Chapter 5

'You are a Witcher now boy. Know that pain and death are as much a part of you as your bones and flesh. You will inflict both on your enemy, and you will occasionally be bested and be rendered so near death that you will sometimes beg for it. But your body and mutations, honed as they are, will keep you alive so you can continue doing what you are trained and bred to do, kill the monster, purge the demon and rid the world of evil one contract at a time.'

Grandmaster Adamar of the Griffin Witcher school speaking to a recently graduated Witcher preparing to set out on the path.

Geralt…

The words reached him as if from a great distance, fuzzy and lacking clarity.

Geralt…

He recognised the voice, a female voice, but even through the haze, he could feel the concern and fear that was laced in every syllable. He couldn't place the distance or direction they came from for it was as if they were reaching him from a different plane of existence, another universe, another world.

Geralt, please…

Triss?

Geralt suddenly became aware of the pure white agony at the back of his skull as reality came slamming home with a vengeance. He groaned in pain and rolled over to his right side, struggling mightily to force his body to move against the weakness that riddled him. He could feel his eyes burning from under his eyelids even though he hadn't yet opened them and when he did his body violently wretched up the contents of his stomach into the moist grass below. The world was blindingly bright and the pain searing through his head, neck and spine were like a Redanian torturer pummeling his raw nerves with a hammer.

'Your sword. Never lose your sword.'

He could hear Vesimir scolding him from beyond the grave and, as it had through the years of training at Kaer Morhen under his strict tutelage, it spurred him out of his self-pity. Instead of lying face down on the pebble and cracked training ground of that mighty old fortress he now found himself face down on a bed of sickly looking grass and moss, coated in his own blood and vomit. He instinctively fumbled to his right and was relieved as his gloved fingers found the pommel of the silver blade. He gripped the grip as hard as he could and started to get to his knees, shakily using the tree he leaned on as support. He slipped on the bark after a few moments, his hand sliding off and throwing him back to the ground. He grunted and steadied himself, trying to focus on the bark with his swimming vision.

Blood. Bright red blood. Highly oxygenated and likely human. His blood. A lot of it. Head wound, possible skull fracture.

He groaned again and forced himself to his knees once more, gritting his teeth to set himself.

'You're not dead witcher. You have your sword; you have a contract, and you have the code to uphold. You are still in this fight, so get to your damned feet and don't embarrass me.'

Vesemir was close and though he was long dead, and looking down from whatever afterlife he now frequented, Geralt could hear his words as if he within touching distance. He stood as commanded by his father figure and, though he was far from stable, he stood nonetheless. As he turned he raised his blade, shook his head and spat out some congealing blood that was clogging his tongue.

The scene that unfurled in front of him was startling.

The first thing he noticed was that everything was tainted with a sickening purple and green hue, suppressing primary colour and tinging everything he could see the sense of death and decay. The oppression in the very air was palpable.

The second thing he noticed through his blurred vision was his love, Triss, standing defiantly at the edge of the clearing as she raised her oak staff and prepared to unleash a fireball. She was bedraggled and breathing heavily, her chestnut and red hair spilling down her face having fallen out of her perfect buns. She was wearing a travelling cloak which flapped around her beautiful feminine frame, and her face was alight with the arcana building at the end of her staff, casting menacing shadows on her features.

"Triss? What are you…what are you doing here?" he managed to growl.

The fireball she unleashed blinded him again he raised his left forearm to save his vision. He could feel the heat wash over him, singing his hair and beard. It had landed close, but he instinctively knew it had been well aimed or he would be cinders. Triss rarely missed.

A high pitched scream reached his ears through the roar of the spell, and the sound brought him back to reality. He remembered.

The contract. Boys missing in the haunted woods. Wraiths. Pillar.

As the heat dissipated, he finally saw the enemy. Its massive bedraggled and skeletal form, wrapped in what would have once been a priests outfit, hovered above the carpet of moss and leaves that formed the clearing. It glowed with purple and green energy that he now realised was the cause of the horrible pall that tainted everything in its vicinity. It carried a long staff that was cracked in multiple sections but somehow retained its form. Its cowled face wasn't visible beneath the eldritch shadows it cast.

