Chapter Four
Geralt awoke to blinding, white light pouring down on him, the sun pitching heavily in the sky. As his faculties recovered, he realized it wasn't the sun that was moving. The smell of salt, the creaking of wood, and the lapping of water told Geralt he was in a boat. When he groggily pulled himself to a sitting position, he could tell they had been there for a while. There was no land in sight.
"Took you long enough!"
Geralt recoiled as the voice pounded in his head. He held up his hand against the sun and squinted for the source, everything starting to clear around him.
Gudrik appeared from Geralt's left. He sat himself across from Geralt and crossed his arms. "That was more than a few hours."
A softer voice cut in from Geralt's right, a tone of mirth ringing its words. "Gudrik's been worried sick about you."
Geralt turned to see Cerys at the helm of the boat, a laugh tilting her eyes. He couldn't think of anything witty to say, so he went with honesty instead. "Glad somebody was. That's a luxury I'm not used to." He swore he saw an instant of vindication flash over Gudrik's face. "Where are we?" he went on.
"Heading for Rannvaig harbor," Cerys answered. "From there, we can cut across to Gedyneith. Hopefully, Lugos and Ralen won't have taken the port."
Unfamiliar with the geography of Skellige other than a general sense things, Geralt didn't have an answer.
"It's the next major port south of Kaer Trolde," Gudrik said aside to Geralt. "It's risky, but it's a straight shot to Gedyneith from there. It would take us a week or more out of our way to go to another."
Groaning, Geralt pushed himself to his feet, finding his balance on the pitching boat. "I trust your judgment." He nodded to both of them in turn. "I take it you've filled Cerys in on more of the details?" he added to Gudrik.
"Yes. As much as I know anyway. You know a lot more than I do."
"Unfortunately," Geralt mumbled to himself.
"This Ralen," Cerys started, "who is he?"
"I'm not sure, really," Geralt replied. "But his power." He shook his head. "It's unimaginable."
"Can you defeat him?"
"No," Geralt answered all too readily. "Not in a straight fight anyway."
Gudrik stood. "That's something we've been discussing while you've been out. We think we might have an idea about that."
Geralt raised his eyebrows.
Cerys strapped the tiller in place and came closer to the two of them. "There's an alchemist that lives at Gedyneith. Gremist. He's said to be the greatest alchemist of our time. We think he might be able to figure out some kind of concoction that could suppress Ralen's powers."
"Mmm," Geralt thought aloud. "Is such a thing possible?"
Cerys shrugged. "I don't know. But it's worth a try."
They sailed for another day and a half, pulling into Rannvaig harbor and sourcing a few horses without trouble. Ralen's reach, it seemed, hadn't yet extended far beyond Kaer Trolde. From there, it was another few days' ride to Gedyneith, nestled in a dense forest. Cerys had described it as magical. Geralt was skeptical at first, but as they drew near, he could almost feel it in the air. Like the forest was watching them, judging them. Deciding whether they were worthy of passage.
Whether the forest deemed it so or not, they arrived at the massive oak of Gedyneith almost a week after leaving Spikeroog. It sat atop a verdant hill, its gnarled roots poking out of the top and sides every so often. Cut into the hillside were dozens and dozens of passageways. Cerys explained that the druids lived underneath the hill in small caves they had dug into the ground.
Flowers and grasses grew freely and readily in the warm sunlight that shone down on the clearing. Bees buzzed by, butterflies flitted to and fro, and birds chirped merrily from their branches. Geralt could hardly think of a more idyllic place.
Their arrival was met with a mixture of hospitality and reluctance. Though at least no outright hostility, which Geralt appreciated.
"They're not used to newcomers," Cerys whispered over her shoulder to them. Since she had been there before, she had taken the lead.
Cerys had been withdrawn for most of the trip. Understandably so, seeing as how she had lost her whole family to a coup that was trying to claim her own life as well. But when they had reached the clearing, an easiness had settled into her tight shoulders. Geralt didn't know if it had to do with the charm of the place or that it was simply something familiar. Or maybe because now that they were here, Cerys had something to focus on. It would be up to her to raise and lead an army. Geralt knew she could do it. Cerys could do anything she set her mind to. Still, the situation was so dire, he dared not hope just yet.
An aging man strode toward them. He had kind eyes and dappled grey hair, his attire homely, but well taken care of. He looked to Cerys and smiled, raising his hand in greeting. "Well met, Cerys! And…" he trailed off, peering around Cerys to Geralt and Gudrik.
