A Scholar's travels with a Witcher

“I think, that what I should do to him is to hire a Mage of some kind to suck all his insides out through his ass-hole next time he takes a shit. That way he can die while he takes a shit.”

“Oooh, good one. But also, what you could do is arrange matters so that he wouldn't die as that happens but only when they try to move him. That way he knows that as he crouches there...”

“or sits there,”

“Yeah, while he sits there, his troo's around his ankles with what feels like a particularly violent turd hanging out of his ass-hole, someone has to have a look and then tell him that he's about to die with his pants down.”

“I like it.”

Kerrass and I were discussing how we wanted Lord Dorme to die as we headed down to the citadel of unspeakable evil.

“The thing to make it crueller though would be to give him hope of some kind. So that he knows that he's going to die but deep-down he still has hope that it will be alright in the end.”

“Hmmm,” I muttered, “Good thought that. But I reckon he's a squealer. I reckon that if you told him he was going to die that he'd shit himself to death anyway.”

“Probably. I still think that peeling his face off would be a good start.”

I chuckled and staggered.

“You alright?” Kerrass asked, his tone was neutral but I could tell that he was keeping it that way on purpose.

“I'm fine, just weighed down.” I wasn't fine. I was wondering if I was short of breath because of the poison or because of the amount of stuff that I was carrying. “Besides. You need to concentrate on what you're doing. Not on how I'm feeling.”

“True,” Kerrass paused as he stared at his medallion for a couple of moments before gesturing in another direction. “How do you feel about boiling him in oil?”

“Slowly?” I enquired. “We lower him into it slowly while the oil is already boiling or just drop him and increase the temperature slowly.”

“Either works for me.”

“Wouldn't he die too fast from the pain though?”

“Fair point.”

“Boiling in salted water?”

“Ah, that's a good one.”

I knew what he was doing. Even an idiot would know what he was doing. He was taking my mind of it. Keeping it focused on funny images instead of worrying about what that poison was that was running through my body and killing me.

Kerrass had sworn quite vividly after gingerly licking the tip of the crossbow bolt before calming abruptly.

“What is it?” I asked trying to stay calm.

“You don't want to know. Can you walk?”

“I can fucking well walk out of here,” I snarled back. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” Kerrass was taking some things from his saddle-bags. “It's a spider venom. I don't recognise it beyond that but given the fact that it's a spider venom. He's right, it is powerful and it won't be pleasant.”

“Right.”

“So can you walk?”

“I'm not giving those bastards the satisfaction. Yes I can walk. Or limp anyway.”

Kerrass nodded. He strapped another belt around his waist. There were several small pouches around the front and he started putting small potion bottles into them. “Go get your spear.”

“He stays with us.” Lord Dorme was sitting on his horse a small distance away. “To guarantee your good will.”

“Like fuck he is,” Kerrass snarled. “If he's going to die, he's dying with me and not with your lot laughing at him.”

“They won't laugh,” Lord Dorme seemed rather shocked at the idea. “You have my word.”

“Your word,” Kerrass snorted. “Your word is worth less than the horse-shite I scrape off my boot.”

One of the knights started to draw their sword in indignation. “Go on, I dare you.” Kerrass begged the man, who at a word from Dorme, backed down.

“He's coming with me because he can help. You want what's in that tower, it will be quicker if he comes with me to help carry supplies and he has a tendency to spot things that I miss. Also, where am I going to go? You're going to follow me right?”

Dorme nodded.

“So we can't go anywhere without you seeing us. He's sick and I'm going to be tired and without a horse.”

“Very well. But try anything and I smash the antidote.”

“Smash the antidote and I kill you,”

“Little threats from a little man,” Dorme sneered. “Be about your business then 'Master' Witcher.”

“I will, What's down there?”

“What? You're a Witcher. Go and find out.”

Kerrass took a deep breath. The kind he used when he talks to people that are terminally stupid.

“Listen, Fuck-face, I'm a Witcher. This is my job and you're coercing me to do it. Sending me in blind will just get me killed which means that you won't get what you want. An outcome I'm quite happy with by the way. Also, the longer you keep me here the faster my companion is going to be about dying which means that your hold over me vanishes. Now what. The Fuck. Is down there?”

He paused as though he was forgetting something. “Fuck-face.”

He smiled as though pleased that he had remembered.

Dorme smirked. He still had the upper hand and he knew it. “The furthest my scouts have made it is into the inner courtyard past the first gate. They described a spell that animated the dead although I understand that such a spell would be centred on something so... Beyond that, the records that we found indicate that the tower was used as a prison. I would expect some form of guarding “thing” if I were you.”

“Fucking lovely. Now what is it that's in there that I'm looking for?”

“You'll know it when you see it, but don't worry Witcher, I'll be right behind you.”

“I know. I can already feel the dagger between my shoulder blades. Come on Freddie, no time like the present.”

“He makes it sound so easy doesn't he.”

“Yeah well. Fuck-face says what Fuck-face does.”

Kerrass loaded me up with a huge sack of water and another sack of food which was apparently for me. As soon as we were a hundred feet away from the party of horsemen we stopped and he made me drink water until I couldn't take any more before we continued onwards.

