Hell Hath Frozen Over

by Luke1813

Geralt of Rivia has retired from the Path, no longer killing monsters for coin but spending his days toiling on his vineyard instead. But one evening a letter arrives at Corvo Bianco – a letter from Dandelion containing unbelievable news. It's news that forces the witcher to travel back to Novigrad - to see if hell actually has frozen over.

7. Chapter 7

Hell Hath Frozen Over

Chapter 7

"Mr. Kupz?" said Vivienne, getting the disguised man's attention.

She and Buder had been standing in the alley across from Tiffani's residence for about five minutes, and he had been pacing in silence the entire time. A silence that had been a bit awkward for her and was, frankly, making her anxious. Given that the man was Geralt's friend, then she wanted to befriend him, as well, but she hadn't known how to broach a conversation with him.

Initially, despite the witcher's objections, Buder had demanded on going with Geralt up to the third floor to confront the bar-wench. In fact, the two of them had argued all the way to the Bits, with the witcher stating that Buder's presence would do more harm than good. It had only been when Geralt had growled out, "If you go, then you'll go alone. And you can deal with her yourself. Good luck with that," that the man with the fake beard had finally relented.

"Yes, my fair lady?" said Buder, pulling his eyes away from the third-floor window.

"I, uh, I just wanted to say that…what Geralt said back at the cabaret…"

"Yes?"

"About me helping him with your…well, your situation…" Even through the disguise, she could see the man scowl. "Well, I just want you to know that he showed the utmost of discretion. He never told me any specifics. Not who you are or what the issue is."

His facial features softened at that.

"Okay. But why tell me that?"

"Because I don't want you to think he betrayed your trust…when I tell you that I know who you are."

"You do?"

"Yes. Back at the cabaret, when you two were arguing…I heard him call you 'Dandelion.'"

The bard grimaced. "The blithering idiot. Why am I not surprised? He's never been able to keep his mouth shut." He then sighed and peered closely at Vivienne. "So, you know my name. Are aware of who I am, then?'"

"Of course," she answered. "You're quite…famous where I'm from." She'd almost said, 'infamous.' Being Anna Henrietta's lady-in-waiting, she had certainly heard of the bard, even if she wasn't that knowledgeable of his works.

Suddenly, the troubadour flashed a dazzling smile and puffed out his chest.

"But, of course, I am, my dear. I'm not even sure why I bothered to ask. So, where are you from exactly? By your accent, I can tell you're not from the North."

"I'm from Toussaint."

Instantly, he peered upwards with a far-away look in his eyes.

"Ah, yes. Toussaint. The land of love and wine." He then sighed and brought his attention back to Vivienne. "I once had a torrid love affair in Beauclair."

"Is that right?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, yes. A romance worthy of the most tragic of plays. Two star-crossed lovers, brought together by fate, but forced apart by…well, by my duty to my friends. Geralt needed me, you see."

"Oh, well, how noble of you," she flattered. She knew the truth of what had led to the termination of his relationship with the duchess, but her good manners kept her from throwing his lie back in his face. That, and the fact that, since he was Geralt's best friend, then she was determined to stay on his good side.

"Is that where you met Geralt? In Toussaint?" he asked.

"Yes." And then she made a spur-of-the-moment decision, hoping to forge a bond with the bard. "He, well, he did a favor for me. A substantial favor."

Dandelion peered closely at her.

"A witcher favor?"

She nodded.

"But if you don't ask what he did for me, then I won't ask what he's doing for you."

"Deal!" exclaimed Dandelion immediately, sticking out his hand. After they shook hands, he said, "You know - Geralt mentioned that you've been a great assistance to him. So, I'd like to thank you for that."

"You're quite welcome. It was really nothing, but I'm glad that he thinks so."

"And how exactly did you assist him? He didn't say."

"You mean, he didn't tell you about last night?"

Dandelion cocked an eyebrow, a small smile coming to his face.

"No, he did not. He simply said that you assisted him in fulfilling Tiffani's request."

Suddenly, Vivienne didn't know what to say. The two men may have been best friends, but there was no way that she was going to betray Geralt's trust. If he hadn't told the bard about the events at the Passiflora, then she wasn't about to either.

"Well -" and then her eyes went wide. "Oh, look! There's Geralt!"

She let out a sigh of relief as Dandelion turned to see the witcher exiting the building and walking towards them.

"Well, what did she say?" asked the bard, his voice pitched high.

"She said to tell you that, in the future, don't make promises to women that you're not willing to keep."

"Well, that's just ridiculous! That's what men do. Plus, I was drunk the entire week I was with her. She can't really hold a man in his cups responsible for what he says, can she?"

"Apparently, she can. What exactly did you promise her?"

Dandelion shrugged. "Who knows? And, frankly, who cares? Did she tell you the name of the witch who cursed me? That's all that matters."

"She did. Though it cost me every coin I had."

"Well, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. So?"

"We gotta go to the Putrid Grove."

Suddenly, Dandelion made a face.

