(Warning: Scenes of torture and violence against women. Shown to exhibit the sickness of the people involved. Also, “The God” referred to by some characters doesn't describe or have any relation with any Earth based religions. That's just how these characters refer to their religion. Also, some discussion about sex.

I hope that it goes without saying that the views expressed by some of the characters in here are not shared by me or by anyone that I am friends with.

In short, there's a lot going on in this chapter.)

So let's talk about Alchemy.

Believe it or not, dear reader, there is a not insignificant part of my audience that does nothing but scour my works to try and find out the formulae for Witcher decoctions and Witcher potions. So I just want to make it clear, for the record, as well as for all the people that may or may not be reading these words.

Ahem

I do not know any of the Witcher formulae. Neither for their potions, nor their mutagens. I know nothing about the methods that Kerrass uses to brew these things. I've watched him do it, many times even, but could I tell you what it was that he was doing? Or why?

These things remain a mystery to me.

Partly because I once made a promise to never divulge the Witcher secrets and the formula of these things is one of those secrets but also because, as it turns out, I simply don't have the mind for such studies. I study people and history. Occasionally some politics, not alchemy, art or crafting.

So here's what I do know.

I know a few names of several different potions. I know about the Swallow potion which is a substance that aids in healing. I know about something called White Rafferd's decoction which does the same thing but I couldn't tell you the difference between the two if you held a knife to my throat. I know about White Honey which is a substance that is neither White, nor is it honey. What that stuff does is to violently purge the body of all toxins and alchemical effects.

But beyond that, I know nothing. I've seen Kerrass peer into a darkened cave and take a deep sniff of the air before carefully oiling his blade with a dark blue jelly like substance. I've also seen him do the same thing with a light green grease. The difference? Damned if I know as both times we ended up dealing with Arachnomorphs.

I also know that he buys potion bottles by the dozen from a well known herbalist in Novigrad or a similar equivalent when he can't get to the halfling in question. Having said that, one of his satchels is absolutely rammed full of the things and he very rarely has to go anywhere else.

So how does he make these potions?

I've seen him use a mortar and pestle. I also know that he has a collapsible drying rack for fresh herbs. I also know that he has several other small tools in his satchels that help with these things but again, the problem here is that I intentionally look away when he's doing this stuff. The better to be able to keep the trust of these extraordinary groups of people who have granted me their trust. So I'm afraid I can't answer your questions.

Here is some layman's knowledge though. The kind of thing that I would have been able to pick up just from hanging round with the man. First, even if I could tell you how the potions are made, then it wouldn't do you any good on the grounds that those self-same potions are nearly always deadly to non-Witchers. Apparently they are easily able to kill rock trolls and dwarves. I mention these two races because of their legendary stamina and resistance to toxins.

Also, these are not new things. Remember that there hasn't been any new innovation on the subject of Witchers for hundreds and hundreds of years. If you look hard enough you can normally find a formula for the more common Witcher potions. People have been able to make them for centuries but then they have to consider what possible use they might be to them.

Simply diluting them doesn't work. Kerrass once told me that, famously, in some situations adding water to them can even make them more potent which is why some Skelligan whiskeys are best drunk with a touch of water in them. Something happens during the mixing process that makes them this way.

This is where I have to consult notes to make sure that I get this right. As an aside, you shouldn't worry. I have been given permission to publish all of this information and Kerrass will be reading it before it goes off to my editor.

I spoke to Dr Shani, Professor of medicine at the Oxenfurt academy on the subject. Although she would say that she isn't an alchemist either and doesn't understand how this all works, she theorises that this is because the Witcher toxins (that's what she called them. Not potions or elixers. She called them toxins) also effect the nervous system, the pulmonary system as well as the lungs and brain and metabolic system. It is often not simply a case of the potion being digested through the normal process. As soon as it enters a Witcher's system it is being absorbed through the internal walls of the throat and stomach. That is when it isn't being diverted into the lungs by virtue of a Witcher's phenomenal self-control as the imbibing of the liquid turns it into a gas.

These things are absorbed through the gums, the tongue, they go up into the nasal cavity as well as down the throat.

Think about that the next time you are considering trying to brew one of these things and psyche yourself up into drinking it.

One of the many modifications that Witchers go through when they are being mutated is that their immune system as well as all of the above bodily functions gets adjusted. Part of this was done so that Witchers would be able to withstand the various horrible and deadly bodily functions of the beasts that they would end up facing and it would be interesting to know as to whether or not Witcher potions and elixirs were designed afterwards when it became clear that Witchers could withstand this kind of thing.

“Ooh, our wonderful new test subjects are immune to just about everything. Let's see what else we can give them and really see how far we can push the envelope.”

But that's a theory for another day.

But, although Witchers are immune to most of the problems that come with drinking these potions on a regular basis, there is one harmful result of these things that very rarely gets talked about.

That is the risk of dependency.

Kerrass takes these potions at a rate of, on average, one a day. Regardless of how you shake it, that's a lot of potions. Bearing in mind that to the average person that is a lot of poison. The equivalent of drinking raw alchohest crossed with Basilisk venom and the adrenal glands of a greater Wyvern.

On a daily basis. Sometimes more than once a day.

With their heightened immune, nervous and respitory system, it is a very real problem that the Witcher's body gets used to all of this extra stimulus and from what Kerrass has said, as well as what he can tend to look like and the way that he behaves after a potion binge....There are comedown effects as well which look and feel a lot like someone having a hangover.

But they take them so often that their bodies start to crave them, craving the support that these potions and things give. It starts to get used to the increased healing effects of the Swallow potion as well as the increased reflexes and strength. So it starts to crave those self same effects.

Sounds a lot like addiction doesn't it.

I asked Kerrass about this and what he says, is that being on a potion come down is like walking through fog while all of your limbs are tied down by weights. He was told that this was a risk and one of the ways that Kerrass copes with this is that he takes what he describes as “holidays” from the elixirs. That's when he goes into town for some debauchery or when he's travelling by sea or we're travelling with a Caravan. It's also why Witcher's retreat to their keeps over Winter. It's not that the world is shorter of monsters during the winter than they are at any other stage, or because of the climate, although that is probably a factor, but it's so that they can flush all the contaminants out of their system and....kind of reset.

Shani called it “a cleanse” although Kerrass took this opportunity to mention that one of the things that he likes to cleanse his body with during the winter, was strong Rye Vodka and she glared at him.

So Witcher potions are also addictive and need to be taken at regular intervals. Kerrass calls these things his “elixirs” which are different from his potions. If you took them away, Kerrass would still be a deadly opponent and that the only loss of any edge is really in the eyes of the man that has lost that edge but even so, it is apparent. Certainly I have seen the post potion comedown myself on many separate occasions.

These elixirs are often mixed with tea or with strong alcohol. Often just a small potion in the morning every other day the same way that some people take their own medicine in an effort to stay fit and healthy. It's just that in this way, Kerrass gets to stay deadly.

It has been suggested that these potions are also responsible, at least in part, for the Witcher's perceived emotionlessness. That I can't answer for. All I will say on the matter is that, from my understanding, Kerrass and his fellows have plenty of other reasons to be a little bit emotionless.

So why are people so obsessed with the idea of Witcher potions?

I don't know but I can guess.

I think it's to do with the very reason that Witchers don't want to share their secrets. You see, I think that they're right. I think that if the mutations, elixirs and potions got out into the general public then, sooner or later, someone would figure them out. Some Baron like Lord Cavil or Lord Dorme of Angral will get hold of someone and he will forge himself an army of Witchers. Men who are utterly loyal to them and who will follow their orders to the letter. Then, there they are. An Army of men, dependent on potions that only I can give them and now they are the dominant military force on the continent.

I think it's that.

I think that the potions represent power, even if the person who is asking for these formula have the best intentions in the world. Even if they want to heal the sick or something, does their assistant? Does the guy who fetches and carries for the doctor in question. The stuff would fetch a high cost in the hands of the right person.....

Just the thought of that insight is exciting to us.

Does that effect the potential development of new Witchers?

I think that we're getting off topic now as well as it still being a little early in proceedings to answer that question. We're still working on the question of whether or not we can make more Witchers, or people that will be close enough to what the Witchers could do to be called Witchers.

But it's also about the excitement of a secret. The unknown. And who doesn't want to be a bit faster, a bit stronger, or to live a bit longer, free from the worries of old age, sickness and poisoning. Who wouldn't want to see in the dark and be able to smell and discern the smallest scents around. Who wouldn't want to hear someone sneaking up behind them or to be able to fight off the bully that was born just just that little bit stronger than us? A Witcher's potion is the latent promise of these things.

But that's just my opinion.

Are they vital to being a Witcher?

No.

Important? Definitely. They help to keep the Witchers at the top of their game. Keeping them strong and giving them that edge over their enemies and their opponents. Letting them take on the nightmares that live out in the darkness on the edge of town. But if you take them away from the Witcher then what do you have.

The person is still a mutant. Still that bit stronger, faster and more physically capable than the next man. Still able to stand up to the monsters and cut them down with blade and sign. What do the potions do? The bombs, elixirs and weapon oils? They let them do all of these things that little bit more efficiently. They provide the Witcher with an edge that they might not necessarily have otherwise.

But vital?

No.

-

They came for us that night.

It was one of those things that if we had all been realistic, thinking people, then we should have seen this coming. Without being too modest, I am an intelligent and highly educated man. I have travelled a great deal and my experience of life is not what someone might call....standard. I have seen and done things that I would never previously have expected to see and do while every single experience along these lines has expanded my horizon to awe-inspiring degrees.

Kerrass is a Witcher. Somewhere around a century in age where he has been travelling, fighting, killing monsters and people all over the continent and beyond. He's seen so many things that if we actually started to transcribe the entirety of his life then it would take the entirety of my life to get that done. He is also, to be fair to him, far from stupid.

Taylor is one of the more frightening people I know. He has skills that I do not understand and cannot fathom where he has come by the expertise and life experience that he has. He's only, at best, a couple of years older than me but he can speak with a Temerian, Redanian, Kaedweni and Aedirni accent. He can speak the Elder speech of the Nilfgaardians with little to no discernible accent and also knows the ins and outs of polite society. He's also a skilled horseman, an accomplished shot with a bow and the best swordsman I've ever met barring Witchers and the Empress.

But none of us saw this coming.

I once had the opportunity to speak to a thief. It was Perkins, one of the younger members of Sir Rickard's bastards who had been a thief on the streets of Temeria and he told me something interesting. He said that the most dangerous part of making off with a score (His words. Apparently this is a single word that refers to the goods that have been taken) is the part when the goods are in hand and you're in the process of escaping.

You might be out the door, through the window and down the street but, he said, that's when the vast majority of theft's go wrong. Just when you think you've gotten away with it, you will turn around and there's a guardsman watching you. Or, more often, there's the other criminal gang that are waiting for you to beat you up and take you score off you so that they have the easy part.

Apparently, that was how the kid ended up joining the army. He got “nicked” by a guardsman back when the Temerians were marching against the La Valettes and he was offered the choice of serving prison time or joining the army. He's told me seven different versions of how he came to join the army, every single one of them has been different so far and I'm beginning to think that the bastard's as a whole have maybe a couple of dozen stories as to how they joined the army and they just swap whenever someone is foolish enough to ask them how they came to join up.

But the point to his story was that it's at the point of feeling safest that you become most vulnerable. It's when you let your guard down, when you relax that people come and get you.

And that's kind of what happened. We were so taken by surprise by it as well which, even now, is a little galling. We should have seen it coming. We should have protected ourselves against what happened.

Could've, should've, would've done something different.

But hindsight is a wonderful thing and it's easy to see this in all things. So easy to look back at what you've done and thought to yourself that you should have done it differently.

But we didn't.

We left the road, maybe an hour or two's ride out from the castle, certainly making sure that we weren't in sight of the castle itself, or any guardsmen. We didn't see any farmers or other travellers but I suppose it could have been possible that there was someone there. The best training in the world is no match for knowing the land and having played hide and seek since you were a child.

But we left the road and started to head east by Southeast. We knew that Sir Rickard and the rest of the bastards were out there in this kind of general area and that, even though we would probably miss our assigned rendezvous, he would double back, find the sign that we left, small though it was, and be able to pick up the trail.

We headed into a group of trees in an effort to hide us from prying eyes before we were again moving through open fields and pasture land. We took the time to make sure that we spent some time walking through a stream to throw off any scent that we might have and Taylor took a small packet of pepper out of his bags and sprinkled the stuff over that small patch of ground where we entered the water.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Hunting dogs,” he told me.

