On the Path

Chapter 13

Kaer Morhen - 1193

The giant troll roared again, and Geralt quickly scanned the ground around him. He didn't see his steel sword anywhere so he did the only thing that he knew to do. He cast a Quen Sign and reached for the silver sword on his back. He knew that the softer metal wouldn't cause as near as much damage as his steel blade – and that it would probably be damaged against the tough hide of the troll - but he was running out of options, especially since he had no bombs on his belt. Just as he was about to unsheathe the sword, the troll stepped past him, facing the incoming harpies. As the flying monsters dove at the troll, it swung its massive arms through the air. The harpies immediately shifted direction to evade the beast's slow punches, but one came too close, and the troll was able to grab a wing in its enormous hand. The harpy let out a cry just before the troll smashed it several times into the ground.

Geralt took advantage of the opportunity and began crawling away from the fight, his eyes, once again, scanning the area for his steel sword. Behind him, he could hear absolute carnage – harpies shrieking, the troll roaring. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to see that the giant monster now had a dead harpy in each hand with two more at his feet. He was using the dead harpies like clubs, trying to swat the last two, still-flying bird-like creatures out of the air.

The velpe tried to get to his feet, but he couldn't stand, much less walk. He knew his leg was shattered, and he knelt back down and continued to crawl away. Suddenly, his eye caught something shiny in the moonlight. He headed in that direction and exhaled deeply when he realized that it was his steel sword, but that was also when he realized that all was quiet. He looked over his shoulder again and saw the troll walking right at him, holding two dead harpies in each giant-sized hand.

Geralt immediately turned around and began scurrying towards his steel sword as fast as he could. He grasped the hilt, grimaced at the pain as he struggled to his knees, and held the weapon out in front of him. The troll was only a few paces away, no longer advancing, just staring at him. It crooked its head first to one side and then the other. After a moment, the troll made some sound with his mouth. To Geralt, it sounded like nothing more than a series of gargles and grunts, but after a second, he realized that the troll was speaking to him – trying to communicate. The teen, of course, had no idea what it was saying, but he was relieved that the troll was no longer roaring and that an attack didn't seem imminent at the moment.

As the troll gazed at Geralt, the velpe did the same back. The monster was over nine feet tall and probably weighed a ton. It didn't appear to have a large, rock-like hump on its back, so Geralt figured that it was a simple cave troll. He also noticed that it had a giant penis dangling between its legs, almost as big as his forearm. He quickly lifted his eyes back to the those of the troll and spoke.

"I don't understand you," said the teen, using the calmest voice he could. "Do you understand me? Do you speak Common?"

The troll bent his head to the side again, and let loose with some more gargles and grunts.

"Swell."

The troll then lifted his left arm and pointed a giant finger over Geralt's shoulder. The velpe really didn't want to take his eyes off of the troll, but then he thought – what the hell – the troll didn't need to try and trick him. If he wanted to attack, he would just attack. So Geralt turned his body and, for the first time, was able to take in his surroundings. They were on a small plateau that was still very high up in the mountain range. The plateau was basically nothing but a meadow, with tall trees along its edges, and the rest covered in thick, green grass and small shrubs. But there were no trees on the far side of the meadow, which allowed the velpe to look out on the valley below and to the mountain range on the opposite side of the valley.

On one side of the meadow, where the troll was pointing, Geralt could see a cave opening, and then, suddenly, another troll appeared in the cave's entrance. It was about the same size as the one in front of him, but he could easily tell that it was female as it was nursing an infant troll on one of its enormous breasts. Geralt quickly took his eyes off the scene and returned them to the male troll in front of him. It spoke again, pointed again at the cave, and then began walking in that direction.

Geralt watched the troll walk away and furrowed his brow. What the hell was going on? Did the troll just invite him to his home? Brother Adelbert's bestiary had never mentioned anything like this. The entry indicated that trolls were sentient, but that they were also very aggressive, dangerous, and had no qualms about eating humans. He wasn't sure what to do. He glanced to the far side of the meadow, which was clearly the only way off the plateau, and then back to the cave. Finally, he nodded his head, making up his mind. If the troll had wanted to kill him, he would have tried already.

The velpe got up and stood on his left leg. He then put his right foot onto the ground, and intense pain shot through his leg above his ankle. There was no way that the leg could bear any weight, and he cursed himself for having run off into the mountains without any health potions. He was now just hoping that his bones weren't poking through his skin, and he decided to keep his boot on and laced up tight. How in the world was he going to get back to Kaer Morhen? It had to be a dozen or more miles away, on the other side of the far mountain range. He then tried to hop on one leg, but he stopped after only two hops. It hurt his ankle to be jarred around so much, but it was bearable. He just didn't know for how long he could hop before he wore himself out. Well, he decided he'd worry about that later. He could at least hop over to the cave, so that's what he did.

He got to the cave and saw the male troll sitting down outside of it, plucking the feathers off of a harpy. One of the harpies had already been completely plucked while the other two corpses were on the ground waiting their turn. The troll looked up from what he was doing and spoke to Geralt in his gibberish language.