It was another one of those “inching along, step by step” routines where we would advance slowly, Kerrass humming quietly to himself while staring at his pendant that was jumping around like a possessed children's toy, you know, one of those new Dwarven things that you wind up with a key. I had expected us to bypass each of the crucifixions but we got to the first one and waited next to if before Kerrass made one of his gestures and a huge gust of air knocked the thing down before Kerrass energetically stamped the bones to dust before setting them on fire. I nearly told him off for desecrating the bodies but then I saw the fact that the flames burnt with a green flame.

That was when he started the game. How do I want to get my revenge on Dorme?

It was an entertaining way to pass the long minutes that it took to get us down to the tower/keep/thing, burning corpses and uprooting crosses as we went.

The gate in the wall was much less impressive up close than it had seemed from up the hill. I have been through many gates in castles in my time. For those places where the term “Castle” also means a defensive fortification as well as a potential place of residence there are several features. Generally they include a moat or defensive ditch, a drawbridge, portcullis, barbican, killing ground, another portcullis and then you are only in the immediate outer area of the castle itself.

This place had a door. A literal door. That was on the floor having rotted off it's hinges. There were a couple of places where the metal fixtures of the door were still visible, lying there red with rust.

I found the sight especially morbid.

The rest of the place was fairly impressive but I couldn't help but feel that it was a place meant for show. The walls were dark and slick but felt a lot like stone to the touch even though it felt colder than stone and my hands came away moist with water that had condensed against the stone. It almost felt like glass. The ragged, cheap stuff with bubbles and ripples in the surface.

The outer walls weren't very high as these things go. Maybe 25ft high, thick enough to stand on certainly but easily reachable by a ladder for an attacking soldier.

I started to wonder why I was thinking so hard about attacking this place.

I coughed and Kerrass looked at me sharply.

The walls and the huge protrusions kept the courtyard in the shade though. It was cold here and I wished I had brought my cloak.

Then the dead started to rise.

There were indeed corpses littered around the place. Mostly just skeletons, age old skeletons, their bones black and covered in rotting vegetation, mosses and tendrils of roots hanging from their rib-cages. They carried weapons, rusty swords, their edges visibly damaged. More terrifying though were the more modern corpses. Men, only recently dead, a week or so at worst...

Random thought: What does it say about my life that I can now recognise the age of a corpse by looking at it. Food for thought.

They still wore armour and sur-coats that bore Lord Dorme's crest and wielded swords that still carried the sheen of recent care and attention.

Kerrass sighed. He sounded faintly bored if anything.

I'd never seen animated corpses before. They're always the sort of thing that you hear about in plays or in those copper dreadfulls that you can buy in Novigrad, full of lurid tales of monsters kidnapping maidens that wear surprisingly little clothing. They had always seemed as though they were more terrifying than they actually should be.

Don't get me wrong, it is surprisingly bowel-emptying when a corpse that you are standing next to starts to move but please allow me to dispel a few rumours about these things. First of all, to animate a corpse you need magic. The corpse itself has no intelligence other than the intelligence that the magic gives it which includes it's purpose. In this case we figured that it was to protect the structure and strike down intruders. Secondly there is a misconception that the less flesh on the animated corpse, the more dangerous it is. It has to be said that this was a myth that I agreed with until that day. The theory goes that flesh actually holds the corpse back, that the act of rigor mortis makes it difficult to move. I'm afraid that this is not the case.

What actually happens is that the corpse can remember what it is like to be alive. Muscle memory still exists in a strange form, long after death and therefore. The more flesh that exists, the more it can remember how to do things like move and fight which means, in turn, that it requires less magical energy. Skeletons however require more energy to animate and therefore are easier to deal with.

While I'm on the subject. Removing the head from an animated corpse will achieve absolutely nothing. The corpse is still animated.

Animated corpses are not zombies. Zombies are a completely different form of magic (or so I'm told)

Nor do animated corpses have any desire to eat mortal flesh, brains or otherwise. What you're thinking of there is Necrophages. To defeat these animated dead you need to disrupt the magic that is animating them by either finding the mage doing the casting and stabbing them. Or to destroy the object or alter that the spell is centred on.

Unfortunately while you're doing this, the animated dead are trying to pull you apart with whatever they find to hand. Their bare hands for example.

So you have to break them down to their component parts.

By hitting them.

Panic and terror is a factor however.

I yelped in protest as a corpse grabbed me by the ankles.

“Cut the arms and legs off so they can't hurt you. Then give the smaller bits a kick to get them all separated while I try and find the source of the spell. Blunt end for the skeletons. One decent swing should shatter them but stamp on any bits of bone that you find.” Kerrass called out casually cutting the legs out from under one of Dorme's former soldiers. Once on the floor he removed the things arms with what looked like practised ease before punting the arms in different directions.

“Seriously?” I asked but he'd already gone. Sword in hand (steel one I noticed), medallion out and grumbling to himself.

Panic really is the biggest enemy when facing a horde of animated dead.

Once I'd removed the arm of the thing that had hold of my ankle and shook the hand off I could note a couple of things. The main thing was that they move quite slowly so if I was careful and took care to stay mobile and not get cornered or overwhelmed I shouldn't have a problem.

I went to work.

