Chapter 4


'There is no greater weapon than fear. Fear isn't something you can destroy. You can't fight fear on the battlefield, you can't negotiate with it, and it will turn even the bravest man into a gibbering wreck. Fear is how you win wars, how you control people and how you destabilise your enemies. Never, ever underestimate the value of fear.'

Colonel Hans (Ripper) Hambrecht of the Nilfgardian first cavalry lecturing his subordinates on the value of committing atrocities on enemy soil


Reinard stopped the patrol with a flick of his hand as they entered the centre of Malgrat. The village was too quiet, and it was clear that villagers were hiding from the men, likely fearing a bandit group or mercenary company feeling a little frisky. He looked around slowly and wasn't surprised to spot a few pairs of eyes in the windows of the nearby houses. The only thing that moved or made a noise at all was a dog yapping at the horses of his men, a small and horrible looking beast that appeared to be half dead with the mange.

"You can come out. We are the king's guard and mean you no harm. I must speak with your headman immediately."

Nothing happened for a few moments, but eventually, an old woman approached, wringing her hands with worry and concern. "We don't have a headman, milord, but I am the elder here and speak for the village. Welcome to Malgrat, my name is Fenna. To what do owe the pleasure of a kings guard patrol in our small settlement?"

She was nervous. Reinard could see that. "Well met m'lady. We are here to speak with a witcher, whom we believe is here?"

Fenna remained stone-faced and looked at the captain blankly. In the distance, Reinard could hear cursing and raised voices shouting at each other in a nearby home. He sighed.

"Fenna, it is not a crime to hire a witcher, so you have nothing to fear from me, my men or the lady Merrigold here" he replied. "But I must warn you that it is a crime to lie to a captain of the king's guard as he goes about his duty. I trust we understand each other…?"

Fenna nodded slowly and took a step back. "Two of our children went missing in the forest to the north yesterday milord. We sent for the witcher when we realised. We heard there was one local and hired him to rescue the boys from their fate."

Reinard cocked his head, clearly confused. "You're not telling me that you paid for a witcher to go looking for two lost boys amongst some trees, are you? I doubt there is a man in this patrol that didn't go on a similar adventure as a young lad, and probably worse besides, am I right men?"

A few of the knights grunted their acknowledgement at their commander's insinuation. Two of them even broke up a quiet conversation trying to one-up each other with accounts of their childhood exploits.

"Well, milord. It's not as easy as that. The forest to the north isn't normal; it's haunted. There are horrible sounds in the forest, and many have disappeared going looking. We have lost more than a few village folks to that forest o'er the years, especially the youngsters."

"Balderdash!" the captain laughed, supported by his men. "Its probably just the wind in the trees and your men and children got lost on the way back!"

Triss did not join in with the rest of the patrol and slowly dismounted instead. She walked over to the old lady, her hands outstretched and begging her to be calm. "Fenna, my name is Triss Merrigold and I a personal adviser to the king. I am a sorceress, and I know of what you speak. I have seen and fought monsters that stalked forests and more besides, before. I believe you."

The old woman relaxed as she approached. It was clear that her hackles, which had been raised by the dismissive tone of the captain and his men, were now soothed somewhat. "Very well m' lady. What do you want of me?"

"To help you" Triss replied softly. "The witcher you hired is needed by the king immediately, and he is also very dear to me. I need him back in one piece. Where did he go, and when did he leave?"

"He left with a small group of the menfolk at daybreak. He would have already entered the forest and started his hunt by now, likely some time ago. The forest is not far from here, and I can send someone with you to show you the way if you would like?"

"That would be most kind of you. We need to go now."

Fenna waddled over to a nearby house and banged on the door. When the door was opened, a frail-looking man opened the door and gazed over the patrol with a worried eye. "What do you want Fenna?" the man asked, nervously.

"Luuk, get your arse out here now and show these kings guard to the haunted forest."

"Not a chance you crazy bitch, I am not going anywhere."

Fenna froze for a second and before the old man could move, she kicked him hard in the shin and then slapped him over the head while he was bent over. "Now you coward or be damned to you!" she growled.

"Aye!" the man bellowed. "Aye, right now!"