"These are my friends, Drom." She gestured to both of them in turn. "This is Geralt and Gudrik." Her tone grew serious. "I'm afraid I have to ask a favor and I don't know what I can do in return."
Drom gave them a knowing smile. "You seek safety and seclusion."
All three of them recoiled in astonishment at his words.
Cerys dropped her voice. "How do you know that?"
He smiled again, a tinge of mischief in his eyes. "We may live in seclusion, but we are not blind to all that happens in this land."
Cerys had the good grace to look somewhat abashed at his words, at the assumption they had all made. Geralt didn't care enough to feel ashamed. All he cared about was how Drom had come to this knowledge. Had Ralen's forces reached this forest? Had they walked into a trap? Gudrik, likewise, looked as though he were ready to defend his new jarl.
Perhaps sensing the tension in Geralt and Gudrik, Drom raised his hands slightly—a placating gesture. "Besides," he went on, "you are not the first to come seeking such things."
Geralt narrowed his eyes with curiosity. Who else had come? Someone from Kaer Trolde? That would at least explain how Drom knew about what had happened there. Suspicion flared up again. Was it Ralen?
Drom turned and gestured for them to follow. "Come with me. There's someone I think you'll want to see."
"I'll go," Geralt inserted before either Cerys or Gudrik could move. He turned to Cerys. "Stay here with Gudrik and—"
"No," Cerys said with a voice of adamant.
Geralt could tell by her tone and the look she was giving him that she could read what was going on in his head.
Her voice softened then, but didn't lose its edge of finality. "I trust Drom. I've known him for a long time. He wouldn't do anything to hurt us."
Deep down, Geralt trusted Drom, too. Every instinct he had about people was telling him that Drom wasn't leading them into a trap. But Geralt had been through so much these past weeks that he didn't know who to trust anymore. Felt like he couldn't trust anyone.
Although, he trusted Cerys. And she was to gather the clans and march on Kaer Trolde.
Geralt had no choice. If he was going to put his faith in Cerys, it had to start now.
Grinding his teeth for a moment, Geralt finally relented, dipping his head. Even so, as they strode off, Geralt gave a glance to Gudrik as if to say, be ready for anything. Gudrik gave an acknowledging nod in return.
Drom led them toward the largest opening in the hillside. It would have fit all four of them side by side had they been walking as such. The tunnel was lit by torches and braziers to either side and opened up into a grand hall. Geralt guessed that they were directly below the great oak now. In fact, the roots of Gedyneith flowed down the walls as if the tree had opened this chamber itself.
Situated inside were modest seats and tables of all shapes and sizes. It was no formal dining hall, but the grandeur of the space spoke for itself.
On the far side, brows furrowed and eyes distant, sat Ermion, an old friend of Geralt's. Though maybe friend was too strong of a word. They certainly bore no animosity toward each other and they had come together against common enemies before, but that was about the extent of it. Geralt hadn't seen him for a very long time, though he knew Ermion had become Crach's advisor on all things magical.
"Ermion!" Cerys raced forward and threw her arms around him, startling him out of his reverie. "Are you alright? How are you here?"
Ermion patted Cerys on the back once he fully returned to the present. "I'm fine. And glad to see that you are as well." Cerys released him and stood. "As for why I'm here, I am the leader of the Druid's Circle. This place was as much my home as Kaer Trolde, once upon a time."
Ermion then glanced at everyone else gathered around him and Geralt swore he saw a glint of ire when he looked his way. Was he angry with him? Then it was gone and he returned his attention to Cerys.
"What happened, Ermion? How did you escape?"
A twinkle lit his eye. "The escape was the easy part." His voice saddened. "But I'm ashamed to say I could do nothing for your father. I never trusted Ralen when he showed up. Although, it wasn't until after Crach's mind was ensared that I realized the true threat he posed." He looked Cerys in the eyes. "I did everything I could to try to free him. Nothing worked. Though, it wasn't easy with Ralen watching me. I think he knew that I knew. He couldn't move against me yet, though and, sadly, I couldn't move against him either. I hate to admit it, but he is a powerful foe. Eventually, it wasn't safe for me to stay any longer." Ermion let go a long sigh. "Then I learned that the night after I left, Crach…"
Geralt couldn't see Cerys' face, but he could tell tears were welling up in her eyes by the sniffles she tried so desperately to hold in.