An arch wraith. Rare, powerful and incredibly dangerous. He had never fought one, but he had heard of witchers that had. They were created only through the accumulation of decades, often centuries, of draining power and focussed hatred. No wonder the forest was sick, the phantom had likely been drawing on the pure energy it provided since anyone could remember, boosted by the occasional human that made its way into the woods.

He noticed that the pillar was no more and most of it lay as powder covering the ground a few feet away. Larger pieces of rubble were scattered over a wide area, and one had even embedded itself in the thick bark of a tree directly opposite him. The boys were dead. They had likely been the last souls to power the arch wraith, and he realised with horror that he had brought the spectre into existence by destroying the pillar.

"Geralt, move damn it!" Triss shouted.

He reacted immediately and began to sidestep to his left, using whatever strength he could muster to hold his guard. The wraith was focused on the sorceress having just been fed a fireball, giving him a moment to escape the immediate area.

"I need you to hold him Triss, just for a few moments!" he panted.

Triss nodded quickly and proceeded to unleash another explosion in the wraiths direction, which it dodged. The ground immediately burst into flames which caused the being to float back out of the blast. "You better hurry, I can't keep this forever!" she shouted over the noise of the spectre.

Taking advantage of the short time, he had available Geralt fumbled with his belt and produced a small vial full of orange, thick liquid. He popped the cork and downed it without hesitation, the contents burning as they slowly made their way down his throat. He threw the vial to a side and waited for the almost immediate wracking of his body as the swallow potion took hold and whilst there was no way that the liquid could repair any skull fractures it would keep him in the fight for the time being. Gripping the sword grip tighter, and with renewed vigour, he began to feel better as some of his strength started to return.

"I thought you were in the capital!" he barked at Triss. "What are you doing here?!"

"Enough time for that later, let's get out of here!" she shouted back, visibly tiring from the spells she was casting.

"No, this bastard dies…" Geralt replied flatly.

"You can't be serious?" she growled back, but when she locked eyes with his, she realised how pointless it was to disagree. "The damned code?"

"The code…"

A loud screech emitted by the wraith as it barreled forward suddenly jolted them out of the moment and Geralt lept to block the creature, putting himself between Triss and the apparition. He swung his silver sword in sweeping arcs as he advanced, deliberately forcing space between them to give him room to manoeuvre.

"Lady Merrigold!" Captain Reinard shouted from the edge of the clearing nearby. "What would you have us do?"

Triss looked at the small group of elite knights covered in their vomit and spittle from the bright light that had taken them all by surprise only a minute or so before. "There is little you can do Captain, fall back and let the witcher and I handle this!"

Reinard, despite being pale and now doubting his bravado from earlier that day, visibly bristled at the suggestion that they retreat. His next words didn't shock her. "We do not retreat Merrigold!" and she watched in horror as he drew his sword, encouraged his men to do the same. "For the king and Kovir!" he roared as he broke into a charge heading directly at the wraith.

"Are you fucking serious?" Geralt screamed as he saw the rushing troops. "Triss, get them out of here, they will get us all killed!"

"There is nothing I can do!" she shouted back and started to charge up another fireball to send in the wraiths direction if it became unengaged.

Geralt jumped forward and reversed his sword grip to confuse the wraith. He ducked a furious blow which would have severed his head and then span upward in a pirouette which landed a solid hit if such a thing could be said to exist when fighting little more than smoke and dust in the shape of a figure. Still, the silver of his witchers blade did its work, and the wraith howled as it spun to face him again.

The charging group of knights suddenly came into striking distance and, with a mixed bag of enthusiasm, began trying to hit the phantom with their steel weapons, slicing nothing but thin air. Reinard was pale from fear but somehow kept slashing, too far into the fight now only to back out and turn tale to run.

The wraith momentarily distracted from attacking Geralt turned with inhuman speed and spun its spectral stave with such speed and force that the two knights it made contact with could never have hoped to block, even if it had been a corporeal weapon in the first place. The weapon simply passed through the warrior's swords and armour with no resistance. Both dropped to their knees with a murmur, eyes suddenly white and dead as the wraith ripped their lifeforce from their bodies.