Triss mounted Snowdrop again and fixed the captain, who was still chuckling, with a less than friendly stare. "Enough captain" she ordered, "this is serious. There are worse things than you can imagine lying in the dark places of this world and, while I don't doubt your prowess at arms against anything that bleeds, there are some foes that not even you or I can face. I know, I have seen enough of them."

The captain bristled at her words.

"Do not take offence Reinard; it is just the way of things. It is the reason that witchers exist in the first place.

The old man now stood sheepishly in front of the patrol, Fenna besides him.

"Follow me please m' lady" he requested. "It's not far, and I don't want to tarry any longer than I must."

"Lead on then man" the captain replied. "We haven't got all day."


Even with the cat potion applied it was dark, far darker than a forest, being as it was just trees and plants, should ever have the right to be. The kind of darkness he faced now had to be magical, a remnant of the conjunction or ancient curse placed on the forest by an elven sage before humanity even set foot on the earth.

Geralt paused for a moment to try and get his bearings. He was confident that he was heading north, deeper into the forest, and being careful to ignore the paths which were veering off so severely that they would be useless had he followed them. He knew that the sun should, in theory, be halfway to zenith now and that he had been searching for almost six hours. He had picked up on footprints but had been unable to locate a distinct direction of travel, and it angered him that he had been so stupid not to have realised immediately, having spent almost an hour wasting time following them for nought. Based on the size and depth of the imprints, the footsteps had belonged to those of children, likely around nine to twelve years old. The prints had been recent, less than a day old, and he was confident that they had belonged to the missing boys.

He was chasing shadows, getting no-where fast, and despite his resilience and resistance to the magical influence, he could feel his instincts and thinking becoming more difficult the longer he spent in the gloom. Despite the fact, he knew that he was under attack by something magical, his medallion remained worryingly calm, and he had yet to feel it vibrating at all.

"If in doubt, keeping going forward" he muttered, repeating something Vesimir has once told him while they hunted necrophages in a swamp outside of Novigrad a few years before he had died at Kaer Morhen. The old witcher had been a father to him, and the other remaining witchers of the wolf school and his loss had hit them all like a punch to the stomach that had never left them. Whoever thought that witchers had no emotions didn't know a damn thing about them at all. He was still grieving nearly a decade later.

Geralt stood and concentrated hard, boosting his senses and focusing on the immediate vicinity around him. As always when he focused, the sense of time began to slow and fade into insignificance. He simply stood, as still as the trees around him, and ignored everything that was availing him through sheer will power and discipline. It didn't take long for him to pick up a very faint whisper to his west, at least a few hundred yards away and deeper into the shadows of the forest. "There you are…"

He relaxed for a moment and shook his arms and head, freeing himself of the petrifying effect of the efforts of concentration. His head felt better immediately and the spell, as if realising that it was now dealing with something entirely more superior than its regular victims, recoiled from his presence.

"Time to get the party started" he snarled as he began pacing in the direction of the voices he had heard.

As he moved, he occasionally forced himself into concentrating, though shallower than before, to ensure he was still on track. The closer he got to his target, the less he had to focus and the easier it was to pinpoint the source of the noise. As Geralt approached, his medallion started to hum and eventually began to bounce on his chest as a warning he was close. He picked up the pace, and when he crested a small rise he got his first glance of what he was hunting.

Ahead of him, in a small clearing of the forest, stood a pillar of black stone. Weak rays of sunlight that barely managed to penetrate the foliage overhead bathed the clearing in a sickly yellow light. The pillar was radiating with a horrible rainbow of dark green, crackling magical fire. Geralt was no sorcerer, but he had seen enough to be confident that had Triss been present, she would have called it necromantic.

Surrounding the slight clearing stood five huge trees, probably proud oak long ago, which were now incredibly twisted and sick, their gnarled branches and limbs bent to resemble cocoons. Inside two of them, Geralt spotted old skeletons while the others contained three crumbled piles of bones.

Sat huddled together against the pillar were two young boys. They appeared to be unconscious and gravely ill, their skin sickly green and their flesh pulled tight across their bones. Whatever was in the pillar was sucking them dry.

They were surrounded by five hovering wraiths, their green and yellow aura dancing around them like flames on a campfire. All carried spectral blades and were draped in tattered rags. He watched silently for a moment as they wailed gibberish between each other and into the darkness.

