Book 2: The Wolf Hunts
Chapter 19
The royal palace of Gearrlon; 965 Years Ago
Aerensoska was a Golden Dragon. Three centuries prior, she had been pulled into the world from her own during the Conjunction of the Spheres. After she'd been sucked through a portal, she'd landed in the Korath Desert and had been at a complete loss to explain what had just transpired. She stayed where she'd landed, hoping that another portal would suddenly appear to take her back home. However, after two days of fruitless waiting, she decided to explore the strange, new land. The desert heat suited her well, and she eventually began constructing a nest near a very large oasis that she'd discovered. Her biggest concern – besides not being able to return to her home world - was that she could find no other Golden Dragons. She'd spent weeks flying high above the large desert, but she'd found no other of her kind.
When she returned to her nest, she discovered that strange, little creatures had arrived at her oasis. These little creatures – they called themselves humans – like her, were not indigenous to the world. But, unlike her, they found the desert an inhospitable environment. They needed both water and shelter, which her oasis could provide. Initially, she was going to eat the little humans – she did require sustenance, after all - but she quickly reconsidered after discovering that they were sentient, thinking creatures. Despite the ferocity a Golden Dragon could display, they were, by nature, typically very gentle and peaceful beings. Aerensoska was no different.
When she'd first swooped down from the sky with her wings spread wide, the few dozen or so humans drinking from her oasis had, naturally, been terrified. However, after discovering that her curiosity about them did not involve having them for dinner, they began to form a relationship. It was a relationship built on the fact that they were all foreigners in a strange world, hoping for the day when they could return to their own, and realizing that they needed to adapt to their new world as quickly as possible until that day arrived. She soon found herself feeling protective of the defenseless humans, who, without her aid, would have been easily and quickly devoured by most – if not all - of the deadly, carnivorous desert monsters. She pitied them for they had no scales, or fire, or sharp claws, or magic. How could they survive without her? The humans quickly began to view her as their leader – and not simply because of her physical and magical powers. It was also because of her kindness and wisdom.
With time, more and more humans began to wander in from the desert. It wasn't long before they – with Aerensoska's help – began to build a small community around the large oasis. Soon after that, the women started birthing babies – lots of babies. The Golden Dragon was amazed at how fast and how often the humans reproduced. Within a century, there were thousands of residents in the city of Gearrlon. Aerensoska viewed them all as her children.
Early on, less than a decade after the Conjunction, while Gearrlon was still only a small village, Aerensoska was faced with an important decision. Despite being surrounded by hundreds of people, Aerensoska carried a loneliness in her heart. She still had found no other of her kind in her travels, and as a dragon, she clearly did not fit within Gearrlon society. While she cared for the humans, she was contemplating leaving Gearrlon for good and searching the planet until she finally found another dragon from her home world. She discussed her dilemma with one of her closest confidants, one of the city's tradesmen – a merchant who dealt exclusively with glass products. During their conversation, she confided in him that she possessed the magical ability to transform her body into that of any other species. The merchant encouraged her to disregard looking for other dragons and to simply take the form of a human. He told her that it made the most sense because, then, she could completely fit in with all those around her, which would fill the loneliness that she felt inside.
Back in her own world, Golden Dragons rarely saw the need to take on a second form, and Aerensoska had been no different. Though, she had seen it done by others. It was not a decision that she took lightly for she knew that it was a one-time choice. Afterwards, she'd still be able to transform back into her natural, dragon form. However, she'd never be able to transform into any other types of creatures. But, when she looked at her life and saw that the humans were the only other thinking beings in the desert, she realized that the decision wasn't really that difficult after all. The consequences of that choice would be felt in the centuries to come.
Initially, the humans were amazed at Aerensoska's magic and her transformation. She eagerly accepted their invitations into their homes. Before the change, she'd been unable to enter given that, as a dragon, she was actually bigger than many of their houses. But, after taking on her human form, she ate meals with them and swapped stories of their home worlds. She cared for their children and began teaching them the ways of magic. She started to become one of them.
When she first encountered the strange, little creatures called humans, she was intrigued. They had creative minds that could come up with innovative solutions to whatever problems they faced. They also had a capacity to show compassion and generosity to one another. She'd spent many nights in her nest listening to them laughing and singing in their huts, longing for that same type of intimate connection. Those qualities all reminded her of home and of her fellow Golden Dragons. However, she also saw another side to the humans. They often displayed pettiness and jealousy. And they had a penchant for violence, as evidenced by fights routinely breaking out within the small village. There was even the occasional murder. Aerensoska didn't understand. To her knowledge, no Golden Dragon had ever killed one of their own. It was simply unthinkable.
But those were her thoughts prior to her transformation. The more time she spent in human form, the more she started to think like them, to act like them. In time, the once peace-loving Aerensoska found herself the leader of a city full of warriors. By the turn of the century, the Gearrlon raiders were routinely invading Haakland, Zerrikania, and even the Western lands on the other side of the Tir Torchair Mountains. No army could withstand the power of a dragon, and as the warriors returned home with more and more plunder and slaves, the city-state of Gearrlon – along with its fierce reputation - continued to grow.
Aerensoska and the human mages combined their magic with some innovative engineering to create channels of water that radiated out from the oasis, heading in each of the four cardinal directions. Those streams irrigated the lands surrounding the growing city, allowing for crops to be grown. The older and weaker slaves were put to work in the fields while, on the backs of the stronger slaves, an impressive palace was built full of gold, silver, and jewels. A palace where the Golden Dragon and her mage council ruled and resided for another century.