Geralt cast Yrden in front of him with a few finger movements and lept back. "Hey you, big bastard, I hope you enjoy silver!"

The wraith span again, narrowly missing Reinard with a swipe and then focused on Geralt once more. It began advancing, howling with rage and swiping at him with its staff, its bony and decrepit looking free hand reaching out as if to clutch him and crush the life from his body.

"Not today" Geralt roared as the spectre fell into the Yrden trap and screamed in supernatural pain and frustration as it was suddenly ripped into reality. He leapt forward and began to set about the momentarily stunned wraith with his silver sword, hacking with all the skill and control he could muster, doing what he could to keep distance whilst searching for a killing blow. He did a lot of damage, including severing the wraiths free arm at the elbow, but as Yrden gave way the spectre simply returned to its incorporeal state with another loud scream. It immediately swung the staff at him which he blocked, sending him tumbling in his weak state.

As he hit the ground a few feet away, he was blinded by another fireball which Triss had launched as she realised Geralt had been batted aside. The being roared in agony and turned to face the sorceress, absentmindedly swiping the soul away of another knight who had dared to get to close. Now clearly having enough of being incinerated regularly, its attention was now entirely focused on Triss who started to panic. "Geralt, its seems to like me!" she cried, almost tripping on the undergrowth as she turned to retreat.

Flipping to his feet, Geralt charged the wraith and cast Aard in a vain attempt to refocus its attention on him and not Triss. The blast of air passed through the spectre with no effect, so in desperation, he hurled his silver sword overhand at the creature. The blade spun through the air and, even though it should be impossible, buried itself in the wraiths back with a thud. The spectre screamed in rage as it whirled once again, confused and frustrated by the injuries it was sustaining.

"Well, that worked" Geralt surprisingly exclaimed as he frantically backed up, now defenceless. He dodged another swipe by jumping back and then ducked a follow up which would have killed him. He was groggy now and slowing and knew that if the battle took much longer, not even his witchers metabolism would keep him in the fight. He was starting to feel lightheaded as the swallow potions effects began to wane, and the loss of blood took effect. Another attack hit the ground nearby as he narrowly sidestepped at the last moment. Concentrating on the silver sword, he could just see through the phantoms torso he focused and cast Aard again hoping to dislodge his blade. He was momentarily pleased as his plan worked and the sword span through the air, digging itself into the ground near Triss on the other side of the clearing.

Geralt was saved by one of Reinard's men being killed. The knight had built up enough courage to charge the spectre on his own and died as the wraith buried a spectral hand in his chest, stopping his heart instantly. The man crumpled to the ground with a wet thud like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

Geralt rolled away and to his feet, sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him to his sword, the wraith hot on his heels and intent on finishing him. "Triss!"

"I'm on it!" she replied and with a loud clap, the spell she had been working on for the last few moments unleashed itself on the monster. Geralt had no idea what it was she had cast, but it appeared to work as a potent version of Yrden mixed with the effects of a moon dust bomb. The arch wraith emitted an unearthly howl as it was once again dragged back into reality and Geralt lunged with his sword for a final time, burying it up to the grip in the beings cowled face, exactly where its mouth should be.

Suddenly the wraith was silent. It dropped its staff, and it's one remaining bony hand clutched at the sword grip, gripping Geralt's as it did so. He howled in pain at the freezing effect it immediately had and let go of the sword. The spectre entered its death throes, phasing in and out of reality but in total silence, purple and green energy pulsing over its form and crackling hideously with deadly lightning arcing in all directions. Geralt, Triss and the remaining knights watched in sickening fascination as the wraiths death seemed to bend reality itself, warping the very air around its form and causing the leaf litter and debris in the immediate area to surround it in an ascending whirlwind. The show ended moments after it had begun with a blinding light that forced them all back with curses as they tried to cover their eyes yet again to prevent losing their sight.

