Epilogue

He woke several hours later, feeling as if someone had ripped out his spine and then crammed it back in the other way around. His shoulder was wrapped in some kind of bandage and started throbbing with dull pain as he moved. Vernon pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around.

"Ah, you're awake."

He turned his head towards the voice, squinting to see Geralt sitting near a fire in the dim light of the evening.

"How's the back?", he asked.

"Never felt better.", Vernon grumbled grimly, wiping his forehead.

Geralt picked up a stick from the ground and started to poke around in the ashes of the fire.

"Where's Iorveth?", Roche asked.

"I don't know. Somewhere over there, I reckon." The Witcher gestured vaguely. "Don't worry, he hasn't made a run for it yet."

"He'd better not. What... happened to the woman?"

Geralt looked up, taking his time to reply.

"She survived, but committed suicide as soon as she woke up. Not without trying to torch Iorveth first, though."

"Well, I can't blame her for that."

"Good to see you didn't lose your fine sense of humor."

"Shut up, Geralt."

"Sure. So, do you feel up to walking again tomorrow?"

"Of course. It takes more than that little bit of flying to break my back."

With a stiffled groan he got to his feet and stretched carefully. "Not that I enjoyed it, mind you.", he added, then nodded approvingly. His injuries did sting a bit, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

"Good. We're staying here for the night and move on tomorrow morning at dawn. Now it's not far to Loc Muinne.", Geralt said, throwing aside the stick.

"Make sure you don't slow us down."

Vernon rolled his eyes. "Why do I get the feeling you sound more and more like that elf?", he murmured to himself as he laid back down again. "Oh well."

He sunk into the peaceful, comatose sleep from before, and for the first time in weeks, he did not dream. The events of the day seemed almost like one, however.

As Geralt had predicted, it was not far to their destination. They came into visual range of Loc Muinne around noon the next day, stopping at a plateau high enough to overlook the whole city. Geralt and Iorveth had left Vernon in peace, sensing that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Ever since the encounter with the sorceress, he had been very quiet.

After taking in the beautiful view for several minutes, Iorveth spoke up. "Well, this is where we part ways."

"You know what, I remember seeing this rare herb on our way here. I hope I can leave you alone for a minute without the two of you tearing each other to pieces.", Geralt said abruptly. Then he simply walked away and disappeared between the trees, leaving behind a bewildered Temerian commander and a sceptical elf.

Vernon had had a bunch of objections ready especially for this occasion, but Geralt's sudden departure had thrown him off track. He and Iorveth just stared at each other for a minute.

"I'm going to leave the two of you at this point." Iorveth finally said.

"What makes you think I'm going to let you go just like that? You are still a wanted criminal."

"Let me remind you that you are, too. Interesting situation, isn't it?"

"That's... something completely different.", Vernon growled, though not convinced of his own words.

"Oh, is it? What a shame, and here I'd thought you'd learned something about all of this. Seems like I was wrong."

Vernon just grinded his teeth.

"I was surprised you were able to stop yourself from killing the sorceress."

The sudden change of topic surprised Vernon. He looked up sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is this: The man I met just a few days ago in the was so full with rage and hatred and bitterness, haunted by his demons and fixated only on his revenge, turning into a cold-blooded killing-machine... He would have killed the woman without hesitation." He left it hanging there, but Vernon knew exactly what he was getting at.

But before he could start ranting, insulting Iorveth or telling him to mind his own fucking business, Iorveth suddenly held out his hand. Vernon stared at it, completely dumbfounded.

Then he remembered Iorveth's story. What he had told them about his escape from Vergen and the loss of his men. He recalled the expression in his eyes as they had threatened each other with their weapons, the look of blank fury on his face, and the words he had said to him later that day: "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."

And Vernon understood. It surprised him, but he did really understand,

This was something new for him. He had hated non-humans all his life, killing many, many of them, often without a reason. But what he now felt was something closely resembling a feeling of sympathy. Yes, he understood now. Even though he didn't like it much.

When Geralt returned from the forest (obviously he had not found that super rare herb he had supposedly seen), he witnessed something that made him smile involuntarily for the first time in a long while.

Well well, he thought. What an unexpected development.

Iorveth and Vernon Roche, two men who could not be more different from each other, two of the greatest enemies, stood facing each other and shaking hands in a gesture of deep and profound respect.

When the moment ended, their arms dropped back to their sides.

"But don't misunderstand, Vernon Roche.", Iorveth said. "I still dislike you."

"Took the words right out of my mouth. Now get outta my sight before I change my mind and drag you into a dungeon by your ploughing pointy ears."

Iorveth grinned. Then he turned to Geralt.

"It was a pleasure working with you, Gwynnbleid." He bowed mockingly.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I am looking for someone dear to me. And for someone... who isn't. I believe they are in Loc Muinne. But that's all you need to know."

Geralt understood and just nodded.

"Oh, one more thing." He adressed Vernon once more. "Take care of Dethmold. It would be an extenuation to call him a filthy, cowardly, loathsome bastard, and I think I'd enjoy his death a great deal."

"You don't need to tell me that. The two of us are going to have some fun, and with that I mean I'll have the fun and he'll have the anguish.", Vernon replied grimly. "Now shove off, elf."

Iorveth snorted. He then raised a hand to wave goodbye to the Witcher and left Vernon and Geralt to finish what they had started.