Chapter 25

Things at the palace were still chaotic, but the wise King Foltest had immediately used his incredible good nature and charisma to rally the men of his court to better spirits. The mage, deeply asleep, was under guard and Vernon Roche never left the cell he was in, leaving the Stripes to lead the other guards through the castle, led by the serving staff, to find any more of the communication mirrors and their crystals and bring them to the dungeon as evidence. Sadly they found more bodies, some with their throats slashed, and some without a wound on them, dead by poisoning. In another wing of the palace, largely unused, they found what appeared to be the main room the man had been using. There were several vials of poison, more crystals, and books on lycanthropy, herbalism, magical theory, teleportation, inter-dimensional travel, and vampirism. And most importantly, a journal.

In the throne room, Dandelion could think of nothing else to do but begin the process of washing the blood from the marble floor. The bard bravely rolled up his sleeves, found a bucket of water and a pile of clean cloths and despite having to wipe away his tears at times, he finally managed to get the stone clean. But he broke down when his fingers brushed the space where her claws had raked grooves and he grieved for Root, not knowing what had happened, and feared he may never see her again. And like the Witcher, he blamed himself for having brought such a wild spirit into the world of men.

Maybe Geralt is right. He wondered. Maybe she doesn't belong here.

As evening began to fall, and the sconces were being lit around the palace, Dandelion was at least pleased to see that for the most part people were able to go about their business. They had all been enspelled, and didn't realize what had happened to them, or even what they'd seen, nor the roles they may have played in the death and chaos that had filled the place.

"Lucky them." He muttered and turned as the parlor doors opened.

There stood the mighty Witcher, clad in his leathered maile, his white hair stained with blood, and next to him walked the immortal Emiel Regis, looking ever like the apothecary sales clerk with his earthen toned garments and linen satchel over one shoulder. And with him, the forest maiden, Root, wearing a pair of Geralt's pants, his shirt, a pair of Regis' soft boots and the vampire's cloak about her shoulders, looking very much alive, in fact, he swore she was glowing.

"Dandelion!" she cried and immediately ran to the bard and embraced him. "Oh, Dandelion, you're safe!"

Stunned the bard wrapped his arms around her, stifling a sob.

"Root! How did…what happened…You look…" he stammered.

"No time, Dandelion." Geralt said, and put a hand on his friends' shoulder. "We can chat about it all later."

King Foltest turned as the group approached the throne, his eyes not quite unfriendly but guarded, as he still was entirely unsure what had happened. But he knew the four in front of him were involved. Root calmly stepped forward and genuflected before the king, lowering her eyes.

"Your grace, I humbly beg your forgiveness for this which has befallen your home. I take full responsibility for all that has happened and accept your punishment as just. Forgive me." She said quietly, and the bard would've been beaming had not the circumstances been so dreadful.

The king gazed at her with softness in his eyes and a light mirthful grin on his aged face.

"Rise." He said calmly. "I accept your apology. However, if my man Roche is correct, I believe you take too much of this on your shoulders, lady. However, I think it's time you all explained, in detail, exactly what you know about this man and why he invaded my home with such murderous intent."

"We will, your Excellency." Regis said, stepping forward with a bow. "If we might discuss this in private though? There are things that need not be known to all."

The king nodded and the group followed him to an adjacent room, more like a study as it was lined with bookshelves and a small fireplace, and the king turned to them as the door closed. The Witcher then started from the beginning, and told his majesty everything that had happened, how he came to know Root, the nature of her changes, why she was traveling with them, and the vile intentions of Falithe aen Caem. And Regis explained that it was never their intention to stay in Vizima at all, but to continue on living in the wilds, but had no wish to offend the king by refusing such a generous offer of hospitality. Hearing such, Foltest glanced to Dandelion, which made the bard want to hide, but to his credit he remained silent and collected.

"As for this mage," Regis began. "Dandelion brilliantly suggested that he was merely a pawn in someone else's game, your Grace. And given what Vernon Roche overheard the other night, I believe the poet is very much correct. And if I have your leave, Excellency, I'd like to interrogate the man."

The king listened to it all patiently, his eyes resting on the woman, and then looking at each of them in turn. Finally he turned to the Witcher.

"So a witcher who doesn't turn in the monster he's hired to capture, eh? And your generous act of sparing her life led to all of this?" he asked, not knowing how very close to the mark he was hitting.

Geralt felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest with someone twisting the knife. And yet he knew if he could do it all again he'd change nothing.

