The study was deathly silent. Meinard shuffled around the circle, stretching down to add lines to the runes scrawled on the floorboards. The barrier before him shimmered as the magical energies twisted, strengthening and fading with every scratch. In the centre of the circle, the wooden box that had been present throughout the lesson remained, ominous in its silent weight. White fumes continued to seep from underneath the lid, wisps of milky fog that swirled across the wooden floor within the circle. Frederick found his eyes drawn to the churning haze, his mind growing numb as he watched the rippling eddies. In those errant shapes, he felt that he could see many half-imagined things, grasping hands, writhing snakes, a screaming maw. He shuddered, trying to pull his gaze away.
The rest of the students stood awkwardly in a line, watching the Master work. Most of them remained for fixated on what was before them, but two appeared to be quite distracted. Darren and Hilda were finding it hard to focus. The young many shifted uncomfortably, his hands entwined together in an awkward knot. Meanwhile, the young Skelliger kept reaching up to rub at her temple, eyes creasing in discomfort at some invisible irritation. Both would frequently try to sneak a surreptitious glance over their shoulders, back to where the Mula lurked in the corner of the room, but their efforts were not as subtle as they thought, many of their fellow Nightsabers well aware of their almost obsessive fascination with the creature. Frederick made a mental note to speak to the pair later. In their current state, he felt a measure of concern for them.
Meinard straightened from his work, letting out a satisfied sigh. He turned to face his students, bringing his hands together with a sharp, sudden clap.
"Excellent! Let us begin." He rubbed his palms together in anticipation. "Now, students, tell me- do you know anything of cursed ones?"
He looked from face to face, his eager expression being met with several of blank confusion.
"No?" He suppressed a chuckle. "Oh, it has been so long since I have had such unshaped clay to work with!" He began to pace in front of the barrier again, his hands moving in small, sharp motions to underline his words. "There are many curses that you will encounter in your hunts. Those that afflict people, places, items... Some magical in nature, others brought about by destiny. Sometimes they will cause crops to wither, or calves to be born lame, or for a plague to ravage the surrounding land. And sometimes... sometimes they will manifest in the form of powerful creatures. Many of the most cunning, dangerous foes you will face will have a curse attached to them, and often the curse will give them strength beyond anything you would face otherwise."
He gestured to the wooden box, which Frederick now realised was more coffin-like in nature, although the heavy metal clasp that served to hold the lid in place spoke of a different kind of occupant to a simple peasant's corpse.
"The wraith is one of the most common cursed creatures that you will find. There are certain sub-types, from the ethereal noonwraiths, moonwraiths, penitents and banshees, to the more corporeal creatures, such as what I have stored within this crate. In the end, they all possess a common truth at the heart of their nature- they are all, ultimately, the cursed spirits of the dead, bound to this plane in their various forms. Some remain trapped within their bodies, limiting them in how they can move about or interact with the world. Others fly free of their remains, making them almost impossible to contain, and yet they are still tethered, either to their remains or the site of their death, or even an item tied closely to their demise.
"The specimen contained within this crate was once a knight who disobeyed his Lord, becoming a savage mercenary, little more than a bandit. He killed many innocents in his time, until eventually he was captured by some of his former knightly brethren. After his arrest, he was put on trial and executed, but before he was beheaded, he swore vengeance on the jurors who convicted him. Thus, his corpse now walks again, driven by his vow."
The box rattled, lid straining as something pushed against it from inside. A guttural rumble escaped from within.
"So, how do we deal with this creature?" Meinard asked. "How can you deal with a wraith? Ideas?"
The Nightsabers were silent for a moment, deep in thought. Otto was the first to speak up.
"Well, if it is a corporeal wraith, then you just destroy the body, surely?"
"You can try." Meinard conceded. "And sometimes, that will be enough to break the curse and put the spirit to rest. But most of the time, that will simply reduce the wraith to an ethereal form. And such a beast is not so easily beaten into submission. So, instead of removing the threat, you may find that you have in fact made it even more potent. So, any other suggestions?"
"Signs?" The young Merinea suggested.
"A good idea, but Signs, much like a sword, are limited in their applications." The Witcher explained. "You are all thinking only of the direct course, of combating the wraith himself. Remember, he is only the symptom of the true problem."
"We need to deal with the curse itself." Ida said, her eyes gleaming with realisation.
"Yes!" Meinard pointed a claw-like finger at her. "Very good. While the curse remains, the wraith will continue to resurface, no matter how many times you destroy its form. So, how do we break the curse of our dear friend in the crate there?"
"We'd have to sever its tie to this world." Darren observed. "Give it no reason to remain."
"Correct." Meinard nodded. "There have been instances of powerful magics being used to banish wraiths without resolving their curses, but these are rare events, involving much sacrifice and more power than is truly practical. The more practical method is to find what ties them to this world and sever that bond."
"But in this case, the wraith desires vengeance on his jury." Colin remarked. "The men who had him executed."
"Indeed. There were five jurors who presided over his trial."
"So to allow his curse to be resolved and his vow fulfilled..." Frederick trailed off. Meinard nodded sympathetically.