Geralt shook his head. "I still can't understand you."

The troll scratched his head and then spoke again, this time pointing first to his mouth and then to his stomach. At that point, Geralt thought that he now understood what the troll was asking, but he just didn't know how to answer. It looked like the troll family would be having harpy for dinner, but did he really want to partake? He thought back to his bestiary about harpies. Like almost all post-Conjunction creatures, harpies potentially carried a variety of diseases that could easily kill a human. However, Geralt wasn't fully human anymore, and he knew he was supposed to be immune to all diseases. Plus, he figured if he cooked the meat, then it should kill off any parasites or germs. To be honest, he didn't particularly want to eat any harpy, but, for some reason, he thought it would insult the troll if he said no. And considering that the troll had probably just saved his life, that was the last thing he wanted to do. So, he gave the troll a nod of his head. At that, the troll picked up one of the un-plucked harpies, tossed it at Geralt, and spoke again. Geralt was pretty sure he knew what the troll wanted and began removing the feathers from the beast.

A half an hour later, Geralt was inside the cave eating harpy with the troll family. When he'd first entered their home, he'd had to pause for a moment for the air was quite pungent. He realized then that the trolls probably never bathed. There was also a small crisis when he used Igni to cook his dinner. When the flames shot from his hand, both of the trolls roared out, with the mother troll grabbing her infant and the father troll stepping in between Geralt and his family. Fortunately, Geralt was able to calm them down, and after that, the trolls could not get enough of the Igni Sign. They kept prompting him to cast the Sign, and then they'd "ooh" and "ahh" and talk excitedly. Or, at least, that's what Geralt thought they were doing.

While they were eating, Geralt discreetly looked around the cave. It was small, and he didn't see anything out of the ordinary on first glance. There were no beds, no pallets, no furniture of any kind. Though, he did see an assortment of colorful, picked flowers scattered about a back corner of the cave. He furrowed his brow slightly at the sight.

Once they had finished their dinner, the male began talking to Geralt – once again, using hand signals and pantomimes to help. It amazed Geralt that – even though they were completely different species – they seemed to be able to communicate using rudimentary body language.

The male pointed to his chest and garbled a short word. He then pointed to Geralt. Then, he repeated the process. Geralt nodded his head in understanding. The velpe pointed to his chest and said, "Geralt." He then pointed to the troll.

The troll nodded and for the third time said the short word, but Geralt didn't know if he could even come close to pronouncing what he was hearing.

"Bogor?" he asked.

The troll's face changed, he nodded his head, and pointed to himself.

"Booogoooor."

Geralt smiled.

"Okay. Bogor," he said pointing to the troll. He then pointed to himself again. "Geralt."

"Geeeeraaaalll"

The teenager smiled even wider.

"That's close enough."

A few minutes later, Geralt learned the names of Bogor's family. His wife was Ganda, and his son was Mook. And then, Bogor said another short word. He pointed to himself, Ganda, and Mook, and then he said the word as he looked around and pointed at the cave. He then pointed at Geralt and shrugged his shoulders, lifting his hands in the air. This went on several times until Geralt finally figured it out. Bogor was asking him about home.

The teen nodded his head and then grabbed a small, left-over bone from dinner off the floor of the cave. With one hand he wiped the dirt floor smooth, and then he sketched a drawing of Kaer Morhen with its high walls, front gate, and large castle. When he was done, Bogor and Ganda stood behind Geralt and looked at the drawing in the dirt. Suddenly, Bogor began talking quickly. He clapped his hands, pointed at the drawing, and then to his head. Geralt looked at the troll and saw that his face had changed again. Bogor looked just like he had when Geralt had said his name correctly. And, then, the velpe realized what the change in the troll's face meant. He was smiling.

oOo

"Damn it," Geralt cursed under his breath. He couldn't believe his luck.

For the past several hours, Geralt had been riding atop Bogor's broad shoulders as the troll carried him from his mountaintop home back to Kaer Morhen. They were now about a quarter-mile away from the front gates, and Geralt was just about to tell Bogor to put him down. He didn't want the troll anywhere near Kaer Morhen, and so he was just going to hop – or crawl - the last part of the journey.

If there was one person for sure that Geralt didn't want to see at the moment it was Kalen. But, there the son-of-a-bitch was off in the distance. The velpe had no idea why the witcher would be outside of the fortress in the late afternoon, but then again, he had no clue what the bastard did when he wasn't tormenting the fodder.

"Bogor," said Geralt urgently, and then he pointed to the ground. Bogor stopped walking, reached up, and easily lifted Geralt off his shoulder. He put him on the ground gently and then looked down at the velpe.

"You need to go now," he said, pointing back towards the mountain.

Bogor said something unintelligible but still didn't move.

"Home, Bogor!" exclaimed Geralt, pointing emphatically now. "Please, go home. Home."

That was one of the new words that Geralt knew that the troll understood.

"Hooooommmmee."

