18. A Summit of Mages

Triss Merigold awoke with a jolt, scampering backward on her hands and knees and wrapping the blankets around her bare skin defensively. Geralt had been sitting a few paces away, sharpening his stolen nilfgaardian sword when he heard the commotion. He rushed over, shushing the frightened sorceress with arms outstretched peacefully.

"Hey! It's okay. You're safe…"

Recognition lit up her swollen eyes as she inhaled sharply. "Geralt?" She buried herself in his chest, squeezing him tightly. "I thought it was all a dream… some kind of… hallucination. I thought I was dying."

"You were," he said softly.

"Where are we now?"

"A half hour's hike from Loc Muinne. Come and sit - you need food and water."

"Yeah… yeah food sounds really good."

Triss ate ravenously and emptied a water flask before slowing down to talk again.

"Tell me what happened. The last thing I remember clearly is being tortured by those nilfgaardian bastards."

"I fought my way through - killed a half dozen soldiers, along with their commander, and the ambassador."

She looked at him with sincere gratitude. "Thank you. That was a huge risk…"

"I'd walk through hell to save you, I'm just sorry it took me so long to get to you. I can give you the whole, detailed story, but I need to ask you a few things first… and I need you to be honest with me."

Her expression shifted in an instant. "…okay…"

"I know about the Lodge or Sorceresses, Triss, and I know you're a member. Were you part of the plot to assassinate Demavend and Foltest?"

She stared at the ground for a moment, unsure how to respond. "Who have you been talking to?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Philippa Eilhart, among others. Radovid had her shackled in dimeretium and gouged out her eyes. He and Shilard rounded up and killed most of the rest."

"Oh no… oh no…"

"Listen, Triss - you have nothing to fear from me, but I need to know. Were you part of the assassinations?"

"…there was talk about Demavend," she began, voice hollow as she continued staring blankly at the ground. "We knew he was an inept leader… and that he'd never accept an advisor. We also knew Nilfgaard was starting to mobilize for another campaign, and Aedirn would be an easy target. We talked about options to replace him, but… I never thought it would come to regicide. I never signed up for that."

"Did you know about it?"

"No. They stopped trusting me a while ago, stopped inviting me to the meetings. I didn't really know if I was in or out."

"Why?"

She looked up at him, her expression contrite and remorseful. "Because of you."

"Me?"
"The Lodge only survives by secrecy. They didn't trust me to keep you in the dark on things."

"Well, you did a damn good job of it."

"I was trying to protect you! You see what they're willing to do to people who get in the way. Geralt… I only hid things from you to keep you safe."

"How long have you been part of this Lodge?"

She paused before answering, taking a long, deep breath. "A very long time."

"Long enough to use me as a pawn in their schemes? Like Philippa did in Vergen, or Síle in Flotsam?"

"What? No! Geralt-"

"What part of our relationship has been real? Any of it?" The witcher's normal, emotionless facade was gone, his heart pounding as he released thoughts he'd been stifling for too long. Triss could see the intensity in his eyes, the accusation and betrayal they conveyed.

"All of it. I swear!" She answered passionately, looking into his golden eyes with all the sincerity she could muster. He turned away. She continued. "Being part of the Lodge was a mistake. I see that now. I wanted to effect change… to prevent another war. I wanted to stop crying about the state of the world and actually do something to fix it… but Philippa and the others are… were… no better than the kings they wanted to control. I was naive, and yes, I wasn't completely honest with you, I admit that, but none of that - none of that changes the way I feel about you."

"I want to believe that, Triss. I really do."

She felt a cold emptiness in her chest, as her mind spun out of control with anxiety-spawning scenarios. He doesn't believe me, she thought. He doesn't trust me. Will he ever trust me again? Will he ever want me again? What can I say? If he leaves me here… if he leaves me at all… I can't let that happen. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind.

"It's the truth. I don't know what I can do to convince you."

Geralt went silent for an unbearably long time, looking off into the mountains. Triss's mind began spinning scenarios again, nearly suffocating her. And then, just like that, the moment was over.

"Enough about that, then," the witcher said, returning to his usual pragmatic, emotionless tone. "We need to talk about what to do now. As soon as you're able to travel, we should head north to Kaer Morhen. We can stock up on supplies and lay low for a little while, though I doubt we'll be safe there for long. I think our best shot would be to travel to Brokilon forest. We can find asylum there, maybe spend a year or two among the dryads until things cool down and people find new things to care more about than chasing us down."