"We can't change what happened," Geralt said, trying to throw Ermion a life line. "We need to come up with a plan going forward."
Instead of gratitude, resentment shone in Ermion's eyes when they snapped to Geralt. A sentiment matched in his voice. "The way I hear it, this man right here is responsible for committing the crime."
"You can't believe that," Cerys said as Geralt blenched at the absurdity of the statement.
Ermion's eyes never wavered from Geralt. "I don't hear him denying it."
"I don't have to deny anything that's such a blatant lie," he bit back. "And if you truly believed it, you would have struck me down already."
They stared each other down until the heaviness between them was unbearable.
It was Ermion who yielded first. "It still doesn't explain your presence there. Or on Undvik. The way I see it, it's been nothing but trouble since the moment you arrived in Skellige."
So that was it. Ermion blamed Geralt for what was happening?
"It's a coincidence we are both unhappy about, believe me. You know very well why I went to Undvik. And Ralen tried to kill me when I found what he had been hiding there. Didn't you wonder why I never returned?"
"Yes. I did," Ermion spat in a way that suggested he meant nothing good by it. "But I was too busy worrying about Crach to figure out why you had conveniently disappeared."
Geralt paused a moment. When he spoke, it was with a quiet, simmering anger that arose from the implication that he hadn't cared about anyone but himself. "I was worried too."
The threat in Geralt's tone was enough to send most men running, but Ermion brushed it aside. "Clearly—"
"STOP!"
Cerys threw herself between them with a queen's countenance. Neither Geralt nor Ermion dared speak over her. She lowered her voice, speaking in a tone that brooked no argument. "Ermion, I can see why you might have been suspicious, but Geralt is guilty of none of those things," she said. A concession to each of them. "Ralen is the true culprit here."
"And Lugos," Gudrik added.
"If Lugos is involved, then it's as a means to an end. I don't believe for one second that that mindless brute could have planned a coup."
Cerys hadn't shared her thoughts on Lugos' involvement on the journey here. It seemed she agreed with Geralt, though perhaps for a different reason.
"In any case," she went on, "we need to figure out how to stop them and arguing amongst ourselves isn't going to solve anything. Are we in agreement?" she asked, even though there was only one correct answer.
Ermion glared at Geralt and Geralt glared right back. After a moment, they both looked to Cerys and nodded.
Drom stepped in cautiously. "Your rooms should be ready by now. Shall I take you to them? I'm having some food brought over as well. You must be hungry."
Tension hung heavy in the air and, Geralt realized, the once busy room had cleared of everyone but them. It didn't seem to affect Cerys, who answered cheerily, "That would be wonderful, thank you."
Geralt was thankful for the excuse to leave and for the breeze that cooled his smoldering rage once they were outside.
Their rooms were three doors in a line of many more that stretched around a neighboring hill. The interiors were stark, but cozy; little more than a bed and a dresser each. Geralt didn't care about opulence so much as safety. For the first time in a while he might get a decent night's sleep so that little room looked like a palace to him.
Tomorrow they would call a meeting, they had decided. The three of them, Ermion, and those higher ranking in the Druid's Circle would attend. Gremist would be called as well, but Drom seemed doubtful that he would show up. Apparently, Gremist mostly kept to himself. From the way Drom spoke, it sounded like Gremist's presence was more tolerated than appreciated.
"Tell him we have the greatest alchemical mystery of our age," Cerys had said to Drom.
"That might just do it," Drom had replied.
Geralt didn't care if he had to go and drag Gremist to the meeting himself. He was going to attend as far as Geralt was concerned.
For now, Geralt and the others would catch up on some much deserved rest. And, though it was barely midafternoon, Geralt was asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.
The next morning, they all gathered for the meeting in the great hall beneath Gedyneith. All told, there were eight of them there. Geralt, Cerys, Gudrik, Ermion, Drom, and three others Geralt supposed were members of the Druid's Circle. For a moment it seemed as though Gremist wouldn't show up after all. Then he came trundling in once everyone else had already taken their places in a large circle.
It didn't matter that Geralt had never met the man before, he could instantly tell that this was him. An older man, swathed in dark green robes, a mantle of fur covering his shoulders, and a permanent scowl darkening his face. Gremist grumbled over to the one remaining chair and sat, his eyes roving over each of them, Geralt in particular.