Kerrass grinned and I laughed.

“You sick bastard.” I told him. “Seriously though, who are you?”

He just smirked as we moved off upstream towards the mountains.. Deliberately leaving sign that we had left the stream in several places as we got further and further and further away.

We were in good spirits and to be fair, looking back, I can understand why. We had found the enemy, we knew where they were and we could start moving towards destroying them. The dead would be avenged, the wronged would have their justice and all the sick fucks that might be tempted to pull the kind of bullshit that these people would do would have their warnings.

I also intended to place Gardan's axe on his grave. Just for a while though. It seemed wrong that a weapon like that would not be used by someone aiming to make the world a better place.

There was also that small hope fluttering in the depths of my chest. That we would find Francesca. Taylor had explored the castle quite thoroughly and told us that he hadn't been able to find any sight or sound of any captives, let alone my sister. Lord Cavil did indeed have a dungeon but it had long been converted into a wine cellar and storage room but that didn't deter me. We knew that there had to be another base elsewhere to house the equipment and the horses and, very possible, the men themselves as well as alchemy labs and whatever else was going on.

So there was hope. I tried to limit myself, I tried to monitor my own hopes and not to raise my own expectations too high. I felt like the child on the verge of a Yule celebration, being able to see the gifts laid out and looking at the particularly big boxes and hoping that those things would be for them and that they would enjoy the contents. That they weren't some kind of clothes or some kind of gift that would “aid in their education”. They want to be excited, but at the same time they don't want to disappoint themselves. That was me. But at the same time, you can't help but entertain that hope. Even in a small way. Just a tiny way, deep down somewhere.

We moved up stream as far as we could before backtracking a little way and rode our horses clear. Taylor and Kerrass dismounted and walked back to the stream where they spend a bit of time arranging matters to do their best to hide our tracks and....I understand....leave another secret trail marker so that Sir Rickard could find us.

It was about mid-afternoon by this point and our good mood and elation at the prospect of having found our enemy began to die down. Now we had to make it back to safety. We did discuss trying to get to any of the friendlier Lords that we had met on our journey since we had left Castle Kalayn but, in truth, it wasn't that practical. Our enemies would know who was on their side and who might be persuaded to be on our side and so the approaches and routes would be watched. Or we would turn up to find that Lord Cavill had beaten us to it and turned a previously friendly lord against us.

Or, even worse, it would turn out that the friendly lord that we had gone to was in on the conspiracy themselves.

So we had resolved to head back to Kalayn lands and link up with Sam. It was going to be a tough march. We had supplies but they weren't bottomless and so we would need to live off the land. That wouldn't be difficult given that we were heading into summer but that kind of thing takes time. Time that we didn't really have as we needed to get back before Lord Cavill realised his mistake.

Kerrass chose us a camp-site just as we were getting towards dark. He chose us a small clearing where we could sleep with only two gaps in the thick undergrowth meaning that attackers couldn't get to us easily There wasn't a lot of cover but people would struggle to get to us and we were well off the beaten track. At the end of the day, there is just no way of completely protecting yourself. If they surrounded the clearing with Archers then they could just pepper us with arrows, especially as Taylor was without his bow, or his arrows but Kerrass set some traps around the place so that it would, at least, be difficult for them to sneak up on us.

We lit no fire and ate some cold meats and a hunk of bread each. Kerrass did something alchemical with a rock and a flask of water which meant that we at least went to sleep with something hot in our bellies. It was summer though and the skies were mostly clear, not yet up towards the mountains either so it was mostly warm and I was able to stretch out in relative comfort.

I volunteered for the middle watch which is universally acknowledged as the hardest watch on the grounds that I would be struggling to sleep anyway and Kerrass took first, wanting to watch our back trail given that he could see in the dark, leaving Taylor to wake us both up with the dawn.

It felt good to be out of that persona of Lord Frederick and to just be Freddie again. Traveller and scholar. I spent a bit of time trying to contact Ariadne in the hope that we could get a message out to the right people to let them know where we were and what was happening but also because I wanted to speak to her. Not unusual, I had avoided contacting her while inside the castle as I didn't want the servants thinking that I was mad. I couldn't get through to her though. I remember reassuring myself that this wasn't unusual, being a vampire comes with some benefits and one of those is not needing anywhere near as much rest as those of us that are human and she is often off meeting people or working at all hours of the night in a place where she can't be reached.

What I'm trying to say is that we did everything right, everything right. But they caught us because we had forgotten something very important.

I had forgotten that Lord Cavill employed a mage.

I woke up to the sounds of metal striking metal. Long trained reflexes sprang into action, the dagger grasped in my hand leapt into life as I jumped to my feet.

Although I couldn't. I couldn't move. I could barely even breathe, but my body tried. It really did to the point of feeling pain as I hurled myself against invisible bonds bruising body and straining muscles. I even opened my mouth to scream and although, to me, it felt as though I was bellowing with all of my might, nothing came out. I was just staring at the night sky.

The sounds of combat were becoming sporadic but I couldn't turn my head to see what was going on, all I could do was strain and pull and....

I didn't give up. I never gave up as the pain lanced down my spine, along my arms and legs and seemed to pool like molten metal in the base of my skull.

The sounds of fighting ceased and I heard the mage Phineas' voice in my head.

“Shhh,” it said, almost softly in the same way that you calm an upset animal. “Shhh, rest now.” They seemed to be the most reasonable words in the world as I felt my willpower just drain away. My eyelids drooped and I returned to sleep.

I was conscious for maybe four seconds.

But I dreamed for much longer.

I still mean to consult an Oneiromancer about this at some point as these dreams were....uncomfortable in the extreme.

Along with a lot of the normal kind of recurring dreams. You know the type, imagined confrontations with people that never happened. Alternative universe versions of events. Along with the ever popular flying dreams, falling dreams and that dream that all students or graduates get where they find out that they've got a sudden exam and they haven't studied, or have an essay due in and they have forgotten. Or they have to deliver a presentation, they stand up in front of everyone, only to find out that they are completely naked.

This last one is an increasingly regular dream of mine only for me it's that I turn up to my wedding, half dressed and covered in mud before the assembled congregation starts to laugh.

The worst part of this is the scorn that Ariadne shows me in that dream.

I also have a recurring nightmare about Francesca screaming. Sometimes she screams that I let her down, sometimes she's calling for help, but most times she just screams in terror and agony.

Pleasant stuff.

But during this period of dreaming, I had several recurring dreams. Neither pleasant, sad, pleasurable or frightening. One was where I was floating through a field of stars. I could see giant balls of flaming light in the distance that kept me surprisingly warm. The thing that I found so surprising was about how peaceful it was. It was so very quiet there as I floated, like taking a midnight swim in a still lake while staring up at the stars. I turned in place and saw a giant crystalline structure. It was absolutely huge, so vast that I could kind of feel my brain kind of sliding off the entire concept.

Then I realised that there was something moving around inside the crystal. Moving around in confinement, not uncomfortable but kind of squashed in.

Then it blinked at me.

There was another dream where I stood on top of a mountain. I couldn't tell where but I was completely naked. There was a storm and the wind and the rain tore at my flesh but I didn't feel cold. Lightening flashed in the sky and it highlighted a shadow. As though there was a huge, hooded giant standing above me, blotting out the sky and all of existence.

Another dream that I was still “working” for Jack. That he was coming for me, that he was following me round and killing everything and everyone that surrounded me in a series of grizzly murders. Everyone that I have met, shaken hands with, touched, bought things from or even brushed against in the street. Just calmly and methodically working through them all as though it was some kind of list that he had to strike the names off. I caught him and confronted him with what he was doing. He laughed and said. “It is a kindness really, what you are doing to them is so, so much worse.”

I woke up in a cage. I primarily remember that it took a long time and that it hurt like the devil. It was not the first time that I've ever had the very special feeling of realising that I've shit myself.

I groaned. I was trying for words but nothing came out. I felt two pairs of hands lifting me into the sitting position and the opening of a wineskin at my mouth.

“Drink Freddie,” Kerrass said. “You're badly dehydrated.”

I groaned something more at him. Equally as inaudible.

I could hear Taylor's voice chuckling.

“Just drink Freddie. You need it.”

I did as I was told before taking a bit of time to work myself towards waking up properly. When I did finally manage to open my eyes I groaned again. We were in a cage, covered with some kind of tarpaulin and the reason that I felt sick was that we were moving. I had a good look round, had time to realise just how much I stank and how much the cage stank before I just shook my head.

“Fuck” I said with as much feeling as possible.

“Truly,” Taylor was grinning, “You are an elegant man with a masterful command of language.”

“Fucking Fuck off.” I told him but he just grinned at me, retreating to another corner of the cage. Kerrass pushed the waterskin at me.

“Drink.” He told me.

Silence reigned for a while as I did what I was told. I was thirsty, and hungry now that I came to think about it. We were on a wagon, a cheap one as I could hear the axels grinding against each other. I could also hear the jangling of traces and the beat of horses hooves against the dirt. I thought I could hear the rustling metal sound of moving armour.

“How long have I been unconscious?” I asked.

“Nine days as best as I can tell.” Kerrass said.

I spluttered a load of water about the place. “Nine fucking days?”

“Near as I can tell.”

Taylor was chuckling.

“What have I been doing for nine fucking days?”

“Sleeping,” Kerrass told me. “Also, vomiting and generally carrying on.”

I thought about this for a while. “Hold on, don't you starve to death with no food in that time.”

“You do.” Taylor answered. “It can be done if you're careful and conditioned for it, but you've been fed.”

“How?” I demanded.

Taylor raised his eyebrow. “Do you really want to know?”

I considered this for a moment. Working my jaw around as I sloshed the last of the water down my throat.

“Tube in the throat?” I asked.

“You've done this before then?” Taylor asked.

“He's actually getting quite good at it.” Kerrass responded with a smirk.

Taylor looked thoughtful. “There's a joke here about gag reflexes isn't there. Something about travelling around, and having things forced down your throat but for the life of me I can't think what it is.”

“Fuck off.” I told him again as he crouched there, braced against the corner of the cage, radiating innocence.

“I don't know what you mean.” He protested.

“QUIET IN THERE.” A voice that I didn't recognise from outside the cage. Something metallic crashed against the cloth covered cage, making it ring under the impact. The headache that had begun to lessen, kicked back up a notch.

“And he can go fuck himself an all.” Taylor muttered darkly.

We sat in silence for a while before another question floated to the top of my brain as I moved around with the movement of the cart.

“Kerrass?” I said,

“Yes Freddie.” He said it with the same tone of voice as a long suffering wife.

“Why is it always me that has to shit themselves?”

“An interesting question.” Kerrass said after some time. “Something that I hadn't given much thought to if I'm honest.”

“Loose bowels.” Taylor said. “A man with loose bowels shouldn't be let anywhere near the battlefield for it is well known that they are apt to pee themselves in terror when the enemy comes marching over the hill.”

“Shut your face.” I told him.

“Or when a pretty woman looks at him for the first time.” He continued unabashed.

“Taylor, I swear to the Holy Flame itself that if you don't shut up, right fucking now, I'm going to remove my trousers and under-garments and push them into your face.”

“Why not just throw a nice wet handful at him?” Kerrass asked.

“Because,” I said, tilting my head to one side to consider. “I think it's more of a smear situation than a solid one.”

“Hey, you know what though?” Taylor said looking excited. “I think we might be on to something here. What we do is, when they open the cage we throw Freddie's trousers at our captors and make a run for it while they're still gagging and trying not to throw up.”

“It's not a bad plan as plans go,” Kerrass mused. “The problem with it is that I would then be subjected to Freddie's nakedness and that would be a fate worse than whatever they have in mind for us.”

“And you can fuck off and all.” I told him.

You see all of that. That is what we in the trade call “Gallows humour”. There was no getting away from the fact that we were very probably in a lot of trouble. We were all wearing out clothes but all of our equipment was taken, including our armour, belts, laces and any straps that we might have so we were basically in loose fitting garments as well as being barefoot.

I'd also had my amulet removed. On the one hand that meant that Ariadne would know that something had happened and even now might be mobilising things in order to facilitate a rescue.

Kerrass could still fight, even without his swords, he was still deadly but he was just one man versus an unknown number.

“Nine days?” I asked him. “How are you doing?”

He shook his head and pushed his hands through his hair. “Not great Freddie. Not great.” The hand was trembling.

“You should have saved some of the water for yourself.” I told him but he shook his head.

“Nah, I'll be ok.”

“What's wrong?” Taylor asked.