Thankfully, none of them had sensed him yet.

Geralt ducked behind the downed trunk of a large tree overlooking the clearing and quietly drew his silver sword. When he was sure that none of the wraiths had spotted him, he took a small vial from his belt and double-checked the contents before spreading it all over his blade. As it touched the metal, the runes etched into the blade glowed in a purple light indicating that he had selected the correct vial and had applied spectre oil. He withdrew a moon dust bomb from the sack that he had carried with him and then placed the bag on the ground. Though he only had the one, it would help even the odds.

He took a moment to check his complexion in the silver blade. Warped as it was in the curved reflection of the edge, he could still clearly see the dark veins that were rising to the surface of the skin on his face. They indicated very clearly that the three cat potions he had consumed over the hours of hunting had come close to toxifying his bloodstream to such an extent he couldn't chance any other potions to aid him. He could purge his blood by drinking his only white honey potion, but that would undo the benefit of cat and seriously hamper his ability to fight the wraiths in the semi-darkness.

Geralt calmed his beating heart and then suddenly, and with a speed which would have shaken anyone alive to witness it, leapt over the downed tree and charged directly at the group of undead.


Sinda led Mina deftly through the streets by the hand, and even though it was dark amongst the choking back alleys of the pits, she was so comfortable with the area that it seemed like she could see in the dark. 'Well she is an elf, she probably can…' Minamused.

They reached green alley soon enough, and Sinda stopped her abruptly.

"Do you want to earn some serious coin tonight?" the elf suddenly asked her.

"It depends on what I have to do to earn it" Minda replied sheepishly.

"I have a client who enjoys specific tastes, and I have agreed to meet with him here, tonight."

"What kind of tastes?"

"He enjoys watching, but I believe he has tired of watching me alone. I want you to join me tonight, and I am sure he will pay extremely well for the pleasure of doing so."

"Join you? As in, us?"

Sinda smiled beautifully, her face like something out of an old masters painting. "What do you say?"

Mina pursed her lips and composed herself. It had been a long time since she had bedded another woman for coin and never a she-elf. After a few moments of deliberation, Mina realised that she couldn't resist Sinda's smile or the prospect of a fat purse. "You only live once, right?" she giggled.

"That's my girl. I knew I could count on you!" Sinda laughed heartily in reply. "Come on, he normally meets me outside of the Red Ruby, and we go from there. I am sure he will be thrilled and the idea".

Mina didn't resist when Sinda locked arms with her and began to pace again. The elf was taller and had to shorten her pace so that Mina who was still far from steady, could keep up. The Red Ruby was a notorious slum tavern that was, arguably, the worst and most dangerous place to drink ale in the city. You received wildly different reasons as to why it was called the Red Ruby depending on who you asked. Some would say it was because of the tavern's bloody reputation for deadly fights which often, literally, painted the walls with red. Others would say it was because of the infamous Nadia Ruby, a notorious pirate queen from old that used to frequent the tavern with her crew and paid much for its success. It didn't matter what tales you believed as long as you remained on guard. 'The Ruby' was dangerous to everyone, even regulars.

"How many times have you seen this client?" Mina asked as they approached.

"Four times."

"And he pays well?"

"Extremely well. Like you wouldn't believe"

"Must be a toff then, probably a high-end merchant or even nobility?"

Sinda cast an unhappy glance over at her. "Oh Mina, have you been out of the game so long that you have forgotten the number one rule?"

"The coin is all. No questions asked" she replied.

"Exactly my dear…exactly…"


"Wait here" she ordered.

Mina obeyed without question, ducking into the shadows a little to make it harder for anyone to spot her. She could see the Ruby out of the corner of her eye in the distance and was surprised as to how quiet it was. You could still hear the merriment and shouting from inside the tavern but, unusually, there was no indication of any fights breaking out. All of the windows were still boarded up because there was no point trying to install them in a place where, every other hour, someone was thrown through one.

She watched as the she-elf disappeared around a dark corner and rubbed her hands together to try and warm them. She noticed then how poorly kept they were and how her nails were cracked so severely she could barely call them nails. The cuticles were swollen, a common side effect of handling fisstech, and her bony fingers ached.