And it was work. After a while my arms and legs started to ache and my breath became short as the fighting just went on and on and on. Kerrass helped too as he wandered around the courtyard. There were a few out-buildings which he would kick open or, if they were more collapsed, poke through. But primarily he was looking for something.

The annoying thing was that there didn't seem to be that many of them. But they kept coming as the spell didn't let them stop. Hands would crawl back to torso's which would then pull themselves over to legs and so on.

Watching a hand crawl over to the stump of an arm is particularly un-nerving.

I was getting there though but it was becoming monotonous.

To give you an idea. I actually had time to stop and take a drink of water between bouts of animated dead destruction.

Eventually Kerrass let out a shout and the bodies just collapsed around me. The sound of bones collapsing, one on top of the other was oddly musical.

I was out of breath. I made it to the nearest wall, propped my spear up and just leant there for a while focusing on breathing in and out and staring at the floor in case I vomited. I found myself wondering if I should be this tired or whether the poison was taking effect.

The sound of footfalls announced Kerrass' presence.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I've been happier,”

I could feel him nodding.

“Rest up a bit while I burn these corpses. I destroyed the alter but there might be some residual magic. You never know. Oh and drink some more water and have something to eat.”

“Why?” it came out angrier than I had intended.

“Look at me Fred.”

He was holding a small bottle. Full of a golden creamy liquid.

“This is called “White Honey””.

“It's not very White,”

He peered at it. “It's kind of white, anyway, I don't make the names.” he looked back at me. “If all else fails you're going to drink this as it purges my body of all toxins including alcohol and venom build up.”

“I thought Witcher potions were deadly to humans.”

“They are, most of the time. But in this case...”

“What the hell,”

Kerrass nodded again. “With me it tends to make me need to defecate. With luck it might just be a more violent bout of...”

“shitting,” I interrupted. “So my choices are, waiting for a spiders venom to paralyse me and liquefy my insides, or brutally shitting my brains out. Lovely.” I was scared and it was making me angry.

“Which is why you're drinking the water. To dilute it all and the food to give your body something to pass.”

I nodded.

“It's alright to be scared Frederick.”

“Fuck scared, I'm angry.” I snarled.

He grinned horribly at me.

“Drink,” he ordered.

I watched him pile the corpses and bones, using that air blast thing of his to push it all into the centre of the courtyard before pouring a small bottle of stuff over the pile and setting fire to it all with another gesture.

It's at times like that that I want to record things about these “signs” of his? How far does the blast of air extend? How powerful is the blast? Can he dictate the arc of blast?

I was reminded of these questions again as I watched him work before the realisation that I could be dead. Probably would be dead in a short while washed over me again.

I felt sick and started to cough.

You know how, when you get a cold you cough up something that can only be described as “goop”.

I did that.

Only it was pink.

A wave of dizziness shook me and I shivered. Kerrass was next to me, expressionless.

“I've got it.” I said letting the air come into my lungs. “I'm going to buy a load of lemons and a sack of salt. Then I'm going to tie him to a table, take a small, very sharp knife and make a series of cuts. Then I'm going to take a cloth that's soaked in lemon juice and wipe the cuts with them. After that I'm going to do the same with a cloth of salt water. I'm going to keep up that rotation until I run out of open skin or until he begs me to let him die. Then I might start with some deeper cuts. I reckon he will think it's light for a while but it strikes me that that's the kind of pain that will build.”

There was a long silence.

“Ok,” he said after a long while, “you win. Although that's pretty dark for you.”

“I know, but I rather hate him at the moment. I hope I'll be more merciful if the time comes.”

“The time will come. Can you still walk.”

I nodded. Levered myself to a standing position and took another long drink before shouldering my burdens and gathering up my spear.

“Kerrass,” I said. “Will you promise me something?”

“Of course. I will carry your letters to your family and if your suffering becomes to great, either from my poison or his I will end it as quickly and painlessly as I can manage.”

“Thank you but that's not what I meant.”

Kerrass nodded and his eyes turned bleak.

“I will avenge you Frederick.”

I nodded and looked away.

“Be merciful with it though will you? Do not be cruel in my name.”

“I promise. But I will make sure he knows why it's happening.”

“Good,”

Things take a damn long time when you're dying I can tell you. We went over to the door into the tower which was relatively tiny compared to the rest of the tower. Maybe two people could walk through the opening at any one time and the top of the door was maybe two feet from the top of my head. Like the door to the courtyard the wood was almost black with age and the surface of the metal fixtures was pitted red with rest.

However unlike the outer door, the wood was solid and the metal was unyielding.

Not that we tested that first. First Kerrass spent far too long testing the door for spells and traps, examining in minute detail the door jamb's the hinges. Eyes ridiculously close, frowning, gaze leaping from door to medallion which was held as close to the door as he could manage without it actually touching the door.

But it took so long.

I knew why of course. I have heard many tales of treasure seekers who had not taken these same precautions who have lost their lives to the results. But dammit it took a long time. Which gave me more and more time to consider my pending doom.

In passing I have a piece of advice for you if you ever find yourself poisoned.

Never trust a fart.

Your digestive system will betray you.

I spent a couple of embarrassing minutes cleaning myself up. The act of which left me out of breath with spots dancing in front of my eyes and my stomach roiling.