Triss took a moment to absorb his words before looking up, eyebrows raised questioningly. "'We?'"

"Of course. Assuming that… you'd want to-"

"Yes!" She interrupted, shuddering physically at the rush of relief that came with his words. "Yes, I want to."

"Good. We stand a better chance together. Plus… I owe it to you. I should've found you sooner, shouldn't have trusted Philippa."

"Philippa? What do you mean?"

Geralt sighed, shaking his head ruefully. "When Letho took you, I didn't have much to go on. All I knew was that you were near Vergen. I took the fastest ship I could find, but there was no trail to follow. Philippa said she could help me find you, but only if I did her dirty work for her."

"What kind of dirty work? What was she up to?"

"Do you really not know?"

"Geralt… I told you, she hasn't shared her plans with me in months."

"Alright, then. She poisoned Saskia - or, had her poisoned, then used me to point the blame at Stennis. I had no idea until it was too late. Now, thanks to her, Stennis is dead, Síle is Henselt's new advisor, and Philippa has a dragon at her beck and call. I should've known."

Triss suddenly became very animated. "Dragon? You mean the one at La Valette castle?"
"The same. It's Saskia, Triss. Saskia is the dragon. Though, you probably knew that, too."

"Oh no… Geralt, we have to stop them. We have to do something…"

"There's nothing to do. Philippa's been neutralized, remember? She has no way to control Saskia."

"That's not how those spells work," Triss replied, eyes darting back and forth as she ran through a series of thoughts in her head. "If Philippa and Síle are working together on this, she would've given Síle the ability to take over control if something like this happened. What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"Damn. Tomorrow morning, every regent left in the north, and every mage worth mentioning will all be in that amphitheater, with very limited military escorts and a magical barrier to keep anyone from casting spells. A dragon could swoop in and kill them all… clear the deck of any leadership outside of Saskia."

"Do you seriously think they'd try that?"

"There's only one thing Philippa cares about. Power. Can you think of an easier way to get it?"

"I agree, it's bad," Geralt said, his voice taking a more defensive, argumentative tone, "but there's nothing we can do about it. You're in no shape to go anywhere, and even if you were, we're both wanted now, preferably dead."

"No! We can't run from this, Geralt… we can't sit back and let this happen."

"The hell we can't," he fired back firmly. "I nearly died - twice - to get you out of all this mess. I'm not about to march you back into the fire."

"Don't you see? This is bigger than us. Look, I don't want it, either. I want to run away with you, to hide and forget everything I know, but… but we can't just hide from the world and come out when things are safe. There won't be a safe world to come back to. We have to do this. Besides, we won't need to fight. I have an idea…"

Triss explained a simple - but risky - plan to save the summit from disaster and clear their names in the process. Geralt didn't like it, but there was no changing her mind. He begrudgingly agreed, and they began preparation. Once she was up for it, she teleported away, returning an hour later with a clean outfit, a bottle of wine, and a silver sword. They strategized over dinner, then sat under the stars, emptying the bottle and talking about happier times and simpler things. It took a while, but for a moment, they both forgot the unbearable weight of stress looming overhead and relaxed like old friends and young lovers. It was a beautiful reprieve, but it was fleeting. Both laid awake most of the night, curled together for warmth, unaware that the other was equally anxious about the plan, which could very easily backfire. Dawn came quickly, and the anxiety gave way to determination. They collected their things, fastened their weapons, and headed back to Loc Muinne.

The climb to the city was especially difficult for Triss - Geralt had to carry her on his back the final portion - but once they were inside, her talents made things much easier. She cast an illusion spell which disguised their faces, and rather than sneaking around, they walked right up to the amphitheater's grand, marble-framed doors. Triss pulled Geralt to the side just before they entered, whispering a few final instructions in his ear.

"Remember, as soon as we step into that room, the barrier will break my spell. Anyone who knows us will recognize us, so we've gotta move quickly."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He whispered back. "It's not too late to turn back."

"We don't have a choice."

He exhaled slowly through his nose, his mouth in a thin, straight line. "Okay. I'm with you."

"And Geralt… if I something happens to me…"

"Triss-"

She pulled away to look him directly in the eyes. "I love you. Just… you should know that." She watched his face expectantly, hopefully. He stared back in silence. "… … nothing's going to happen to you."