Ignoring Gremist's obvious distaste for company, Cerys stood and addressed everyone. "I think you all know why we're here. You've all heard what happened at Kaer Trolde. This Ralen is an extremely powerful and dangerous witcher. He has allied with Lugos of Clan Drummond and has taken over the Clan An Craite stronghold. It won't be long until they control all of Ard Skellig and if they do that, then the other clans won't stand a chance."
"What do you expect of us?" a woman Geralt hadn't met before said, clearly asking for the druids. "We don't have an army."
"I'm not asking for one," Cerys responded smoothly. "As soon as we are done here, I plan to leave and visit the heads of the other clans. If I can convince them to join together, their combined forces could be enough to counter Ralen's."
Drom sat forward. "We are willing to help, of course. I'm just not sure I follow how we will do that."
"Firstly, I need to ask another favor."
Drom's curiosity played across his face.
"We will need a place to gather our forces. A place close enough to Kaer Trolde that we can strike, but far enough away that Ralen won't notice us assembling."
"A place like here, you mean?"
There was an apologetic look on Cerys' face. "Yes." She obviously knew how sacred this place was to the druids and what it would mean to let an army gather in such a place.
Geralt could see the confliction in Drom's face as well. In the faces of all the druid leaders.
Cerys let them think, holding herself up tall, her face promising victory.
One by one, the druids turned to Drom and nodded. When they had all done so, he spoke. "Very well. We will shelter these forces and provide what we can.
With sincerity in her eyes, Cerys answered. "Thank you."
Drom gave her half a smile and nodded, then raised his eyebrows. "You said 'firstly' before. Was there something else you require of us?"
"Yes. And it is the most important job of all." Even Gremist perked up at Cerys' words. "I need you to find some way to suppress Ralen's powers."
Gremist sat back and guffawed. "Impossible."
Cerys was undeterred. "I don't know if it is or not. I've come to you," she said directly to Gremist, "because you are known as the greatest alchemist of our age. If there is a way, I know you can find it."
Geralt could see the intrigue in Gremist's eyes, despite his puffing.
Ermion chimed in. "I have been contemplating such a thing since the moment Ralen arrived at Kaer Trolde. I think it could be possible. If a mage's powers can be suppressed with dimeritium, then why shouldn't some analog work against the witcher mutations?"
"If such a thing were possible, alchemists would have found it by now," Gremist blustered as though what Ermion had said were an affront to alchemy.
"I doubt anyone's been looking," Geralt offered. All heads swiveled to him. "Witchers are generally solving problems, not making them. Nor are we nearly as powerful as mages. To search for a way to suppress a witcher's power would have been a waste of time."
"But now we desperately need it," Cerys picked back up. "Geralt himself has witnessed Ralen's power." She looked to Geralt.
"If we don't find a way to curtail his magic," Geralt said to the group, "we won't get near him. He's as much a mage as any witcher has ever been. And he has other witchers with him." A few around Geralt gasped. Evidently, they hadn't heard this information. "Each one of them could easily take the place of a hundred soldiers."
"How many witchers does he have with him?" another of the druids Geralt didn't recognize asked.
Geralt thought back to Undvik. "I don't know for sure. I was too preoccupied fighting Ralen to count those around me." He paused, thinking. "Assuming there was no one else outside of Undvik at the time, then eight, maybe ten?"
A collective dread spread around the room. The very dread that had been plaguing Geralt for some time now. It was easy for him to forget that they weren't there on Undvik. None of them had been witness to the untold power on display. Now they understood.
With a bravery that made Geralt feel a twinge of guilt at having not trusted the man initially, Drom spoke. "We will do everything we can." Ermion and the other druids dipped their heads in agreement. "Gremist?" Drom asked, turning to the old man. "Will you help us?"
Gremist ground his teeth. "Fine," he acquiesced. "But only because you'll have no hope without me."
It looked as though Ermion might retort, but Cerys tactfully cut in before he could. "It's settled then. I will send the men who agree to help us here and then I will return once I have gathered all I can. Hopefully by then we will have a solution to Ralen's power." She paused and looked each of them in the eye. "Good luck, everyone. And thank you."
Cerys left later that day, Gudrik along with her. Geralt had stayed behind to help the druids. He was the only one with firsthand knowledge of Ralen, after all. And, being a witcher himself, he could answer any questions they might have. They even took a few vials of his blood for testing.