“Elixir withdrawal.” I told him. “He's still a Witcher but.....a little....less himself.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not really,” Kerrass said. “Just means that I'm going to need to east, sleep and rest a bit more than I normally would.”

“Nine days.” I mused. “Have we been moving all that time?”

“No, we stayed in one place for a while.” Kerrass said. “Somewhere cold and damp so I think a cave of some kind. They took you off at the time and you were somewhere else for an hour or two before they brought you back. You were incredibly weak for a while.”

“You're much more verbose when you're off your elixirs.” Taylor commented.

“Nah.”

“What was wrong with me?” I asked.

“I don't know but I think that they bled you.” Kerrass told me.

“Bled me, why?” I asked before I could catch myself. Never ask a question if you already know that a person doesn't know what's happening.

“I don't know. But people like this never do it for a good reason.”

There was a halt called before an armoured man lifted up the side of the tarpaulin and threw a loaf of bread, a wheel of hard cheese and a few apples at us. We had to scramble to catch them so that they didn't land in all of the human filth on the floor of the cage. The man was wearing Cavill colours.

We ate for a while and I realised that I was famished.

“What do you reckon?” I asked after a while. “Taking us somewhere to kill us?”

“Nope,” Said Taylor. “If they were going to kills us, why not just get it over with and dump us in a ditch. At most they could take us off for a day, two at most before giving us the old Temerian smile.” He grinned savagely.

“A Temerian smile?” I asked.

“Yeah, Jenkins taught me it. It's when you cut a man's throat from ear to ear. Looks like a smile from the right angle.”

“Or the wrong angle.” Kerrass commented, taking a huge bite out of an apple.

“But I reckon that they'll sell us as slaves. Still a roaring slave trade in Nilfgaard or they could send us across the sea. The Ofieri still use slaves don't they?”

“They do.” I said. “But they're a lot more tolerant of their slaves than Nilfgaard is. Also, how does someone like you know about the Ofieri?”

“You learn a thing or two in the army sir.” He said with a grin.

“Lying toe-rag.”

“It's not slaves.” Kerrass said as he finished off the apple. Core and all. “If we were being sold as slaves we would have gone down the hills towards the river or the sea so that we can be transported properly. We've actually been taken up, towards a higher altitude.”

“They could be taking us over the mountains towards Kaedwen to bring us down to the south that way.” Taylor argued but he wasn't convinced.

“Nah, It would be Ofier.” Kerrass said. “To get to Zerrikania they would have to get us across Kaedwen, Aedirn and Some of Nilfgaard. They would never make it as Kerrass and I are too well known in those parts. No, if it was slaves it would be down towards the sea. Something else is going on here.”

We started moving again shortly after that.

We started to play a game as we moved. The object of the game was to get as close as we could to the guards yelling at us to keep the noise down and shouting at us or striking the cage, without actually getting them to do that. The person who caused that final tip over the edge towards an outcry from the guards was considered to have lost a point and we would jeer at each other and crack jokes at each other's expense. It was clear by now that the guards threats were mostly empty and that we were being kept for something else at the end of our path. So we had decided, without discussing it or talking about it, that we would enjoy each other's company for a while.

The sun kept us well lit under the canopy although it was tricky to tell which way we were going, the tarpaulin wasn't so thin that we could see the shape of the sun and I gather from the temperature that it was a fairly overcast day. It was dim and we could see to move around and things. The road that we were following climbed up a slope, meaning that we had to hold on to the bars of the cage in order to keep ourselves standing upright before we reached some kind of plateau. It was getting colder and the light was beginning to dim and I assumed that it was getting late in the day. We had reached some kind of track and it felt as though we were picking up speed. The wagon wheels would occasionally jar up as they crashed against the walls or well worn ruts.

All told we had been travelling for a few hours before we came to a halt. Abruptly, the sky outside the wagon went dark and the temperature dropped noticeably. We were sloping downhill now. The light seemed to grow again and I could smell burning oil as well as wood smoke and damp. The wagon leant to one side as the thing was steered into a corner.

I had felt the fear during the journey but then it began to flicker again, scrabbling at the base of my throat like some kind of wild and untamed monster.

Anger, that was the answer. I had been given this anger, as a gift, or as a curse and now I had to use it, to harness it in some way.

The tarpaulin was pulled off and even though the light was still dim, I blinked in the firelight.

We were in a cave, although that word doesn't quite do it justice. More like a cavern. There were many torches, fire bowls and baskets all around the place and every man there seemed to be carrying another flaming brand.

For men there were. Lots of them. So many that I couldn't count them. Someone hit the cage near where I was standing and I flinched, both from the impact and the noise that it generated.

People started shouting, loud, dissonant voices clamouring for my attention. I still had a bit of a headache despite the food and water that I had eaten earlier and I winced, the light seeming to stab at my eyes.

There was another loud crash and it was a moment before I realised that one of the walls of the cage had opened. The volume of the shouting only seemed to increase though as long poles, the butts of spears started to be pushed through the bars of the cage jabbing us in the backs, necks and legs. I had no idea what they were shouting at us but one word seemed more and more fitting.

“Out,” and it seemed that that was the general sense of the order that they wanted us to follow.

Taylor went first. What he had doubtless intended to be a quiet and controlled dismount from the side of the wagon ended up turning into a stumble and eventual fall to his knees given the extra little push that he was given by a helpful thrust of a pole.

Kerrass went next. Grabbing at the pole that pushed at him and yanking at it causing the volume of all of the shouting to increase. He seemed satisfied though as a horrible grin crossed his face. It was the kind of grin that normally promised that violence would soon be committed.

“THAT'S ENOUGH,” bellowed someone. The noise seemed to abate a little and certainly the poking and prodding from the various people abated abruptly but the owner of the voice was dissatisfied. “I said that THAT'S ENOUGH.”

A Large man approached. The voice was educated, trained and he seemed to dominate the area through force of personality. He was wearing a long, cowled robe although for now his hood was down. He had enough of a family likeness to Lord Cavill for me to assume that he must be some kind of nephew.

“Show some respect.” He hissed at the gathered guards who were abusing us before abruptly stepped backwards. I was under no illusions that we were being rescued though. The robe was of a similar cut to the ones that the “Hounds of Kreve” wore, although it struck me as being of richer cut with better fabric. Certainly the carriage of the man that we were dealing with was much more commanding.

Also, the fact that behind him was a row of eight crossbowmen with levelled weapons pointing at us made things very clear.

“Gentlemen.” the figure said. “Please,” he gestured for us to come out of the wagon. Kerrass grimaced before stepping down. I was a little more wobbly.

“Yes, they told us that you might be a bit weaker Lord Frederick.” The figure said. “I would offer you my hand to help you rise but I suspect that you would scorn the offer.”

I ignored him. I should probably have been more polite, or made some kind of statement by allowing him to help me. Some kind of way of tying myself to him but it didn't occur to me at the time. In the end though, it was Kerrass that helped me to my feet.

“You men have work?” He snapped at the guards. They didn't stay to answer. He merely scowled at them as they fled.

The crossbowmen didn't waiver though.

“Now then,” the man turned to us. “I know you feel nothing but anger and hate towards me and mine. I will even go so far as to suggest that I even understand it.”

“How can you understand it?” Taylor began.

“Never the less.” The man went on, ignoring the question. “I want to thank you for your sacrifice, and know that I will always remember you.”

“Wait, what?”

“Now if you'll follow me please?”

“Hang on.” I said, “what's this about a sacrifice?”

“Just that.” He told us, “it's just that I don't often get to talk to the sacrifices. Now please, this way.”

The three of us looked at each other, I can't speak for Kerrass or Taylor but I was feeling utterly lost. There are many questions that I could have asked then I suppose, quite a few questions, in fact, that might have given us more of a clue as to what was happening. Maybe we could have done something then but instead I said....

“Who are you?”

“Ah,” he bowed in a style that wouldn't have been out of place in the Imperial court. He used the Redanian form of a bow, I noticed. “My name is Arthur. Son of Lord Cavill.”

“We met his son.” Taylor began. Kerrass was just watching.

“Yes, look, do you mind if we talk while we walk. You see, Father won't punish me, rather he'll punish one of the other slaves and....” he shrugged.

“Who are you?” I asked again. My brain didn't seem to be able to get past the question. But Kerrass had another one.

“And what do you mean by “other slaves.”

He smiled, honestly apologetically, and gestured for us to follow him.

“What's to stop us not following you?” Taylor asked. “What's to stop us making a break for it?”

He turned and for a moment I saw something hard in his face. “Please believe me when I tell you that I hold none of you in any kind of ill will. However, I would have thought that the threat in the presence of the crossbowmen was rather implicit.”

I felt my eyebrows rise in surprise at the vocabulary.

Kerrass shrugged. “I'm a Witcher. It is well known that Witchers can parry bolts in flight.”

“Interesting.” Said Arthur. “I had heard such stories, however, in the stories that I have heard, they need swords to do so and it is generally only against one bowman. Can you parry six?”

“There are eight men here.”

“Yes, I thought that one each would be sufficient for the soldier and the nobleman's son.”

Kerrass shrugged and stepped forward.

It seemed that we were following Arthur then.

Is it odd to find that you like your enemy? Even to feel pity for him. He was all but wearing the outfit of the men that had tormented the villages in Kalayn lands. He was obviously strong and moved with balance and poise. He was wearing gloves but they were worn away in exactly the right areas for a trained swordsman. He was charming, well-spoken and articulate. Apologetic for our hurts and discomforts and answered our questions politely.

He was also, utterly, utterly insane. Perhaps damaged might have been the better word to use for this but there was some kind of problem with the mechanism that existed behind his eyes.

“So.... Who are you?” I insisted as we walked. He laughed at me although it didn't seem particularly cruel.

“Normally I would enjoy some kind of philosophical debate about the nature of labels with someone of your obvious intelligence and education My Lord,” he told me with a smile, “But as we're here now, I suspect that the more pertinent information that you require is that my name is Arthur. That's it. Not surname, no “of” somewhere. Just Arthur. I am the eldest living of Lord Cavill's sons although I will never inherit on the grounds that I am illegitimate having been born of one of the sacrifices and therefore am fit only for a life of service towards the God.”

“Which God?”

He frowned as though I had asked a stupid question. But then he laughed. “Yes, of course, I forget. I had been told that you people from outside the blessed sanctuary follow different powers. I serve the God, the ultimate God. The unknowable one, the unnamable, the Master.”

I glanced at Kerrass who was looking around carefully, probably trying to remember the way out. Taylor shrugged at me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I've never heard of it.”

“Would that I could take the time to induct you into the mysteries.” He told me, clapping me on the shoulder companionably. I honestly think that the gesture was genuine. “But, alas you are to be the sacrificed which means that you will meet the God long before I will.”

I stared at him,

“So you are Lord Cavill's eldest living son?” I asked.

“Eldest illegitimate son.” He corrected. “I would never presume on my brother's rank or status. He is far, far above me in the ranks of both the worship and the world. He is better than me in every way and I will be honoured to serve him, just as I am honoured to serve our father.”

I stared at him for a long time, trying to detect any hint of irony or mocking. But his large, handsome face seemed entirely innocent.

“He is the only remaining legitimate son now.” He went on. “Long may he survive.”

“Would your father not adopt you, should he die. Such things happen you know.”

His mouth twisted in distaste. “Ooh no. I am aware that you were born in unholy lands but such things would be wrong. I am illegitimate, child of a sacrifice, my blood is not pure. How could I rule? Anyway.” He smiled happily. “I am content to serve.”

“But....But your brother's a moron.”

You ever have one of those things that you're just so desperate to say that you can't possibly hold it in any more. You know that it won't solve anything and that it might possibly make the problem worse, but at the same time, it's so true that the person that's going to hear it needs to hear it. This despite the fact that you know you're being rude and offensive and you know that the person may never forgive you.

But you've just gotta say it.

It's like telling your best friend that the man that's courting her, that she's falling in love with is an ass-hole. It's something that just needs saying and then it just bursts out of you one time when you're not really prepared for it.

This was like that.

The poor man was caught in some kind of existential crisis as I said it though. As though I had confronted him with a truth. He knew that truth and he had always known that truth but at the same time, he couldn't possibly admit that truth.

He was also a painfully honest man. If it hadn't been due to the circumstances I would have even assessed him as a good man and he didn't want to admit fault in even the worst of cases.

“My brother....” He began as though it was causing him actual physical pain to speak. “My brother has a lot on his mind.” He began to feel as though he was on safer ground. “He is now the sole heir to our Father's seat and as such he is under a lot of pressure.”

“You....you pity him?” I was appalled.

The man winced.