"That's right. I'll come visit, I promise. But you gotta go, now," he said, and then he looked back over his shoulder in Kalen's direction. The scarred witcher seemed to heading their way. So, Geralt put his hands on Bogor's chest and began to push him.

"Please go home, Bogor. Please."

Eventually, the troll must have understood because he said Geralt's name, and then turned around and lumbered away. Geralt watched him go, silently urging him to hurry before Kalen made it further down the dirt road. Eventually, he saw the troll disappear into the tree line, and he let out a huge breath. He turned around to see Kalen standing in the middle of the road, about fifty yards away, looking in his direction.

Geralt knew that he'd left the keep almost twenty-four hours ago, and he wondered if the cadre were out searching for him. Maybe that's why Kalen was out.

'Whatever,' he thought to himself. 'I don't give a damn.'

And then he began hopping up the road towards the front gate. As he approached Kalen, the master witcher spoke.

"Having problems, Piss Boy?"

Geralt stopped and looked at his former instructor. He saw Kalen's eye glance at the tree line where Bogor had disappeared and then back to Geralt.

"Run into some trouble, did ya?"

"Nothing a potion won't fix…Master Kalen."

The witcher then laughed.

"All scratched up…can't even walk. Looks like you're not ready for the Path at all, Piss Boy. Guess it's a good thing you got 'blackballed.'"

Geralt clenched his fists, anger suddenly coursing through him.

"You're one to talk…Master Kalen. How's life with one eye?"

The hideous smile on the witcher's face suddenly vanished.

"You think you can take me, Piss Boy. I'll make you beg for mercy…just like your little retard friend. What was his name – Eugene?"

Geralt could feel his entire body shaking as he glared into Kalen's eye. The two stood there taking each other's measure for several moments until, eventually, the teen turned and walked away. The pain in his ankle was so intense that he was having to grit his teeth, but he'd be damned if he was going to hop or crawl in front of that whoreson.

"Smart move, Piss Boy, walking away from me. That must be the only smart thing you've ever done in your life."

Geralt didn't bother to look back as the witcher's cruel laugh carried up the road behind him.

oOo

"So, do you like it?" asked Geralt, showing a small wooden trinket to Bogor.

Bogor scratched his head.

"Whaaat iiisss?" the troll asked, pointing to the trinket.

For the past several months, Geralt had spent all of his free time in one of two places – at the stables working with Roach or up in the mountains with Bogor and his family. While all of the extra training that he'd done at night for the past six years hadn't been a waste of time, he figured that there was no point in it, anymore. None of it was going to help him get his medallion when Kalen could just 'blackball' him again. So, instead, from that point on, he was just going to spend his free time doing things that made him happy. And being with Roach and visiting Bogor made him happy.

On Geralt's second visit to the trolls' cave, Bogor came out with a bag made of some kind of animal hide. The velpe hadn't even known the trolls could sew. But what he saw next blew him away even more. Bogor withdrew numerous, intricate wooden carvings from the bag. It turned out that the giant troll was an artist – an actual wood sculptor. Geralt closely examined the little, wooden figurines to see that they included a flower, a deer, a bear, a tree, and other objects one would find in nature. Many years ago, Bogor had found a small knife in the woods and then had starting using it to create gifts for Ganda. Or, at least, that's what Geralt thought the story was. Even though he'd taught Bogor dozens of words in Common, their communication was still pretty basic.

But what wasn't basic was Bogor's work-working skills. The level of detail was incredible, and what amazed Geralt even more was that the knife he used and the figurines that he crafted were so small. How could the giant troll, with such large hands, create such tiny works of art.? Geralt didn't know. But what he did know was that one of his new favorite past times was sitting with Bogor, whittling on pieces of wood.

"It's a fish," said Geralt.

He'd made a pendant just like the one that Milka had made for Eugene – the one around his neck.

"Fiiiiisssshh?" asked Bogor, scratching his head.

Geralt nodded.

"Fish," he repeated, and then he made a swimming motion with his hand.

Bogor shook his head and continued to scratch it, which Geralt knew meant that he didn't understand. So, Geralt smoothed out the dirt between them, sketched out a simple looking river with rapids, and then drew a fish in it. The two of them had discovered that – in addition to the pantomimes - Bogor learned best when Geralt drew pictures. In fact, Geralt couldn't believe just how many words the troll had learned in the past few months. Bogor wasn't just sentient, Geralt thought. He was actually really smart.

"River…fish…you eat it," said Geralt, pointing to the water, the fish, and then to his mouth.

Bogor smiled and clapped.

"Fiiissssh," he said, nodding his head. "Goooood."

"You like it?"

"Booggoor liiike."

Then, he put his hand out.

"Fooorrr yooouuu."

Geralt looked at the figurine in Bogor's hand, and knew immediately what it was. He shook his head, once again amazed at the troll's talent.

"Troooolllll."

"Yeah," said Geralt smiling. "It's beautiful."

"Mooook."

"This is Mook? Your son?"

Bogor nodded

"Sssooon."

"I love it, Bogor. Thank you."