"My liege," Dandelion said quietly. "I believe that is too harsh. Geralt has a tendency to see himself as the one to blame in many circumstances but, truly this is entirely my fault."

"Dandelion," Geralt growled, but the bard interrupted him.

"No, Geralt. You were right. About everything. I was thinking only of myself and I was ignorant of your circumstances and hers. Had I not approached his majesty, none of this would've happened. Maybe the mage would've found you on the road, and maybe that would've been bad too, I don't know. But all this, all these men and women are dead…because of me. If anyone deserves full punishment for this, it is I, Excellency. But please, spare Root and my friends. Let them leave. The sooner she returns to the forest, the better." The bard said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Regis was impressed by the bards' humility, although he felt that Dandelion too was taking too much blame. As he'd explained to Geralt before, they all knew the risks and willingly took them. And all were ignorant of the mage's presence until the night of the feast. The king paced his study quietly as the group waited.

"You all are very eager to blame yourselves for this. However, one thing is clear to me; your intentions were never to harm me or my people. It just so happened that harm was following in your wake, like the huntsman chasing a doe. Only this doe didn't know she was still being hunted. So let's go and speak to this hunter who brought the chase to my doorstep." He said and they followed him to the dungeon.

Vernon Roche stood with crossed arms and a severe face, guarding the man who was locked in dimeritium manacles, still unconscious as he hung limply from the wall.

"Well done, Vernon." Regis said. "I wouldn't have expected suppression manacles to be available. Pardon, your Grace, but those are extremely rare."

"We've had our share of odd, rare occurrences here, Master Regis." Roche said. "Can you wake him?"

The vampire approached and had only to touch the man briefly to lift the spell. He groaned and weakly raised his head, looking up to find himself in a dank cell lit by guttering torches, surrounded by the same group he'd seen in the parlor, only all alive and well, including his target. Arklan felt the magic suppression in the chains. Knew he'd failed. Knew his lord would kill him. Knew his life was over.

"You might as well kill me now." He said nastily. "You'll get nothing from me."

"Excuse me, Regis, before you begin." Geralt said, who stepped up to the prisoner and smashed his fist into his jaw, knocking out several teeth.

Roche grinned, preferring rough treatment over soft diplomacy any day, but the king was a lot more composed and motioned for Regis to begin. The mage didn't cry out, only spat out the blood and waited.

Regis approached the man who turned his head away.

"Look at me." Emiel Regis commanded, and the man was compelled to obey.

Arklan looked up into the vampire's eyes and knew a will that was far more ancient and powerful than the lord he served. His mind crumbled beneath such power.

"Let's start simply. Who are you?" Regis asked quietly.

"Arklan aen Caem." He replied calmly.

Regis nodded to Geralt, who growled, his hands becoming fists. Root leaned on him, slipping her hand into his to hold it.

"I see. And what is your connection to Falithe?" the vampire asked.

"He's was my half brother."

"That explains the belladonna." Regis said to Geralt. "Must be a plant they both enjoyed using, for many reasons. And notice the past tense reference, which confirms that Falithe is truly dead. A relief, to be sure."

"And now to the point, Arklan. Why are you hunting Root? On who's orders, and what is their intent?" Regis asked, folding his arms.

"His lordship needs Selithlene; needs her blood to open the barrier between this world and his so that he and his kind can cross over." The mage said blinking slowly.

Regis was shocked, knowing full well what a blood sacrifice would do if performed at a place where the veil between worlds was thin. It could make a tear big enough for otherworldly beings to come through, or it could begin the clock ticking toward another Conjunction of the Spheres, which would have devastating effects on the current world, as one did centuries ago when his own kind found themselves stranded. And he also noted the name by which he referred to Root.

"You must've been promised something, Arklan; something major for you to risk shifting time and space toward a possible cataclysm. What was it?" Regis asked.

"Eternal life." He replied.

Regis took note, but continued. "You mentioned this lord needs Selithlene's blood. Why hers?"

"She is partly their kind, of their world, partly of this world. She is a key to unlock the path so more may enter this realm physically." He said.

Root was stunned by what the man was saying and confused but Regis turned and motioned for her to be silent. The vampire waved a hand toward one of the mirrors that had been brought into the dungeon.

"Is this how you communicate with this lord?" he asked.

"Yes." The mage replied.

"Are there more than those here at the palace that are tuned to that realm?" the vampire asked.

"No." and Regis was relieved.

"And what is this lord? Of what nature are his kind?" Regis asked.

There was a pause, the mage's mind searching for how to answer.

