jutting out from the base in all directions in what looked like a circle. They were evenly spread around the central spike raised up from the ground at an angle like the thorns and points from a crown. At the base of those spikes there was indeed a wall that went from one spike to another.
It was a difficult building to describe. It was just so impossible. The jutting out spikes were massive enough that they were impossible. Nothing could stand like that. It was so obviously magical in design that I would have known it even if Kerrass' pendant wasn't obviously dancing around like it was possessed.
The spikes themselves looked like they were black. Deepest black glass and it was as though we could see something in the depths of that glass. Something alive that if you stared at it for too long you ran the danger of recognising it. It drew the eye though and you had to tear your gaze away from the green and purple flashes that seemed to come from the depths.
There was also a light at the top of the tower that burned a steady and bright blue which clashed with the green and purple tints in the glass in a way to make me feel nauseous.
“Yeah,” said Kerrass thoughtfully. “Yep, no way. No way am I going anywhere near that thing, nor is my companion, and if you follow my advice you won't go anywhere near it either. This place is so obviously corrupted and cursed that the best advice I can give you is to send to the Empress, letting her know what exists here so that she can send a Sorceress or three here to deal with the place but I am leaving now. I wish you all the very best of luck. Frederick? Are you coming?”
“Fuck yes,” I breathed out having to tear my gaze away from the horrid, stomach churning thing. I had noticed that there was a path down to it. On either side of it were crosses at regular intervals. Some had fallen but on at least one I could see a skeleton had been tied.
“Fuck yes I'm coming.” I turned my horse away.
Or at least I tried to. Someone was holding my horses bridle.
“Wait, just a moment.” Lord Dorme's voice sounded calm and unsurprised.
“Oh don't do it.” I muttered. “You were doing so well,”
My horse had been blocked by two of the knights. One of them had taken hold of my bridle while I was looking at the citadel and the other on my right grabbed me by the scruff of the neck as Lord Dorme spoke.
“You can keep your reward Lord Dorme. I find I don't need it.
Kerrass' voice was cold. I turned and could see him facing off with Lord Dorme.
The knight who had me by the scruff of the neck had drawn a knife and was holding it to my throat.
I started to chastise myself for not seeing this coming in the first place.
Lord Dorme's face had shifted slightly. Now that I was looking at him in profile he reminded me more of a falcon about to strike.
“I'm afraid I really must insist Master Witcher. You see today has taken far too much preparation and far too many sacrifices for me to simply stop here.”
“Explain to me why any of that is my problem,” Kerrass' face was a mask but his hands hadn't moved yet. I waited, watching carefully.
“Because if you don't do what I ask...”
“asking implies the possibility of a negative response,” Kerrass interrupted.
Lord Dorme smiled. “Forgive me then. What I demand.” He pronounced the words clearly and carefully. “then your companion will die.”
Another chill went down my spine.
“So?” Kerrass shrugged. His eyes on Dorme were intense. “He's a companion. Nothing more.”
“Do not take me for a fool Kerrass. I know who you are and I know who he is. I have read his “Travels” with much interest and how you saved him from madness. You obviously care about him a great deal.”
“I am a Witcher. I was indebted to him. Besides, Frederick is the kind of noble that you wouldn't understand because you're an unspeakable prick. He's a good man. He would willingly sacrifice himself and then I would be free to escape you. Isn't that right Frederick?”
I considered for a moment.
“Probably,” I said, “although I would appreciate it if you could see your way to murdering this cunt
at some point. I've no doubt that father would be good for your fee.”
“There you are Lord Dorme, so why should I go down there again?”
Dorme hissed.
Kerrass' left hand moved and I acted.
If there are any running themes through these articles and journal excerpts that I keep coming back to one of them is this.
Since starting my travels with Kerrass he has been training me to not be completely incompetent when violence starts. He works me hard and after that first time in the village with the Nekkers I have never once complained about how hard he works me.
I am not talented. I do not have “The look of the eagles” or “The bearing of a soldier” or I'm not “A warrior born” or any of the other poetic nonsense that is put about. I find it hard. Kerrass has to show me a move over and over and over again before I get it down and even then I have to practice it over and over and over again plus a couple of dozen times more to get it good enough to actually use it.
Kerrass and I have often talked about why that is and our conclusion which, to his credit, Kerrass has never once given me grief about, is that my brain tends to get in the way. Rather than existing in the moment of violence and letting my training and body memory take over I want to think about it.
I want to strategise and think about the best way to do it.
But what I do have is one significant advantage.
I was trained to fight by a hardened killer.
Most people don't want to kill someone. They have a tendency to automatically pull that last sword blow or close their eyes before loosing that fatal arrow that takes their enemy in the groin. It takes years, sometimes, to overcome that instinct and train a soldier to do the killing which is why most units of soldiers are taught using rote techniques so that the movements required to kill are so ingrained that they've killed their enemies before they've realised it.
One of the other thing here, outside the absurdly evil looking citadel, was that I wasn't perceived as a threat. The only person that everyone was looking at was Kerrass.
The other problem was that knights have a code of honour that governs their ability to murder someone. In this case, just slitting my throat would have been murder so they needed to be ordered to do it. Plus the fact that they clearly wanted to use me as leverage to control Kerrass.