"What? What's wrong now?"

"Well, that could be a problem."

Geralt let out a long sigh. "Of course, it is."

"I'm not on the best of terms with Francis Bedlam at the moment."

"Of course, you're not."

"We kind of had a misunderstanding over some money."

"Of course, you did," answered Geralt, bringing a hand up to his forehead and rubbing his temples. After a few moments, he dropped his hand and looked at the bard. "Let's go. We can discuss it on the way."

As the three began their trek across the city, Geralt explained to Vivienne that the Putrid Grove was the enclave of Francis Bedlam, one of the city's major crime bosses. But Dandelion quickly jumped in to correct him.

"You've clearly been gone too long, Geralt. Because Francis is no longer the 'King of Beggars.' He's an upstanding citizen now."

"That right?"

"Well, I have no doubt that he still deals in some under-the-table shenanigans from time to time, but he's actually on the Novigrad city council now. And Putrid Grove has had a total overhaul – complete with Bedlam's own bank, taverns, and shops. It's no longer putrid. Officially, it's just 'The Grove' now."

"So, if he's now on the straight-and-narrow, how'd you get cross-ways with him?"

"Like I said – it was a misunderstanding. On his part."

"Uh huh. I bet. What did you do?"

"Nothing! But he accused me of breaking a deal. As if I would ever do such a thing. I am nothing if not a man of impeccable honor."

Geralt looked at Vivienne and rolled his eyes.

"Just spill it already, will you?"

"Fine. Last year, I needed to borrow some money to upgrade the cabaret. I went to several of the banks in town, including Bedlam's. He offered the best deal, and I was all set on accepting, when out of the blue, Cleaver came to see me one morning. Said he'd heard I needed a loan and that he was willing to beat any offer from any bank."

"Hold on, so when you told Zoltan that Cleaver made you an offer you couldn't refuse, you actually meant it? Cleaver hadn't threatened you?"

"No. Why would Cleaver threaten me?"

"Because he's Cleaver. And he's a crime lord. He's kind of known for that sort of thing."

Dandelion just shrugged.

"Maybe so, but he didn't threaten me."

"So, you broke your deal with Bedlam."

"No! There was no deal with Bedlam. I never signed anything."

"But I'm guessing Francis doesn't see it that way?"

The bard nodded. "Nope. And he wasn't pleased. So, I've sort of steered clear of the Grove ever since then."

"I'm surprised he didn't display his displeasure with you with more than words."

"What? Like break my lute?"

"Or your neck."

"Yeah, I thought of that. That's why I spoke with Dijkstra. Asked if he could maybe smooth things over for me."

"And did he?"

"Both my neck and lute are still in one piece," answered Dandelion with a smile. "It's nice to have friends in high places."

"If you actually think Dijkstra is your friend, then you're dumber than you look."

"How dare you! I most certainly am not!"

Vivienne held back a laugh while Geralt just shook his head and raised his hands in fake surrender to his friend. His friend still wearing the floppy hat, fake beard and black-framed glasses.

"Sorry. You're right," said the witcher. "Because that's not possible."

After that, the three walked the rest of the way across the city in relative silence until they were standing in a small alley across from the entrance to the Grove. Unlike when Geralt had been there last, there was no longer any guarded door. At some point, the entire wall had been removed, and people were walking into and out of the enclave just like they would any other neighborhood within the city.

"Well, that helps," whispered Geralt to himself.

"Do we need a plan?" asked Vivienne.

"Plan? Nah, it'll be a piece of cake," said Dandelion. "I'm wearing a disguise, and he can wear his cowl up." He then turned to Geralt. "It'll be like old times. Just like sneaking into the co-ed living quarters at Oxenfurt Academy. We'll be in and out lickety-split. What could go wrong?"

"You," answered Geralt gruffly. "You're what could go wrong. And that's why you won't be going in with us."

"But -"

"No 'buts,'' said Geralt, cutting him off. "Vivienne and I will go in. We'll ask the witch to break the curse, and then we'll come out. Lickety-split."

"And what will I do?"

"You will stand right here. With your mouth shut. Not speaking a word to anyone. And not moving an inch. Got it?"

"You can't be serious. That's it? The hero gets relegated to the back of the stage in his own play?"

"Actually no. Give me all your money. She might make us pay to break the curse, and I don't have any coin on me anymore. Not after Tiffani."

"Never! I won't pay some old crone to break a curse that she put on me in the first place."

Geralt didn't say a word. He just stood there, stone-faced and staring down the bard. After a few moments, Dandelion sighed in frustration.

"Fine!" he exclaimed before handing over his coin pouch. "I hope she chokes on it."

"I'll send her your regards," said the witcher before putting his cowl over his head and nodding towards Vivienne.

The two crossed the main road towards the entrance to the Grove, but halfway there, Geralt stopped them both.

"Are you sure you want to come with me?"

"Why? Do you think it'll be dangerous?"

"It shouldn't be. All we're gonna do is pay a witch to break a curse. But…hell, since I got to town, almost nothing's gone right. So, I can't promise anything. And I'd hate for something bad to happen to you."