"Right," she said, breaking away and turning to face the doorway to hide her visible disappointment. "We should go. C'mon."

The huge meeting space was easily the most impressive room in the city. Beautiful marble benches curved in concentric semicircles with a large, paved stage as the focal point below. Curved iron hooks held huge baskets aloft overhead, spilling over with fern branches and ivy, while potted flowers around the perimeter scented the air with a mildly sweet aroma. Behind the stage rose a huge white monolith - easily seventy feet high, with portions of the old elven law engraved on it in the sort of elegant, artistic flair that only the elves would think to use.

A crowd of several hundred mages, politicians and bodyguards filled the seats, which made it easy for Geralt and Triss to make their way near the front undetected. In a stroke of good luck, Síle, Henselt and Radovid were all at the front of the room, talking to the crowd about trade treaties among the northern kingdoms. The debate was so enthralling that it was only when Triss called out that anyone noticed them at all.

"Your majesties!" She shouted, walking right down the center aisle with Geralt behind her. "Beware - you're conversing with a traitor."

Síle's eyes widened, nostrils flared in surprise and anger.

"Triss Merigold," Radovid said with a wary smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Nice of you to join us…"

"You are out of line!" Síle retorted sharply. "Have a seat, or you'll be escorted out."

The crowd murmured noisily. Radovid motioned with his hand, and the sound of armored men in unison followed soon afterward.

"You threw Philippa in your dungeon, sire, for treason," Triss continued, coming to a stop at the edge of the stage. "But Síle was a co-conspirator with her."

"That's a serious accusation to present without proof, madam Merigold," Radovid said, stroking his chin. "Are you not aware that miss de Tansarville is the royal counselor for King Henselt?"

Geralt turned to look for the approaching soldiers. Two dozen men were descending the steps behind them, swords at the ready. The crowd's murmurs grew louder.

"Oh, I'm aware," Triss answered loudly, turning to the crowd. "Síle arranged for Dethmold's death so she could be forced on Henselt as a condition of surrender, just like she and Philippa Eilhart conspired to have Demavend assassinated - a task carried out by the witcher, Letho of Gullet."

"Majesties, this is ridiculous!" Sile shouted. "You can't possibly-"

"Shut your mouth, madam de Tansarville," Henselt barked, "or I'll shut if for you. Please, continue, miss."

"I was once part of this Lodge of Sorceresses," Triss said, motioning to the crowd to quiet down. "I believed like you, that kings and magicians should be working together. When I realized the lengths they were willing to go to in order to secure power and position, I distanced myself from them, though none may leave their ranks alive. Friends, we must not give up on this endeavor - to rebuild the conclave and council, to once again partner together as we did before the disaster at Thanedd - but we must do it with honesty, transparency, and peace."

"Proof!" Someone from the crowd yelled. A hearty chorus of others sounded their agreement. Radovid's soldiers formed a semicircle around Triss and Geralt, ready to pounce on them if instructed to do so.

Triss reached into her pocked and pulled out a large crystal, roughly three inches in length. She held it up, first to the kings, then to the crowd. "This is a record of four conversations Philippa and Síle had over megascopes, discussing the details of their plot."

The murmurs of the crowd turned to gasps and shouting. Geralt pressed in closer, until he was shoulder to shoulder with Triss. He could sense violence threatening to erupt like the thickness in the air right before a heavy rain.

"You lying hag!" Síle hissed. "It's a forgery!"

"You really should be more careful, darling," Triss replied smugly, walking forward and placing the crystal in Radovid's hand. "I distilled this from Philippa's megascope, which still stands at her residence in Vergen. Let the council and your majesties collect their own evidence, if they need more convincing."

"Oh, we will," Radovid answered, slowly and sinisterly, grabbing Síle forcefully, just above the elbow. "We'll unravel every last bit of- … what the hell?!"

The king's train of thought was abruptly cut off by the panicked shrieks of hundreds of voices in the crowd. A dark shadow encompassed the stage, followed promptly by a ground-shaking thud, as a dragon came to rest on a bannister behind them. Geralt pushed Triss to the ground, throwing his body over hers just in time to avoid a searing stream of fire, which spewed over the crowd, burning mages and nobles alike.