Despite his earlier reluctance, Gremist threw himself into the work. Cerys' intuition about him had been correct. Give him an alchemical problem and he would stop at nothing to find the solution. He had asked Geralt so many questions about the witcher mutations and Ralen and the serum that Geralt had practically lost his voice.
And Ermion had been working hand in hand with Gremist. Geralt wasn't sure if Gremist appreciated the help or not. He suspected that Ermion hadn't given him a choice. Whatever their relationship had started out as, now it was as respected colleagues.
Try as they did, weeks passed without any luck in finding an answer. At least it seemed Cerys was having more luck than them.
Slowly, the troops from various clans started trickling in, the clearing filling up with tents once all of the underground accommodations were taken.
Unfortunately, bad news came along with them.
Ralen and Lugos were terrorizing Ard Skellig, laying down martial law and seizing the land village by village. As acting king, all had to bow to Lugos or pay the price. Each day their forces grew closer and closer to Gedyneith. The only thing keeping them away was the secrecy of the druid's location and the density and remoteness of the forest in which they hid. Without knowing where to look, it was extremely difficult to find Gedyneith, Drom had explained to Geralt one day when he had asked.
With only one half of the plan coming together, it was hard for Geralt to stay positive about their chances, hidden location or no.
Then, one day nearly a month later, Ermion and Gremist came rushing to Geralt. Gremist looked ecstatic. Ermion somewhat less so.
"I think we have it!" Gremist exclaimed.
Geralt was taken aback. "You found a way to suppress Ralen's power?"
Ermion stepped ahead of Gremist. "Not exactly."
Now Geralt was just confused. "Have you or haven't you?"
"Yes," Gremist said pointedly to Ermion at the same time that Ermion said, "We have a problem." Both looked at each other with annoyance.
"Just spit it out," Geralt said, exasperated at their rambling.
"It's not complete yet, but we have something we think will work," Gremist announced proudly.
"Here's the thing," Ermion added. "Without any way to analyze the serum or its formula, there is no way to target Ralen and his followers specifically."
Gremist waved his hand dismissively. "A minor detail."
Geralt tilted his head. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that our formula as it stands will target any magic at all. Mages, sorceresses, witchers. Anyone with an ounce of magic in them will lose those abilities. I'm saying that if we can't refine the formula, then I myself, the other druids, and even you would have to stay out of this fight."
Understanding dawned on Geralt. Though not warriors, the druids were well versed in magic and could be a potent force in battle. Even if Ermion were the only one to fight, Geralt knew he would be a decisive factor. Then there was Geralt. He had certainly been counting on adding his blade to their numbers. To sit on the sidelines felt out of the question.
"Is there no way to narrow down its scope?"
"Unfortunately, there is," Ermion said, his voice grave. "If we had access to the serum or the formula, we could reverse engineer it, target it specifically.
Yet another wave of understanding washed over Geralt. "And you've come to me with this. Meaning you want me to go back to Kaer Trolde and steal it from Ralen." Geralt let out a grunt of frustration, his face twisted with it.
Ermion placed a hand on Geralt's arm and led him away a step. Gremist, looking annoyed at having been dismissed, rolled his eyes, but held back.
"Look, Geralt," Ermion began. He took a deep breath, regret painting his features. "I'm sorry about how I treated you when you arrived here. I was wrong. And… and angry. At what had happened." It didn't feel as though Ermion expected an answer so Geralt remained quiet and let him speak. "I don't want to see you hurt," he stated plainly. "I've been holding off hoping that we wouldn't need the serum, but here we are. I wouldn't propose this plan if we had any other choice. You are the only one who stands a chance at getting in and out of Kaer Trolde alive."
Geralt knew the enormity of what Ermion was asking him to do. Knew that he was not only walking into a dragon's den, but trying to steal its treasure hoard. And Geralt had never heard of anyone attempting such a thing and surviving. That being said, he also knew that without the serum, they could be seriously hindered in a battle against Ralen.
So he had to try.
"Please tell me there's a back door."
"It's not quite a door, but I can get you in unnoticed. That I can promise you. From there…"
"… I just need to infiltrate an entire castle and find a tiny bottle of serum which could quite possibly be inside the pocket of the one man who would kill me the second he saw me."
"Or the formula," Ermion appended brightly, trying to inject some levity.
Geralt was nonplussed. "I wouldn't even know where to begin looking. Unless Ralen has taken Crach's chambers," and now that he thought about it, he very well might have, "then Ralen could be anywhere. His serum hidden anywhere."