"Welccooomme…Gerrraalt."

A little while later, Ganda came out with her son, and, as was their new custom, they gathered some fire wood and had Geralt light it with his Igni Sign. All these months later, Mook would still clap and gurgle every time he saw Geralt perform one of his Signs – but especially when he saw the velpe use the Igni Sign. What amused the teen was that he couldn't figure out if Mook's gurgling and grunts actually meant anything. It could have just been 'baby talk,' but to his ears it sounded no different than when Bogor and Ganda spoke.

Then, they'd sit around the camp fire and share a meal – whatever Bogor had caught that day. Though, on two occasions, Geralt had provided dinner himself – both times when a bear had attacked him while on his way to the cave. Geralt always cooked his meat over the fire, but the trolls preferred their dinner raw. To each his own, thought Geralt. He still wasn't a huge fan of harpy meat, which seemed to be a delicacy for the trolls.

After dinner, they'd stay around the campfire. Geralt would try to teach them some new words in Common, but most of the time they just watched Mook toddle around. He was a cheery kid, who laughed a lot and made everyone else laugh, too. And he absolutely loved crawling all over Geralt. Though he was only about a year old and about three feet tall, he already weighed more than Geralt and possessed incredible strength. Luckily, Geralt had superhuman strength himself. So, though Mook never hurt him, he knew that it wouldn't be long until he could no longer wrestle with the young troll.

But, that night, Mook didn't wrestle with Geralt. He played with his dad. Bogor tossed his son high in the air over and over, while Mook laughed and Ganda clapped and talked. Geralt didn't know what she was saying, but the gentle tone in her voice was unmistakable. He stared at the family on the other side of the fire, and he suddenly felt an emptiness in his chest. But even though there was a deep, painful longing inside of him, he also wore a smile on his face. He realized that he was sad over what he was missing while at the very same time happy with what he had. He didn't think that it should have been possible to feel those two diametrically opposed emotions at the same time, but he was. But the longer he watched the family, the more that the longing grew until, finally, the only thing he felt was sadness. So, eventually, he stood up, bid his troll family a goodnight, and walked back to Kaer Morhen in the cool, autumn darkness.

oOo

Geralt was in the corral, putting Roach through some exercises. He had her moving at a trot around the fence line while wearing a small saddle. Her front leg was improving – getting stronger everyday - but he knew that it would always be slightly deformed and weaker than the rest.

He suddenly caught something out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see black smoke high in the air, starting to rise up behind the keep. He immediately stopped what he was doing but didn't let go of the rope connected to her halter. Eventually, he brought his attention back to his horse and walked over to her.

"Let's hope he makes it, girl," he said as he rubbed her along her nose.

It was that time of the year when the fodder were put through the Trial of the Grasses so he knew what the smoke meant. After almost a dozen years at the keep, he knew very well. The first boy had died and was being cremated – only after being stripped, of course. And then his clothes would be washed and added to the clothes closet in the barracks, sorted according to size.

The 'he' that Geralt was referring to was the little, brown-haired boy who'd come down to the stables about six months back, right after Geralt had broken Yastic's arm. The kid had taken Geralt up on his invitation and had visited the stables multiple times a week after that. Geralt had wanted to keep his distance from the kid, and he certainly didn't want to know any intimate details about the kid's life. He figured that the boy could help him work Roach and that they could keep the conversation confined to horses. And, at first, that's what they did. But, over time, the boy kept bringing up stories from his childhood – talking about his family and friends back home. He'd ask Geralt about life at Kaer Morhen – what he could expect in his training and what he could expect if he survived the Trial of Grasses. He'd even asked Geralt about the Trials, themselves, but Geralt wouldn't tell him anything.

"It's best if you don't know, kid," he'd said.

And the next thing he knew, despite his initial intentions, Geralt found himself actually looking forward to the kid's visits.

Geralt patted Roach on the neck a few more times, and then said, "All we can do is wait now, girl. All we can do is wait."

Over the next month, Geralt tried his best to keep his mind off of the kid, but it didn't really matter what he was doing – going through training with the cadre, working Roach, or visiting Bogor – he kept wondering if the kid had survived.

"Never again," he said to himself, as he knelt on his platform late one night. "Hopefully, I'll be on the Path come next summer…but between now and then, no more fodder in my life."

He was about to clear his mind and get in an hour of meditation when he heard a noise near the front door of the barn. He opened his eyes just in time to see a young boy run in.

"Geralt! I made it! I made it! Can I come up?"

Geralt looked down through the rafters at the little, brown-haired boy and a big smile came to his face.

"Yeah, kid, come on up."

A few seconds later, the kid was at the top of the rope, stepping onto the platform.

"Can you believe, Geralt? I survived."

Geralt shook his head.

"I honestly can't. Fate…well, fate's never been that good to me. As soon as you came into my life, I figured you were a goner."

Suddenly, the smile left the boy's face.

"You were right not to tell me…about the Trials, I mean. If I'd have known what it was going to be like, I probably would've run away. Even getting eaten in the mountains by some bear couldn't be worse than that."