Radovid's soldiers convened around him, shielding him as best they could, and ushered him to safety. The dragon let him go - it was only concerned with Síle. Wrapping its talons carefully around the midsection of the sorceress, the dragon lifted her up, carried her to the top of the obelisk, and gingerly set her down. As soon as Síle was safely out of range, the dragon swooped back down, spewing another river of flame over the scrambling, panicked crowd. Geralt took Triss's head in his hands, speaking quickly as the beast began its descent.

"Don't try to run - you'll be trampled. Hide. Play dead. Stay down."
"What about you?" She asked, afraid of what course of action he might be considering.

"Síle's trapped. I'm gonna kill her."

"Wait! Geralt-"

He was in a dead sprint by the time she spoke his name, reaching the obelisk as the dragon busied itself burning humans to death. He blew the heavy wooden door at the base of the tower off its hinges with Aard, and began racing up the square-shaped staircase. Though Síle was busy directing the dragon to kill her foes, he knew eventually she'd notice him approaching from the staircase. He drew his silver sword, which Eskel loaned to him through Triss the previous day, and held it overhead. The runes on it were inferior to those on the sword he lost at the nilfgaardian embassy, but they still gave him a chance to deflect a variety of spells thrown his way - provided his reflexes were sharp enough. Faster and faster he climbed, pushing through the growing pain in his mostly-healed thigh as the sounds of death and horror raged louder than ever from the ground below. At the top of the stairs was a rope ladder. He quickly scaled it, nudging the overhead wooden hatch that led to the flat rooftop where Síle stood. It was unlocked. He flung it open and leapt through the square opening, only to be greeted by a bolt of lightning before his feet hit the stone-paved rooftop. A flash of his rune-enchanted blade deflected the energy at the last second, sending it careening harmlessly into the mountain range beside them. Clearly, the magical barrier inhibiting the sorceresses in the amphitheater didn't reach to the top of the obelisk. Before he had time to take a step, two more bolts of electricity came at him from across the square rooftop, which was less than twenty feet wide. He expertly parried both, feeling the tingling jolt of energy through his gauntlets and up to his shoulders, and took three steps forward, casting Aard. The pulse of force nearly knocked the sorceress off the building, but she cast a defensive spell and caught her heels on the raised border of the floor.

Síle recovered quickly, waiving her arms furiously and sending not a bolt, but a continuous stream of bluish electricity. Geralt managed to shield himself using Quen in one hand and the sword in the other, sending electricity arcing and spiderwebbing in loud tendrils across the rooftop. His defense would only hold up for so long - the stream grew more intense with every passing second, and he sensed his sword grip quickly heating as the energy radiated through it.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you, witcher?" She said through clenched teeth, continuing to project energy with one hand as she began tracing an arced path with the other. "You're too late. Au revoir!"

A ripple formed in the air behind her, expanding into to a shimmering circle large enough to step in. Geralt cursed bitterly, unable to even inch forward in the wake of the blue energy which was heating his sword grip to an untenable level. To make matters worse, the shouts and shrieks had quieted from below, replaced by the sound of huge leathery wings ascending toward him from behind. Painful, numbing tingles weaved their way from his hands up his arms, and began resonating in his ribcage. He yelled, pushing back with all his might, when suddenly the intensity eased up. The portal behind Síle began to waver and flicker erratically, swaying her entire body as it bulged and contracted. Her hardened look of determination melted into an expression of sheer panic as the circle pulsed faster and faster, flashing spasmodically in random, blinding bursts of color.

"No, no, no! Gods, no!" She gasped, dropping the beam of electricity and searching her gown frantically with both hands as she backed away from the growing orb of distortion. Geralt fell to his knees in relief, preparing to lunge forward and attack, when the portal exploded into a brilliant kaleidoscope of colored energy. Síle's body was rent in two, sending bits of bone, cloth and singed skin across the rooftop in a red-hued mist. The witcher was nearly blown off the obelisk by the concussion, catching the ledge with his outstretched hand, feet dangling precariously above the stone amphitheater stage below. He grunted in effort, hauling himself back to the roof and collapsed flat on his back to catch his breath. Moments later, a deafening roar thundered in his ears, shaking the tower like an earthquake. The dragon, enraged and vindictive, landed with a rumble on the roof across from him, inhaling deeply and rearing back its head to strike.

"You killed her!" A furious voice shouted in his head. "You killed her! You killed her!"