"He—" Ermion's face darkened as his eyes wandered into memory. "Oh no."
With confusion ripping Geralt from hopelessness, he squinted. "What? What's wrong?"
"My laboratory."
"What about it?"
"I told you that Ralen was keeping watch on me. Though I never saw him explicitly, I knew he was following me, many times down to my laboratory. I never gave it any thought before. I thought he was following me because I was trying to free Crach from his influence, but what if he was trying to get into my lab?"
"You think he's trying to make more serum?"
Ermion scanned the ground before him, thinking. "It would make sense. Something like that would require high end ingredients and specialized equipment. No run of the mill alchemist could make such a thing." He perked up and met Geralt's eyes. "This could be a good thing."
Incredulity filled Geralt's face. "How could it possibly be a good thing?"
"If I'm correct, it means that the serum might be in my laboratory. Better yet, the serum and the formula."
"Can Ralen get in there?"
"For most people, I would say no. There are a number of traps and wards on the place. But Ralen is powerful enough that I wouldn't put it past him."
Geralt heaved a great sigh. "I guess I don't have much of a choice."
Ermion shook his head sadly.
Another sigh. "Fine. I'll do it."
Relief shone in Ermion's eyes.
"But I'm going to need some supplies."
It turned out that living within a druid camp had its perks when it came to crafting witcher potions. Normally, Geralt had to be very careful with his ingredients and use his potions as sparingly as possible. Here, whatever ingredients Geralt required were readily provided.
It took a few days to brew everything Geralt needed for the trip. When he had filled the last vial, Geralt left, with Ermion as his guide. It had to be Ermion as he was the only one who knew where the secret entrance was.
The journey was much more arduous than when Geralt had headed toward Gedyneith. He had heard the rumors and stories of Ralen's hand stretching across the continent, but Geralt hadn't left Gedyneith since he had arrived. Now he knew that the conditions in Ard Skellig were dire.
Smoke rose in great columns into the sky. Hardly was there a moment where they couldn't see a black plume somewhere on the horizon. They dared not venture through any town, lest they be discovered and, on a few occasions, Geralt and Ermion had to skirt off of the road as a band of soldiers swaggered past. After the third such occurrence, they abandoned the roads altogether. What time they lost in doing so was more than worth avoiding trouble.
And trouble only seemed to grow the closer they got to Kaer Trolde. They spotted a witcher here and there. None of them were Ralen, but they gave them a wide berth nonetheless. The soldiers, too, were more numerous, their crimes more brazen. Like Lugos had sent out his men to run amok across Ard Skellig.
Though Geralt and Ermion had left the main road, they had stayed close enough for Geralt to be within earshot of it. When they were half a day's ride from Kaer Trolde, Geralt heard a group of soldiers harassing a merchant and his family, shaking them down for money. Anger flared up within Geralt. He wanted nothing more than to teach those soldiers a lesson. Ermion, sensing his thoughts, stopped him. The trouble a fight could bring and the warning it could send wouldn't have been worth it.
Much as he hated it, Geralt relented. Their mission was more important. And secrecy was vital to it.
When they passed the main junction that would have led directly to Kaer Trolde, Ermion took them further northeast. It took another day to skirt the section of mountains to Kaer Trolde's east and come around to a cave near the northwestern most tip of Ard Skellig. Before Kaer Trolde, anyway.
"This is it," Ermion said, dismounting outside the small opening in the cliffside.
Ermion hadn't been lying. It was well hidden. Even now that they were right in front of it, Geralt could hardly make out the opening, so covered in vines and masked by the undergrowth was it.
Geralt stepped off his own horse. "You sure this entrance is still valid?"
Tying his horse to a tree, Ermion answered, "I'm not sure this passage has ever been used. But there's no reason it shouldn't still work."
"Great," Geralt grumbled, following Ermion inside.
It was a tight fit. Geralt had to unstrap his swords to make it through. Once in, Ermion lit up a torch next to him.
It looked like any other cave at first. Then, a few steps further in, a path off to the left led downward onto some stairs carved into the rock floor itself.
"This was once an escape tunnel for the king. They dug it from Kaer Trolde, down below the sea, and up into the mainland," Ermion explained, leading them downward, his voice echoing in the still air. "As far as I know, the passage was never used. And then a breach in one of the walls flooded the entire thing. It's a twenty minute trip from one side to the other at a brisk pace so you can imagine why it hasn't been used since the flooding. And why you're the only one who could do it."