There was nothing she could do about any of it now though, so she turned her thoughts to what was required of her later tonight. The prospect of sharing a bed with Sinda had been quite shocking at first, but she was not averse to laying with women for the coin. She actually enjoyed it more often than not as woman understood themselves more than any man could ever achieve, and they were far, far gentler. It was a different experience entirely and often one to pleasantly remember.

Lost in thought as she was, it took her a long time to realise that something wasn't right. Sinda had taken longer than expected, and the elf should have returned by now.

Mina left the shadows, hugging her arms to try and fight off the cold, and walked slowly over to the alley that Sinda had disappeared down. She turned the corner and was confronted with a nightmare.

Sinda was dead. Her body was sprawled on the floor, face-up in the dirty snow and slush. Her beautiful lips and eyes lay wide open in an expression of surprise and terror. The snow beneath her body was turning pink with blood and, worst of all, crouched over her was a cloaked figure removing a large, wicked-looking knife from a sheathe at his waist.

Mina gasped in shock at the sight and recoiled, stumbling over her feet. She nearly tripped.

The man looked up, but she couldn't see his face, being as it was entirely hidden by shadow. He slowly drew the knife and held it up in front of him. "Well this is awkward" he stated matter of factly to her. "I do loathe being interrupted".

"What have you done!" Mina finally managed to shout. "Oh, gods…Sinda…you killed her! "I'm going to fetch the guards…" she cried. "You will pay for this you monster!"

The thing stood and started to approach slowly, stepping over Sinda's corpse as if it was merely a piece of discarded clothing.

Mina, having seen far too much, simply turned and ran as fast as she could back towards the square, sobbing uncontrollably.

She was so distraught that she didn't even notice the loud smash as a dwarf's body was thrown through the window of the Red Ruby behind her, nor the wet thud as it landed in the snowy street.


As the toothless old man called Luuk had told them, the forest was not far from the village. Moving at a pace they had managed to make it to the forest in less than ten minutes, but before they had even come close, Triss felt it. She could feel the invasive and nulling effects of the magic at play and the smothering impact it was having on her thoughts, even at a distance. Snowdrop dutifully kept pace with the knights at her side, but it was taking everything Triss had not to force her mount to stop dead and turn around. The forest was evil; there was simply no other word for it.

They approached a small gaggle of men from the village who stood as the patrol came close. It didn't take much for the men to realise that the royal guard accompanied her and a large fellow with a thick black beard bowed slightly at them as they halted.

"We are looking for a witcher that came here earlier this morning" Reinard announced haughtily. "Where is he?"

"He went in the forest yonder milord" the big man replied. "At daybreak. He's been gone hours."

Triss dismounted and slowly dropped to the snowy ground, her boots kicking up a puff of snow. She could see Roach tied up to a tree a short distance away, and as she walked over to the big man, she lowered her hood. "Did he tell you what he was hunting?" she asked.

The man took a step back but recovered himself. She guessed he wasn't used to her beauty. "No m' lady, I am afraid he didn't give us that information. He did say it was old and terrible though".

"Hah!" one of the knights laughed. "Probably just some wolves, is all. Captain let us dismount here and clear this forest for the villagers. My sword hasn't drawn blood in a year, and it is thirsty!". The other knights joined in, laughing and petitioning the captain.

Reinard held up his hand to calm his men. "M'lady?" he asked.

Triss stared at the forest once more and then at the men left as a guard. Geralt was in the forest, and though she knew better than ever to underestimate his capability, she needed him back in one piece immediately.

"As you wish captain. Let us take a walk in the forest and see what is amiss."

"Very good!" the captain replied, and the knights all started to shout jovially as they dismounted and drew their swords. Reinard unstrapped his shield from his horse and hung it from his back.

"You can't go in there m' lady!" the black-bearded man warned her. "The witcher was very clear that no-one should follow him in if they wanted to live. He said he would return by nightfall."

Triss cocked her head to the left slightly and placed a hand on the large man's forearm. "I heed your words good man, but the king needs this witcher, and we have been sent to collect him. Fear not sir, I know him very well, and I just want to make sure he doesn't need any help".

"With all due respect m' lady, what do you think you could do against monsters? That is why we called for a witcher!"