Geralt noticed that Vivienne was staring him straight in the eye. Finally, she swallowed and gave a small nod of her head.

"I want to come." Then she smiled. "And, anyway, you may need me. Especially if the witch forces you to strip in place of her injured beau."

The witcher groaned. "I was kind of hoping that you had already forgotten about that."

"Geralt, you were wearing nothing but a bright blue thong while whirling around the stage, shooting fire from your palms. And you ended your set by throwing your sword over our heads, impaling it into the back wall. I can promise you – I'll never forget that. Nobody who saw it will."

"You've got some serious blackmail material on me, don't you?"

"No more than you've got on me," she answered before her smile slowly left her face. "So…I guess we'll just have to trust each another, won't we?"

Geralt could tell that the light, jesting tone in her voice had vanished, and, suddenly, he didn't know what to say. For trust wasn't something that he'd ever given easily. And certainly not to women. It was the reason why no romantic relationship had ever lasted. It was why, over the course of his life, he'd always preferred one-night stands and the company of harlots. The abuse he'd experienced as a child at Kaer Morhen and all the years of deceit and betrayal on the Path had simply damaged him too much. He knew that deep-down he was more scarred and ugly on the inside than the out. So, what woman could ever truly love him?

The two of them stood there in the middle of the lane as passers-by maneuvered around them, but Geralt wasn't paying attention to any of his surroundings anymore. It was as if he and Vivienne were the only two people alive in that moment. He stared into her beautiful, green eyes, and he thought for sure that she was peering right into his soul. He felt completely laid bare in front of her. Even more bare and exposed than when she'd seen him in nothing but a thong the night before. Finally, he swallowed hard and broke the silence.

"Yeah," he said in barely above a whisper. "I guess we will. Come on."

And then he turned and headed towards the entrance of the Grove before she could even respond. A few moments later, they entered the small city district, and even though Dandelion had warned Geralt that Bedlam's enclave had received several upgrades over the years, the witcher was still surprised by what he saw. The last time that the witcher had been inside the Putrid Grove, it had been the run-down home to many of the city's pickpockets, thieves, and beggars. More than that, though, it had been one of the last refuges of Novigrad's most severe outcasts – magic users. Due to the persecution from the Church of the Eternal Fire, mages, witches, alchemists, herbalists, and anyone with even a whiff of the arcane about them had been forced into hiding. And one of those bastions had been the Putrid Grove. Geralt could remember feeling as if a cloud of fear and oppression had hung over the entire enclave. But, now, the neighborhood looked no different than Hierarch Square – complete with boutiques, armorers, taverns, and more. Many of the dilapidated buildings had been torn down and replaced with brick and stone edifices. The facades of all the business were covered with a fresh-coat of varnish. There were small planters filled with colorful plants and flowers hanging outside of many of the windows. And Geralt didn't see a single vagrant among all the citizens walking along the cobble-stone streets. Apparently, Francis Bedlam really had come up in the world and, in so doing, had decided he no longer wanted to be the "King of the Beggars."

Geralt and Vivienne strolled among the crowd for a few minutes before he finally saw what he was looking for – a shop with a small window displaying a variety of colored jars on multiple shelves. Above the door of the shop hung a painted sign with the words, 'Annie's Alchemy.'

He stopped at the door and turned to Vivienne.

"Should warn you – you might want to put a kerchief to your nose. The smell inside of alchemy shops can be pretty potent."

She nodded. "I know. I've been in a few."

"That so?"

"I spent a lot of years trying to find a potion or cream that might break my curse," she whispered. "Of course, it was all for naught." What I really needed was you, she had the urge to tell him, but she kept the thought to herself.

"Right. Well, hopefully we won't be wasting our time today," he replied as he opened the door, causing a small bell to jingle over his head.

Vivienne followed him inside and realized immediately that the witcher had been telling the truth. There was an acrid odor in the air that brought tears to her eyes. She brought her wrist up to her nose so that she could smell the perfume on her skin while she took in her surroundings. There were shelves along all the walls that were covered with hundreds of sealed, glass containers. Containers that she knew were filled with an assortment of herbs, flowers, animal organs, and such. There were a couple of customers in the shop peering closely at random jars, and a young man wearing an apron stood behind the main counter.

"Welcome to Annie's," he said cheerfully. "Home to all your alchemy needs. How may I assist you?"

"I need to see the Master Alchemist," Geralt said in a low voice after they had approached the counter.

"Of course. She's in back. May I ask to what your request pertains?"

"It pertains to a delicate matter. One of a highly personal nature. The sort of thing she specializes in."

The man's face suddenly turned serious. "And your name?"

"Just tell her that I'm a witcher and that I need her expertise on a contract."

"Wait here, please. I'll let her know."