"Yeah, I know."

"And you know what this means now, right?"

"No clue."

"I can tell you my name."

Geralt nodded and let a small smile come to his face. He then extended his right hand out.

"I'm Geralt."

"I'm Eskel," said the young velpe, shaking his hand.

"Really?"

The boy nodded.

"Why?"

"You look more like a 'Dougie' to me. I wouldn't have guessed 'Eskel' in a thousand tries."

Eskel smiled.

"Yeah, cause 'Geralt' is such a common name."

The two velpen stayed up most of the night, telling stories and bonding in a way that only two people who have gone through the same hell could ever do. Memories of his time as a fodder – memories that he didn't think that he could ever find pleasant or amusing - suddenly became funny when sharing them with Eskel. Eventually, though, the young velpe tired out and fell asleep right there on Geralt's pallet. Geralt didn't mind though. He thought that maybe the two of them could start bunking together – just like he and Eugene had – until he headed off onto the Path. He figured that he could ask Eskel about it in the morning, and then he closed his eyes and began to meditate.

A few hours later, Geralt opened his eyes when he heard noises coming from outside the barn. Based on the illumination in the sky, he figured it was still an hour before sunrise. So, just who the hell would be out there at this time of the morning? Eskel was the only person who would visit him. Certainly, none of the other velpen did. He wasn't really friendly with any of them. He listened closely and realized that there were voices of multiple people, but the voices were low and he couldn't recognize them. Maybe it was a couple of witchers coming in off the Path now that it was nearing the winter season. A few of them had arrived in the past week. But, if it was witchers, then why weren't they bringing their horses into the stables? Well, he needed to get up anyway, he thought. The morning's physical training would start soon. So, he turned and shook Eskel awake.

"Got a present for you, Piss Boy!" suddenly came a loud voice from outside.

Geralt instantly recognized the voice. He paused for just a moment – wondering what Kalen could want - and then quickly strapped his swords on his back and repelled down the rope. Eskel repelled down right after him. As Geralt was approaching the front door of the barn, he smelled something unpleasant, and he instinctively reached for his sword. He walked out of the barn, into the cold morning air, and immediately noticed Master Kalen walking away from the barn. It looked like he had three velpen with him. They were looking back in his direction and laughing.

"Hope you enjoy it, Piss Boy!" yelled Kalen over his shoulder.

"Is that…what I think it is?" asked Eskel.

Geralt glanced at Eskel, who was staring at the ground. The teen lowered his eyes and his heart stopped. At his feet was the decapitated head of a cave troll. A troll that looked just like Ganda.

oOo

Day 4 – Dothan; February 1194

"What do you mean he's not here?" asked Geralt.

"He hasn't shown up yet," answered Sergeant Breen, the highest-ranking officer at the Dothan estate.

The witcher was confused.

"Yet? I thought Sir Alyn was the one who led you out here."

Breen shook his head.

"No. A few hours ago, a parchment was delivered to me, ordering me to round up a company of the royal guards - including those from the bridge - bring them here, and then await further orders."

"So, you didn't actually speak with him?"

Suddenly, Breen started to look uncomfortable.

"Well, no, but the crest on the wax seal was his. There's no doubt."

'This isn't right,' thought the witcher. 'I don't know what the hell is going on, but this isn't right.'

"Sergeant Breen, I think we should all head back to the palace right now."

"Witcher, you can do want you want, but I've got my orders. We're staying here."

"Breen, you don't find this odd? We're all out here instead of guarding the palace, and Birke's nowhere to be found."

"Yes, I do, but it doesn't matter what I think. I've got my orders, and I have to follow them."

"Holy damn, man. Is that what's required to be in the guard? You have to shut your brain off?"

Breen's narrowed his eyes.

"It's called discipline and duty, witcher. So, I'm not shocked that you don't understand."

Geralt just shook his head, and then turned and ran towards the stables. He untied his saddlebags from the horse that he'd just ridden to the estate, found a fresh mount, and attached the saddlebags onto its saddle. He didn't know whose horse he was borrowing, and he didn't care. He just hoped it was rested and fast. He snapped the reins and kicked its flanks, and the horse kicked up dust in the moonlight as he galloped out of the estate and back towards the city.

As fast as the horse was racing, so were the teen's thoughts. Was Sir Alyn somehow involved in the killings? There was no way, thought the witcher. First, what was his motive? And, secondly, the man didn't need a monster to kill the royal family. He had direct access to all of them. Unless, he was just using the monster as an alibi. But, then, how would the man even control a monster? He was no mage. Or, was he? And then, the teen reminded himself, it had been the captain who'd told Geralt that there were no other sorcerers at the palace besides Rojet. Maybe, there was another magic-user and he'd simply lied about it. Maybe Birke and this other mystery mage were in league together.