Kerrass either didn't notice as he was in the middle of his examination or because he was being polite and pretending.

Either way I was grateful.

In the end he decided that the door was safe, took a step back and used his “ard?” “Aard?” “Hard?” sign. I never ask how you pronounce or spell these things in case he gets sensitive about Witcher secrets.

The door was reluctant to buckle and was obviously kept in place by magic as it protested this abuse but in the end it was caught between the hammer (Kerrass) and the proverbial hard place (whatever spell was keeping it solid) and gave up. It gave a moan made up of protesting wood, metal and stone and simply shattered.

Kerrass nodded his satisfaction to himself, peered into the entry way and drew his silver sword.

“Torches,” he said.

I passed one over and he led us both into a dark, almost cavernous room.

A spell of dizziness washed over me, although it didn't feel as though it came from the poison.

“Don't worry,” Kerrass muttered. “We've passed into a magical area. This room is bigger than the tower itself and it can cause dizziness and...”

I interrupted him by vomiting.

“Nausea,” he finished.

“I didn't need another excuse to feel wretched,” I said while my stomach heaved.

“When you're ready, call out and I'll find you. I'm going for a look around.” He left me his torch and strode off into the darkness.

“And drink some more water,” he called.

Sitting, or standing in the dark while Kerrass “had a look around” was not a new experience for me. The only new thing here was that every echoed footfall from the depths was another time marker of my journey towards a horrible death. I tried calming myself with some water, considered some brandy but decided that it was a bad idea. I tried breathing exercises but in the end I just paced up and down.

I realised I was shaking from the rattling of my spear on the ground. I put it down and examined my hand in the light of the torch. I gripped a few times and found that I could steady the hand for a short while before it would start up again.

I swore softly.

Kerrass cleared his throat before stepping into the light. I'd made him develop that habit so that I wouldn't jump out of my skin whenever he accidentally snuck up on me.

Stupid Witcher with his stupid walking silently training.

I was aware that my concentration was slipping.

“Come and look at this,”

He took one of the torches and led me into the darkness and something loomed out of the blackness and I followed Kerrass round it.

“Ok, what is it?”

“A Golem of some kind I think, or a gargoyle or elemental. It's inactive for the moment and I haven't found the activation spell.”

I coughed and something unspeakable loosened in the back of my throat.

“Don't things like this normally activate as soon as someone enters the room.”

“Normally.” He frowned. “But, if Fuck-face is to be believed then this place is a prison. I haven't found another way out yet other than where we came in and it might be that they're supposed to activate when that door opens. Do you wanna have a look around as well?”

“Might as well, It'll take my mind off things.”

Kerrass' mouth twitched.

We wandered around a bit. I lit another torch and left it with the packs so that we would both have a frame of reference.

I found a wall and walked along it slowly. That had the double benefit of both letting me map the room but also giving me something to lean against when the dizzy spells hit me. It was no longer my imagination, they were definitely getting worse.

“Found a doorway,” I called. “Door open,”

“What's in there?”

I poked my head in and waved the torch around.

“Guest room,” I called back. Something in the ceiling had reacted to my presence and a soft light filtered into the room. It seemed like sunlight and as I watched the walls and ceiling faded away to be replaced by the blue sky of a pleasant summer day. I was standing in an open summer meadow with grass beneath my feet. Beautiful mountains and forests were off in the distance. Unfortunately the furniture, including several comfortable looking seats, a bed, a wardrobe and a desk were either rotting or had collapsed under the weight of years.

“Wow,” Kerrass had joined me.

“I've heard of this sort of thing.” I said after coughing to clear my throat. I found that if I concentrated really hard, I could ignore my increasing physical symptoms. “Mages would show off to their guests and simulate anything that the guest desired. Any vista, room or place. Even servants and...other kinds of servants.”

“So this was a mage's tower then.” Kerrass mused. “Fuck-face is looking for a thing, a trinket to help him in whatever scheme he's cooking up.”

“It would seem that way.”

“Well I found stairs,” said Kerrass. “Up and down,”

“Lets face it. We probably need to go up.” I said. I shivered and could feel my teeth chattering.

“Why?” he asked as we walked back to the packs.

“Because Down is either the torture chamber, the cells or the wine cellar.” I reasoned. “Mages would want to keep their trinkets, libraries and laboratories closer to their hearts and their rooms I would have thought.”

“Witchers too for that matter.”

“And nobles.”

I took another drink of water and managed to choke down a small apple. The apple juice stung my gums and my teeth were beginning to feel loose in my mouth.

Of course that was the plan.

Kerrass placed his foot on the first step leading up into the rest of the tower when a klaxon sounded along with an inhuman voice.

“WARNING, WARNING, PERIMITER BREACHED. WARNING, WARNING, INTRUDER DETECTED. ESCAPE IN PROGRESS.”

The sound of it alone was enough to drive me to my knees as the awesome sound was a hammer to the senses. It felt as though it was echoing inside my skull bouncing from one ear to another with every echo reinforcing and amplifying the first. I almost certainly screamed although I couldn't hear it over the rest of the noise.

Kerrass pushed me behind him and I sprawled on the stairs as he leapt past me silver sword already swinging.