“So what's going to happen to us?” Kerrass had decided that I had asked enough stupid questions now and wanted to ask some important ones.

“You are the sacrifices.” He said as though that explained everything. “I know that that is not something that is generally greeted with a great deal of relish and I know that you are not pleased at being chosen for such a thing but you should know that it is an extremely high honour to be chosen.”

“Really?” Kerrass' voice was bone dry.

“Oh yes. I for one am incredibly grateful to you.”

“What's involved in this sacrifice?”

There was a pause as Arthur rolled this question around in his mind. “You mean you haven't been informed?”

“No,”

“Well, I'm sure that Father will explain everything.”

“Is that where we're going?”

“Yes, he is waiting for you. It's quite unusual to be truthful. You must be very important sacrifices. Father doesn't normally attend the rites until the very ending of them. That point when the sacrifices have been caught and only then, he attends but rarely. The last time he was involved in the hunt, there were a group of heretics on the outskirts of our territories that needed to be cleansed.”

We were heading deeper into the cave which turned out to be the old remains of an abandoned mine. Shafts, sunk deep into the rock at steep gradients with ropes and pulleys for the use of hauling things about. We saw mine carts and pickaxes still stacked neatly by the side of the tunnel. I, for one, looked at them longingly and wondered if I could make it to one before the bolts from the crossbowmen would rip through my flesh.

It was an intricate place and beyond my previous understandings as to how large it was

We passed a large chamber which was full of horses. The stench was incredible and I suspected that there were some animals in there that wouldn't be horses for very long. The only natural light in the place was from a hole that had been cut in the ceiling which the horses seemed to fight over the privilege of standing in.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Here's a tip, for those people that don't know anything about horses and I should also say that I know very little. Horses are outdoor creatures. They need to move and run and exercise otherwise you run the risk of having the horse waste away, which was what was happening here.

We passed other store-rooms and several....I'm going to call them barracks which were full of men lounging around in a state that reminded me of drunkenness. A sharp smell stabbed into my brain through my nasal passages.

“You smell it don't you.” Arthur asked me when I staggered. “The smell of the God.” He beamed happily.

“He gives us the herb and the powder so that we can know his face. So that we can spend time in his presence and feel his glory. Try to enjoy it if you can. It can take some time to get used to and it can be overwhelming.”

“I smell narcotics.” Kerrass said. “Opiates and hallucinogens.”

“Dangerous?” I asked him.

“You'll live,” Kerrass told me.

“I have heard that the herbs can be harmful to those people that aren't used to it or have spent so much time in the heathen lands outside the caverns.” Arthur said at the same time. “Although I haven't heard the “presence of the God” being described as “narcotics” before. What are they?” His large and honest face creased in confusion.

“Do you often get given this....presence of the God.”

“I honoured to say that I do.” He said proudly, pushing out his chest. In doing so I saw the family resemblance with his brother.

“Then it is doubtful that you will understand. Let me just ask one thing though. Do you feel ill if you go without access to this “presence” for extended periods of time?”

“Oh yes. I mean, it makes sense doesn't it. It's like a kind of longing for that wonder. A desperation to feel that glory again and again.”

“And you can only get that stuff here, am I correct?”

“Of course. This place is the closest to the God so the presence can only be felt here.”

“Naturally.” There was a subtle hint of rage in Kerrass' voice. “You poor bastard.”

Again, that oh so eloquent wince. “There is no need to pity me Master Witcher. I have a fairly grand life all told. I command many of the raiding parties out into the Godless wasteland to rescue many innocent men and women from their heathen state. I partake in more than my strictly fair share of Holy Rites. I have my choice of the women, or the men too if the taste should take me that way. All in all I am content.”

“Raiding parties?”

“Oh yes. We need to survive after all as well as further our message of hope.”

The depth of this man's delusion was phenomenal although I was left a bit wondering how much of that delusion was self inflicted and how much of it had been inflicted upon him by others.

“Also,” he went on. “We need to rescue the heathen from his irreligious practices.”

“Rescue.” I said, without inflection but Arthur took it as a question.

“Why yes. Otherwise, how would we be able to save their souls and properly worship.”

The three of us exchanged glances. Taylor looked sick.

“So you lead those parties?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it's my brothers. The legitimate sons of my father always lead parties and I am content to follow when that is the case. But when they are unavailable and a hunt is ordered then I am glad to step in to fill the gaps.”

I sighed.

“How did your brother die?”

The poor fucker looked genuinely saddened. “It would seem that some of the heathens protected themselves against us. The false and heretical worships occasionally provide some measure of protection and he died trying to save a village from the evil that had overtaken it.”

“Was this recent?”

“I believe so. I was in a different party. It is a shame that we cannot save everyone and it would further seem that we have lost an area of our territory to heathen practices.” He sighed sadly. “It is a shame but we cannot expect to save everyone and it is a sign that we must redouble our efforts to appease the God. I would suspect that this is why the three of you were called to be sacrificed.”

Again, there was another exchange of glances. We had been there when Lord Cavill's son had died. Shot out of the saddle at Sir Rickard's orders.

We came into a large cavern. The atmosphere was thick with smoke from the many candles, torches and fires that were set around the place. There was some kind of through draft so it wasn't completely stifling. We were on a walkway, well above the floor of the cavern.

“There,” said our escort. “Our efforts to feed the God so that he might be better able to protect us.”

I looked over the edge. Where previously my anger had begun to gutter under the weight of the fear that had been scrabbling at my throat. Now it was a full and roaring flame, as though an extra gallon of oil had been thrown onto the blaze.

It reminded me of a church.

Rows upon rows of men, dressed in the leathery robes of the Hounds....I don't think that I can reasonably call them the Hounds of Kreve any more and they were swaying in time to the beat. They were obviously in some kind of stupor, whether that was caused by some kind of religious ecstasy or something chemically induced, I could not tell. At the front of the cavern, the point of worship for all of the swaying and the moaning, there were six poles in front of six tables. There were women tied to those poles and they were being flogged.

One of them was clearly already dead.

As I watched, one of the women was taken down from the pole and tied across the table. She didn't seem to struggle that much so I hoped that she was either in a drug induced state of her own, for her sake, or that she was already unconscious. Then another man took the whip from his fellow and began raping her.

I turned away as the bile rose in my throat and I had to vomit against the tunnel wall.

“You bastards.” I think it was Taylor's voice. “I've seen some sick shit in my time but....”

He didn't say anything else.

Arthur was almost apologetic. “It's the best way of feeding the God. Of giving him strength. The agony of the women feeds his hunger so that he doesn't turn away from us completely.

“You would have been better off if he had.” Kerrass grated. He stepped close to me and helped me to my feet. “We've seen enough now Arthur. I still pity you, but I hate you as well.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Arthur agreed. Come this way.”

“How can you do that? What did they do to you to deserve such a fate?”

Arthur shrugged. “They are women. What possible good could they serve?”

That was the moment that my mind shut down. The mental equivalent of throwing it's hands up in the air and walking away.

“Women are only good for three things.” Arthur continued. “The giving of pleasure, the production of children and the feeding to the God.”

“Be silent.” Kerrass told him. “You sully the air with your words. That these things are not said by you and that you were taught them along with the poison that you put into your system is to blame for the sickness of your mind. If I had a weapon I would put you down like the sick dog you are and with pity in my heart. But you will not defile the air further with your illness and the evil that you have been taught.”

Kerrass can wax poetic when he puts his mind to it.

Arthur nodded and did as he was told.

After some more time, we actually started to climb back up. The passages increasingly seemed to be sloping upwards until, for want of a better word, we came to a hallway. The same as you would find in any castle. There were flagstones on the floor and torches in the brackets on the walls. I had to guess that there would be another entrance somewhere that you would let you get here easier.

Arthur led us to one room. Knocked on the door. I didn't hear what it was but he heard something before nodding to himself and opening the door. Half the crossbowmen preceded us in while the other four waited to shepherd us.

It all seemed a little pointless to me if I'm honest. I had absolutely no intention of running anywhere. I was still too tired, too weak from what I assumed was a lack of food and the stench of the rooms that we had come through and I still had too many questions. From the expression on Kerrass' face, he was similarly afflicted.

I was utterly unsurprised to find Lord Cavill sat behind a table. We were in a guest bedroom of some kind. There were several windows high up in the walls that let in some natural light as well as some fresh air but in the main, the room was lit by several oil lamps, candles and the roaring fire that had been set in the fireplace. There was a large, opulent and exceedingly soft looking bed, a trunk and a dressing table.

Lord Cavill's riding boots were next to the door, caked in mud. Left for the servants to come and clean, the same way that I do it when I'm at home. The way Father taught us to do it.

I already felt sick.

But that wasn't the only detail that caught my eye. As well as blankets and pillows, the bed was a four posted bed and there were ropes and shackles attacked to the post and at varying heights. An inventive mind could put those bonds to all kinds of shapes.

There was also a rack in the corner and the table that Lord Cavill was sat at was no desk.

There were also several rich looking chairs that Lord Cavill failed to invite us to sit in. He was wearing a robe, similar in colouring to Arthur's robe but this had a gold thread sewn in around the hem.

He looked up and almost smiled as he greeted us.

“Ah, Lord Frederick and company. So good of you to join us.”

“Go fuck yourself.” I would flatter myself that if I was feeling a little better then I might have been able to come up with something a little more eloquent than that.

It seemed that Cavill agreed with me as he tutted and shook his head. “Not the most polite language Lord Frederick. I would have you punished for such insolence but there is actually some traditions that we are following here and as such it would be unseemly to strike you.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Kerrass demanded.

“And so, we come to the real leader of your little triumverate.” Lord Cavill was almost rubbing his hands with glee. “You are here so that I can take my revenge you filthy little yellowed eyed snake.”

“Technically, he's a cat.” I told him but I was ignored.

“But also,” He went on. “It is tradition. I am the High Priest of the God after all and it is my duty to inform the sacrifices as to what is going to happen to them.”

“Ooh, ooh. Is it cake? I would like some cake.” Taylor's turn to be flippant. “Maybe some beer to and I like my steak cooked well done. So well done in fact that it's black.”

This tirade got through Lord Cavill's facade for long enough that he earned himself a withering look and a sneer of disgust. For the uninitiated, In hunting circles, Steak is supposed to be cooked rare. The bloodier the better.

“Preferably,” Taylor went on. “I like it so that if someone dropped it on the floor then it would shatter.” He grinned.

For those who are wondering. I like my steak rare but not blue. That's one step too far for my tastes. I know, I know that this is the “ultimate” steak flavour but I....I just can't. Call it a character flaw if you like.

“Shhh.” I told Taylor. “You're putting him off his dinner with your heathen ways.” Taylor did his best to look sorrowful and failed utterly.

Kerrass waited for the children to subside

“So, we are to be sacrificed.” He said after a while where he manfully managed to avoid glaring at either Taylor or myself.

“Yes, you will be taken from here to another room where you will be fed and you may rest so that you can properly regain your strength. You may even have a woman brought to you if you wish although I might go so far as to suggest that you should possibly avoid such distractions and concentrate on eating and sleeping with your time.”

Kerrass nodded to show that he understood.

“Then, shortly after dawn you will be taken to a holy place where you will be consecrated.”

“Consecrated.”

“Yes, It's a kind of blessing. A lot like your heretical Baptisms. And then you will be released.”

Kerrass shook his head. “What?”

“Oh yes. We release you. You see, that was the thing that your brother and cousin could never understand Lord Frederick. It's supposed to be a hunt. We hunt our victims down before we feed the God with their pain and suffering. We give them strength and something to live for in that we feed them, allow them to rest and allow them to partake in carnal pleasure. And then we release them. We give them a night and a day and then we chase them.”

“So you are going to hunt us?”

“Yes. Then, when we catch you. We feed you to the God.”

“That's where the torture and the raping and the other stuff comes in yes?”

“Correct. We look forward to that bit. Again, your brother and cousin misunderstood the entire thing. They were only in it for the climax. For the pleasure that the proper worship of the God can give, they did not understand that proper worship of the God involves, patience and anticipation. You need to work for your rewards and the more you work for things, the better the gift that the God returns to us. You understand the principle well do you not Lord Frederick? After all, you have boasted many times regarding your skills regarding the pleasure of others. The orgasm is always the more powerful the longer you are kept waiting for it are you not?”

“So you have read my works then?” I commented.

“Extensively.” He told me. “Researching the behaviours of your enemies is an important factor.”

“Normally I just assume that people are just saying that they read things in order to make me feel better.” I commented to no-one in particular. “I would say though, that the principle that you are referring to is regarding the giving of pleasure to your lover. Not for the taking of pleasure for yourself. Let alone in torturing someone.”