And, it was then, at the height of Gearrlon's power, that Aerensoska began to have disturbing, confusing dreams. Her mind was troubled. Neither she nor any on her mage council could successfully interpret what the recurring dream might mean.
One day, one of the throne room's young, female elven servants courageously spoke to Aerensoska.
"Beg your pardon, Your Highness," the servant said, kneeling before the throne, "but I know of one who could interpret your dreams."
"And who would that be, little one?" the Queen of Gearrlon asked.
"His name is Taibhsear, son of Creideamh, high priest of the Aen Seidhe, and prophet of Essea - the one, true, living God."
"Your Highness," spoke one of her advisors, "surely you will not seek out this slave."
The queen pierced the advisor with her fiery-blue eyes so that he quickly bowed his head in deference. She then turned to the young elf.
"Little one, bring me this prophet, Taibhsear."
oOo
The City of Golden Towers, Nilfgaard
"So, that's my mission, and that's the plan," said Malek. "I can't in good conscience ask any of you to join me, but if you choose to, I'll be grateful. And know that, if you decide to go your own way now, I understand. I won't think anything less of any of you. You've proved your courage and honor to the Empire a hundred times over."
He was sitting at the head of a table in his living quarters in the royal palace. Around him were the remnants of 'his' men. There were only six of them left, but they'd all been under his command for at least five years, with half of them having ridden with him for decades. Just as he did before every mission, he briefed his men on the plan of action. Malek had been leading others long enough to know that clearly communicating with his soldiers was vital to mission success. While not every detail needed to be shared, he knew that no good leader would ever withhold critical elements of the mission from his subordinates. To do so lowered morale, and it also caused confusion, disorder, and - if the soldiers lived - total distrust in the commanding officer when the next mission rolled around.
Since leaving the Northern realms, Malek had been pondering what his next course of action should be. He'd been serving the Empire since he was a teenager – for almost four decades. It was all he knew. He wasn't even sure what else he could do. But, on the long ship-ride down to the Nilfgaardian capital, he'd been questioning if that was enough anymore. He'd asked himself what was truly important to him now – especially now that he certainly had more years behind him than he had in front. He'd stood on the deck of the southbound ship, resting his hands on the railing and looking out towards the western horizon – with nothing to see but the waves of the ocean and the clouds in the sky. He'd taken a folded piece of parchment out of an inside front pocket, handling it very carefully because of its worn and fragile condition. He'd gently unfolded the paper and peered down at it for what must have been the thousandth time in his life. As he looked at the charcoal drawing, he breathed very slowly and deeply. Eventually, he clenched his jaw and gave himself a short nod of his head. It was then that he'd made his decision.
Now, he was going around the table, looking each of his men in the eye. One by one, they gave him their answer.
"I appreciate you all," he said with a small smile. "Right, so ready your gear and mounts…do whatever else you need to do tonight. We'll ride east at sun-up."
oOo
Korath Desert
A relatively uneventful week had passed in the desert, which was just what the four Westerners needed in the aftermath of Azabar. About the only excitement and danger that they had faced had been when they'd come across a small swarm of monstrous flies that the Zerrikanians commonly referred to as tik-tik. The swarm was small – only eight to ten of them – but the flies were not. They were the size of a man's closed fist and had the ability to spit a numbing-agent from their mouths that would temporarily paralyze their prey. The witcher had said that their scientific name was Glosseptera and that one bite from them could potentially put a grown man into a long-term coma – and eventually lead to death - if medical attention wasn't received in time. Luckily, the monster-slayer had dispatched them fairly easily with Igni, a couple of bombs, and his silver sword.
The group had quickly realized that the best time to travel on the desert sands was during the night and the pre-noon hours – especially considering that they had the witcher's night vision to point out any dangers in their way after sundown. Thus, they'd gotten into the habit of resting and sleeping during the hottest hours of the day inside their tent. It was there that the four were having another discussion about what they could expect at the end of their journey.
"Do you think it's actually there?" asked Barcain. "The Sword of Destruction?"
Evie shook her head. "I don't know…but it wouldn't surprise me. I mean, Gearrlon - if the stories are even half-true - sounds like just the place the Sword of Destruction would be."
"And an inanimate object could curse a place like that?" he asked.
"Again, I don't know. But, why not?"
She then spoke to her husband sitting beside her.
"Geralt, you're the expert on curses. Could an object – like a sword – bring a curse upon an entire city?"
He shrugged. "Curses can be very complicated. They don't all follow the same rules or act in the same manner. So, it's hard to say. I've seen houses, towers, palaces – even a tiny island – under a curse, but I don't recall ever hearing of an entire city under one. It'd have to be one helluva powerful curse, but yeah…it's possible, in theory. But, if we're talking about the city being under a curse, then I'm not sure the Sword, itself, has anything to do with it. Those are two separate issues."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, objects can clearly be cursed – jewelry, bones, even weapons. So, it is possible that the Sword could carry a curse, as well. But I wouldn't think that it would affect an entire city. More than likely, it'd probably just affect whoever was wielding it. Of course, I could be wrong. And as long as I'm giving a lesson on curses here, just so you know, most of the time, a curse is focused on a specific individual – not a location or an object - so that no matter where the person goes, the curse goes with them."