Plus that little amount of haggling between Dorme and Kerrass meant that I could lay my plan.
My left hand came up and took hold of the wrist holding the knife. My right arm lashed backwards aiming my elbow at roughly where I hope the man's face was.
As I hoped, he automatically flinched backwards from the blow.
My left leg kicked out at the horse on my left and used that momentum as well as my weight and the man's flinch to drive the two of us off the horse and down to the right.
I landed on top of him as the breath whooshed out of us both. The fall probably hurt me more than him as he was armoured and padded whereas I was still only in some light leathers.
But I was on top and that made all the difference.
I managed to roll so that I was facing him, still inside the circle of his right arm and dagger. If he'd reversed the dagger and stabbed at the back he might have killed me then but his reflex was to just slash wildly and so all he managed to do was to gouge chunks out of the leather. My right hand found my boot dagger, a practised movement, that had needed practising, and I drove it under the man's chin and into his brain.
Blood exploded over my hand as though his neck vomited blood.
Fortunately for us both he died quickly and I was able to stand up and act further.
He was the third man I have ever killed.
The dead man's horse was between me and my spear though so I lashed out at it attempting to smack it on it's arse and get it to move.
The clash of steel from nearby told me that Kerrass was still alive. The horse wasn't moving. I checked around me to see what was going on. Most of the other knights had automatically run to engage Kerrass but there was Dorme's personal guard who would prevent me from mounting up and riding off and there was also the banner-bearer who was staring at me open mouthed.
Somewhere my screaming brain decided that he was a threat and I charged towards him, still only with a dagger in my hand.
He realised that all he had was a banner pole and he tried to draw his sword but the stupid fool still had hold of the banner-pole rather than letting it fall.
I barrelled into him as the sword was half out aiming my dagger in a thrust for his eyes.
Here's a tip. Always go for the eyes.
He fell and I grabbed the pole as he fell.
If you ever find yourself in a fight, try and remember this. The ground is not your friend. Get up.
He didn't and I stamped on his neck as hard as I could.
Some of Dorme's personal guard had realised that I was an actual threat now and were coming for me.
The banner staff was not a good weapon, it was longer than my spear and it had the drag of the flag. I managed to tear the flag off but then they were on me and I was using it like an overly long quarterstaff.
They had me tied up then. I suspect, I hope, that I gave more than one of them a bruise or two to
remember me by but to defend myself I had to back off to keep them all in check and I was just blocking with no time for offence.
They backed me up and backed me up. They were winded in their armour but I was handicapped and really starting to feel the earlier bruising. I was also worrying because I had gotten turned around and had no idea what was behind me.
Lord Dorme as it turned out.
There was a “thunking” noise and it felt as though a horse had kicked me in the backside.
I staggered and fell forwards but caught myself. My right leg was numb and not responding.
Dorme said something then although I didn't catch it.
I snarled, still in fighting mode and spun around but my leg still didn't respond and I staggered again falling to one knee.
I then realised that no-one was attacking me.
Dorme's guards were backing off, still with swords drawn because they weren't stupid. The banner-bearer was being helped up as he clutched at his throat choking.
Dorme had a crossbow in his hand, a hand that was wrapped in the biggest and thickest leather glove that I had ever seen.
I didn't know why but I felt a chill then.
Dorme handed the crossbow to his squire and carefully took the glove off.
The fighting around Kerrass had also stopped and those knights were also backing off. Kerrass was as confused as I was and started moving towards me. He was slow, cautious, feet sliding along the floor. His sword was ready, held flat as his eyes scanned across the line of men facing us.
Dorme was being handed a small box from one of the squires packs.
I pulled myself up again. Feeling was beginning to return now and that feeling was pain.
“Ow,” I said as Kerrass got to me. We were both still facing the enemy.
“You've been shot in the backside.”
“Now that's a scar I'm not going to want to show off.” I muttered feeling a little giddy.
“Oh I don't know. Some girls like that kind of thing.”
Dorme came forwards, accompanied by a couple of guards. Still well outside our weapons reach.
Dorme was holding a small glass bottle that had a pink liquid in it. A tiny amount.
“Here's how it is Witcher. I know that you're immune so instead I have just shot your companion with a poisoned dart.”
“Which poison?” Kerrass asked conversationally.
“An expensive one,” Dorme was smiling thinly. “Expensive enough that I have been promised that the only antidote in easy reach is in my hand. In a very thin and fragile glass bottle. That I will drop to be smashed on the ground if you do anything I dislike. Expensive enough that your companion's death will be horrible and will occur within a couple of hours. Check the bolt if you like, it should come out easily enough, the bolt is not barbed but you are wasting time.”
Kerrass knelt next to me.
“You ready?” he asked me.
I hissed as he took hold of the bolt.
“Fuck no,”
He yanked it out anyway.
“Well?” I asked, struggling to keep my eyes on the enemies rather than whatever Kerrass was up to.
Kerrass inspected the bolt.
I heard him sniff. I imagined him tasting the end of the bolt knowing his immunity.
He sighed.
“Fuck,” he said.