But no matter how many scenarios the witcher played out in his mind, he just couldn't see Sir Alyn betraying the royal family. Through his investigations and conversations, the witcher had learned that Birke had been a member of the royal guard for twenty-five years and the captain of the guards for over ten. So, maybe, whoever was behind the killings had somehow gotten to him. Maybe Birke hadn't shown up to the estate because he was actually in trouble. Geralt gave a slight nod of us head, because that made a lot more sense to the teen. And with that thought, he snapped the horse's reins and urged it to go faster.

Geralt pushed his mount as hard as he dared, but, even so, it took an hour for him to make it back to the palace. He dismounted at the side gate, and the two guards manning the entrance let him in. Once inside, he paused and took stock of his surroundings. All was quiet. There were two more guards at the back door of the palace itself, but he didn't see any others patrolling the grounds as usual. He figured they were all out at the country estate with their thumbs up their butts. He looked towards the gardens, and let his eyes roam back and forth. He didn't see any lurking shadows.

'Okay,' he thought. 'I need to find Sir Alyn.'

The first place he thought to look was the Captain's quarters, which were in the smaller building attached to the main palace by a covered walkway. Geralt was just turning to head that way when he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up toward the palace but didn't notice anything. And then, he saw it move. Something human-shaped was climbing the outer wall of the palace. It was dark and had blended into the dark, brown stones. That's why he hadn't seen it at first, but he could see it now. It was moving slowly, and it was heading toward a fifth-floor balcony. The witcher knew that there was only one person that lived on the top floor of the palace – King Travid.

"Monster!" he yelled out and immediately took off at a sprint.

The two guards at the back door of the palace instantly came to attention, and Geralt yelled at them as he ran their way.

"Open the door! Now!"

One of the guards was too stunned to move, but the other obeyed the witcher's order and opened the door right before the teen sped through it. He sprinted down the hall towards the main staircase, and while he ran, he reached down into the satchel on his hip, and pulled out a handful of potions. He had marked the outside of the metal vials beforehand, so he found the two he wanted and tossed the others back into the bag. He slid around a corner on the smooth marble floor of the main foyer and paused for just a second as he downed the potions. He was halfway up the first flight of stairs when the intense pain hit him, causing him to grit his teeth, bend over and put a hand on the staircase. A few seconds later, the worst of the pain passed, and he snapped his eyes upward. He immediately started his sprint again, now even faster than before, for his muscles twitched with power.

"Monster on the fifth floor! Save the king!" he yelled as he ran, his shouts echoing off of the palace's stone walls.

Given that it had to be close to midnight, he knew that he was probably waking all the residents of the palace, but he just didn't care. He may not have respected or liked Travid, but he had to save him. For he'd given his word – not only to the king but also to his young son, Nigel.

As he reached the fifth-floor landing, he pulled his sword and rushed down the hallway towards the king's bedchambers. There were two guards at the doors with weapons already drawn.

"Halt!' one of them shouted, while brandishing his sword.

"Save the king! The monster's in there!" Geralt shouted as he continued running down the hall.

"There's no monster, witcher! It's been quiet as a mouse up here!"

Suddenly, they could all hear a crash coming from inside of the king's bedchamber. It sounded like the balcony doors had broken open. A moment later, there was a scream.

The witcher didn't even bother to argue any longer. As he approached the two guards, he thrust his left hand forward and blasted the two men out of his way and down the hall with a powerful Aard Sign. They landed fifteen feet away and slid another fifteen before coming to a stop. He then turned towards the king's door and kicked it near the handle. There was a loud crack as the wood splintered, and then the double-doors swung open.

Geralt rushed into the bedchamber but then slid to a stop. There was not a single lit torch, candle, or lantern inside the king's room. And while there was a bit of illumination coming in through the open balcony doors and from the hallway behind him, the bedchamber was still bathed mostly in darkness. The pupils of the witcher's cat-like eyes dilated, and then he cursed inwardly – for he saw that he was too late. A monster, at least eight feet tall, stood next to the king's bed, swiping downward with ferocious claws. It was slashing Travid's body to pieces, and the king had to be dead because he wasn't making a sound.

Geralt clenched his jaws, immediately cast a Quen Sign, and then slowly walked toward the monster with his sword held in the defensive position in front of him. Despite his enhanced night-vision, he was still unable to get a clear view of the monster. Its face was down and in the shadows. But, then, suddenly, it stopped mauling the king's corpse and looked up. Its eyes fastened onto the witcher, but it made no noise. It didn't howl or hiss or growl. It just stared at the witcher in complete silence.

In all his years studying his bestiary, the witcher had never read of any monster quite like the one before him now. It appeared to be of human origin and looked like a cross between a werewolf and a drowner. It was tall and broad, with bulging muscles. Like a lycanthrope, its feet and hands were elongated and ended in sharp claws. However, unlike a werewolf, it was not covered in fur. Nor did it have the face of a wolf. It actually had the face of a man, except that its features looked mutated and grotesque. The witcher saw a ray of light reflect in its eyes and knew that it, too, must have night-vision. The monster bared its teeth at Geralt, and he easily noticed that its canines were long and sharp, but it still made no noise.

About that time, Geralt heard footsteps behind him, and a second later, the two guards entered the room.