Anxiety started settling into the pit of Geralt's stomach. Not about the crossing. Ermion had told Geralt he would need to swim a long way so he had brought a Killer Whale potion with him. That, a Cat potion, another of each for the return trip, a few Swallows, a Golden Oriole, and a White Honey potion now jangled in a bag around Geralt's shoulder, muffled by a cloth to cushion them. He didn't know what he might face and so he had brought everything he thought he might need.
That was just it though. He didn't know what he was going to face. Would Ralen be waiting for him? How many guards were swarming the castle? From what Ermion had told him about the location of the lab, it was going to be tricky getting there and back unnoticed.
Descending the final few steps, Geralt took a few deep breaths to steady himself. There was no choice. He had to do this.
Geralt let determination fill him and quell the rising fear.
Ermion's voice snatched Geralt from his thoughts. "This is as far as I go."
They had come to a pool of black water, the stairs leading down into it. The water was deathly still, the passage no more than an arm's span across.
It was now or never.
Selecting from his bag one of the Killer Whales and one of the Cat potions, Geralt unstoppered both and gulped them down. The effects were immediate. The tunnel lit up like the sun had risen inside the cave. Geralt even flinched at the torchlight next to him, its brilliance too much for his overly sensitive eyes. Ermion, perhaps noticing Geralt's dismay, lowered the torch and turned so that it was more hidden behind his body.
The second thing Geralt noticed was that he was no longer breathing. Or, at least, it seemed that way. His body simply didn't need the air and so it stopped taking it in.
Knowing that the potions would only last forty-five minutes to an hour at most, Geralt waded into the icy water. Yet another helpful side effect of the Killer Whale potion—protection from the cold found in waters deep enough to require it.
Before Geralt had gone more than a few steps, Ermion reached for him. "Good luck," he said with a nod.
Geralt nodded in return, took a deep breath, and dove into the cold blackness.
Everything went silent as Geralt swam down and down and down. Even with the Killer Whale, Geralt could feel the cold seeping into him. Not enough to be harmful. Just enough to be unpleasant.
That wasn't the only unpleasant thing.
The tunnel stretched into eternity, those same carved walls and endless stairs giving no indication of how far Geralt had come. He had never been claustrophobic, but this was pushing it even for him.
Eventually the tunnel flattened out and the stairs gave way to smooth rock. Somehow, that was even worse. At least with the stairs, Geralt could feel himself progressing. Now it felt as if he were stuck in place, swimming against some current he couldn't see.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. And still no sign of the tunnel letting out.
So far Geralt had trusted in Ermion's faith in this passage. Now doubt was starting to creep in. He was well past the point of no return. The Killer Whale potion might last for an hour, but that didn't mean Geralt could hold his breath that whole time. Already, he could feel that need for air beginning to tickle his lungs.
As if in answer to Geralt's fear, a change in tone in the murk ahead showed itself at the edge of his vision.
It was the stairs.
An unbidden need to be free of the tunnel had Geralt surging forward and upward, into the growing light. The tunnel grew wider with every stroke. Another five minutes and Geralt's head broke the surface, his deprived lungs greedily sucking in air. Though brighter than the tunnel, the cave into which Geralt had emerged was dark. It had the aura of a place long since forgotten.
It was an oddly comforting feeling considering where Geralt knew he was now. In the house of the enemy.
Kicking over to the stairs, Geralt dragged himself up out of the water, wringing as much as he could from his clothes as he went. Rather than lead up through a tunnel, these stairs zigzagged up to a door high above, much as the stairs in the boat cavern had.
That door, Ermion had told Geralt, was on the lowest levels of Kaer Trolde. His laboratory would be several levels up and more to the north side of the castle rather than the southeastern tip where Geralt would now be.
Geralt took a breath that had nothing to do with his need for air and reached for the handle.
Creaking with disuse, the door stuttered open, Geralt having to throw his weight into it a few times to push past the rust on the hinges. He didn't dare close it again after the racket he had just made.
He waited for the cavalry to descend upon him, but nothing happened. There was only an abandoned corridor.
Creeping forward, his heart pounding, Geralt infiltrated this dragon's den.
He took the first set of stairs he found. Not that he had much of a choice. The corridor had taken two turns and dead ended into the steps Geralt was now climbing. He went up several flights before any door even appeared.