"You've broken a lot of curses before?" asked Lydial.
"Not every one that I've ever come across, but quite a few, yeah."
"So, then…how do curses vary in strength. What makes one curse more powerful than another?"
"Well, like I said, they're complicated. It's not like dealing with a math problem or…an alchemical recipe. Add one part this, add two parts that and voila, you've got a Grade A curse. I have no proof – this is just my opinion - but I think curses are somehow connected to the Chaos. And just like how the Power is not of this world – it arrived with the Conjunction - curses are not of this plane or realm either. They're mystical, mysterious. So, it's always been my opinion that the strength of the curse is somehow related to how well the person making it is connected to the Power. It makes sense since the most powerful curses I've ever come across were cast by mages. I mean, I know it's a fairy-tale cliché that evil witches cast curses, but…clichés are clichés for a reason."
"But even 'normal' folk – non-magic users - have cast curses, right?" asked Evie.
"Yeah. It's why sometimes curses can even be cast unintentionally. But, typically, only if their emotions are extremely high when they utter their damning words."
"What kind of emotions, exactly?" asked Lydial.
"Hate," he said simply. "Some might argue with me and say that curses can be cast from extreme envy or jealously or vengeance. But, in my experience, even if those emotions are involved, hate is at the foundation. It's why forgiveness is usually the easiest way to break a curse."
"Wait," said Evie. "I'm not sure I follow. How does that work?"
"Well, obviously, it can't be used in every situation. But in those circumstances when I have a chance to communicate with the person, or ghost, or…entity that cast the curse in the first place, then I try to encourage them towards forgiveness."
"And that actually works?" asked Lydial.
"If they're truly willing, yes. Think about it – if hate is what fueled the curse, then forgiveness can break it…because it is impossible to truly forgive someone if you still hate them. It just can't be done. To forgive means to let go of the anger. And when the hate goes, the curse goes."
"So, how often does that work – getting the 'curser' to forgive the 'cursee'?" asked Evie.
Geralt smirked. "Hardly ever. Very few of us are truly willing to forgive."
"So, if you're correct in your assumptions," interjected Lydial, "then the most powerful curses would be those tied to both intense hate and to high amounts of magical Chaos, right?"
The witcher looked everyone in the eye and nodded.
"And that could be awaiting us in Gearrlon," said Lydial.
Again, the witcher nodded his head.
"Swell," said Evie.
oOo
The City of Golden Towers, Nilfgaard
"Fringilla, sweetheart, don't tease me," said Donato Vigo, excitement clearly in his voice. "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Well, no, not 100% sure," answered his cousin. "Once those monsters showed up, we got out of the city as fast as possible. So, I don't know exactly what happened to Emhyr's army – or Radovid's for that matter. But, given what kind of total destruction I saw those monsters do in Novigrad, I'd be shocked if there's a stone left standing in Tretogor. And, I have to believe that most – if not all – of Emhyr's forces were wiped out, as well."
"That's incredible news!"
"I'm glad you think so."
"Gilla, sweetie, you're missing the big picture here. Don't you see? Emhyr's reign is essentially over. There is no possible way he can recover from such a defeat. Yes, it's a shame that our poor, young, brave lads had to die, but he'll get the blame for that and rightfully so." Donato was now smiling widely, his eyes looking off into the distance. "Oh, I can just picture the noose slipping around that arrogant tyrant's throat. He has spurned our family's overtures for the last time."
When Fringilla didn't respond, he looked back down at her. He then frowned.
"Why aren't you excited? This is what we wanted. The Vigo's at the top of society, where we belong. With my connections to both the other nobles and to the trades' council, I should be crowned Nilfgaard's new ruler before the month is up. And you…Fringilla Vigo, Duchess of Toussaint…has a nice ring to it, right?"
She gave a small smile. "What more could a girl hope for?"
Donato, his thoughts now a whirlwind in his mind, missed her tone.
"So, what of Malek?" he asked.
"What about him?"
"Well, is he on our side? Can he be trusted? Should I keep him on staff once I'm coronated?"
"I…I don't know yet," she answered tentatively.
"Gilla, you can't be serious. You've been working the man for months. You must have him under your…prodigious charms by now, right?" At that, Donato glanced at his cousin's impressive cleavage with all the subtlety of a rampaging chort.
"I don't know whose side he's on, Donato. All I know right now is that he's still planning on pursuing the historian. One of his spies contacted him recently with more news on the woman. He's leaving the capital in the morning."
The smile fell off Donato's face. "Why would he continue with Emhyr's mission? You mentioned earlier that you thought he was done working for Emhyr."
"Exactly - I think. I don't know. It's just the feeling I've had since we left Redania. He still doesn't tell me much. He's happy to share his bed, just not his thoughts. So, I still don't know what his ultimate motivation is in pursuing the woman."
"Huh…well, no matter. Even if Malek can track down whatever it is that Emhyr wants, it's too late. Nothing will save him now." Then he paused for a moment. "Though, I am still curious as to why this historian is so important. It might be a good idea to keep up your charade with the man. Perhaps, they'll both be useful to my new empire. I can determine that later. Right now, I have other priorities. Either way, it looks like you'll need to pack a bag."
Fringilla curtsied and said sarcastically, "Yes, Your Highness."