“It works both ways.”

“I wouldn't know.” I told him. “Fortunately.” I sniffed derisively. It was a new expression that I was taking to with some verve. A disdainful sniff can be awfully eloquent. “But hold on though, can I ask a question? I mean, this would seem to be the sort of time that I could ask a question right?”

“You're right,” said Taylor, ever my comedic partner.

“I thought so. Can I ask a question?”

“Please do. That's the point about this conversation after all. It's so that the sacrifices can ask questions of the Hight Priest and so that they can finally learn what the rites entail and as to whether or not....”

“Yes yes. I heard what you are saying but if I'm honest, I stopped listening after you said that you would answer all my questions. But....Isn't it a bit stupid to talk to us in advance with some kind of promise that you can answer all of our questions and then you're going to let us go in some kind of staged hunt. What if we escape?”

I waited for him to open his mouth to answer before I jumped in again with both feet.

“I mean, it's exactly the same as those stories or plays that you see where the bad guy.” I gestured at Lord Cavill to make sure that he got the point. “Tells the good guys,” I gestured at the three of us, “the plan before putting us into some long and drawn out death sequence which we can blatantly escape from. What's it called?”

“Monologuing,” Taylor supplied.

“That's it,” I said. Have I ever mentioned that my mouth sometimes goes off on one without consulting me. It's always rather annoying when it does this. “Monologuing. What if we escape? What if you never find us?”

“No-one has ever escaped before.”

“There's always a first time.” I told him with as much certainty as I could manage.

“Where will you go? I can tell you all of this because it's part of the rites. You have been travelling for about six days. In what direction? Where are we? Hmmm? You stopped in the middle of the nine days total that you were in that cage. So let me tell you. You are miles, days away from anyone that would take your word for what has happened here. From someone would believe that I, Lord Cavill, well known to be a holy man of the heathen faith of the Holy Fire, worship some other deity. Then it would be even further still until you could find anyone that can actually help you. Who could marshal troops and come back here to help you look. That's if you can prove that you are who you say you are after all.”

He showed me that he was the true master of the derisive snort.

“What are you? Two Vagabond's and a Witcher. A Cat Witcher at that, against the word of an established nobleman. So then you have to find someone who knows who you are.”

“We made plenty of friends on our way here.”

“Did you now.” It was not a question, “Or did you, in fact, meet people who are actually my friends. They might not be true believers but there are always people who want to experience what we can offer. There's always someone willing to pay to torture a pretty girl, or a pretty boy to death. We reap the benefit in that we receive the power from The God, and they get their dick's sucked. Who's to complain?”

He laughed.

“That's not including the people who hate you for what and who you are. A jumped up little nobody, son of a jumped up little nobody who has lucked their way into having the ear of important people. You don't think that you've made lots of friends with your sister and your father before her, building a merchant empire like the one they have do you? How many people have you bankrupted? How many people have you displaced from their rightful position at the head of their households. You and that whore deviant of a sister.”

“Calling my sister deviant.” I said. “This from the man who worships dark and evil Gods.

“The things that I do are my Gods given right.” He raged suddenly. “I am the Lord Cavill. First born son of my father. That gives me the right to do as I please with my lands and my people. They exist on my sufferance and they give thanks to me for every breath that they suck down into their filthy little lungs.”

The three of us just stood there for a moment. I had heard that there really are Lords that are like this. That think of the people that live on their land as their rights. As belonging to them in some way. I had heard that this was a thing and indeed, I have met many of those self-same Lords who probably think this. It's just that the majority of them are also far too self-aware to admit this in public. It is becoming increasingly fashionable in the world to be working towards the betterment of your people.

There are many reasons for this but the main one is actually pragmatism. We've had three, large, continent sized wars in living memory. There is not a family in the north that hasn't been affected by this in some way, either having had someone lose their lives during one of the three conflicts or the aftermath, or having had their livelihood affected by economic realities in the wake of retreating and disbanded armies.

For a study on the subject of these effects I can recommend the book “The aftermath of war: The results of Imperial ambition,” by Lord Conton de Prait. He's a Nilfgaardian who retired from the Imperial treasury after the second war as he was one of a few people that were scape-goated for the failure of the second invasion. Fortunately, The Emperor was well aware that the problems that were actually to blame had nothing to do with Lord de Prait and merely exiled him. The book took on extra effect in the wake of the third Northern invasion by Nilfgaard forces. It's a fascinating read. Dispiriting, but fascinating nonetheless.

But I digress.

People have had to invest in their lands and in their people because otherwise, everyone starves. From the Lord down to the lowliest farmer. This is a completely separate issue from the problem of being able to pay taxes. The other problem is that, in the main, if you mistreat peasants then they will simply leave. Pack all their belongings onto the back of a wagon and head somewhere else where the Lords of the domain are more tolerant and understanding of the problems facing the lower classes. Or they could go somewhere which has been completely decimated by the wars to the point that there is no working infrastructure at all.

I understand that Aedirn is very nice this time of year in the wake of their invasion.

So Lord Cavill's words were astonishing to me. Kerrass and Taylor must have felt the same as me though as neither of them spoke in the wake of Lord Cavill's extraordinary statement.

“So shocking to you, Lord Frederick. You know what it is to be better than someone. You are educated, intelligent and driven. You have looked down on the people next to you and thought that you are better than them.”

“I might have done.” I told him. “I might have done once, I might still do it occasionally from time to time. Now, for instance as I look at you. But just because I think it, doesn't mean that it is so, I'm often just better educated than they are. I know more, but that doesn't make me better.....Other than now of course. Now, I'm definitely better than you. But you, and I in the past, confuse being born differently as making us better.”

“Doesn't it though?” Doesn't it? I was the first born son of my house. I was the first to be born from my Mother who gave me life. Not them, not the person down the street, not you or this Witcher or this soldier. I was born first. Doesn't that say something. Doesn't that make me better? If we assume that The God, or the gods if you prefer, are powerful entities that control our lives. If this is the case, as you must agree that it is given how much of a spiritual man that I know you to be, then surely we must have been put into our own particular walks of life on purpose as part of some overarching plan. Therefore I was put here as part of the God's plans and given all the rights that I have.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” I asked him. “Us, or yourself. You also miss out an important part of that sentence. We are Lords of our lands by the power of the crown monarch with all the rights, Privileges and responsibilities that that position requires. You talk as though the people are there for your amusement rather than acknowledging that you have a responsibility to take care of them, to nurture them and to make their lives better.”

“Ah but Lord Frederick.” He smiled as though he had won the point. “That's precisely what I am doing.”

“What?” I demanded. “Telling them lies. Feeding them drugs to keep them compliant so that they fulfil your sick and twisted perversions?”

“What I am doing, is feeding the God.” He told me. “I am saving them. I am worshipping his holy radiance. He feeds on our suffering and gives back bliss. It is my place to feed that as I have the power to provide that suffering.”

“If that were the case, then why not have them torture yourself?” I demanded. “Why not take a knife to your own innards and burn off your own testicles with a flaming brand? If the objective is to “feed the God” then why is your suffering any the less.....Oh what's the point.” I abruptly realised that I was trying to debate with a fanatic. You just can't do that as you will never win. Every argument that you make, everything that you say will just go further and further towards proving that they are correct in their eyes.

“I give up.” I told him throwing my arms in the air. “You are absolutely insane. No, that's not right. I've known some perfectly gentle and genuine people that could be called insane. I've skirted on the edge of that abyss myself on more than one occasion. What you are is a sick puppy that needs to be put down.”

Cavill laughed. I have no doubt that he simply thought of this as winning.

For all I know, he did.

But I was chastising myself. I thought that I should have seen that madness in his eyes the first time that I met him. That I should have been more careful and that we should have found some way to escape and bring back help for all the poor souls that were labouring under this utter lunatic.

He laughed for a long time.

“Which God?” Kerrass asked after a while.

“What?”

“I said, Which God?” Kerrass repeated. “You tell us that this is all in service to which God. If not the service of your own ego, which God is it. The Holy Fire? Although I think that even some of their more militant followers would look at some of the things that you do here and go “steady on.” After all, it was some adherents to the teachings of the Holy Fire that had the followers in your more Southern Sects burned around Oxenfurt after we found them and had them arrested.”

Lord Cavill said nothing.

“Then is it the sky-father Kreve? Did you know that the locals around Castle Kalayn refer to your riders as “The Hounds of Kreve?” I would have almost found that amusing other than the fact that it's so fucking tragic. If one of those people had told the right authorities that this was happening,, the followers of Kreve would have declared a crusade and wiped you out. Was it Kreve? They would have found this place even more disgusting than the followers of the Eternal Fire would.”

Lord Cavill said nothing. He was smiling a smug and self-satisfied little smile that I was beginning to get the burning desire to wipe off his face.

“It can't be Melitele or Freya,” Kerrass went on. “No priestess, or priest if you prefer although I've never heard of a Priest of either Goddess, would have ever allowed the things that you do here. Or is it the Lionheaded Spider that you worship? If so, it's not like any cult of the Lionhead that I've ever come across.”

“No,” Cavill finally moved. “It's possible that we were once an offshoot of Coran Agh Tera but if so, that time is long past. That misguided cult is about a longing for death, we long for life. We heighten it. The most intense feelings that a person can feel are pain and pleasure. Pain, much more so than pleasure but the line between the two is a thin one.”

“So this is a sexual thing. You're just....addicted to the feelings that this all produces.” Kerrass just put a hint of a sneer into his words. He once told me about the trick that he was using. If you deny a person or call them a liar then they will just clam up and you won't get any information out of them at all. Whereas if you deliberately get the information wrong, especially in the face of an arrogant fanatic like Lord Cavill, then they will do anything they can to try and prove you wrong. They will literally trip over themselves in an effort to try and prove to you, and to themselves actually, that you don't know what you're doing.

Lord Cavill jumped into the trap. Not that he was in that much danger to be fair.

“No, it all feeds the God. All of it. But the agony that people feel, the pain and the suffering of those lesser creatures, the anticipation of the hunters and the hunted that builds into the extreme explosion of pleasure and pain. That is what feeds the God and makes him more powerful.

“He is here. Can you not feel him? Feel him in the air around you. He is here, deep in the bowels of the earth. Buried under the centuries of compacted earth. He was old when this world was young and he shook the mountainside with his wrath. He spoke and the Gnomes that lived here scurried under ground. He was here and as he was, he reached out with his hand and caused the stars themselves to tremble.”

“What is his name?” Kerrass' voice was harsh against the the melodious and trained voice of Lord Cavill.

“There is no name.” Cavill almost whispered it. “We have no name for him. He is the nameless one, the root of everything and the basis for all of our drives and our ambitions. He is the source of power and the basis of all magic. He is chaos, he is force, he is.....impossible. Everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing. He …..He is.”

Kerrass nodded. “So he isn't Crom Cruarch then?”

“That petty little peasant God. Heh. No, no he isn't.”

“Then why did Kalayn tell us that it was?”

“How should I know? Kalayn was a fool, trying to form a splinter faction of worship down in more civilised areas without proper understanding of the thing. He was trying to break away from my authority and gather his own followers. We supported him of course. The more we worship him, the stronger he gets, the more pain that we cause, the more power that he gives us. In giving him a name then it mean that he becomes more real to a certain kind of person but then they don't understand that his mystery is his power and....”

“So you are the High priest then?” I thought I could sense a small amount of impatience in Kerrass' voice.

“I have that honour.”

“How does that work?”

“I was chosen. You have to be a first born son. You have to have the power and influence to properly spread the work of the God. Money, political power, skill and the like. You also have to be able to go further in the worship than anyone else.” He turned to me and smiled horribly. “I had high hopes that your brother Edmund would be able to follow me when I die and finally go to join the God. High hopes. His appetites were....wondrously extreme. But Kalayn got his claws in. If only your father hadn't got in the way and then I would have been able to see to Edmund's proper education.”

I ignored him. My feelings about Edmund remain complicated but I would rather he died than he become, well, this.

“I've heard enough.” I said to the room at large. “There was some kind of discussion about food and a bed. If you want to rant at me some more, you can do it in the morning but right now, I'm feeling a little dead on my feet if you'll excuse the expression.”

“I have another question before we go,” Kerrass said before turning back to Lord Cavill. “I take it that you found us by virtue of a mage's skills?”

“Of course. How else did you think we were going to find you? Or subdue you so easily for that matter?”

“Did you really take him in so that he could avoid the Witch hunts?”

“Partially. He really would have fallen prey to the Witch hunters but in this particular case, it was more the fact that he found us. He had been having these dreams you see....”