It was a couple of minutes later that the man returned and asked for Geralt and Vivienne to follow him. He led them through a back room that was infinitely more cluttered than the front of the shop. There was a maze of wall racks and shelves that reached the ceiling, and there wasn't an empty space on any of them. The three carefully weaved their way through the aisles until, eventually, they came to the back of the room that housed several large, rectangular tables which were placed together in the shape of a U. The tops of the tables were covered with a variety of bowls, alembics, mortars, pestles, and alchemical ingredients. Standing behind one of the tables was middle-aged woman with brown hair streaked with gray, pulled back into a pony-tail. Vivienne wondered if this was the witch that had cast a curse on Dandelion. Because she didn't look like a witch at all. She looked like someone's kindly grandmother. As the two approached, the woman removed her gloves and then wiped her hands on the front of her apron.

"Lower your hood, please," she requested. "I'd like to see with whom I'm speaking." After Geralt revealed his face, her eyes widened slightly. "Geralt of Rivia."

"We've met?"

"No. But several years back, when Radovid and the Hierarch still terrorized Novigrad, Triss Merigold and a witcher named Geralt helped several of my friends escape the city through the sewers one night. They told me he was white-haired with a long scar down his face. I simply made an educated guess."

"Yeah. That was me."

"Then, I thank you, Master Witcher. You saved the lives of many of my friends and colleagues. My name is Annie, by the way."

"Well, Annie, it's a pleasure. And now I need your help. On behalf of one of my friends." Geralt then went on the explain exactly why he was there.

"Yes, I remember the young woman," stated the witch once Geralt had finished. "She was quite angry with your friend. And rightly so, if what she said was true."

"I'm not here to defend him. Just here to help him."

"And you say the curse is still active."

"So says he. And I know for sure that it was as of two nights ago."

"That's odd. It was only to last a few weeks."

"Really?"

"Yes, I'm a witch, but I'm not sadistic. The curse was just supposed to teach him a bit of a lesson and then clear up on its own. The woman who hired me – I don't remember her name…"

"Tiffani."

"That's right. Tiffani. Well, Tiffani, I believe, wanted it to be a permanent curse, but, as I said, I'm not so cruel."

"Well, then I guess you don't know your own power because, as I said, it's still present. And he's got a wedding coming up this weekend."

Annie smirked. "Then, time definitely is of the essence. Okay, I'll get to work on the cancelation ritual. Give me about half an hour to brew up the potion."

"We appreciate it. How much?" he asked pulling out the coin pouch.

"Normally, a hundred crowns. But for you – it's on the house. For what you did for my friends."

Geralt nodded his head. "Appreciate it. We'll wait up front."

After they made it back to the front room of the shop, Vivienne grabbed Geralt's arm and whispered, "That's great! That couldn't have gone any better!"

He gave a small, half laugh. "I know. I can't believe it. After what I've been through the last couple of days, I was really expecting the worst. Maybe my luck's starting to change."

"I guess it's a good thing you're such a hero. Saving all of her friends like you did."

Geralt winced. "No. I'm no hero. Triss is the one that saved them. I just…I just cleared the sewers for them. It was just ordinary witcher's work. That's all."

"Right," she replied before giving him a small shake of her head. "And I suppose you think that what you did for me was just ordinary witcher's work, too?"

"Well…yeah."

She could see the look of confusion on his face, and she desperately wanted him to understand.

"Geralt, you are not just a witcher. And what you did for me was not just 'ordinary.' Not to me. You may not view yourself as heroic, but you are to me. And when this is all over, I bet Dandelion will say the same."

She took a step forward so that their faces were only inches apart. The fear was so thick inside of her that she almost couldn't breathe. But she'd be damned if she was going to stop now. She had to tell him how she felt.

"You're my hero, Geralt. Don't you see that? You gave me life. You saved me."

At that point, she reached up and tenderly caressed his cheek with her hand, and the two fragile souls just stared into each other's eyes. Eventually, Geralt lifted his hand to his face, grabbed her hand in his own, and brought it to his chest. But the entire time, their eyes never left each other. And then, slowly, they began to lean in. Vivienne closed her eyes and lifted her chin – anticipating Geralt's lip on her hers – when suddenly the bell above the door clanged loudly. She opened her eyes to see a bald man enter the shop with two armed men following closely behind. The witcher immediately squeezed her hand and pulled her behind him, shielding her from the men who had just entered.

"Well, who do I spy with my little eye?" said the grizzled, bald man. "It's been a long time, Witcher."

"Francis," replied Geralt with a nod.

"I wasn't even aware that you were in town. So, what brings you to my Grove?"

"Heard you cleaned up the place. Thought I'd come and take a look for myself." He then spread his hands and glanced at his surroundings. "And you know witchers – always in need of alchemical ingredients. So, I came in here. Am I not welcome?"

Bedlam let out a small laugh, but there wasn't much mirth in it.

"You? Of course. Despite your reputation, I've always considered you a reasonable bloke. And quite useful. Some of your friends, though? Not so much."

Geralt didn't say anything to that.

"And speaking of your friends, Dandelion wouldn't be here with you, would he?"