Donato smiled. "Oh, I do love the sound of that."
oOo
Azabar
Philippa Eilhart stepped out of a portal and onto the balcony of her hotel room. Oran was there, reclining on the soft cushions of the sofa and drinking a cool beverage.
He came alert upon his sister's presence.
"So?" he asked.
"It appears that they are traveling in the right direction. So, clearly, the historian - and not that fool witcher - must be leading them. I'll fly over and check on them again tomorrow, but, by my calculations, they should arrive in Gearrlon in two days."
"Where we'll already be waiting and watching."
"Indeed," she answered. "Now give me that drink."
oOo
The royal palace of Gearrlon
The young servant girl – escorted by multiple guards – found Taibhsear in his hut that he shared with his family. After being informed that the queen had demanded his presence in her throne room, he pleaded to the guards for five minutes to collect his things. He rushed to his bedroom, where he fell on his knees and sought Essea's wisdom. This request from the queen was not unexpected. For the past month, Taibhsear had been hearing the voice of God, telling the prophet and priest that he would lead the Aen Seidhe out of Gearrlon.
Less than a half-hour later, Taibhsear stood before Aerensoska.
"Can you interpret this vision, prophet?" she asked after she had finished recounting the details of the recurring and unsettling dream.
"Your Highness, no wise enchanter, mage, or diviner can truly explain the mystery of your dream. But there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries. He has shown Queen Aerensoska a glimpse into the days to come."
"You did not answer my question, prophet. Do not make me ask a second time," she warned with a touch of annoyance.
"Your Highness, I do have knowledge of the mystery of your dream, but not because I am wiser than anyone else in Gearrlon. Only because Essea, the God above, has chosen to reveal it to me so that you may heed his warning."
"So, it is a portent."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Explain."
"The bright, yellow sunflower growing up from the sand represents you, Your Highness."
"And the dozens of black snakes slithering in a circle around the flower?"
Taibhsear looked around the throne room at the guards and the mage council all listening intently.
"They are humans, Your Majesty. Specifically, your council of mages."
The venomous uproar that followed was expected, but the queen silenced them all with a look and a single word.
"Continue, prophet," she ordered, after quiet was restored.
"Then, the vipers burrow into the sand and bite the roots of the flower. It transforms from the bright, yellow flower into the dark, shriveled plant with a carnivorous maw at its head. A maw full of teeth, constantly devouring the butterflies in the air around it. This represents how you have let man change you. How you have been…corrupted, Your Majesty."
There was an audible sucking in of breath throughout the throne room. The queen did not react in any way other than a slight narrowing of her eyes so Taibhsear continued.
"The devouring of the butterflies signifies how you took the Aen Seidhe from their land and enslaved them here."
"So far, prophet, your interpretation is only describing details that have already happened. You had me to believe that this dream predicts future events."
"Yes, Your Highness, that is next," Taibhsear said. "The plant and the snakes withering in the blazing sun and, then, being completely covered by the sand storm will be God's judgment on you and your city…if you do not free the Aen Seidhe to return to our homeland."
After a short pause, he pressed forward with speaking.
"Similar to you having received these visions, I have received a word from our God, Essea, in these last weeks. And this is his message to you, Your Majesty, 'The Aen Seidhe have been exiled for ten score. I have heard their cries for mercy, and now, the time of their discipline is fulfilled. Let my chosen return home.'"
The throne room was utterly quiet.
"Leave me, prophet," the queen finally spoke. "You have given me much to think about."
oOo
Korath Desert
"This has got to be it," said Evie with excitement in her voice. She was standing on top of a large sand dune, skimming through the notes in her hand. "Professor Uziraiha said that it was a ten-day journey. He indicated that there was a large valley or depression between two high hills, and that there were dozens of small undulations within the valley. Also, that it had what seemed to be a dry river bed running through its center."
Barcain looked around them in the early morning sunlight. "Well, this place does look like what you're describing," he said in agreement. "Where did he say the entrance was?"
Evie had completely memorized her notes, but she turned to the correct page just out of habit.
"A larger mound – a small hill - near the center of the valley, west of the dry river bed."
"That's gotta be it, right there," said Lydial, pointing down and slightly to her left.
"Only one way to find out," said the witcher, unsheathing his silver sword. "Everyone stay here. Stay on your camels. And if you hear me yell, you take off. Got it?"
He was talking to all of them, but he was staring at his wife as he spoke. Lydial and Barcain nodded in understanding, but Evie just stared right back at him with a frown on her face. She didn't shake her head in the negative, but neither did she nod in the affirmative. The witcher just sighed. He knew that she'd never leave him behind, even if it meant her death, too.
oOo
The royal palace of Gearrlon
Queen Aerensoska and her six mage-advisors sat around the table in her council chambers.
"I must say that I am surprised," said the queen. "I expected resistance from all of you regarding this decision."
"Your Highness," said the eldest of her councilors, "it is true that I was initially hesitant with your proposed decree. The Aen Seidhe slaves play a vital role in our society. But your wisdom surpasses all, Your Majesty. It can only be matched by your beauty. So, if you believe that their release will save our great city, then by all means..." He finished with a bow of his head.
The rest of the council mumbled their agreement.
"Let us raise our cups to our Magnificence," said another mage. "And to the day our city was led in a new, enlightened direction."
This toast was answered with all raising and drinking from their cups. As the queen set her chalice back down on the table, all the mages slowly turned their eyes upon her.