“I see. You say this is supposed to be a hunt. Is it not a little unfair for you to have something like that at your disposal?”

“A little unfair I suppose but not catastrophically so. We don't use him for that though. It kind of defeats the object of the exercise.”

Kerrass nodded. “I'm done. Take us to our “Guest quarters” or whatever you want to call them.”

Arthur moved from his position to open the door, the crossbowmen that were still standing behind us started to move but Lord Cavill was holding his hand up.

“Wait. If you don't mind, I have a question of my own to ask before you go.”

“What's the enticement for us to answer you?”

“Absolutely none at all. Courtesy maybe?”

Kerrass grinned and glanced at me. I just shrugged. Taylor rolled his eyes. “Ask your question.” Kerrass said.

“We were going to take you anyway. We knew that you were coming as our agents in other areas, including your brothers lands told us that you were on your way. You have proven yourself our enemies too many times for you to be allowed to live. A large number of our first born sons died in that conflagration outside of Oxenfurt and as such, you deserve to die. The only reason that we haven't come after you up until this point is that we were waiting until we could arrange matters so that suspicion wouldn't fall on us. ”

“Your point?”

“We couldn't take you in the castle as that would give us away. So what was it that tipped you off. How did you know that we, that I, was involved in the attacks on your brothers people.”

Again Kerrass looked at the two of us. Kerrass raised his eyebrows at me. It would seem that this bit was up to me.

“There were lots of things.” I told him. Lots of small clues that gave you away and gave us clues as to what was going on. The absence of women anywhere around you. Yours was a court of men and in the modern world, that is increasingly rare. It was in the attitude of your guards and your....for want of a better word.....courtiers.” I sucked my teeth in thought. “Your mage made my skin crawl.” I found myself smiling at the thought.

“Yes,” Lord Cavill's mirth was warm suddenly and I was reminded of his charm. I tried to force myself to play on that but I didn't really get the chance. “Yes, he does that to people. I normally try to keep him out of such circumstances for precisely that reason but in this instance he was too useful. He needed to get a good look at you so that he could find you again.” His eyes narrowed a little. “But I sense that this isn't the entire thing?”

“No.” I smirked again. “It was your son's axe that he was training with out in the yard.”

“His axe?”

“Yes. He got it recently didn't he?”

“He did. He claimed that he bought it from one of the dwarven merchants that came through here. A brutal, disgusting weapon, I thought. Far too big. A weapon for the slaying rather than any kind of finesses.”

“He didn't get it from a merchant.” I told him. “He stole it from the body of a dead priest of Kreve. A knight Father Gardan who you might have heard of?”

A spasm of anger flashed across Lord Cavill's face. “His efforts towards some kind of vengeance against you, to throw his murder of the priest into your face after you humiliated him in court, I have no doubt.”

“Possibly.”

“Did he know that you would recognise it I wonder?”

“Did he care?”

Cavill grunted. “I'm going to knock the fuck out of him for this. So elementary a mistake. Our entire existence depends on our being hidden from the outside world. If he wasn't my only remaining heir then I would give him to the rack or the flogging post for a mistake like that That axe should have been left with the body or it should have been melted down or re-shaped into something more useful. Still....The axe of the Silver slayer.”

He shook his head.

“Still. Thank you for your time. I shall be there to see you off in the morning.”

This time Arthur did indeed open the door. In a practised manoeuvre we were preceded by half the crossbowmen while the remaining ones followed us out, keeping us at bay as we went.

“Wait.” It was Taylor who suddenly turned in place. “My turn for a question There was a look of genuine puzzlement on his face. Taylor is a fascinating man and I wish that I get the chance to find out more about him, but he had this trick of using his face to be so utterly eloquent in his delivery and body language.

Sometimes he was as difficult to read as a statue but other times you could tell what he was thinking from across a wide open field.

Now he was standing there in abject amazed and amused horror.

“Wait.” He said. “Before we go, I just have a question.”

There was a pause as we all stood there and stared at him. Kerrass was out in the hallway and almost came back in. Arthur looked on.

Cavill was in the process of taking out a paper to read on the desk in the universal signal from everyone that they were done with this bullshit and moving on to the next item of business but he was looking up at Taylor now.

“Do you actually believe in all of this Horse shit?” Taylor began, “or is this just some jumped up excuse to be horrible to your fellow man?”

Cavill just stared at him.

Arthur's armour clinked as he shifted in discomfort.

“I mean seriously. I wanna know.” Taylor stood and stared the other man down for a minute or two. “Yeah,” he said after a while. “I thought so.”

He nodded to himself before making a “shooing” gesture to me to usher me out the door. “Pompous prick,” he stage muttered to me.

To be fair, I couldn't agree more.

We were led along the corridor and down a flight of stairs. In the same area of the mine or cavern or wherever the hell it was that we found ourself but there was no doubt in our mind that we had come into a prison. The doors were heavier and the walls were lined with guards. Men in the hooded cowls of the Hounds. This time they were not wearing the ridiculous armoured shapes hidden underneath and their weapons were good, well made things.

We were shown into a room. Several large and comfortable beds were there as well as rich rugs and tapestries on the walls. There were several comfortable chairs and a large table in the middle of the room upon which was a flower arrangement as well as a jug and three cups.

“Food will be brought shortly.” Arthur told us. His loosening up that had happened while we were travelling towards Lord Cavill's office seemed to have been undone. He was still polite but there had been a distance that had grown up between us as well. He was no longer trying to be friends. “After that, if you require the use of a woman then one will be brought.”

“What about privacy?” Kerrass asked. “Should a woman be brought, I don't really want to look at Freddie's pimpled backside while he goes at it.”

Taylor laughed. Arthur did not.

“There are bedded alcoves behind the curtains at the end of the room.” He pointed. “The curtains are heavy and are certainly opaque but I can do nothing about the noise should anyone be particularly....ah.....vocal.”

He seemed to run out of things to say for a second or two there before turning round and starting again. “We will bring you some more food at dawn and come for you two hours after that for the beginning of the hunt. I suggest that you get some rest as well as make use of the food.”

“Wait.” I said as he turned to go. “You seem like a good man. Why are you doing this?”

“It is the God's will.” He told me promptly and a little stiffly. I gathered that he had heard something that he didn't quite approve of. “How else am I guaranteed my place in paradise?”

I nodded. I was dealing with another fanatic here. Arguing was pointless at best and, given what we could look forward to in the morning, at worst it was just a waste of energy.

“Then where do we go if we need to relieve ourselves?” I asked.

“The curtain on the other end leads to a garderobe.”

“A hole in the floor.”

“As you say.”

I nodded again. “What's to stop us from just.....Refusing to be hunted. What happens if we just sit there and let you all take us. That defeats the le point of the exercise doesn't it?”

Arthur sighed and scratched his head. “That is one of the mysteries that I am not party to. Before being released I have seen Father talk to the sacrifices before hand but I have never heard what he says. But whatever it is that he says, it provides the necessary goading and the sacrifices often leap to their feet to begin the chase.”

“Do we get a head start?”

“A period of one day. Now I really have told you much more than I should have. You will learn the rest tomorrow.”

He closed the door on us.

Kerrass moved over to the table and poured a small cup of the liquid, sniffed and tasted it.

“It's clean.” He said and poured me a cup. “Get it down you Freddie, you will need your strength.”

I took the cup and found that he was right. I was tired, thirsty and hungry.

“What is wrong with me?” I asked.

“You were bled.” Kerrass told me. He and Taylor were prowling round the room. I suspect they were looking for anything that might be used as a weapon or looking for some way of escape. At one point I saw Kerrass looking at the holes in the walls that were far above us that, presumably, provided us with air to breathe. I saw him look at the holes and measure the distance before examining Taylor and I before dismissing the idea with a shake of his head.

“We were only asleep for a couple of days and woke up in the cage.” Taylor went on. He was moving along the walls, waving his hands around before the stones to see if he could feel a draft anywhere. “Then one day we went indoors and they came and dragged you out of the cage. We would have fought them but we were unarmed and all but naked at the time and they had crossbows.”

“Where did they take me?”

“They didn't say. But when you came back you had scars and needle marks in the crooks of your elbows. You were pale and your pulse was shallow. Normally after that kind of thing you would need to be fed and watered.”

“Good red meat and green vegetables” Taylor nodded. “Best thing to get you back on your feet.”

“But they didn't. They fed you so that you wouldn't starve.”

“The ever popular tube down the throat?” I asked

“The very thing.” Kerrass grinned.

“It's always me isn't it.”

“You deserve it though.” The grin vanished. “But you've also been lying in your own filth. They cared enough to keep you fed, not to keep you clean. Speaking of which, let's see if we can get you a bath.

A bath was provided, food was brought. It was simple but tasty fare. Bread, meat, cheese and some vegetables. Well cooked with what tasted like wild garlic and onions. A bath was brought as well as some clean clothes and I cannot deny that the feeling of cleanliness was wonderful. Not the first time that I have felt the undeniable ecstasy of being clean after having been so filthy but every single time it happens, it feels wonderful.

We ate, I cleaned myself up and then we gathered around the table for a small conference.

“So what are we going to do?” Taylor asked. “It seems a little....foolish to just head down and run for it when they let us go in the morning. We need some kind of plan.”

“We do. We're not in so bad a state as all that though.” Kerrass told him. “We're not some frightened villagers or one of the elves that it seems that they have used for this purpose in the past.”

“No, but I'm going to slow you both down.” I told them. I took a deep breath. “It might be better if you let them take me. We run for it for as long as we can, I don't know if we get any weapons or anything as part of the hunt but we run for as long as we can. When it's clear that I can't go any further then I will turn and attack them. Hopefully I can survive whatever they've got in mind for long enough so that you two can get help.”

“Brave of you Freddie, but a little foolish. Don't be too keen to jump on your sword just yet.” Kerrass smiled softly.

“Why?” Taylor asked. “I agree that we should fight as much as we can but Lord Frederick's right. Not because he isn't physically capable but he's weak from the blood loss and it takes time to recover from that kind of thing, not to mention any illness that that's going to leave him vulnerable to.”

“True, but at the same time, which of the two of us is going to be able to convince Lord whatever or whoever we bump into that we're not the fugitives that Lord Cavill claims us to be. I'm a Witcher and without Freddie's company, which lends me a certain amount of credibility and respect, people run from me and attack me. And all of those Lords that we will go to will see, at worst, a common soldier in you or Lord Frederick's manservant at best. Villagers will be afraid of both of us as again,” Kerrass gestured at himself “Witcher and you're a soldier. They're going to run a mile when they see either of us. We have to plan beyond immediate survival which, I agree, is going to need the two of us to carry Freddie a bit but later on....we're going to need him so.....” He wagged his finger in my face. “No heroic self-sacrificing.”

“Yes Kerrass.” I tried to look contrite and failed.

“But honestly though,” Kerrass went on. “We're not in too bad shape here. A Witcher, a soldier and a fighter. We're already much more than these bastards are used to and we can counter their herbal poisons. Also, we have help out there.”

“You mean Sir Rickard.” I said quietly. I couldn't see how we were being listened to but they did have a mage on the payroll.

“Yes. Sir Rickard with more than half a dozen of the most highly trained and deadly woodsmen that I've ever seen and I'm nearly a hundred years old.”

“Will they find us though?” I asked.

“Dan'll find us.” Taylor said nodding, a strange, prideful glint in his eye. “That man could track a bird in flight before shooting it down.”

“By now, Rickard knows that we're missing. He's a sensible man. He will tell people what's happened and by now, people are looking for us. And we, especially Freddie, have powerful friends. Another reason why it is vital that Freddie stay alive and in our company.”

“I can't contact them though.”

“Oh Freddie, a little naïve there.” Kerrass chuckled. “Your fiancée was called the Spider Queen of Angraal and that was not a cute nickname that they gave her. We both know that she can literally talk to spiders and that she once told you that spiders have a web of communication that covers the continent. The only way that she hasn't already found you yet is due to a magical null field or something that is hiding you from her. But that kind of thing would have to be finite, so all we have to do is to get out from that area and she'll snatch you up in a heart-beat.”

Taylor smirked. “Not sure how I would feel about a wife who could literally see me wherever I went and know what I was up to. But in this instance, I'll take it.”

“That's not including the amount of fuss that Sam will make along with the Church of the Holy Fire and the rest. We should still head somewhere but our main objective is going to have to be to survive. The longer that we survive, the better for us all.”

I felt myself nodding along with Kerrass' words and I saw that Taylor was being drawn in in the same way.