Placing his ear to the wood, Geralt heard nothing on the other side. Nevertheless taking every necessary precaution, Geralt poked his head out of the door and glanced down the hallway. No torches were lit and Geralt couldn't see any windows nor any evening light filtering in.
Ermion had said his laboratory was up on the lowest level with windows, so Geralt hadn't climbed high enough yet.
This abandoned floor wasn't a total loss, though. Geralt needed some way to dry himself or else he would leave a trail straight to him wherever he went. With relative ease, Geralt found a few old, dusty blankets and rubbed himself down. He wasn't completely dry, but he wouldn't leave a trail either.
He went back to the stairs and ascended until they ended another couple of floors above. By this point, Geralt didn't need to be close to the door to hear signs of life coming from the other side. It wasn't a busy part of the castle, but the stray cough and the occasional scuff of boots told Geralt there were people milling around.
He needed to be extremely cautious from here on out. If Ralen or any of his witchers were in the castle, they would hear Geralt coming long before he heard them. The other guards Geralt was less worried about. Still, they could overwhelm him with sheer numbers if he wasn't careful.
The door gave a mild shriek at being opened, a sound that set Geralt's teeth on edge. Once again, though, no one came at the sound. Geralt's best friend now was the fact that there were so many people in the castle. Footsteps could be produced and doors could be opened by anyone.
Luckily for Geralt, he saw no one as he passed down the first few hallways and found another set of stairs. He still wasn't high enough.
Picking his way upward through the castle took a long time. Geralt checked every corner before turning it, his senses on high alert for the slightest hint that someone was coming or that he had been found. And the castle only got busier as he rose. Once, on the higher levels, a red-headed witcher came strolling down the corridor and Geralt ducked into the nearest spare room he could find. Holding his breath as the witcher passed, Geralt willed his heart to beat quieter. He waited five whole minutes before emerging again.
Finally, Geralt reached a floor that was lit not by torchlight, but by the sun's golden rays. This was the level he needed. Now he had to thread his way northward.
It was hard going. Geralt was practically skipping from alcove to alcove to avoid the patrols that walked past. He hadn't seen another witcher, however, so there was that.
His nerves on end and his heart in his throat, Geralt found the spot Ermion had described to him, found the door that it presaged.
It was locked.
It was impossible to tell if that had been Ermion's or Ralen's doing, but Ermion had prepared Geralt for such an eventuality. There was a window by the door that would lead around it. The window Geralt would take to get back inside the castle never quite closed properly, so it would open even if it had been locked.
Geralt tiptoed to the window and eased it open, then sidled across the small ledge underneath it to the window next door. He glanced in, saw no one, and hauled himself through.
He landed in a strange room. It was a large, mostly empty room with two doors, one on either side. The one on his left, Geralt knew, led back to the hallway. The one on the right would lead to the lab. What was strange about the room was that there were taxidermy animals everywhere. Not just everywhere, but cut up into pieces and strewn about the floor like someone had been practicing their swordsmanship on them.
It was a detail for which Geralt could spare no time for thought. He moved to the door on the right and carefully turned the handle, using only his thumb and forefinger over the top of it. Ermion had warned Geralt of the several poisoned barbs he had placed on the bottom half of it, where an unsuspecting intruder would naturally reach.
The door swung open easily to reveal a small library. Yet again, Ermion had described how to pass through this room, by placing a cup of mead into a statue's hand. Geralt had rolled his eyes when Ermion had been explaining the many countermeasures he had in place. Now that he was here, Geralt couldn't be bothered to be annoyed. He just wanted to get in, find the serum, and get out.
He located the cup and settled it into the statue's hand. A mechanical click sounded from Geralt's right and a door opened in the wall.
Passing through the secret opening, Geralt finally set foot in Ermion's laboratory, the room stretching into darkness. There were no windows here so Geralt snapped his fingers to light a nearby sconce. Glass instruments lined the many tables and workbenches and books and papers were strewn everywhere. A myriad of vials dotted the shelves around the walls, even more books filling the remaining space.
Nothing immediately stood out, so Geralt set to rummaging through the mess, though he didn't know how he would ever find anything in such chaos.
He rifled through every paper he came across, throwing it on the floor when he was done so he wouldn't look at it twice. Similarly, he picked up every vial containing a clear liquid, holding it to the light to check for that peculiar pearlescence that was burned into his memory.
He made it halfway around the room when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Geralt froze.
"Ralen said you would come."