It was suddenly quiet, and only the sound of panting and swearing from the exhausted knights occasionally broke the silence.

Geralt spat out some more blood as he rubbed his still cold hand. Luckily he had pulled away quickly, and it wasn't the first time he had received a numbing touch from a wraith. He just hoped this time it wouldn't be permanent as he had no real idea of how powerful the arch wraith was and what powers it possessed. "Are you ok?" he asked softly.

"Never better" Triss replied, exhausted. She slowly stepped to stand next to him and casually wiped the trail of blood from her left nostril. Geralt wasn't surprised by this; he had seen her do it before but only after significantly taxing herself with magic use. Multiple spells in close succession would do that, and she had been using fireballs like they were going out of fashion. She looked tired and pale, but the defiance and stubbornness he admired so intensely in her still burned in her eyes.

"What was that thing!" Reinard asked as he paced over, the remainder of his knights in close guard behind him.

Geralt wasn't listening. His eyes were beginning to cloud at the edges, and it was all he could do to stay standing up.

"Triss?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied, looking at him concerned.

"You are really beautiful, you know. I just want you to know that."

"Geralt?" she asked, stepping forward. "Are you hurt?"

"I need to sit down and rest."

Triss leant forward to grip his shoulder and swore as she pulled back her hand, soaked in his blood. "Geralt; you are losing blood."

Geralt smiled weakly and slowly lowered himself to the ground, trying to keep himself from merely collapsing in front of the knights. "I need to sleep, that's all. Let me take a nap. I will be ok after a nap."

"I don't think so" Triss almost shouted as she knelt next to him and removed her cloak. Without a second thought, she bundled it up and placed it to the back of his head, forcing it into position and then rested his head on her knees. "You are staying awake and conscious witcher, no nap time for you. Look at me!"

Geralt turned slowly to look at his wife. Her eyes were still burning, but she looked concerned now. He slowly took in her features, the corner of her supple lips and the slight ageing around the corner of her eyes as if he was seeing them for the first time. "It was the cloak, wasn't it?" he asked, slowly fading.

"What?" she asked, frustrated and worried.

"The cloak. The one you gave me."

"Yes, it was the cloak".

"It's…its…it's a nice cloak…very warm…"

Sword. Never lose your sword.

"My sword…" he sighed, raising a hand towards where the blade lay on the ground nearby. "Vesemir won't…he won't…he won't forgive me if I lose my sword".

Triss watched with horror as Geralt slowly closed his eyes "don't you dare!" she cried and began casting a healing spell to steady him whilst they extracted him from the forest. It took a few moments and then slowly, a creeping white sparking light began to dance from her fingertips and playfully made its way over his head. She skillfully wrapped the spell around him like a bandage before severing the incantation.

In her arms, his bearded, rugged and scar marked face, crisscrossed with the deep purple veins due to his recent overloading on potions, relaxed somewhat, and he visibly relaxed. She wiped away yet more blood that had trickled down from her nose and ran down her chin. Her head was spinning, and she was also struggling to remain awake after being thoroughly drained by the battle.

"Reinard. I need your help, please."

"Of course m' lady. What will you have us do?" the knight responded, stepping closer.

"I need you to get him out of the forest, slowly, and back to the village nearby. I can't carry him, and he has a head injury which will need time to heal. I don't have the strength in me to cast any more spells. It could kill me".

"I will have the men make a litter now, and we will get move him back to the village. I also need to collect my fallen."

"I am sorry, Reinard. How many?"

"Five m'lday. Five splendid knights. It frankly beggars belief, and I have simply no idea how to explain this to their family or their king. I have never seen anything like that monster. Never heard of anything like that monster. Pray, tell me what it was?"

"A wraith. A very powerful wraith. The biggest and most terrifying I have ever encountered"

"How did you kill it?" he continued to ask whilst directing his men to collect branches they could fashion into a litter.

"A story for another time, captain. Right now, let's get out of this godforsaken place. The king and I need this witcher alive and to do that we need to get him out of this forest and to the village."

Reinard simply nodded in response and removed his cloak. "Don't worry m'lady, I haven't failed my king thus far, and I don't intend to do so today."