“The main problem.” Kerrass went on. “Is that mage of theirs. We only have their word for it that he won't get himself involved in this “most sacred of rites”. The danger is that if they come at us in a group, that we get overwhelmed. I would flatter the three of us that we can take on three or four of them. Even unarmed as we are and then we start to become equipped we become all the more dangerous but if that mage find us, tells them where we are and then they come after us in force.....” He sucked some air in between his teeth. “Then that is the most dangerous thing.”

We nodded and looked at each other for a bit.

“I'm going to get some rest.” I declared. “I think I'm going to need it if I'm replenishing lost blood. Someone wake me in a few hours so I can get something else to eat.” Kerrass nodded.

“And I'm going to see about a woman.” Taylor said, heading towards the door.

“Is now the time?” I asked him, but I was smiling as I said it. I was under no illusions. Kerrass' talk not withstanding, things were fairly dire. There were a lot of them against three of us. I was sick, Kerrass had lost the edge that his Elixirs gave him so the only one operating on full strength was Taylor. So if he wanted to spend his last comfortable night with a woman, then who was I to argue.

I did though. Because that's what friends are for.

“Probably not.” He told me with a smile. “But if I can convince her then she might be able to smuggle us a weapon or show us a way out.” He shrugged. “Unlikely given how much control the bastards seem to have over this lot but,” he shrugged again. “Worth a go.”

He spoke to the guard at the door. The discussion seemed to go along the lines of “What flavour would you like,” and he chose a blonde.

I dozed to be woken, as requested, some time later by Kerrass.

“Taylor?” I asked him.

“If you listen,” Kerrass said quietly. “You can hear him snoring the gentle sound of the disappointed.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, she was less than entirely enthusiastic in her.....lovemaking and so he tried to send her away. He, like you and I, likes them willing and enthusiastic but it would seem that that's not what they go for round here. Instead she was meek, resistant and absolutely expecting him to rape her. But she protested and said that she would be punished if something didn't happen so.....”

“So......” I made the universal hand gesture of wanting to know more. The one where you rotate your hands in the air as if beckoning more noise to come out of Kerrass' mouth.

“So, I didn't ask any further. She left willingly some time later and he didn't rape her so I didn't enquire any further. She was unreceptive to the idea of helping us though.”

I shrugged and gave a little sigh. “We kind of knew that it was a long shot though didn't we.”

“We did. Eat something.”

I did and Kerrass sat watching me.

“Shouldn't you also be getting some rest?” I prompted.

“I will but I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Go on,”

“Why didn't you ask about your sister. He would have answered you, as it was my understanding that that was the deal after all. We would ask questions and he would answer them.”

“Would he though?” I washed down my current mouthful with some water and thought about what to say. “Since the night by the rock, I've been trying to be a bit more careful about my emotions and about how I do things regarding them. If I had asked about what was going on with Francesca and he told me that she had long since been fed to their dark God of Pleasure and torture. What would I have done?”

Kerrass said nothing.

“I don't know either.” I told him. “But there's a very real possibility that I would have got all three of us killed. If I had gone for him, which I might have, then you would have felt obliged to join in. Taylor would have as well because it would have been our last and best chance to make anything happen. But then eight crossbow bolts would have thundered across the room and the three of us would be dead. Francesca, would still be unsaved or unavenged.”

“But that's not the real reason is it?”

“No, no it isn't. If I had asked him. He would have something else to hold over me. Another string, another arrow that he could sent at me to put me off or upset me. Another means of upsetting me. It might be petty but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.”

Kerrass nodded. He watched me eat for a little while longer before he went to his own bed.

As promised, we were woken at dawn by a number of servants who brought us food and plenty of it. As he had the previous day, Kerrass checked it all to make sure that it was safe to eat before tucking in himself. It was only moderately disconcerting to see that Taylor shared his habit of eating huge breakfasts before action. I always struggle with this as I often struggle in the morning and if I try and force too much food down my throat too quickly then I end up feeling sick.

But that morning, I forced myself, despite the nausea and light-headedness that greeted me that morning. Fortunately, I knew what the cure was and I ate the food and drank the water until I could almost hear the water sloshing around in my belly.

Then we had a couple of hours before they would come for us. We spent a bit of time resting and allowing the food to digest so as to get the proper benefit from it before limbering up a bit. Doing some gentle warm-up exercises to prepare us for whatever lay ahead.

Again, Arthur was assigned as our escort and came with a smile and the general kind of aura of anticipation that you imagine in athletes before the contest, or students before an exam that they know that they are well prepared for.

Or a man about to embark on a date with a pretty girl where he knows that he's going to get lucky. I shuddered when that thought occurred to me.

“I have not brought the men with the crossbows this time.” He told us. “On the grounds that we're taking you to a place where you will be released anyway. Do I need them?”

The three of us looked at each other a bit before shaking our collective heads.

“Good.” Arthur nodded as though he was satisfied in some way. “As I said before, this is hard and I am completely understanding and full of sympathy when it comes to your plight. I will not ask for your forgiveness as I know that what you are going to go through is horrible and after the horn signals the start of the hunt, I will be among the first to leap to the chase. But here and now, I want you to know that I respect you and that I bear you no ill will. You should also know that your reward will be in paradise.”

I looked at him for a long time.

“Tell me,” I said. “Do you believe all of that? Do you believe that all of this is necessary?”

“Of course.” He seemed surprised at the question.

“Then do not pity me. I pity you. This was not your fault and this was done to you. I forgive you for your part in it. You are a weapon and a sick animal that has been turned against us. But I do hate the man that did this to us and who did this to you. You, I will kill quickly and cleanly when it comes to it. Him? I want to see that bastard suffer.”

Arthur listened to my little speech gravely before shaking his head. “Your hatred is unfounded but I understand it. Follow me now.”

He led us off, although there weren't any crossbow men, it would seem that Arthur wasn't entirely stupid. We did have an “honour guard” of four armed men in their hooded cloaks and there were other men who lined our way, holding torches aloft. It all looked ceremonial but I had no doubt that our end would come quickly if we made a break for it.

We were led down a ramp and along some corridors. The air smelled almost clean and the noise of toil and torture was almost completely missing from the air.

Eventually we came into a large cave. The guards who had lined the walls had followed us from our cells and there were more people feeding into the cave. They stood in rank upon rank. I don't know how many of them there were.

“Lebioda's hairy ballsack.” Taylor swore. “They've got a fucking army here.”

“A small one,” Kerrass muttered in response.

At one end of the cave we were led up some steps and onto a raised platform so that everyone could see us. There, stood twelve men. Their robes much richer than the rest, the gold patterning standing out and glittering in the firelight. They were all armed with a variety of weapons, most had swords although one or two people carried spears and large war hammers. One had a large axe, Father Gardan's axe.

Another of them was wearing a large pair of sharpened fiend antlers that must have been enormously heavy, the shape that I recognised from the night that Father Hacha was tortured to death outside of Kalayn castle. The twelve figures stood utterly still and the three of us were left wondering what was happening.

From further in the hall there came a drum beat which seemed to be some kind of signal. I presume that it was something to do with telling the assembly that everyone was there now because Lord Cavill took the huge crown of horns from his head and lowered his hood.

“Well here we are.” He said. He was grinning from ear to ear and I wondered if he was drunk. He didn't weave in place or anything and his words weren't slurred but he seemed a little delirious, as though he was enjoying himself far too much for what I assumed was quite a solemn occasion.

Maybe he was high on something. That is much more likely.

“Children,” he called as he walked to the front of the stage and addressed the assembly. “The time has come for another hunt.” The crowd seemed to sway in place and groan. It seemed oddly sexual and I felt myself shift in discomfort.

“Soon,” Lord Cavill went on. “We will be unleashed to the hunt, just as it always has been and always will be. We will chase our quarry in the form of the ancient rites of the God in order for them to be hunted and taken. They shall flee and fight as they always do and we shall chase and conquer as we always do.”

Another groan from the crowd.

“This trial shall be hard though.” He warned them in dire tones, it was the first time that he actually reminded me of a priest. Warning his congregation against the coming hardship. “Our quarry is a clever one. Indeed he is one known to us for he is brother of the treacherous house Kalayn.”

I felt myself grin as the crowd erupted into jeers and boos.

“You all know about how the new Lord Kalayn has turned his lands and his people against us. How he helped slay the last of the good and noble members of his family. How his older brother died in the service of The God. Indeed, it was this creature,” he spun and pointed at me with a trembling hand. I rather thought that the trembling was more theatrical than was entirely called for, “who saw to it that so many of our Brothers were fed to the fires of heresy and treason. Now the new Lord Kalayn scorns us and lessens us. He attacks us and showers us with scorn. One day, some day soon, he will be subject to our justice. But now we have his younger brother and he shall be fed to the God by your hand in our most sacred rites in order to appease the great and mighty one.”

I could feel the crowd almost vibrating in their hatred of me.

Lord Cavill turned back towards me and smiled.

“A bit much wasn't it?” I asked him. “Sam was never on your side, neither was I and by your own admission, Cousin Kalayn was trying to splinter off from your influence.”

“True,” he admitted, “But of all people Lord Frederick, you should know that when it comes to religion, we say what we need to say to whip our congregation into a fervour. Now.... the rules. In a short while we will release you and you head in that direction.” He gestured towards the end of the cave. “Just round the bend you will find the exit that turns you out into the countryside whereupon you can make your own way in whatever direction that you desire to do whatever you see fit. One day from now, we will come after you. Exactly twenty four hours from when you are released. We will not attack you in the meantime nor take any action that might result in your capture. You can run, walk, hide or have sex with each other if you prefer.”

Taylor opened his mouth to ask a question but Lord Cavill held his hand up to forestall and answered the question in advance.

“If you attack us at any point then we will defend ourselves accordingly and the rite will be over. We will reserve our most special tortures for you should you decide to take this route.”

“Still,” muttered Taylor, “A few dead cultists....”

“Now for the good news.” Lord Cavill continued, ignoring Taylor's comments. He gestured and a couple of men came forward with some of our belongings. I noticed that Kerrass' alchemy gear was missing for instance but our clothes, Kerrass' and my armour was present as well as Kerrass' and my weapons.

For a moment I saw Taylor look confused before he remembered that his fighting gear was with Sir Rickard.

“Feel free to dress and arm yourselves.” Cavill told us. “Also, here is food and water for the twenty four hours before we come after you.” More bags were deposited in front of us. I checked inside them while strapping my armour around myself. Sure enough, loaves of bread, some cheese and fruit as well as some dried meats. Trail rations to be sure but it was light and we would be moving fast. The water skins were of the kind that you could wrap around yourself.

“I can also tell you that Phineas will not be involved in your hunt as that would be cheating.”

“Not something that you seem to have cared about previously,” I commented quietly. Cavill's face didn't react.

“He is doing something else for me which leads us on to the bad news.”

He grinned again and for the first time, I began to see the madness and the hate that lived behind the eyes. He had seemed so rational before in his castle and even in his study the previous day.

“We are well aware of the presence of Sir Rickard and his gaggle of idiots.” he said.

I managed to keep my face still and fixed on his, I have no doubt that Kerrass also managed to keep his face still but Taylor must have given some clue.

“Yes, I am well aware of who you are....Taylor. Believe me, nothing would make me happier than if I had that jumped up bastard Rickard in front of me now. I would enjoy his death immensely but he and his band were last seen travelling the side-roads of my lands looking for you. We were watching through Phineas' divin..ackion.... mirror....”

“It's pronounced “divination” idiot.” Kerrass sneered.

“Quite,” Cavill's smile didn't waver. “But we saw you leave the road and leave your trail signs and as such we were able to erase those and lead him off in completely the wrong direction. We also had three of my guards who were tolerably close to your heights and builds dress up in clothes similar to yours and depart my castle in all the directions of the compass. Rickard is now hopelessly confused and is wandering this way and that way talking to people who are all giving him misleading information as they are just as confused by the decoys as he is. I intend to hunt him down and destroy him at my leisure at a later date.”

He laughed. I tried to keep my spirits up. It was a blow, to be sure but not a catastrophic one.

“Also,” Lord Cavill went on. “You should really reconsider avoiding writing everything down in those absurd journals of yours Lord Frederick. And then publishing them, of all things, so that even your enemies can read them.” He laughed and was joined by the other men on the platform. “It gives me access to all your strengths and weaknesses, for example,” He leant in close. “I know all about your medallion.”

He laughed.

This time I wasn't as successful in keeping my face still.

“Bastard,” I told him.

“On the contrary, I was born quite legitimately and as the eldest son of my house. Unlike you of course, but I was talking about your travel journals.”