The noise was a white light in front of my vision that the thinking brain retreated from. I was now a primal terrified thing shivering before a power that I did not understand and was mortally terrified of. My hands had clamped themselves over my ears at some point but the relief was minute. Then it lessened and I could think again.

My eyes opened and Kerrass was standing over a small pile of boulders.

I couldn't tell how long had passed but Kerrass was clearly winded and sweating while another pair of Elementals closed on him as well as at least one gargoyle and another rock Golem. He was trying to get them to strike each other by dancing between them with those rolls, spins and pirouettes of his but although he had clearly had some success, it wasn't entirely working.

I remember a thought. A distinct thought struck my brain. I remember it growing in my consciousness like a plant growing and flourishing up until it flowered, almost literally in front of my vision.

“Not like this,” I felt myself whisper.

Working feverishly I tore a couple of chunks from my shirt and stuffed them into my ears. It helped. I did take a gulp of Brandy then that burned all the way down but it's warmth in my belly as well as the courage that it gave me were needed then. I levered myself to my feet, leaning on my spear, dismayed by how much strength I had lost and willed myself to take a step forwards.

The second step was easier.

And the next step and the next step.

“Hey,” I shouted at the back of the gargoyle that was closest to me. “Down here Lumpy.”

I hauled off and struck it across the back as hard as I could. The crash of the metal against stone was felt in my arms rather than in my ears. The thing lumbered round to stare at me.

“SECONDARY INTRUDER DETECTED. JAILBREAK IN PROGRESS.”

I don't know how many people have actually seen a Gargoyle in person so picture this. Try and imagine one of those cherubic angels with little wings that you see in those romantic pictures of couples that they commission for anniversaries. People tend to paint them in the background when they're painting loving couples and they often have golden curls on their heads, wings on their backs and are carrying adorable little bows. Now imagine that with horns instead of curls and gigantic fists instead of a bow. Then picture that figure as being 9 feet tall and made out of black stone belching green vileness towards you.

That's a gargoyle. I took a Jab this time aiming at the hip joint before leaping to the side as I had been taught. On cue it belched out it's green horror towards where I had been standing and the floor started to steam and bubble. I didn't have too much time to worry about that though because one of the elementals was coming towards me now.

The plan had seemed a lot more usable when I had imagined it in my head back on the steps.

I dived between the two and the crash was suitably impressive. There was another shattering sound and I could hear that Kerrass was screaming at me. I ignored him.

By the looks of them I was facing an elemental and a Gargoyle. The gargoyle was slower on his feet but had a ranged vomit that I didn't want to get struck by, however the Elemental was on fire.

ON FIRE.

The things I'll do.

Kerrass, not being quite as stupid as me made one if his gestures and a gust of wind buffetted me causing me to stagger. I barely managed to stay on my feet but it took me a long crucial moment to right myself by which time the two monsters were on me. Kerrass had his own problems with the remaining Golem as it seemed that he had lost position due to him putting out the flames on the elemental and he was no help.

They were on me. I ducked under the elementals massive fist and rolled between it's legs.

A cheap move I know but it was effective. It took me too long to get to my feet though and I was still facing the Gargoyle who vomited at me.

It feels really strange describing a bodily function as a weapon but there you go.

I managed to stagger through a dodge and got in another swing at the leg joint that I had struck earlier.

The leg shattered explosively. The Gargoyle looked puzzled for a moment before it gently staggered and fell sideways where it seemed to just come apart as it hit the ground.

I didn't have time to enjoy my triumph though as the time that I had lost left me to close to the Elemental.

Who hit me.

Hard.

Into a nearby wall.

My head rang, my vision blurred and pain ripped through my midriff. I was wheezing and what little strength I had managed ta gather for the fight had left me. Every time I took a breath there was another pain and I figured that I had broken a couple of ribs and could only prey that they wouldn't rupture anything vital.

Then I laughed.

There I was, a man dying of poison worrying about a few broken ribs.

I must have lost consciousness because the next thing I knew, Kerrass was facing me and pouring water all over me.

I spluttered.

“You awake?” he demanded.

“You didn't have to.... Pour water all... Over me.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Stupid bloody fool.” He had several cuts and what looked like it was going to be a beautiful black eye. He was also limping and favouring his side but the advantage of being a Witcher is that you can simply drink a potion and be alright.

“Can you walk?” he demanded and I interpreted his anger as concern.

“Give me a hand?” He levered me to my feet but after several tries I found I needed to use my spear as a walking stick.

“I'm getting worse,” I said.

“You're getting worse,” he agreed. “Made that way by getting in a fight with Gargoyles and Elementals.”

“You can criticise my technique tomorrow.” I told him. “Let's move on.”

The stairs were steep and seemed to go on forever.

The next floor seemed to have once been some kind of laboratory. There were signs of arcane symbols on the walls and floors as well as many and various pieces of alchemical equipment. I say pieces because the entire place seemed to have been vandalised to the point of distraction. Broken glass crunched underfoot and suspicious stains marked the floor, walls and even the ceiling. An empty chandelier hung from the ceiling and from that hung another sad corpse, almost mummified in rotten clothing.

“Cheery decoration,” I commented before coughing violently.