"No. He's not. Told me that he wasn't your favorite person these days. Didn't think he'd be real welcome here."

"You wouldn't lie to me now, would you, Geralt?"

"Of course, I would, Francis. If the situation required it." He then took a step to the side to reveal Vivienne behind him. "But as you can see, it's just me and my lady friend. No bard."

At that, Bedlam smiled. "Then, this is one hell-of-an amazing coincidence."

Before, Geralt could respond, Bedlam whistled loudly and shouted, "Theobold, bring him in!"

A few moments later, the door opened and two armed men pushed Dandelion into the shop. He no longer was wearing his disguise.

"You know me, Geralt," continued Bedlam. "I've always protected the Grove. That's why I constantly have my men patrolling its streets. And when they spotted this dodgy-looking character in a ridiculous disguise skulking outside my alchemist shop, they got a bit suspicious. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be our city's most famous bard and cabaret owner…and deal-breaker."

Geralt shifted his eyes from Bedlam and glanced at Dandelion, who at least had the good sense to look chagrined.

"So, I'll ask again Witcher. What are you really doing here?"

The witcher brought his focus back to the former crime lord.

"As I said, Francis, I just needed some alchemical supplies."

Bedlam turned to the shop-keeper.

"Is that right, Ronald? This witcher just come in here to buy some herbs?"

"No, sir, Mr. Bedlam. He asked to speak with Miss Annie."

"That so? About what?"

"I wasn't privy to their conversation, Mr. Bedlam."

"Then, fetch my sister, would you, Ronald?"

"Right away, sir."

A couple of minutes later, the witch entered the front room, where she was interrogated by Bedlam. The entire time, Geralt fixed Dandelion with an icy stare because he knew how this would end. It would end how it always ended with him. Eventually, after all of his questions had been answered to his satisfaction, Bedlam turned back to Geralt, and he had a smile on his face.

"It seems that everyone here is in such a gracious mood today. You're here – apparently doing a favor for a friend. My sweet sister here is doing you a favor by not charging you to break a curse. You know - I think I'd like to partake in the generous spirit, as well. I have no doubt that you're here on behalf of this dishonorable sack of shit," he said pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Dandelion. Geralt saw the bard's face turn red at the insult. It looked as if he was about to blurt something out so Geralt clenched his jaws and slowly shook his head. "However, because I'm such a forgiving individual, I'm going to allow your deal with Annie to stand."

Geralt wasn't fooled. "On what condition?"

Bedlam smiled. "On the condition that you do a favor for me. I just so happen to be in the need of a witcher's services right now. I've got some monsters I need you to kill. Do that, and I'll let Annie fulfill her end of the bargain."

Geralt exhaled slowly before finally giving a small nod of his head. He then turned his attention to Dandelion.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" he said coldly, to which the bard just sheepishly shrugged. "You really are dumber than you look."

oOo

High up in the Redanian mountains, Vivienne was wringing her hands together as she nervously paced about in a clearing in the heavily-wooden forest. She didn't know whether to be enthralled, terrified, or annoyed. Enthralled because for the last hour she had been watching Geralt at work. He was on his knees by a small campfire and had a half-dozen pewter bowls around him in a semi-circle. In addition to brewing an assortment of witcher oils and potions, he was also crafting various bombs and traps. At first, she'd been too shy to ask what he was doing, but eventually her curiosity got the better of her, and to her surprise, he'd been willing to explain to her in general terms each action he was undertaking. She could tell that he was an absolute master at his craft. For there was no wasted movement. No hesitations. As soon as he had finished mixing one potion and set it to simmering over the fire, he was immediately onto the next task at hand. She wondered just how many times in his life he'd done this sort of preparation.

However, despite how captivated she was by seeing a professional monster-slayer plying his trade, she still wasn't able to ignore the oily eel of fear that was squirming around inside her. Because she knew that as soon as Geralt was finished with his preparations, he would be heading into the mine to face down one or more unknown monsters. Monsters that had already killed a dozen miners.

Two years past, Francis Bedlam's bank had loaned the Dagovid Mining Company a substantial amount of money to expand their business. Mr. Dagovid and his sons purchased some property several miles north of Novigrad that they believed contained several untapped veins of copper ore. At the time, Bedlam had deemed it a smart and safe business decision since the mining company had a history of success. And for the first year, they continued that success as the new mine yielded a steady flow of copper and, therefore, profits. That unfortunately changed when, one day about six months ago, monsters were discovered in the new mine and half the company's miners were killed. Mr. Dagovid put out a witcher contract, but he could find no takers, and thus, the mine stayed closed. No new ore meant no revenue, and no revenue meant he could no longer make his monthly payments. Eventually, Bedlam's patience ran dry, and he called in the loan. When Dagovid couldn't pay, Bedlam took ownership of the mine, and the monster problem became his. A problem that he had foisted onto Geralt.

When she'd asked the witcher what monsters were in the mines, he'd replied, "Well, based on the account that Bedlam heard from the miners, I'd say that it's probably some sort of hematophage."