He cleared his throat.

“They made for fascinating reading and I have read them many times, in minute detail. I was already aware that we had you to blame for the loss of so many of our sons and we had every intention of hunting you down and killing you. At some point in the future, maybe a year or three after your wedding had meant that you would no longer be publishing as much taking you out of the public eye. Then we had a quiet little murder planned after we had found away of countering your wife but then you just walked into our territory with no more protection than one man and your tame Witcher.”

“He is far from tame.”

“Yes, yes. Posture all you like. Would you like to know about your medallion?”

What hope that I had was dwindling in my chest now. I had come to depend on my pendant and the connection that it gave me to Ariadne. I had been trying not to think about it on the grounds that it would be a distraction and that I needed to maintain a front before my enemies. Now, I missed that connection keenly and felt on the edge of tears.

I often feel alone on the road. Yes I have Kerrass as the best friend that a man could wish for but sometimes, when he's off doing Witcher things like gathering herbs or training or working on keeping his own demons at bay. I am left by myself and I have been able to talk to Ariadne. The medallion had kept me from feeling isolated and now it was gone.

I also didn't know how I felt about Lord Cavill having read my journals. It was so... I felt oddly naked, almost violated. I pour my heart and soul into these journals that you, dear reader, are good enough to purchase and read. It had honestly never occurred to me that my enemies might get hold of them, read them and use them against me. It was like.....I don't know what it was like to be honest and I felt as though I was being stripped of my dignity, of my shield.

“You're going to anyway so why not get it over with.”

“You're right, I am.” Another grin. “Because, really? You only have yourself to blame on this one.”

He laughed and I dearly wanted, dearly, dearly wanted to wipe that grin off his face. But now was not the time for anger or rage. Now I needed to be cold. I needed to remain calm so that I could think clearly. We were not going to get out of this by my losing my temper and getting the three of us killed.

“To be honest, the problem of your medallion has actually been one of the biggest riddles that we've had to overcome in planning our destruction of you. We knew it existed and we knew that your vampiric lover could track you and contact you through it. We also knew that you could contact her which is, apparently, a separate issue. So Phineas took the matter in hand. First of all we took the relatively easy step of ensuring that you would not be able to contact her. But then....We needed to put you in harms way without her knowing about it so what to do, what to do.”

He tapped his index finger against his lips in a pantomime of a man trying to think his way through a problem.

“So Phineas got close to you so that he could have a look at it which is when we discovered how it worked. Would you like to know?”

I just stared at him.

“It's connected to your blood.” He told me, as I knew he would. “It's activated by proximity to your blood and that same blood pumping through your veins. A little obvious really once we started to think about it. Of course a vampire would think of linking it to a person's blood. So then the question became about how we were going to lead her off on a merry chase in the wrong direction when she inevitably started to look for you.”

I sighed as the answer occurred to me. I tried not to but, as I've said before, Lord Cavill was actually quite a compelling speaker and he drew me along with his chain of reasoning.

“I see you follow our reasoning.” Cavill told us. “The difficulty was that the blood doesn't stay “alive” for very long when it leaves the body. It starts to coagulate so we hit on the idea of injecting it into the body of one of my men.”

“Which will then climb onto a horse and ride off in a random direction, yes I see where this is going.”

“Not quite. It was a wagon as steered by another two guards. Unfortunately the process made the poor man rather ill and although we tried to keep him alive for a good length of time, the odds were that, at best, he wasn't going to live for very long. Apart from anything else, Phineas tells me that if we put your blood into him, then after a while it will become “his” blood and will no longer work to deceive the amulet.”

He took the time to grin again.

“Just to check.” I said suddenly. The day and a night head start that we've been promised. That starts from when we're released right? Because you're doing an awful lot of talking and.....”

Taylor chuckled. I would like to think that I got a smile out of Kerrass but I couldn't see him.

Cavill smiled at the humour.

“So the men that are with him were under orders. When the recipient of your blood dies, or after two days of hard riding. They will take a hammer and smash the amulet apart.”

That hurt. Not gonna lie but that really hurt. Despite my best efforts I felt my lips peel back from my teeth in a snarl

“They promised to bring me the shards of whatever was left though. I had Phineas enchant a hammer for the purpose although he promised that a normal sledgehammer would do the job. But I wanted to make sure that the amulet would be good and shattered by the time that they were done. I thought that one of the things that I would do would be to make you eat the crystal dust and the gold elements of the remains to see what they would do to your insides.”

“I would spit them back at you.” I told him.

He laughed though. He was the one with all of the power and he knew it.

“So, where does that leave us then? Let's see, we've distracted and removed the hope of reinforcement from Rickard and his troop of reprobates and murderers. We've removed any hope of rescue from your monstrous vampiric lover.”

I just glared at him.

“So what can we do next to make your hunt worthwhile. To stack the hardships and trials against you.”

Again the pantomime of thinking about things.

“Ooh, I know.” He gestured and men leapt out of the shadows wrestling me to the ground.

I would like to think that I might have made more of an impact but I was still weak. I know that Kerrass had spun to defend himself but he was carried down under the weight of a good half a dozen men. As he himself would say, the greatest swordsman in the world can be overwhelmed by superior numbers when he has his sword still in the scabbard.

Taylor, like me, had been lulled into a false sense of security by the extended speeches and had as much chance as I had.

“Just to be clear Frederick.” Cavill hissed into my face. “You are the sacrifice. You are the man who I want to destroy. You are the warning that I will send to my enemies, people like your brother, who stand against me and defy me. They will know what is coming for all of them.”

He gestured again and Taylor was dragged to his knees by the hair. There were men holding him by the arms. Strong hands grabbed me by the side of my head so that I couldn't move.

“I know,” Cavill grated on. “I know that you are, by far, the most dangerous quarry that we've ever hunted. We are aware that you know how to counter our skills, our poisons and our magic and moreover, you know them for what they are. I know, exactly how stupid it would be to release you and your Witcher, and your trained soldier. Believe me I know. Of all the people that we've ever hunted out of this cavern. You are the one most likely to escape.

“But I want to hunt you. I want to hunt you down so bad. I want to feel that satisfaction of grinding you into the ground beneath my feet. I want to see your face when you realise that there is no hope and that there is no-one coming for you. I want to be there when they tie you into the rack for the first time and we start to peel the skin from your bones.

“I wish I could be there, when your Sainted brother Mark hears that you were taken by so-called heretics and that your body and soul was corrupted. I would like to have seen your whore sisters face and hear her anguished cries when she learns that she will never see you again. I wish I could witness the rage of your vampire as she succumbs to her nature and becomes the monster that she is and needs to be put down.

“I wish I could be there and see your brother. Samuel Kalayn when he realises the folly of standing against me.”

I tried to spit at him but I couldn't. I couldn't turn my head.

“So now, I must take away your advantages.”

He must have signalled again as someone leaned across and cut Taylor's throat from ear to ear.

Cutting someone's throat is not easy. Even if your blade is razor sharp, it's actually much easier to stab someone in the throat and then wiggle the blade around. So I had to watch as the Hound, or whatever the fuck he was, dragged the blade across Taylors neck. It was a practised gesture though.

It also never ceases to surprise me that a man who has had his throat slit can't scream or cry out. I know why, but it's always surprising to me.

They let Taylor go then and he went berzerk. Charging after the people that had been holding him down but the sudden burst of strength didn't last long. He was already losing his balance as he slipped and fell on his own spilled blood. He tried to climb to his feet after that but it was already too late.

They held my head so that I was forced to watch. I made eye contact with him and I saw the panic that was in his eyes, his lips moving as the blood flow slacked off and eventually stopped.

“I'm sorry,” I tried to tell him but I think he was past the point by then although he calmed just before he went still.

Cavill spat on the corpse. “Bastard,” he said.

Then Kerrass was dragged round until he was facing me.

“Not your fault Freddie,” he told me. “Not your fault.”

He was prone on the floor. Unlike Taylor he was lying flat on the ground, limbs stretched out.

“Oh, I'm not going to kill you.” Cavill told him. “I did consider it but we need to hobble Freddie even further. You see, if I killed you, he could move at his own speed which will be fast when fuelled by his rage and pain. So we need to hobble him and tie a weight around his neck. We considered making that,” he gestured at the corpse that some men were carrying off, “be this weight but he might have been able to convince Freddie to leave him behind. You though? But what to do.”

Again, that same fucking pantomime. One of the men with Warhammers stepped forward. Took aim over Kerrass' left arm, drew back.

“Oh no,” I groaned.

The hammer whistled as it split the air. The sound of it striking Kerrass' arm was sickening. I thought that I could hear the bone shattering.

Another strike took care of the right arm. Kerrass groaned with the pain.

The rage came then. Like a warm and comfortable blanket.

“So now we can let you go.” Cavill told me but I wasn't listening. I just stared at him, imagining his violent death. But then the rage turned cold as I forced myself to look at the big picture. Cavill must have seen my calm descend as he signalled and then they let me go. I stood up. Straightened my clothing. My spear was on the floor where it had been knocked from my grip when I had been bundled to the floor but the dagger was still in my belt.

“Remember,” Cavill told me. “If you attack me now, not only will you not make it, but you will be taken off to the chambers of sacrifice and your death will be.....imaginative.”

I nodded as I accepted this point.

“Tell me,” I asked. “I was promised an answer to this yesterday. What would happen if I turned this dagger on Kerrass and myself. Let's say that we leave the cavern and I spoil these, your holy rites by simply giving us both a quick and clean death. What's to stop us from doing that.”

There was some laughter, led by Lord Cavill. “You would be surprised Freddie, by how many people have asked me that. They always wonder about what I will do and the truth is that I will do nothing. Because there is a goad that will keep you running. Something that will make you carry your Witcher companion when the pain means that he can no longer walk.”

“And what is that?”

“For the majority of people, the answer is “Hope.” The hope that you will be the one that finally manages to escape from us and our hunt. That you will find somewhere to hide and be kept safe from me snares. But that is too simple for you isn't it Lord Frederick?”

I didn't answer him.

“So, instead I have something different for you. Something that only I can give you. Something that, if you attack me now, I will never surrender to you before my companions drag you from my body. The only way that you will get this is if you flee, make it to safety and then return to take me alive to be interrogated. Would you like to know what that one thing is?”

I said nothing.

I continued to say nothing as he walked towards me.

I even said nothing as he bent and whispered in my ear.

“I won't be able to tell you what I did to your sister Francesca.”

He cackled as he stepped back.

“The only way, Lord Frederick, to find the answers that you seek is to take me alive and you won't be able to do that unless you return at the head of an army to get me out of these mountains.”

He gestured. Kerrass was helped to his feet, hissing and sweating with the pain. Someone handed Cavill a huge hourglass.

“Your time starts now.” Cavill said as he turned the glass over.

I nodded. My brain was working furiously.

“Just to be clear though.” I said. “If I attack any of you then you will defend yourselves....chamber of torture.....yadda yadda.”

“Yes.”

I nodded. The rage was still there. A lump of solid, flaming hot ice in the pit of my chest.

“Can I say something to your son?” I said.

Cavill shrugged.

I walked over to the axeman.

“Take off that damn fool hood.” I told him.

He looked over my shoulder, presumably checking with his father before pushing the hood back. I was left looking into the same handsome, brutal and bullying face that I had stood against in Cavill's court.

“Just so we're clear.” I told him. “You should give that axe up.”

He opened his mouth to speak.

“No, no.” I told him holding his hand up. “Don't taint the air with your stupidity. This is a friendly warning. That axe was the weapon of a good and holy man. He fought and slew so much evil with that axe that that kind of thing is bound to rub off on it and now you carry it. You, a heretic.”

I tried to put as much as I could into my voice.

“I don't know much about curses.” I said. “And I know even less about how magic works.....But there is magic in that axe and it will be the death of you. You should bury it where we buried the man you took it from. Or you should leave it with a church of Kreve or the Holy Fire.”

He began to sneer.

“If you don't.” I told him. “You are cursed and it will be the end of you. It might even be the end of everything that you hold dear. That axe will be your undoing and one day, some day soon, I am going to pluck that axe from your cold dead hand. Whether I be alive or dead, corporeal or spirit. I will come for that axe.”

I stepped back. “Just thought you should know.”

The room was silent and my foot steps seemed to echo. I walked to Kerrass and picked up the supplies.

“You ready?” I asked him with as much calm as I could manage. He nodded, his teeth gritted. He looked awful, grey and sweating.

We left in the indicated direction, round a bend and down a slope which led us to a cave mouth. Out of which flowed a stream.

It was, maybe, mid-morning.