Suddenly, her eyes bulged slightly as her throat constricted. She felt a tightening in her chest, and she knew what had been done. She stood and glared at her treasonous council around her. Her breathing was coming fast and shallow.
"May the world see you as the monsters that you are," she snarled before falling to the floor.
A second later, the first mage was standing over her, looking into her still open eyes and holding her cup in his hand.
"The paralyzing venom of the tik-tik. It worked much faster than I thought," he said with a smile. "Goodbye, my queen."
oOo
Korath Desert
For the past quarter of an hour, the witcher had searched on every side of the mound for some type of entrance. He'd even climbed on top of the sandy hill but found nothing at the summit either. As he was walking back down the other side, he stopped when he saw a small crevice. The way it was angled, it would have been impossible to see from below. He hopped down into the crevice and quickly saw that one side of it was not made of soil but of man-made stone. He nodded to himself, thinking that he'd finally found some remnant of Gearrlon. He saw a dark opening at one end of the crevice so he walked over and peered down into it. The drop only looked to be about ten feet. At that point, he really wished his medallion was functioning. He sheathed his sword and let himself down feet first.
Geralt landed on his feet and moved quickly away from the loose sand pouring down on his head. He looked around and saw that he was standing in the ruins of a stone building. He appeared to be in some type of entryway. On the opposite side of the room were two large doors that were wide open. There were no other doors, windows, or openings in the room.
The witcher simply stood still for the longest time, letting his senses take over, but there were no strange noises or smells. Eventually, he walked slowly over to the doorway and saw that on the other side of the threshold was a long, descending staircase. He stood at the top step and looked down. There were no railings on the stone staircase, and on either side was a drop-off into darkness. Even with his enhanced vision, he couldn't see all the way to the bottom. Then, suddenly, he caught the scent of a very familiar odor. The smell of decaying flesh was wafting up from below. The witcher simply nodded, as if he'd been expecting it.
The witcher reached into his pouch and pulled out three potions, one of which was Cat. After drinking down the contents, he took his sword and pressed the tip of it onto the top of the second step with as much force as he could. It held firm. He exhaled deeply and then began descending into the darkness.
oOo
Philippa, in her owl form, circled high above the ruins of Gearrlon. She saw the witcher find the crevice located on the small hill and then jump down into it. She was so very tempted to fly down right then and follow the witcher below, but she knew she shouldn't show herself too soon. She needed to wait until he found the Sword. And if the witcher, like Gigglethorpe, died in his attempt to obtain it – that wouldn't be such a bad outcome, either, she thought. At least, then, she'd never have to deal with the fool again. She glanced back towards the southeast and saw the three others waiting, still sitting atop their camels. She flapped her wings and flew off towards the west, to a tall sand dune behind which hid her brother.
oOo
Several minutes later, the witcher finally made it to the bottom of the staircase. He looked around and saw that he was in an enormous hall. On the other side of the hall from where he stood - easily a hundred feet away - was a raised dais, on top of which was a large sarcophagus. He quickly looked to his left and right and saw a dozen thick, circular pillars throughout the hall that he assumed reached all the way to the room's ceiling. He could only assume because from where he now stood, he could no longer see the top. The pillars just faded into the darkness.
The witcher began to tentatively walk forward across the hall towards the dais. As he made his way past one of the pillars, he saw dragons in various poses carved into the stone. He was halfway across the hall when what he saw next made him completely stop.
There were six very large statues, three on his left and three on his right. They lined the walkway and were facing each other. It appeared to the witcher that they had been placed specifically to look like sentries. He'd never seen anything like them. They all looked like the end result of some crazed sorcerer's experiment – experiments to create centaur-like creatures, half-man and half-monster. On the floor around them were mutilated corpses and random body parts that looked relatively fresh. The witcher suspected they'd all been down there just a little over a week. Whoever they were – it had clearly not gone well for them.
Two of the stone statues were twelve-foot tall vipers whose bottom halves were coiled on the floor and whose top halves were raised up, poised to strike. However, the top half was human – or, at least, partly human. It had a human's chest, arms, and head, but on either side of the head were two large snake heads. All three heads' mouths were agape, with fangs bared. Even the human mouth possessed viper fangs.
The next set of statues were a cross between a human and a giant scorpion. They looked just like the Aculeomorphs that the witcher had fought the previous week in Kradesh except that coming out of the top of the monster's thorax was a human upper torso and head. The human part of the monster carried two long spears in its hands, which seemed to match the fifteen-foot-long tail that was curled forward over the top of the human head. The statues were as big as a fiend.
The last two statues, which also towered over the witcher, were half man, half giant lizard. The lizard's mouth was open, displaying rows and rows of sharp teeth, and protruding from the mouth was a very long, tendril-like tongue. The human part of the monster held a long whip in each hand.
The statues looked like they were made of stone or marble, but he could swear that the eyes – of both the monsters' heads and the human heads – were following him when he moved. The witcher cursed under breath and, again, wished that his medallion still detected magic. These had to be the nightmares that Uzi had described seeing all those years ago. He didn't know who or what brought the statues to life, but he hoped that whatever it was would hold off until he was out of the area. He wasn't sure if he would be able to kill even one of those monsters much less all six.