"Yes, those five would have to die. Five innocent lives to remove this evil from the world. Now you see the challenge that cursed ones will often put before you."
"That can't possibly be the only option." Ida commented.
"It's not." Meinard admitted. "But it is the only thorough solution. All other attempts to pacify or banish the wraith would be temporary at best. The only way to guarantee he does not return would require the deaths of his five jurors. Now, the question is, could you do it? Could you pay that price in order to put the wraith to rest?"
"No." Merinea said quickly. "How could anyone justify that?"
"Quite simply, adept." Meinard answered. "You see, in the time this wraith has roamed forth from his grave site, he has killed twenty six peasants. Woodcutters, hunters, travelling merchants, the son of a local duke. There is quite a bounty attached to the wraith, and quite obviously, if allowed to go unchecked, he will continue to claim the lives of others. At what point are those lives outweighed by the innocence of the five jurors? At what point do you feel that the honour of keeping those men alive ceases to matter in the face of so much bloodshed?"
The students were silent, unable to answer. Frederick turned the question over in his mind, unable to find solace in either answer. Meinard looked to each of the adepts, seeing the same struggle in each solemn expression.
"This is what we train you for here- to make the difficult decisions that a Witcher must. To have the fortitude to choose the dark path no matter the cost, be it innocence, honour, blood or gold. To do what must be done."
"Would there be some way to fulfil the curse without killing the jurors?" Hilda asked slowly, deliberately.
"Excellent question!" Meinard steepled his fingers before his mouth, pursing his lips. "Many magics can be exploited in certain ways. Loopholes lurk within the wording of these enchantments like worms burrowing through the heart of a rotten apple. You are no doubt familiar with legends of wishes and blessings going awry due to a poor choice of words. More of them are true than you would suspect.
"It could be possible to fool the wraith, to convince it that the demands of the curse have been met, but this is a complex thing to accomplish. There are legends of curses being lifted by involving those attached to it in a theatrical performance, carrying out the terms of the curse in a make-believe or something of the like. But these performances must seem real to all involved. There can be no hint to them that the events are anything less than truth."
"What about if we brought the jurors to the threshold of death, then brought them back across?" Ragodar mused. "I have heard tell of some herbs that can halt the heart for a short while, but keep the spirit within the body."
"A possibility." Meinard nodded. "But the person who 'kills' them must believe they are dead. If he is to try and command the spirit to leave, he must believe that the curse has been fulfilled truthfully. The magics will be sensitive to his emotions, and any hint of deception will undo any power he might have over the wraith."
"So..." The Redanian continued. "You could perhaps hire two individuals, their roles a secret from one another. One could be hired to kill the jurors through use of poison, but the second could administer an antidote in his wake, bringing them back before their spirits truly depart. The first, then, unaware that the jurors survived, could come to declare the terms of the curse have been met and dismiss the wraith."
"A good plan." Meinard admitted. "A delicate one, but good nonetheless. The challenges you'd face would be of timing. The antidote would have to be administered before death of the brain, but not before the wraith was dismissed. If the jurors' hearts began to beat again before the wraith was fully banished, then the magics could detect this and the wraith may not be defeated." He shrugged. "Not the simplest plan, but a good compromise for a difficult situation."
The Witcher Master turned, pacing towards his desk. He reached behind it to where a pair of swords hung on the wall, pulling them down. He turned, fixing his eye upon the brothers from Velen. One by one, he tossed a sword to Otto and Fordalt, the brothers catching the weapons deftly from the air.
"You two will go first." He said coldly. "While we may not be able to banish the wraith, you do need to learn how to fight one. I will open the crate, and you will fight it. Study the way it moves, the way it responds to you. Strike out at it, get a sense for its weak points. Then, push it back. In the far corner, you will see a smaller ring of runes of Yrden. Drive the wraith back into this ring, and I will trap it." He glanced around at the other students. "I will need two volunteers to assist me in casting the Sign."
His eyes swivelled to the remaining adepts, immediately settling upon Frederick before switching to Ragodar.
"You and you." He pointed. "Step over here. Controlling these runes of Yrden will require more power and precision than one caster can muster, so you shall help me to control the barrier. When I give the command, cast the Yrden Sign to lower the barrier, and then again on the smaller circle once the wraith has been pushed back." He raised a silencing finger as Frederick opened his mouth in protest."I understand that you have not been shown all of the techniques required for Signcasting, but I will be here alongside you. Just follow my lead, focus on the word of command and the gestures that I perform, and mirror them. I will draw up the magical leylines and cause their energies to flow through your actions, giving you the power to act. Your focus and will shall add strength to my casting."
The students nodded solemnly. Frederick, a knot of tense anxiety tying and untying itself in his gut, moved to where Meinard pointed, Merinea taking up a position on the opposite side of the Master. The brothers gripped their swords, mixtures of anxiety and anticipation evident in their faces. The others, a motley array of worried faces crowded against the far wall, watching, waiting. Then, with a swift motion, Meinard lifted his hand, gnarled fingers pointing to the barrier. All present held their breath.
"YRDEN!"
The hand dropped, and the barrier with it.