"Scholars here would classify them as lesser vampires. Although they feed on energy, a person's life force, rather than blood." He said.

Regis lowered his head and lifted his spell, allowing the man full memory of the conversation that just took place. The mage glared back, shame and anger in his golden eyes.

"I can see the appeal this lord's offer had for you, Arklan." Regis said, looking up again. "You wouldn't be the first mortal being to swear fealty to a vampiric entity, hoping to partake of their immortality. However, as your books on the subject here rightly point out, it is a gift rarely given, though frequently promised; much like the carrot on a stick before the mule. Yet always mortals are convinced they will be the special one. I pity you. You were a useful tool for this force, but I promise you, he never had any intention of sharing his essence with you. As for your half-brother, it would seem he had more sense, deciding to keep Root for himself rather than hand her over to the entity. Falithe aen Caem was a powerful mage, Arklan, wiser than many of the elves of our day and to his credit, he decided that not risking another Conjunction was the better choice. Although for the sake of my Root here, I'm glad our witcher happened to be involved and happens to be a good man. Which you are not."

The mage spat. "Oh so I'm just such a naughty boy aren't I? Spare me your lectures and moralizing. Kill me and be done with it."

Regis turned to King Foltest, who had been listening patiently to the metaphysical conversation about other worlds, vampiric beings and magic with interest, although not without a great deal of confusion. He was not a magical scholar after all, and wished that his court sorceress, Triss Merigold, was not away on extended leave.

"So you see, your Grace, this man admits to hunting our friend Root solely to turn her over to a vampiric entity existing in another realm. Which would rip open time and space itself, risking disaster for us all. And he was willing to use you and your entire court to get to her. I would also guess that there would be no price too high, nothing he wouldn't sacrifice to gain what his half-brother had but he does not…immortality. In short, Excellency, this pathetic man was jealous. Jealous of the power and talent Falithe had but he didn't. Jealous of the full-blooded elven immortality that he didn't inherit." Regis explained, noting that it wasn't the first time that Root had been the target of jealousy inspired hatred.

Foltest looked at the black haired, half-elven man hanging in manacles on the wall and saw such wickedness in the man's golden eyes as Regis exposed him and his petty emotions for all to see. It was plain as day that Emiel spoke the truth and Arklan burned with hate.

"Master Regis, how do people contact these entities in the first place? Couldn't this lord, whoever he is, reach out and ensnare someone else?" Vernon Roche asked and once again the vampire was impressed by Roche's astute mind and chastised himself for judging him too harshly as a fool upon first meeting him.

"Of course that is a possibility always, my good man. There are many, many realms that float around us in various pockets of time and space, most of them never affecting us in any way. But on occasion, entities do reach out and speak to those residing here. The young wizard or sorceress not yet fully trained who practices beyond their level, the lucid dreamer who travels without proper guidance, and the entranced that slip into a place not sleep yet not awake. And sometimes there are those who deliberately call out to these other places, yes, seeking the usual things, power, glory or in this case eternal life. As for this particular entity, you'd had mentioned hearing him say that he'd been searching for nigh forty years. I'm supposing by that admission that it is no easy thing for him to breach our world and thus needed someone to do his work here, and further, needs someone to open the gate even if they have the proper key on this side. So while possible, I would say that with the death of this man, we should hear very little from this particular being for some time. If ever again." The vampire explained, coming to stand by Geralt and Root.

The mage turned his golden gaze onto the Witcher.

"You just had to have a conscience didn't you, White Wolf? You, who call yourself a witcher, a slayer of monsters. Yet look around you! Here stands a woman born of an unholy union between a filthy beast and a certain breed of vampire. Two of the foulest creatures to pollute our world and you would call her friend!? How dare you stand in judgment over me when you yourself are acting against your very nature, what we created you to be! You're a disgrace. A mutant freak…

But Root had heard enough and she walked toward the man hanging in chains, motioning for both Geralt and Regis to leave her be. She spoke softly and calmly, raising one hand to rest on the face of the mage.

"There is never anything unholy about love."

He was stunned into silence and for a brief moment, she saw a flicker of warmth and she smiled. The mage looked into her green eyes, and swore he saw fields of endless green rolling into a primeval forest shrouded in mist; and waiting for him, an antlered figure.

"You wanted eternal life." She said quietly, stroking his cheek. "I cannot give you that, son of Aen Seidhe. But I can give you eternal rest and peace."

"Thank you." He said, a tear falling from his golden eye.

"Va faill." She whispered.

Root leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead and he died. He simply died. And then she collapsed.