She smiled and raised her other hand, which suddenly burst into a dancing flame, singing the man's beard at the tips. The man nearly fell over with shock, stepping back a second time.

"A sorceress!" he shouted.

"The very same…" Triss replied and doused the flames with a quick flick of her hand. "Now if you would be so kind, please stay here and watch the mounts. We shan't be long."


On his fourth stride, Geralt unleashed the moon dust bomb with a short underarm throw. The missile struck the ground amidst three of the wraiths and exploded in a dazzling shower of powdered silver mixed with other fragments of metal. There was no loud bang or fiery explosion, as such was reserved for other, noisier, bombs at a witcher's disposal. The moon dust simply 'puffed' into existence catching the nearest undead within its damaging cloud.

To all but shapeshifters and spectres, the bomb was simply annoying and entirely benign, but to wraiths and their ilk, the silver shards wreaked absolute havoc. As soon as the silver met the wraiths, they screamed in frustration as the solution crippled their ability turn invisible. For a brief second the wraiths became entirely corporeal and tangible, as if they had been dragged into the real world by the contents of the bomb.

By his seventh stride, barely a heartbeat since he had burst from cover, he was amongst them like a frenzied fox in a chicken pen. Using the advantage gained by his surprise, Geralt sliced the first of the three phantoms across the torso with a quick forehand strike and reversed the direction of the swing in one fluid moment, cutting the second in half at the midriff. The two injured wraiths screamed in pure anguish at the silver blade tore into them, both blinking out of existence in a heartbeat, wailing with frustration as they did so.

The third, now understanding the threat, span on the spot and lunged at Geralt with its jagged blade, intent on skewering him to the spot. He pushed back from his left foot, narrowly avoiding the tip of the blade and it speared through the air, missing his midriff by a few inches at best.

Rolling backwards, Geralt jumped to his feet and held his sword in a front guard position, circling the three remaining wraiths which had now assembled. He focused on the first, the one he had just traded blows with, but was fully aware of the other two that were now flanking out either side. Beneath the tattered hoods, he could just about make out the decrepit outline of semi-transparent jaws and sunken eye sockets, radiating with balls of the same sickly green light in which their figures danced.

The wraith to his right suddenly blinked out of existence, and only a lightning-fast roll to the saved him from being struck as it reappeared in a flash of light. Back on his feet he once again took up his front guard position, giving ground. In the corner of his eye, he could see the boys, still entirely unmoving and stuck to the pillar. They didn't look like they had long to live if they were alive even at all.

All three wraiths began to descend on him once again, screaming and wailing in their fierce anger, spreading out to provide the best chance to hit his unprotected areas.

"Come on you bastards" Geralt growled, holding his nerve as they approached. He lowered his left hand to the ground slowly, not wanting to provoke them into a sudden attack.

A slight flicker of movement from the wraith on his left triggered him to cast Yrden with a well-practised motion of his fingers, and the ground around him immediately burst into a circle of violet light. The forest floor became wreathed in a pulsing arch of lightning, hovering inches above the moist surface, and purple bathed leaves danced casually in the air in front AND about him.

All three wraiths screamed in unison as their spectral forms were painfully dragged into reality by the witcher's spell. For a few moments, they were stunned and entirely vulnerable.

Geralt sprang forward and danced through the three undead, dismantling them with surgical precision. While they countered his blows on a few occasions, the weakened spectres stood no chance at all against his ability and skill with the blade. He made short work of the trio, and within a few heartbeats of furious swordplay, all three had joined their fellows in whatever afterlife they were dragged to.

As the final wraith disappeared in a flash of light, Geralt took a few deep breaths to force the air back into his lungs and regain composure. His Yrden spell blinked a few times and then disappeared, its work now complete and its time entirely spent. As the spells light withdrew, he noticed that the area surrounding him had become slightly lighter, as if some of the gloom had receded with the destruction of the final wraith. He could now clearly see into the darkness for a good hundred metres, albeit aided by the cat potion, a vast improvement on only a few minutes before. Somehow, he had managed to drain the spells hold on the forest by killing the wraiths.