"Stay back!" yelled the witcher, not taking his eyes off of the monster. The last thing he wanted was the creature heading into the palace and massacring dozens of more people.

The beast moved away from the bed and into the middle of the room, the entire time staring the witcher down. Geralt stepped towards it and, immediately, swung his blade, but the monster leapt high into the air, avoiding the strike. The beast turned its body in the air so that its hands and feet came into contact with the room's ceiling, and then it instantly sprang forward towards the witcher. Geralt rolled but was knocked off balance and heard a loud pop as the creature's claws smashed through his Quen shield.

The teen scrambled to his feet and saw the beast speeding right towards him. He swung his blade again, but again, the monster ducked, and as it flew past, it raked a claw across the witcher's chest. The sharp claws sliced right through his gambeson and shirt and tore into his muscles.

Geralt knew he had been wounded, but at that point, with elixirs pulsating through his veins, the pain didn't register. What did register for the teen was this beast's incredible speed. He'd never faced anything this fast before. Not knowing what else to do, he snatched a Moon Dust bomb off his belt and slung it at the beast. The monster saw the explosive coming and swatted it in mid-air. The bomb exploded, and splinters of silver exploded everywhere, and, instantly, the beast howled out in pain.

'The silver,' the witcher thought. 'Silver must hurt it.'

Suddenly, the monster turned and ran towards the balcony. A split second later, Geralt was right behind it, but he couldn't catch it. The beast was out the door and over the balcony's railing in a flash. Geralt skidded to a halt at the railing and looked downward to see the monster descending down the side of the palace. With its incredible strength, it was jabbing the claws of its hands and feet into the stones or the mortar between the stones. And it was moving fast.

Geralt had to make a decision. If he took the stairs down, he'd lose sight of the monster, and it might be gone by the time he made to the ground floor. But there was no way that the witcher could scale down the side of the palace wall like the monster was doing. He quickly turned his head to the right and saw a fourth-floor balcony about thirty feet away. The teen nodded his head, sheathed his sword, backed up to the far side of the balcony, and then took off at a sprint. He leapt up onto the railing and immediately launched his body into the air. His eyes widened as he realized he wasn't going to make it. He extended his arms out as far as he could, and a moment later, he slammed into the balcony's railing and held on for dear life. He quickly climbed over the railing onto the balcony and looked down, scanning the side of the palace for the monster. It was already past the third floor.

"Damn it," he cursed. He was going to lose the monster.

He moved to the other side of the balcony and saw another balcony, this one on the third floor, also thirty feet away.

"Screw that," he growled. He wasn't going to try that again.

He then turned and kicked open the balcony doors. He rushed through the darkened room, into the fourth-floor hallway and towards the stairs. He ran down the stairs as fast as he could, and a minute later, he came out the back doors of the palace. He looked at the palace wall, but the monster was no longer there so he hurried over to where he thought the beast must have landed on the ground.

About that time, a handful of guards cautiously approached him.

"Stay back! All of you!" he commanded. "There may be tracks – so stay away."

All the guards immediately stopped.

Geralt bent down and inspected the ground closely, but he didn't see anything. He turned his back to the palace wall and began to slowly walk away from it, his eyes scanning back and forth with each small step that he took. Then, something caught his eye.

'There!' he said to himself.

Twenty feet away from the palace wall was a spot of blood. A few feet away he saw another. The king's blood – and maybe even some of his own - must have been dripping from the monster's claws. He nodded his head as a sneer came to his face. It was a bloody trail. Now, this was what he'd been trained for. He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder to the guards.

"You lot can't help with this. In fact, you'll just get in my way. So, go back inside. Protect Prince Roope and Prince Nigel."

And without waiting for an answer, he started following the trail of blood into the palace gardens.

As he walked, he unsheathed his silver sword. He still wasn't exactly sure what he was dealing with, but since the silver fragments from the Moon Dust bombed had seemed to hurt it, then he was going with the silver blade and not the steel. He then quickly paused and looked into the satchel at his waist. He found the small, metal container that he wanted, popped the top, and then poured a viscous, golden liquid onto the blade – hoping that the cursed oil would do the trick. It worked on lycanthropes, so maybe it would work on this mystery monster, as well. He then smeared the oil along the flat sides of the blade with his hand. Satisfied with that, he recommenced his search. And as the witcher moved, so did his eyes – both rapidly and constantly - from surveying his surroundings to down towards the ground, tracking the trail of blood. He was running as fast as he thought was safe, but what he didn't want to do was run so fast that he lost the trail or, worse, came across an ambush. He couldn't be sure that the monster wasn't waiting up head somewhere, ready to pounce.

Geralt looked up, and that's when he suddenly stopped. Fifty feet ahead was the outer wall of the palace grounds, and it looked like the trail of blood was heading straight for it. He sprinted ahead, and once he got close, he saw a smudge of blood about ten feet up on the wall.

"It's outside the palace."