Kerrass didn't comment. He gestured for me to stay backwards and advanced around the place, medallion in front of him like a man approaching a wounded animal. He went through what remained of the cupboards giving cursory glances to some of the papers that were also scattered about. Most crumbled to the touch but a few still had wispy writing on them.

“Can we take him down?” I asked, coughing so hard I saw black spots dancing in front of my eyes.

“He's a she,” Kerrass commented without looking up from his work. “Do we really have time?”

“Dealing with people's mortal remains has a sudden importance to me, call me old-fashioned.”

Kerrass grunted but he did take the corpse down and laid it carefully in the corner where I stood watch over it.

Eventually Kerrass stood up with a curse.

“Lets move on,”

“Kerrass,” I tried.

“Don't you dare say it.” He muttered.

“What the fuck are we doing here? Get out of here. Don't give Fuck-face what he wants. Make a break for it.”

“What about you?”

“Don't go cliché on me,”

Kerrass sighed. “This is not the first time I've been caught up in a nobleman's schemes. Their flaw is that they are always let down by their ambition. Always. Every single time. What are we doing here? We're playing for time. We're going to find out what he wants and then hold it over him or wait until another opportunity presents itself.”

“I don't feel as though I've got a lot of time left here Kerrass.”

“You're not dead yet. I know it feels like you're dying now, and you are but...” He blew out a sigh,

“Believe me, you've got a lot of dying to do yet. We have time.”

“That's not as reassuring as you might think.”

“That's good. I didn't think it was at all reassuring. I was hoping I might find something here that we could use as an antidote but obviously not. Lets move on.”

We climbed up the stairs. It was...

I felt like I was getting older. Physically getting older.

At the time I didn't want to ask what was happening to me because through some kind of perverse gallows humour, I kind of wanted to be surprised by the next thing that happened to me. I knew it was going to be messy and extremely unpleasant. I already knew from an older, brief stint in anatomy and medicine lectures that I had fluid in my lungs which meant that I was struggling to breathe. This meant that my heart was working harder to get the blood round my body which, in turn, was carrying the poison further and further round. By this point it had got into my nervous system and so I was finding moving increasingly difficult.

Because it was a Spider's Venom.

The idea behind a spider's venom is that it paralyses it's victim before liquefying that same body so that the spider can essentially slurp up the insect like a mosquito slurps up your blood when it lands on your arm. So this was what was happening. I was being paralysed first but the “Liquifying” had already begun. Hence the fluid in my lungs.

So that was what was going to happen to me in the long run. Before too much longer I was going to be unable to move. Then I would sit or stand or probably lie there while I could feel myself turning to jelly and eventually drowning in my own effluent.

Doesn't sound very pleasant does it.

I made it up the stairs having waved Kerrass ahead of me.

One step at a time, keep breathing, just one step at a time.

I was so busy watching where I put my feet that I walked into the crouching Witcher, pushing him forwards.

“It's a library.” he told me. He was rooting around in his back-pack.

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice. I considered sitting down but was worried that I wouldn't be able to get up again.

“It's trapped.” Kerrass was taking out the various pieces of his crossbow. “See those jaws on the ceiling?”

I squinted but my eyes were watering and I chose this moment to realise that the edge of my vision was going blurry.

“No,” I admitted. “I'll just take your word for it.”

He peered at me for a long moment before returning to putting his crossbow together.

“Well those jars that you can't see are undoubtedly filled with something nasty, liquid fire, acid or something equally as unspeakable and they're roped into some pressure pads on the floor.”

I peered again.

“Nope, still can't see them.”

“That's because the sly fucks hid them under those rugs.” he pointed. “It's possible, given the state of the place that the rope mechanisms have rotted away with age, but I kind of don't want to risk it. Apart from anything else, what Fuck-face wants might be in there and if we burn it then your antidote is as good as gone.”

“I take it you have a plan.”

“I'm gonna shoot the ropes out.”

I nodded,

“You that good a shot?”

“I'm a decent shot. Twenty bolts with very sharp tips should do it.” He paused. “Unless you want to have a go?”

I laughed and by the Flame it hurt.

“I didn't thinks so,” Kerrass said, smiling gently.

It took a long time and I felt it with every shot. Even though Kerrass did it in twelve bolts to hit and sever four ropes I felt every single moment passing as he took his time, aimed, readjusted his aim and then move on. To be honest he was a good shot to just get it done in twelve bolts but that wasn't the point. It was costing time, time that I was increasingly aware that I didn't have.

In the end though we staggered into the library. It was four, back to back, shelves that were full of books and scrolls. Many of them clearly ancient enough that I didn't want to touch them in case they simply crumbled before my eyes. I judged that this place definitely confirmed that what we were dealing with here was a mage's tower of some kind. An ostentatious, intimidating tower that was compensating for something kind of mage's tower but a mages tower none the less.

Cautiously I limped over to the shelves that had books in them rather than scroll cases and tried to read some of the spines underneath the years of dust, dirt and generalised decay. Most of them were utterly illegible and the entire place would need a mage to come in, render any potential traps safe and then preserve the things before they could be read.

