Chapter 3

Later, as dusk began to fall and pale wafts of mist started to creep through the trees towards the edge of the forest, Vernon, Geralt and Iorveth set up camp in the shadow of a huge stone boulder.

Nearby a tiny river was splashing and gurgling peacefully. In the other direction there was a steep slope leading upwards to a small plateau above their temporary resting place, which was encircled by thick bushes tinged with the slight yellow and orange of the beginning fall.

Vernon sat silently on an overturned tree trunk in front of a hole in the bushes. From his position he could overlook a great part of the Aedirnian scenery, with vast, green fields stretching out in the distance and the beautiful Pontar river meandering below him. On the left, just at the horizon, he could see the dark shape of the Blue Mountains standing out against the grey and pink evening sky.

The air was cool and he could feel a slight breeze which carried the scent of the forest. It reminded Vernon of home. He did not notice Geralt approaching until he was standing right behind him.

"How are you holding up? You look tired."

"As much as it ashames me to admit it - these past days have taken their toll on me. Sometimes I think I'm getting soft.", Roche grumbled without turning around.

"That's no surprise, Vernon. Nobody could go through that and just walk away like nothing happened."

"Oh stop that! Don't comfort me, Witcher. Out of your mouth it sounds too much as if you are mocking me."

They were silent for a short while, looking out onto the countryside which was slowly beginning to fade into darkness.

"I know you don't trust Iorveth.", Geralt said finally.

"Damn straight."

"I don't either. But teaming up with him for a short while could proof worthwhile. The Kaedwenis don't expect us to work with a terrorist, maybe they even think he's dead. We'll have the advantage. My enemy's enemy is my friend."

"I think I've heard that one before.", Vernon said and stood up, squaring his shoulders and sighing. "Whatever is necessary to get us to Loc Muinne. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Hm. So you're still on the hunt for Dethmold?"

The commander turned to look at him.

"This is not about me, Geralt. We have to find Sile de Tansarville. And didn't you say something about saving Triss?"

"I haven't forgotten.", the Witcher replied quietly.

"Come on, let's go back. I want to keep an eye on him.", said Vernon and started to lead the way down the rocky slope to their camp.

Iorveth was still sitting in the same position as when they had left him, with one leg pinned beneath the other and his hands lying loosely on his lap. He was gazing into the fire they had lit up before. The flames danced in the evening breeze, casting flickering shadows on his half-covered face and making the lines seem even deeper than usual.

When Geralt and Vernon approached, he looked up at them for a second, then down again.

"Ah. I see you two finished your little intimate talk. I was already becoming curious about what was taking you so long.", he said with a completely straight face.

"Watch your mouth, elf.", Vernon growled. "Or I'm going to cut out that tongue of yours."

"Feel free to try."

"Ha! There are two of us. You think you stand a chance?"

"Two of you?" Iorveth looked at him sharply. "You sure about that? All I see is a half-crazy Temerian commander who looks like he's more dead than alive and a mutant who loves to stay neutral. If I were in your place I would think twice about challenging me. Oh!", he added as he saw the furious look on Vernon's face. "I'm so sorry, of course I wasn't trying to raise any suspicion between the two of you. All I'm saying is you should think about who to trust, Vernon Roche."

"I know who not to trust. That's enough.", Vernon snapped. "Now mind your own damn business."

"But I am. This is my business as well as it is yours. The way I see it, we are both in the same boat - as wanted criminals and murderers."

"Don't compare me to the likes of you, non-human!", Roche spat with disgust. "This is something else entirely. You have no idea."

"On the contrary. I know very well how you feel. Didn't you wonder about how I escaped Vergen at all?"

Vernon made an annoyed 'tch' noise. As if he cared.

"I was about to ask.", Geralt interfered.

"We were surrounded, cornered in the town hall, and there was no one coming to rescue us. The fight was lost, we knew that much. But my men did not give up. They fought until the end. I would have done the same, but before I could join them in death, someone dragged me outside through the fire. I don't remember much, but they must have heaved me onto a horse. When I woke up I was in the forest outside of town. The battle was over, lost, and none of my comrades had survived. I wanted to avenge them by taking Henselt's life, but he was already dead. So I took another horse and left Vergen, going as fast as possible, fleeing from the few remaining Kaedweni troops that were after the king's murderer. As soon as I saw you back in the forest, I knew you were responsible for Henselt's murder. He slaughtered all your men too, after all. That's what we've got in common. What's different, however, is that their death is your fault alone. You had to play conspirator, and they paid the price."

Iorveth's voice sounded more bitter and cruel with every word he spoke. His face bore the same expression it had on their earlier encounter - with wild eyes and an angry, animalistic grimace.

"You had no right to kill Henselt. You have only yourself to blame.", he said, in a voice nothing more than a whisper.

Vernon grew cold with rage. His hands clenched into fists, with the fingernails digging painfully into his palms, drawing blood; but he did not notice. All color had drained from his face.

Iorveth's chest was heaving, he was panting and breathing heavily. The two of them locked eyes, putting all the hate and animosity and distrust they had piled up for each other over the years into their stares.

From the corner of his eye, Vernon could see Geralt watching them, staying out of the affair, staying neutral. The realization hit him hard: Iorveth had been right about the Witcher.

And suddenly - nothing. He stopped feeling anything, just went numb. All the fury, the feeling of hatred, of confusion and guilt just vanished, disappeard into nothingness.

He got to his feet, sensing two pairs of eyes on him, watching.

"I'm going to sleep.", he declared, his voice clear and strong, but devoid of any emotion. Vernon simply turned and walked away.

He did not go to sleep. Instead he positioned himself on the tree trunk somewhere in the bushes, wide awake, with his sword at his side, keeping watch and waiting for the morning to come.