With his silver sword drawn, he kept his body turning in a slow circle as he walked past all six statues. He didn't want to expose his back to any of them for more than a second. Eventually, he made it past all the statues and was now only fifteen feet from the sarcophagus. He kept backpedaling slowly, focused on the statues, until he felt the back of his foot bump against the first step of the dais.
The witcher's breaths were very slow and deliberate, and he was doing his best to control his heartrate. He needed to stay calm. He took one last look at the statues, breathed out slowly, and then turned to look at the sarcophagus, five feet above him. He looked around the top of the dais, but didn't see any other furnishings. However, on the wall behind the sarcophagus was one of the biggest tapestries the witcher had ever seen. On it was depicted a Golden Dragon, its wings spread wide and fire spewing from its mouth. He exhaled slowly again, swallowed, and then raised his left foot into the air. As soon as he placed it down on the first step on the dais, an apparition suddenly materialized at the top of the steps. The witcher's eyes went wide.
oOo
"I'm not waiting any longer," said Evie. "He's been gone too long. Something's happened to him."
"I agree," said Lydial.
Without even bothering to hear what Barcain thought, Evie urged her camel forward and down the dune towards where they'd last seen Geralt. She dismounted when she arrived at the large mound and looked behind her to see that her two kin had followed. They quickly hobbled their camels so that they couldn't flee into the desert and leave them stranded, and then they climbed the hill towards where they'd seen Geralt disappear.
oOo
Geralt took his foot off the first step and placed it back down on the floor.
The witcher glanced at the specter from head to toe, taking in every detail as quickly as possible. It was not a deadly wraith, but a ghost still in human form – a stunningly beautiful female form that shimmered with a golden glow. In fact, it was, without a doubt, the most beautiful ghost he'd ever seen. She had long, pale hair, on top of which she wore a crown, the points of which looked like flames. In addition to the crown, she had jewels around her neck, wrists, and fingers, and she was dressed in an exquisite dress of regal-appearance, though it did seem to be from a different time period.
The ghost was silent for the longest time, staring at the witcher just as he was doing to her. Then, she slowly glided down the steps toward the monster-slayer until she stopped just a foot away. She was clearly invading his space, and he didn't like it. He wanted to bring his silver sword up into a defensive position, but he refrained, keeping his blade down at his side. He knew that he was taking a gamble, but, hell, the entire trip down there had been a gamble. She gazed at him with a curious look, and then she spoke.
oOo
Five minutes later, Barcain found the crevice halfway up one side of the mound and called Evie and Lydial over. They looked into the crevice and saw the black hole on one end.
"Damn it," said Evie. "I didn't even think about needing torches. I'll go down and get them. I'll be right back."
oOo
"I'm sorry," the witcher said, "but I can't understand you."
The ghost had spoken in a language that Geralt had never heard before.
"I said…that you have the eyes of a dragon," she replied in perfect Common. "Are you human?"
Her voice held a touch of haughtiness. It reminded him of Yennefer's.
The witcher shook his head. "No. I'm a witcher."
"I am unfamiliar with that word. What are witchers?"
"Mutated beings, created to kill dangerous monsters."
"Created by whom?"
"Originally, by humans. Later, by other witchers."
"Created by humans to kill dangerous monsters," the beautiful ghost repeated. Then she shook her head and a sneer came to her face. "Humans are the most dangerous monsters."
Geralt nodded. "I am aware."
"What is your name, witcher?"
"Geralt. And yours?"
"I am Aerensoska, once mighty Queen of Gearrlon. Now, the queen of desolation." She paused for just a moment before continuing. "You have come here for a reason, witcher, and I ask everyone who comes the same question. But choose your answer carefully. How you respond could have severe consequences. My question - what do you seek here?"
The witcher slowly sheathed his sword to buy himself some time. As he looked into Aerensoska's mesmerizingly-beautiful face, his mind went through a dozen possible answers. Finally, he spoke.
"Your Majesty, what would happen if I choose not to answer?"
"Curious. None have ever chosen not to answer."
"Would you allow me to leave?"
Aerensoska thought for a moment before answering. "Yes, but you'd be required to leave a payment, for disturbing me."
"And that would be?"
"Your sword would suffice."
Geralt cursed to himself.
"If I leave my sword but return later to answer your question, will I be able to have my sword back?"
The ghost smiled, but it was chilling. "That, witcher, depends upon your answer."
The witcher nodded and slowly unsheathed his silver sword. He then knelt in front of Aerensoska, never taking his eyes off of hers, and placed the sword at her feet.
He then stood and said, "I'll be back."
"And I'll be waiting."
oOo
After tossing a lit torch down into the dark room, Barcain stuck his head down into the hole at the end of the crevice to look around. Not seeing any clear danger, he dropped into the hole himself, and then he proceeded to help both Lydial and Evie as they dropped feet first onto the stone floor. At that point, he picked up his torch, and Lydial and Evie lit theirs from his.
Evie looked across the room and said, "Looks like we're going down."
As the three of them approached the dark stairwell, the witcher suddenly appeared before them as if a ghost.
All three screamed or yelled.
"Damn it, Geralt!" screamed Evie. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me? You move too quiet. You know that."
Then, she hugged him tightly with one arm.
"I was so worried."
"You have a right to be. What Uzi described to us - it's real, and it's down there."
"But, you're…you're safe. So…what happened?" she asked, confused.
Geralt quickly explained to the three just what he'd seen and done down in the crypt.