"What's that?"

"There's a wide variety of sub-species, but the primary characteristic is that they're all blood-suckers. Think of something similar to a tick, but it's the size of a giant dog and twice as fast."

She'd gulped and asked no more questions about hematophages. Hearing that was enough. She had no desire to know any more details of what he might soon be facing.

To make the whole situation worse, Dandelion had insisted on joining their journey into the Redanian mountains, and he hadn't stopped chattering and singing the entire time. For the last hour, he'd been leaning back against a log and scribbling notes into a journal on his knee as he crafted a song tentatively titled, 'An Ode to Tiffani.' She'd rolled her eyes when he had laughed out loud upon rhyming the words 'witch' and 'bitch.' Finally, she'd had enough.

"How can you be singing at a time like this?" she asked sharply, her eyes blazing.

Dandelion looked up from his journal, the look of merriment on his face fading away to be replaced by one of confusion.

"A time like what?"

"Are you serious? Your best friend is about to risk his life – because of you, I might add – and you're just sitting there, singing away as if you had no cares in the world. What is wrong with you?"

The bard slowly stood and brushed off his backside before breaking into a patronizing smile.

"My dear – look about," he said, motioning his hands to the forest around them. "Listen to the birds, chirping their sweet melodies. Do you ask them how they can sing at a time like this? Or how the flowers can bloom? Or how the sun can shine? No, you don't. Because it is their raison d'être. And I – well, I am an artist, my dear. That is my reason for being. I could no more cease from crafting poetry and song than…than you could cease being a ravishing beauty. Now, I admit that I may have had a part to play in our current predicament, but when the muse beckons, one must heed the call – regardless of the circumstances."

Vivienne couldn't believe her ears. She looked at Geralt to see if he was as dumb-founded as she was, but he didn't act as if he'd even heard. His entire focus seemed to be on the witcher potions around him. So, she turned back to the bard.

"A part to play? You think you're only partly to blame for this? Unbelievable. I've been all over this continent, and I can honestly say that I've never met anyone like you."

Suddenly, the bard flashed a beaming smile.

"Why thank you!"

Vivienne shook her head and furrowed her brow.

"That wasn't a compliment," she said before turning her back on him and giving her attention to the witcher. She approached and knelt next to him. "How can you stand him? He's insufferable," she whispered.

Geralt continued to stir the mixture in front of him, but he gave her a quick glance.

"I've learned to ignore him," he whispered back.

She nodded, and for the next half hour, she did her best to follow Geralt's lead and ignore the bard behind her. She was determined to be fully present for Geralt, ready to assist him in any way that he asked. Though, of course, he never asked. Which didn't really surprise her, for how could she ever help a fully-trained witcher with fighting monsters? That thought made her sigh, and she started wringing her hands together again.

It wasn't long – and way before she was ready – that he finished his preparations. He attached a few bombs to a bandolier across his chest, smeared some kind of oil across his silver blade, and carefully poured several potions into metal vials. He then stood and helped Vivienne to her feet.

"I want to give you these," he said, handing her two vials. "They're potions. One called White Honey and the other called Swallow."

"Am I supposed to drink them?"

"No. Hell, no. They'd probably kill you."

"Then, why give them to me?"

"If I make it out of there -"

"If?" she interrupted. "I thought you were supposed to be the best. Do you really mean…" But she couldn't finish the thought.

Geralt just gave a small shrug.

"The best? That's debatable. But even if it's true, it doesn't really matter. Because no witcher's ever died in his bed. So, as I was saying, if I make it out of there, but I'm very injured or fall unconscious, then force those potions down my throat. The white one first, then the orange. But whatever you, don't touch me. Especially if I'm bleeding."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm about to take a couple of witcher elixirs. They're toxic to normal humans. So, simply coming into contact with my sweat or blood could…well, it wouldn't be good for you. Got it?"

Suddenly, Vivienne couldn't speak. The fear inside of her was about to choke her. So, instead, she swallowed hard and nodded.

The two of them stared at one another for a few moments longer before, finally, Geralt said, "Okay. And no matter what happens, don't come in after me. If I can't survive what's in there, then you sure as hell can't." After a small sigh, he added, "Well, I guess I'd better get to it."

He was just turning towards the entrance of the mine when she said, "Geralt," and grabbed his arm. She immediately stepped up close to him, their faces just inches apart.

"You and I…we're just getting started so…you've got to come back, okay? You've got to make it out alive."

And, then, before the fear could stop her, she put her hand on his shoulder, tip-toed up, and gently brought her lips to his. She closed her eyes and tried to put all the emotions that were swirling inside of her into the kiss, hoping that he would somehow be able to understand what she was feeling for him through that one simple act. A simple act, but one that held so much meaning for her at the moment.

Suddenly, she heard Dandelion clearing his throat next to them, and a moment later, Geralt ended their kiss.

"I hate to interrupt such a lovely scene, but…daylight is burning."

She was just about say something scathing when Geralt beat her to it.