The boys…

Geralt sheathed his sword and slowly turned to face the children, still magically bound to the pillar a few feet away. He walked over to the pillar and knelt beside it, casting a glance over the pure white stone that lay under the horrible light that danced all over it. He could make out some deep engravings on the rock, but they were far from legible, and even if they had been, he doubted his ability to understand them. The pillar was easily as old as the forest itself and carved in no language he understood.

A glance at the boys confirmed to him that they were all but spent. He needed to act quickly if there was any chance at all of saving what little remained of them.

He concentrated on the pillar, and after a few short breaths increased his focus significantly, but even in that heightened state he noticed nothing new about the pillar or its surroundings that would give him an idea as to how to deactivate whatever was draining the boys. Nothing in his experience or witcher training was jumping out at him either.

Having run out of options and time, he withdrew his silver sword and steadied himself. "Plough yourself!" he shouted as he struck the pillar with all his might.

His vision burned with a blinding white light and the last things he recalled before losing consciousness were the sight of his blade spinning off into the distance and the violent impact of his head against one of the large trees ringing the clearing.


"Do you have any idea where we are going?" Reinard asked.

Triss ignored him. It was not right for a sorceress, especially the king's adviser and the head of the magical council none the less, to admit when she didn't know something. Despite the fact she had cast a spell on all members of the patrol to help them see in lower light, they were struggling to progress, and she had a horrible feeling that they had doubled back on themselves.

"M'lady, we have been in this forest now for over an hour and haven't seen anything. Even with the aide of your magic, the light is so low that my men keep tripping on undergrowth and banging their heads on the limbs of these hideous trees. It will only be a matter of time before one of us is seriously injured."

"And here I thought that this was just another childhood adventure hunting wolf for you and your men" Triss hissed in response. "We move forward, captain. Somewhere in here, Geralt is trying to save those children and we must aide him."

Reinard was silent as her stinging words soaked in. He didn't respond.

"I am sorry captain" she apologised. "This forest is magical, and even though I am resisting it, it is effecting my mood and thoughts."

"No apology needed m'lady. You are right, we misjudged…" he stopped dead.

"What is it?" Triss asked.

"The darkness, I believe it is receding somewhat. Look!"

Triss turned, and once her eyes had readjusted, she could tell that the light was indeed returning to the forest slowly. Though she couldn't say why it was now easy to see there was an improvement over only a few moments before and she could now easily make out the surroundings around the patrol. "He must have lifted the spell somehow…" she whispered to herself.

Suddenly a bright white light burst through the forest, forcing them to raise their arms to prevent being entirely blinded. The power of the light was such that it etched the shapes of the trees and foliage into Triss's eyes so clearly that they were visible even with her eyelids entirely clenched. She staggered in shock and lost her footing on the roots of a tree, tumbling backwards and drooping against the gnarled bark.

Thankfully, after a few moments, the source gave way, and the light stopped as quickly as it had started.

"It hurts!" one of the men cursed.

"My eyes…I am blind!" screamed another.

Triss lowered her hand, and after a few moments of struggling, managed to open her eyes. They watered uncontrollably, and she could feel the dripping of her tears landing on her trousers.

"What the hell was that!" Reinard yelled, gripping on to one of the nearby branches. He was bent double and retching, having just thrown up all over himself.

Triss, dazed but now at least able to speak, dragged herself to her feet and slowly crawled over to the captain. She stumbled to her feet and used him as an anchor. He head was spinning, and her eyes were burning, but she needed to take control of the situation.

"We need to move!" she shouted to be heard over the clamour of the groaning knights. "Let's go!"

Reinard span to face her. He opened his eyes, and she could see how bloodshot they were. His mouth and the chainmail of his hauberk were covered in vomit and bile, and he rocked unsteadily. "I don't think I can move" he growled back. "I can barely stand!"

"We move now!" she repeated.

Reinard spat on the floor and rubbed his armoured forearm against his mouth, wiping away what he could of the vomit. "Ok," he replied. "Give me a moment to recover, please. I beg of you."

Triss nodded. It was the least she could do. Her back was now aching from the impact with the tree, and the few seconds rest would be welcome.

Reinard, despite looking like a seasoned addict recovering from a fisstech binge, smiled hideously. "You know Triss; your makeup is running…"

She scowled at him and grabbed his hand. "That's the least of my concerns…now let's move!"