Dika stood slowly and spat out the piece of straw he had been chewing on. The party had started to emerge from the forest edge which had taken him somewhat by surprise. It had been only a few hours since they had entered in pursuit of the witcher, all full of bravado and vigour, and it didn't take a genius to see that the party which now staggered out of the forest was a far cry from the one that had entered so shortly before. He, and the rest of the menfolk with him, had heard the din of a distant battle occasionally pierced with the scream of something entirely inhuman which had shaken them deeply and sent two of them scuttling back to the village.

As he watched the approaching party, it didn't take him long to count those who remained standing. There were fewer in number for sure and between the knights they pulled a makeshift stretcher. He wasn't surprised to see that the pretty sorceress led the party forward, albeit slowly, visibly leaning on her staff for support.

"The children?" he asked as the sorceress came close enough.

She looked up at him slowly. "I don't know. I never saw the children, but I fear the worst. What we just fought was beyond my power or experience to explain. We are lucky to be alive".

"Not all of you it would seem".

"No. We have some dead."

"My condolences for your losses Captain" Dika sighed, hailing Reinard as the armoured knight approached.

"Thank you, good man" Reinard replied with a sigh. "I would appreciate your assistance with helping me move the dead if you could please. You will be well renumerated for your time."

Dika nodded slowly. "As you wish lord but may I ask, did you find the witcher?"

Triss interrupted before Reinard could reply. "We found him. He killed the wraith but was badly injured in the process and is on the litter you can see behind us. I need to get him back to the village to help him further, and we are going to need a clean bed with hot water and clean linen. He was likely the last person to see the children, so when he wakes up, we will have the answer to the fate of the youngsters."

The man grunted in reply. "And the woods, are they safe now?"

"Let's ask the expert when he wakes up; I don't have the answer for you".

Triss patted the man on his forearm as she stepped away and walked over to the waiting horses. She noticed that Roach stood motionless and staring intently at the litter that her master was borne upon. "Easy Roach, he will pull through. We both know that he has been through worse than this before" she whispered to the mare, more for her own comfort that Roaches. "Let's get back to the village, and we can patch him back up again. I'm sure he will be his old self before you know it".

Roach only snorted in response and shook her tail angrily leading Triss to believe, not for the first time, that the horse was sentient. She seemed to fully understand what was going on when someone talked to her. It wasn't possible though, as Triss would have felt the magic in her. Roach was plane, unremarkable by horse standards, but there was something about her that didn't sit right.

Triss stepped over the litter and gazed down worryingly at her unconscious husband. The injury to his skull was bad, and he had lost a lot of blood, but if she knew anything at all for sure about the witcher, it was that he was as tough as hardened steel. The scars that patterned his entire body were enough testament to that. She rested her bare left palm on his forehead and wasn't surprised when he didn't flinch at all. The spell she had cast on him was an old one she had learnt many years ago called Tregor's balm. Rumour had it that Tregor was a master apothecary who also boasted significant skill with sorcery. His 'balm' was a potent stabilising spell, slowing the body functions to an almost comatose level allowing for the safe transport of an injured person and for gentle recovery. Geralt was sleeping a deep sleep as they transferred him to the village and only a slow and controlled reversal of the spell would raise him from his slumber. She hoped it would be enough and that the spell would correctly reverse because, whilst undoubtedly being a leading light in combining sorcery, traditional herbalism and healing skills, Tregor was notoriously lackadaisical in his recording of accurate notes. Many speculated, with significant evidence, he was a raging addict of the potions he created, which ultimately led him to an early and, apparently explosive grave. It was always a risk using anything he had developed, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Triss leant down further and placed a soft kiss on Geralt's forehead. The day was begging to warm as the sun reached its zenith above, but the cloud cover was heavy, blanketing the world in a mournful, overcast palette. She lay her staff next to Geralt and, lethargically, turned and slowly mounted Snowdrop. "Come, Roach, follow on girl" she stated flatly.

Roach simply snorted and, after some time, begrudgingly followed on as the small party began its short returning to the village.