Kerrass was prowling around the area with his sword out and medallion in hand examining walls and some of the smaller statues that lined the walls for signs of life. He was obviously worrying if they would come to life but I found that I couldn't really bring myself to care. I peered along the line of books and finally found a title that took my breath away.

They were written in a variety of languages, most of which I couldn't recognise and didn't have time to worry about now but there were a couple of books whose titles were written in ancient elven that sparked my interest. The first was called “Observations of a new species,” which meant nothing to me and was written by someone whose name I didn't know. There was another one called “On Portals, being a study of stability, location and time.” which sounded a bit over my head but then I saw this one “The human disease, a study of early human history.” It was written by someone whose name obviously made them elven in origin but I could barely contain my excitement. Here was a record of early human history from an outside observer. They would obviously be biased but at the same time this was incredible news. A record of, presumably, early human settlement on the northern continent. Most of the history of that time has been lost so being able to have another point of view into that time and that subject was momentous. If I could read it, translate it and have it published then it would make my name.

I remember thinking this and then the reality of my situation struck me and I collapsed. It was like I was a marionette whose strings had just been cut and I collapsed to the floor and I sobbed aloud.

I was dying and that awful reality finally struck home inside my gut. I found that I was afraid, terrified in fact of that moment. I had once read a poem that talked about the moment when you realise that you are mortal, that you will not live forever and that, some day, your existence is just going to end. I hadn't enjoyed the poem as it made me feel uncomfortable but suddenly I knew exactly what the poet was talking about.

I was going to die.

Up until that point I had been kind of detached from my physical degradation. I had observed, measured and catalogued them in much the same way as I would have done had I been a scientist watching the symptoms from a distance. I had laughed at them and even enjoyed them on one level or another but the truth hit home like a kick to the stomach.

I was going to die.

Never before had it occurred to me that we weren't going to get away with things. Never before had it occurred to me that I might die here. I had been travelling with Kerrass for some time now. I had been injured certainly but nothing close to what was happening now. Even the encounter with the beast of Amber's crossing... If you had asked me then, it would never have occurred to me that I wasn't going to make it out of the forest. It never occurred to me, despite Kerrass' informing me of such, that I might not survive but now it was seeming very real.

I was going to die.

All of this was happening in a split second in my mind you understand.

I was thinking of my sisters, my brothers and all of the other people that I would never get to see again. I thought of my parents and how utterly disappointed they were going to be at my death. I thought of the women that I had loved and all the women that I hadn't loved. I thought of my work and wondered if it actually mattered, would anyone's life be made more vibrant by all of the things that I had done.

I was going to die.

I tried to think of the people that I had saved. The tiny little boy who I had literally plucked from the jaws of the Nekkers but that even made me feel worse as those people reminded me of all the lives that I still might help and save if I wasn't going to die. At some point I wanted to go back to Amber's crossing to see how they were getting on. There were other things. I wanted to have my last rites from a priest. I wanted to tell someone what to do with my body but the chances were that when the poison had run it's course there wouldn't really be a body to do things with.

I was going to die.

I was never going to have a bacon sandwich again.

I was never going to get drunk again or eat an apple.

Suddenly I couldn't cope with any of this.

I fell and curled myself around the pain that I could feel in my gut.

How Kerrass knew what was happening, I'll never know but he was at my side in an instant.

“Hey,” he said crouching next to me. “Don't give up now. Don't give up. You're not dead yet.”

I snarled at him. There were words in that snarl but I don't remember them.

“Get angry,” he snarled back. “Get furious. This is not your fault, nor is it mine. This was done to you and we're going to fix it. Get angry. Tell me about what you're going to do to him when you get out of here. Tell me now. Tell me how you're going to hang him from his ankles and give him a small cut so that he bleeds out. Tell me what you're going to do. Tell me about how you're going to live your life after we solve this. You are not dead yet.”

I sobbed.

“Get up,” he growled. He got his shoulder under my arm and hauled me to my feet. “Get up, now and fight. One foot in front of the other. We've still got more tower to check. One step, that's good now another step. Just keep walking and breathing. You can do that can't you. One more step come on.”

He bullied, cajoled and physically forced me up the steps to the next floor and it seemed that this was the last floor as there weren't any steps left. He checked the door quickly. Found no magic and simply booted it open.

For all the world it looked like a ladies chambers. The tower seemed to have reached a point. High up in the ceiling which was a good twenty feet above me was a blue light. Just a sphere that shone with a slow pulsing light that was not unpleasant but I imagined that it could get wearing after a while. Otherwise the continuous black stone was all round us still.

It was also clear to us that whatever or whoever lived here had been dead for some time.

We knew this because as well as a chest of draws, a wardrobe, a four-posted bed, desk and dressing table, there were two corpses. Again with that kind of mummified look. These corpses had not rotted down to the skeleton. Skin stretched over the bones although I still suspected that if I were to touch either of them then they would crumble.

One was sat at the dresser and was kind of slumped backwards. She looked as though she had originally sat down to take care of the things that women take care of when they are looking in a mirror before just slumping into a sleeping pose where she died. Her clothing was right, if threadbare, ragged and filthy with dust and spider-webs so I assumed that this was the lady of the house. The other body looked as though she had simply fallen onto the floor. She was dressed a lot more plainly, skirt, blouse, bonnet and apron and I guessed that this was a servant of some kind. I found it very easy to imagine that this could be a scene from any, well to do, house with the mistress of the house brushing her hair with a maidservant bustling about. The hair on both corpses was white which was when I noticed that the woman at the desk had what looked like a very sharp knife close to hand.