"Dandelion, do you remember this morning when I sent you flying through the air with my Aard Sign?"

"How could I not?" he answered, indignation clear in his voice. "That was some fine 'how do you do?'"

"Well, go away, before I give you a repeat performance."

Vivienne watched the bard scowl, but he didn't say a word, simply turning on his heal and storming back to his log. She turned to Geralt and couldn't help but smile.

"I thought you said that you'd learned to ignore him."

"Every man's got his limitations."

He then pulled her close and kissed her deeply. This one much more passionate than the first. She immediately put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. But a moment later, he broke off the kiss.

"When I get back…" he then sighed heavily, "we probably need to talk."

"Okay."

But she wondered just what he wanted to discuss. Before she could ask, though, he turned and marched toward the mine. He paused at the boarded-up entrance and swallowed down the two vials of elixirs. He hissed and then she saw his entire body shudder, followed by a low growl escaping from his throat. When he glanced back over his shoulder to look at her, she sucked in her breath. His skin looked even more pale than it normally did, and the veins in his face and neck were dark and pronounced. She would have never told him so, but he looked like some kind of demon from the bowels of hell. He gave a quick nod of his head and then tore away the boards blocking the entrance and stepped into the mine. Two steps later, he disappeared from her sight, completely swallowed up by the darkness.

"Come back to me, Geralt," she whispered. "You've got to come back."

oOo

The witcher was a half-mile deep into the mines when he finally heard the monsters. But he'd seen evidence of them much prior to that. He'd come across numerous corpses – both human and non - that had borne the marking of a savage, hematophage attack. The blood-thirsty beasts had six spider-like legs, with the first two ending in sharp spines. To make matters worse, there were special glands connected to the spines that contained a powerful numbing agent. One scratch from the spines was enough to paralyze an adult-sized human within a couple of minutes. After that, the monsters would sink their long fangs into a soft part of the body – the neck, the groin, the armpit – and gorge on their victim's blood. He also knew that they had an uncanny ability to sense the exact moment to stop drinking in order to keep their prey from expiring. Brother Adalbert's bestiary indicated that a victim could remain alive for up to four days before finally succumbing to the monster's toxins and blood-letting. After that, all of the corpse's organs and most of the flesh would be devoured. Earlier, when speaking with Vivienne, Geralt had purposefully kept all of those details to himself. For her fear had been obvious. He'd had no desire to add fuel to it.

As he crept down the mineshaft towards the monstrous sounds, he stopped every ten yards or so and set up an explosive, trip-wired device on the ground. If he had to beat a hasty retreat, then he definitely wanted it covered. Eventually, he arrived at the end of the shaft, which opened up into a large cavern with stalagmites scattered about the floor and stalactites clinging to the ceiling. He paused where he was and took in his surroundings. He could detect the sounds of a monster feeding, but when he scanned the interior, he couldn't see his prey. It had to be deeper in the cavern, or it was hidden by one of the larger stalagmites.

Geralt brought his sword in front of him and gripped the handle with both hands. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Two years prior, when he had retired from the Path, he had hoped that he'd never have to wield his witcher swords ever again. But, now, with the blade back in hand and the witcher potions coursing through his veins, he felt as if he'd just slipped on a pair of old, comfortable boots. Boots that fit his feet perfectly. His muscles were twitching with power, just waiting to be unleashed in a whirlwind of brutality. Despite that, though, he also felt completely calm. As if he was almost in a trance-like state. He'd always been amazed by the dichotomy. That there could be both a tempest and a stillness inside of him at the same time. He didn't know if other witchers felt the same, but he'd eventually learned that that's what being a professional witcher was for him – a state of controlled fury. And he was feeling it once again. With that thought, he opened his eyes, exhaled slow, and stepped into the cavern.

A few moments later, he moved past a large stalagmite and paused at the sight before him. He was looking at the largest hematophage he'd ever seen. He'd told Vivienne that they were tick-shaped and about the size of an enormous dog, but the one in front of him was a large as a bear. It was devouring a girby – a worm-like, underground creature that was a frequent victim of various predators – and it hadn't detected the witcher's approach. Immediately, Geralt signed his Quen shield, skipped forward, and sliced his blade into the unsuspecting beast's thick hide. The monster screeched and swung its forelegs in an attack, but the witcher was no longer there, having side-stepped out of the way. He cast Igni flames at the beast, and it screeched again as its flesh caught fire. As it was writhing in pain, Geralt hopped forward and brought down a vicious two-handed strike near its neck. Blood gushed forth from the creature's neck spraying the front of his clothes, and he knew that he'd struck a fatal blow. It just might take a few minutes before the monster finally died. He skipped backwards a few paces, giving himself some room, and that's when he heard a noise from above. He looked upward and his eyes widened.

"Not good," he growled upon seeing a half-dozen more hematophages clinging to the ceiling of the cave.