"Well, we know that the answer to her question is not 'knowledge,'" said Evie. "According to Uzi, that was his answer, and it turned into a massacre. What answer would not cause the monsters to come alive?"
Evie seemed to be asking herself more than Geralt. She then looked at him.
"Did you ask her any questions?"
"Other than her name, I don't think so."
"Do you think she'd be open to answering some of our questions before we give her an answer. Maybe talking to her will give us some clues."
"There's no 'we' in this," the witcher said. "There's no way any of you are going down there. If I give the wrong answer, we'll all be slaughtered. After seeing what's down there, I honestly don't know how Uzi escaped."
"Geralt, if you're going back down there, then I'm going with you," said Evie with conviction.
"We could die, Evie."
She then looked him squarely in the eyes. "Then, I'll die with my husband."
Geralt just shook his head, clearly frustrated.
"Remember what you told me?" asked Evie. "Wherever I go, you go. Well, it's the same with me. In fact, I should have gone down there with you in the first place. Just like I should have gone up the mountain with you to that witcheress' house. In fact, no more going off by yourself anymore. It's a new rule."
Geralt didn't say anything for several seconds. "Damn, you can be hard-headed."
She gave a small smile. "About the things that matter – like you."
He shook his head again.
"Okay," he said with resignation in his voice. He then looked at Lydial and Barcain.
"What about you two? Gonna stubbornly march to your death, as well?"
"Yes," said Lydial, "but I think we should pray first."
"That actually sounds like a good idea," said the witcher.
oOo
"You are Aen Seidhe," said Aerensoska, staring at Lydial. Before any of the four Westerners could even address her, the queen had spoken to the full-blood elf.
"I am, Your Majesty," replied Lydial.
"And do you, perchance, know the Aen Seidhe God?"
"I do. His name is Essea."
"Have you ever seen him?"
"Not in a physical sense, no. But, spiritually, yes. And I've seen him work his wonders in my life - in subtle, quiet ways."
"I have seen him neither, but, like you, I have seen him work. But his ways were neither subtle nor quiet."
"I would truly love to hear of your experience with him, Your Highness," said Lydial.
Aerensoska gazed at Lydial for a moment before making up her mind. For the next half hour, she told the four of her history, from the moment she arrived in the world until she was poisoned by her mage council.
"The council told the Gearrlon citizens that I had died by natural causes and buried me here in this sarcophagus. But I was not dead. At least, not yet. My magic fought off the poison for as long as it could. Though I was mostly paralyzed, it kept my brain and internal organs working. Eventually though, I succumbed – to the poison or, perhaps, to simply dehydration. I don't suppose it matters now. However, my last words acted as a curse, and the traitorous men of my council began to slowly transform into the true monsters that they are. The hideous beasts you see there." She pointed to the six statues. "But, for reasons unknown to me, I, like them, cannot pass on. It seems I'm cursed, as well. To stay here in this ruined crypt, as the Queen of Desolation, with nothing but my enemies to keep me company for eternity, regretting that I ever listened to that merchant of glass. And that, then, brings us to your God, Essea."
"Yes. You said that you saw Essea at work. What exactly did he do?" asked Lydial.
"Taibhsear was informed by the council – the new oligarchy of Gearrlon – that the Aen Seidhe would not be permitted to return to their homeland. The next day, thousands of tik-tik swarmed the city. I did not see this, as I was in my sarcophagus, but my council has told me of what transpired. The insects completely destroyed the city's crops, and half the residents were bitten. No Aen Seidhe, though. An amazing coincidence, no?" she asked with raised eyebrows.
"Then, the next day, the oasis and the rivers flowing from it dried up. Filled with nothing but sand. Nothing the mages did could counteract whatever was happening. On the third day, fire and rock rained down from the sky, destroying all Gearrlon homes. Killing thousands more. Turning everything into rubble. It was only then that the 'wise' council allowed the Aen Seidhe to leave.
"But it was too late to save the city. The few citizens who remained alive fled into the desert. I don't know what happened to them, but I doubt it was pleasant. If they were able to make it to Haakland or Zerrikania, I'm sure they were killed for what we had done. The fourth day, a sandstorm came to the city and lasted for weeks, burying the ruins of the city under the desert. Where I and my faithful advisors have been ever since.
"So, yes, I have seen – indirectly – your God's hand at work. His wrath…his judgment is a terrible thing. And he punishes me still all these centuries later. That is all that I can think. His prophet said that I had become corrupted. It is true. I was once a peaceful Golden Dragon, like all Golden Dragons. But I fell prey to the human heart's insatiable quest for power. I brought shame on my kind, and I have had to live with that all these years. That must be why I still haunt this ruined city instead of moving on to the next realm."
After hearing Aerensoska's story, the four didn't immediately reply. They were still just trying to process everything she'd said.
"Now you know of my sad tale of woe. So, I will ask you…what do you seek here?"
The four were looking around at each other, waiting for someone to come up with a brilliant idea. Evie thought about everything that she'd just heard Aerensoska say. She thought about all the different answers that she might give. She knew that 'knowledge' was the wrong answer to give. She also figured that things like riches, power, and glory would lead to a similar outcome. Those were the typical answers that men would give. And, then, she simply thought about the truth. Why not just tell her the truth? If Essea truly was leading her on this quest, then he'd give her the right words to say.
"We seek peace, Your Highness," said Evie.