I imagined a scenario where the Princess, mage or whatever had been imprisoned here, who I assumed was the woman sat at the dresser, had been left a servant to see to her own needs. The two women had grown old together in their mutual imprisonment until one day the servant just keeled over from age, illness and lack of freedom. Then the old princess, old and frail herself was unable to move the body and decided to end things there, checking in the mirror for the correct placement of the knife against a vein.

I could see no stains though to support my hypothesis but I looked at the tableau and found it incredibly sad.

The bed was made, the make-up brushes and hair brushes were all properly laid out. Everything was tidy and...well... neat.

I sighed and felt a sense of almost peace settle over me.

There was absolutely nothing here that an ambitious noble Lord who was willing to resort to murder, coercion and kidnapping would want.

Kerrass did not take it well.

He stood in the doorway. His eyes darted around the room taking in small details darting from point to point with frightening in human speed. He sniffed the air in much the same way that a bloodhound does and slow and quiet snarl spread across his face.

Slowly at first he went to the dresser and started to methodically take it apart piece by piece. He took the draws out, emptied them on the floor and examined the drawer itself in the minutest detail before negligently tossing it over his shoulder and moving onto the next one.

He paused, moved the dead noble-woman over to one side with care and almost reverence before returning to his frantic searching of the room, drawers were taken out, their contents examined carefully with medallion and naked eye as he went through the entire thing systematically. Then he did it again and again. Then he started breaking the contents of the drawers,. The clothes the small items and things and examining the remains.

He tore the bedclothes apart with a knife and went through them. He got under the bed to examine the underside. Growing more and more frantic he tipped the wardrobe over causing a crash.

I managed to shuffle over to a blank and empty wall and let myself slide down until I was sat down and just concentrated on breathing in and out for a while. My stomach had long since gotten rid of anything that might be thrown up so now I was down to stomach cramps and the occasional gobs of pinky green goop.

I have been privileged enough to see Kerrass lose his temper on several different occasions. Mostly there is a target for the anger and as such it burns itself out fairly quickly. Often it does so in a lightening fast explosion of violence that resulted in someone dying. This time there was no focus and so he would go into a frenzy of activity before he realised what was going on and would then forcibly calm himself down in an effort to re-focus before the frenzy inevitably returned.

I sat there and watched.

After he'd searched the room he took out his medallion and started pushing the wall in various points. Occasionally knocking but in other times banging against it with the pommel of his sword. Presumably looking for secret doors and rooms. All the time he was getting angrier and angrier.

He checked over the corpses again to see if something had been missed before screaming in a final release of rage he took his sword to the furniture. Cutting the bedposts in half smashing the chairs and the tables screaming all the while.

In an unflattering comparison he put me in mind of a toddler who has finally learned that the world is essentially unfair and I laughed.

I laughed for a long time.

Eventually he heard me and turned with a look of utter fury before something left him and he slumped and started laughing himself.

Dropping his sword in disgust he came over and sat next to me as we just laughed.

Well, I laughed. Kerrass, being a Witcher, more chuckled.

After a while we both calmed down and just sat there.

“There's nothing here is there,” I said, just wanting to say it out loud more than anything else.

“Nope,” said Kerrass.

I nodded and went back to staring into space.

After a long while Kerrass reached into the pouch at his side and produced the small bottle that he had shown me earlier and just put it on the ground between us where I could almost feel it looking at me.

“How likely is it that that stuff is going to kill me.”

Kerrass said nothing and it was all the answer that I needed.

“Yeah,” I said, coming to a decision. “You should go. Try and get out while you can.”

“Nah,” he said reaching for his sword.

“Kerrass...” I started.

“No, he's already in the tower at the bottom. Fumbling around in the dark I think by the sounds of things. He'll find the stairs eventually.”

“He could let you go,” It was a stupid thought and I knew it.

“Him. No, he's going to be angry, will want someone to blame and there's an easy target of an incompetent Witcher. He'll make you die in agony and then kill me as a matter of course.

We sat in silence for a while and my vision started to go blurry.

A thought occurred.

“What could he possibly have been looking for? This place obviously predated the Black Sun nonsense so what was he here for? He doesn't strike me as the kind of person that would make a mistake like that. Why would he come here?”

“I don't know Fred.” he sighed and pointed at the small bottle of creamy gold liquid. “You gonna drink that?”

I considered, “Does it at least taste nice?”

“Have you ever tasted a bee sting?”

“No,”

“Then it doesn't taste nice.”

I nodded.

“Even if it works we would still have to fight our way out wouldn't we?”

“Yes.”

I nodded.

“You are more likely to make it through without having to look after me aren't you?”

He didn't answer.

I nodded again.

“Stupid thing to die over,” I said. “To die to be sent in here to find something that isn't here.”

Kerrass grunted.

“There's nothing here.”

I picked up the bottle and looked at it.

“There's absolutely nothing here,” I said again.

“Oh I wouldn't say that,” said a woman's voice.