As one, they all dropped to the cavern floor and attacked at once. Geralt instantly knew that his simple contract had just turned dire, and a moment later the cavern turned into chaos. He immediately cast an Igni flame at the nearest monster and tossed a Dancing Star bomb at another before whirling between two others, his blade slicing through both. But as he was coming out of his pirouette, he heard his Quen shield break and a moment later he felt pain across his back. He quickly rolled away and threw another bomb at the nearest monster, its screams of pain echoing through the cavern as it caught fire. He reached his right hand over his shoulder, and he cursed at what he felt. The leather of his witcher jacket was torn and slick with blood. He knew he needed to neutralize the monster's toxins as quickly as possible.

"Need a White Honey," he said to himself but he had no time to reach for it as three hematophages were approaching him from all sides.

He glanced past the beast that was directly in front of him to see the entrance of the mineshaft. He had to get there – and to his traps - if he was going to survive, but he knew his chances of making it there were slim. As the monsters closed in, he cast another Quen and growled out, "Show me what you got."

He then tossed his final bomb at the monster on the left before spinning towards the other two, his sword a blur around him.

oOo

"I'm sorry," said Vivienne. "I shouldn't have spoken to you so harshly earlier. I was just…I'm scared."

She and Dandelion stood near the entrance of the mine. On any other day, she would have been enjoying the scenery. The noon-day sun shining high overhead. The cool, autumn wind rustling the leaves of the trees. The birds singing sweetly around them. But she was noticing none of that. Instead, the two of them were simply staring into the darkness of the mine.

"It's okay, my dear. It's understandable."

She glanced at the bard.

"You're not nervous? Knowing what he's about to face?"

"Nah. It'll be fine. He always comes through," he answered, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. She'd heard it. And he couldn't keep the worry from his face either. And, suddenly, she liked the man a whole lot more than before.

An instant later, she heard the sound of hideous screeching echoing out of the mine, and she immediately reached out and grasped Dandelion's hand.

"What was that?! Was that the monster?"

The bard smiled weakly. "I'm sure that was the sound of victory, my dear. No doubt it was the vile beast's death throes."

He'd just finished speaking when they heard an explosion coming from somewhere deep within the mine. This was immediately followed by more monstrous screeching, and suddenly, Vivienne was overcome with sense of terrified helplessness. She didn't know what to do. Logic told her that she shouldn't enter the mines. For she had absolutely no skills in battling monsters. But her emotions told her that she simply couldn't stand there doing nothing when Geralt was in danger. She let go of Dandelion's hand and began feverishly wringing hers together again. She was having trouble breathing, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. But through all of that, she somehow heard a bird chirping nearby, and, without even thinking, she answered. A never-before-spoken sound bubbled up from deep inside of her and escaped her mouth. And it was the sound of a bird singing.

She closed her eyes and simply let her emotions pour out of her – emotions that were manifesting themselves into an oriole's call. She didn't know for how long this went on, but eventually she ran out of breath, and when she opened her eyes, she saw dozens and dozens of birds flying into the entrance of the mine.

She blinked a couple of times, as if coming out of a trance, and then turned to look at Dandelion. He'd taken a couple of steps backward from her and was peering at her with a furrowed brow.

"What did you just do?"

"I…I don't know."

"What…what are you? A druid?"

"I…I…" But she didn't know how to answer. At that moment, she didn't know exactly what she was, and she without a doubt had no idea as to what she'd just done. All she knew was that whatever had come out of her mouth was primal and instinctual.

She was about to speak when, suddenly, there were more monstrous screams emanating from the mine. A few moments later, more explosions could be heard – these louder than the ones before. And, then, all went quiet. Shortly, the birds flew back out of the mine and dispersed back into the woods, but the witcher didn't show with them. One minute turned to five and then to ten, and still all was quiet. Eventually, she turned to Dandelion.

"Do you think we should go in?"

Dandelion swallowed hard, staring straight ahead. Finally, he glanced at Vivienne and nodded.

"Let's go. But let's find some kind of weapon first."

He immediately looked around him.

"What are you searching for?"

"I don't know. A big stick. A rock. Something. I'm not going in there with just a quill in my hand. It may indeed be mightier than the sword, but not when facing down monsters."

Vivienne was just about to begin a search as well when she glanced at the mine entrance, and her eyes went wide. For there was something making its way out of the darkness. And then she saw what it was. Or rather who.

"Geralt!" she yelled.

She ran towards him but stopped several paces short. He was covered from head to toe in what looked to be monster guts and blood. He held his left arm pressed close to his side and was walking with a severe limp. In his right hand, he carried a netting that held three giant monster heads. Vivienne shuddered at the sight. Each head was covered in thick, bristly hairs; possessed a half-dozen black, doll-like eyes; and had long fangs protruding from its maw.

"Those birds," he asked through clenched jaws. "Was that your doing?"

She nodded.

"Then…you saved my life. They came just in time."

He then winced.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Despite him being covered in filth, she wanted to reach out to him, but she remembered his warnings earlier. That he might be toxic to the touch.

"I…I think I need…" But before he could complete his thought, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell unconscious to the forest floor.