Aerensoska turned her head and carefully appraised Evie.
"Curious," said the queen. "How do you expect to find peace out here, in the ruins of Gearrlon?"
"We want to find a powerful sword. The Sword of Destruction. Did the Aen Seidhe bring it here with them?" Evie asked.
Suddenly, Aerensoska's countenance changed. The anger was visible on her face.
"So, you have deceived me," she said. "You want power after all – like all humans."
At that point, Geralt heard noises coming from behind him. He turned to see that the statues' eyes were glowing red and that their limbs were coming to life.
"No, wait, wait!" yelled Evie. "We want to destroy the Sword! We want to destroy it!"
Aerensoska lifted a hand, and suddenly the statues turned back to stone.
"Explain yourself, little one."
"There are others – many others – who seek this sword for its power. We seek it so that we can destroy it. So that no one else can ever use it again."
Evie then went on to explain to Aerensoska what she knew of the Sword of Destruction.
"And you thought this sword was here?" asked the queen after Evie had finished.
"We had hoped."
Aerensoska shook her head. "It was never here. If it is as powerful as you say, my magic would have sensed it."
Upon hearing that, Barcain cursed.
"All this way for nothing. Who else is ready to get out of this place?" he asked as he turned and headed towards the staircase.
Lydial thanked Aerensoska for sharing her story, and then she, too, headed after Barcain.
Geralt looked at the queen and then down to the floor at his sword. "May I?"
"Yes, witcher. Take your sword."
He nodded his head in both thanks and deference, sheathed his sword, and then looked at his wife.
"Come on, Evie. It's time to go."
He started to walk away, expecting Evie to be following right behind him, but when he turned around, she was still standing in front of and facing Aerensoska. After moving back to her side, he quickly glanced at the shimmering specter before looking back his wife.
"Evie, what's going on?"
"I want to help her." Then, to Aerensoska, she said, "I want to help you."
The apparition smiled. "How do you propose to do that, little one?"
"You said that you think that you're stuck here as a ghost – not allowed to move on - as punishment from Essea. But, what if it's not because of him? What if it's due to a curse. My husband is an expert on curses. He says that they're complicated. That they don't always act the way you think they will, and that, sometimes, they can be cast unintentionally."
"Who is your husband?"
Evie smiled and nodded her head to her right. "This guy."
A small smile came to Aerensoska's face.
"Is that true – about curses?" she asked, addressing the monster-slayer.
The witcher nodded.
"Geralt, could her curse against the mages be what has trapped her here?"
"Yeah, anything's possible."
"So, if her curse against them was broken, then maybe she'd be free to move on?"
"Again, it's possible."
"So, what do I have to do to break the curse?" asked Aerensoska, looking at Geralt.
"It's simple, but it's not easy. You'll need to genuinely forgive them for what they did to you."
"Not easy?" remarked the specter. "I'd say that's next to impossible."
The witcher nodded. "I understand. You just have to ask yourself what's more important – hanging on to the anger and bitterness…or being free."
"You don't understand. They do not deserve my forgiveness."
"With all due respect, Your Highness," said Geralt. "No one deserves forgiveness. It's not something that can be earned. Judgment is earned. Judgement is deserved. Forgiveness can only be freely given. In truth, forgiveness is not even really about them. It's about you."
Aerensoska stared at the witcher, taking in his words. She then looked at the six statues behind him for a long time. Evie and Geralt gazed at her, then at each other, and back to her, again. Eventually, she glided down the steps and along the middle of the hall until she was standing in front of her former council of mages. She slowly spun in a circle looking at each one.
"I do not excuse your actions. But…I think a thousand years is long enough for all of us to be condemned here." She nodded her head. "May you be free to go wherever the God of the Aen Seidhe deems appropriate. I will trust in his choosing. We have seen his just wrath, and a part of me wishes that you would experience even more of it." Then, the queen sighed. "However, after a millennium of reflecting on my own violent, heinous actions since coming into this world, I see that I am no better than any of you. Therefore, I release you. You are forgiven, and may he show mercy to us all."
Suddenly, the statues began to glow with a bright, red light that lit up the entire hall. Both Geralt and Evie shielded their eyes. After a few seconds, the glow diminished. They looked to see that the statues were still there, but the living, red eyes were no longer present. In the middle of the hall, standing where Aerensoska had been was an enormous Golden Dragon apparition, shimmering in yellow.
The dragon took a step towards Geralt and Evie and then lowered her massive head to be closer to them. She then laughed, which sounded very strange coming from a dragon's throat.
"It worked. It actually worked." She laughed again. "Who would have ever thought? I was trapped here all this time in a prison of my own making. My freedom was within my grasp the entire time. All I had to do was forgive. Thank you, little one. Thank you, witcher. If you still seek the exiled Aen Seidhe, then I recommend traveling due west towards the Duilichinn Pass in the Tir Torchair Mountains. That's the name that the Aen Seidhe called the pass that we used to both invade the West and when returning home. It's logical that they took it as well on their return to their homeland."
"Thank you for that information, your Highness," said Geralt.
"No, Geralt, I thank the two of you. And there's no need for formalities. I am no longer a queen. I am simply Aerensoska. May you find the peace that you're looking for," the Golden Dragon said, an instant before vanishing away.
High above in the darkness, perched on the edge of a pillar, was a brownish-gray owl who had heard and seen everything.