The teen immediately sprinted for the nearest gate, cranked the wheel to open it, and headed through. As he ran back towards the area of the wall where he thought the monster must have come down, he noticed that he was on the south side of the palace, near the Yaruga River. He moved quickly along the perimeter and suddenly stopped upon seeing strange tracks. They were deep in the soft soil and looked like they came from the monster. He trailed the tracks with his eyes, saw that they led towards the river, and then he hurried that way.

The Yaruga was less than a hundred yards away, with no villagers' huts or cabins in the area. The land was damp and grassy and sloped down toward the river's edge. Geralt followed the monster's tracks, and then they began to veer to the left just past a small orchard of trees. And that's when he noticed that they were heading towards the massive Anisberg bridge. He looked up and his eyes widened. He could see the monster off in the distance, moving fast towards the bridge, and he immediately took off at a sprint.

In his four days in the city, the witcher had never actually stepped foot on the bridge, and now that he was getting close to it, he was amazed by its size. The bottom of the bridge was well over a hundred feet above the surface of the water, and the towers that ran along the top of the bridge must have been another two hundred feet above that. They were easily higher than the tallest spire of the royal palace.

The witcher shook his head when he spotted the monster climbing up the bridge's foundation. There was no way he could accomplish that, so he turned and hurried up the steep slope. Suddenly, he saw a set of wooden stairs ahead and he began climbing them as fast as he could. A few moments later, he came to the top of the stairs and ran onto the bridge.

"What the hell is it doing?" he whispered.

The monster was now on the outside of one the bridge's towers. It looked to be slowly climbing towards the top.

Geralt rushed towards the tower and then underneath the arch. On the interior of the tower was a wooden door. It was locked, but the witcher opened it easily with a blast of Aard. He moved inside the tower and saw a series of stairs leading all the way to the top. He didn't know why the monster was heading that way, but he thought that he could beat it there.

A minute later, the teen came to the top of the stair case. On the interior wall of the tower was a secured ladder, which lead to a wooden trap door. He signed a Quen and rushed up the ladder, threw open the trap door, and climbed onto the roof of the tower. He quickly scanned the roof and saw that he was alone so he rushed over to the ledge, but he skidded to a halt when, halfway there, a set of sharp claws appeared over the edge. A split second later, the monster pulled itself up and stood up straight, and Geralt immediately blinked his eyes at what he saw.

There was not a cloud in the sky, and with the full moon shining down, the witcher could see the beast as clearly as if it was the middle of a sunny day. The monster had changed slightly since he'd faced it in King Travid's bedroom. The silver from the Moon Dust bomb must have somehow affected it, for it wasn't as tall or muscular. Its skin wasn't as dark, and its facial features weren't as grotesque. The monster was glaring at Geralt, but it made no noise.

And that's when the teen recognized him.

"Sir…Sir Alyn?" he stammered.

A moment later, the look of menace on the monster's face disappeared, and Geralt swore that he then saw an awareness or recognition come to the beast's eyes.

"Sir Alyn, it's me…Geralt."

Again, Geralt saw something register on the monster's face.

"Geeerrraalllt,' the monster hissed slowly.

Geralt nodded.

"That's right, Sir Alyn. We're friends. Me and you…we're friends, Sir Alyn."

He then slowly lowered his sword to his side.

"Sir Alyn, I don't know exactly what kind it is…but I'm pretty sure you're under a curse. But I'm a witcher, Sir Alyn. I can help you. Let's just not…kill each, okay?"

"Wiiiittchheeerr," he hissed again.

"Yes, Sir Alyn. I'm a witcher. Let me help you."

The teen nodded again. He was trying to say the knight's name as many times as possible, hoping that he could reach that part of the monster's mind where Sir Alyn's psyche was hidden.

"Kiilllllll meeeeee."

The teen furrowed his brow and slightly shook his head. It sounded as if the monster was pleading.

"Sir Alyn, I'm not going to kill you. We don't have to fight. Let me try to break the curse, Sir Alyn."

"Kiilllllll meeee," it said again.

Geralt clenched his jaws, shook his head, and then he slowly sheathed his sword. The teen noticed that the monster's eyes tracked the silver sword all the way into the scabbard.

"Nooooooo," it hissed.

"No, Sir Alyn," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to kill you. There's been too much death already."

The witcher then saw something pass behind the monster's eyes. He wasn't sure, but he thought it was sadness.

"Deeeeaaattth," the monster hissed and then slightly nodded its head.

And then the creature turned around, putting its back to the witcher. Geralt furrowed his brow.

'What the hell is he doing?'

"Deeeeaaattth," it said again, and then it suddenly leapt forward into the air.

"Nooo!" Geralt yelled as he ran towards the edge of the tower.

He looked down and saw the creature falling through the air, but it made no noise. It didn't yell or scream. Only the sound of a gentle breeze was in the witcher's ears. Several seconds later, the monster hit the water's surface with a loud crack, and an instant later, the body disappeared into the cold, dark river. The teen scanned left and right and down river, but he never saw the monster emerge. Two minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Sir Alyn. The only thing visible on the river's black surface was the reflection of the full moon above.