The Dragon and the Wolf Ch. 09

"You think I don't know that?"

"I know you know that, but you need to hear it. I know you love your daughter. I hear it in your voice every time you speak of her. But that love is just not returned any longer."

For a moment, I honestly thought he was going to burst into tears on me, his body just falling back into the chair as the air went out of him, as if I'd slammed a fist into his solar plexus. A very small part of me did feel pity for him, because only now was he starting to realise that he was very much alone in the world. The men outside owed him allegiance as long as he continued to pay them. Eventually, fear would no longer work. They would know about his personal problems, and think him weak or soft.

"Have you heard from Geralt?"

"I will head in his direction tomorrow morning after resting up here. I have no idea if he's found your wife or not. No doubt he or we will return with news eventually. Your daughter could at least fill in some details we didn't know. Something grabbed her, and in my mind, it has something to do with Crookback Bog. I just don't know what yet. I'm sure Geralt is in the process of figuring it out."

We sat in silence again, the baron continuing to sip at the bottle. I wandered over to the cabinet and grabbed myself something, though I at least poured liquor into a cup and sipped at it.

"I truly love her, you know," he eventually murmured, "We had our problems. All marriages do. But I loved her. I thought Dea..."

"Dea?"

"My second daughter. I thought she might have helped save our marriage. For a brief window, her being with child brought us closer together. I won't say we were happy but there was peace."

"I'm surprised she was pregnant. I'll be honest, I'm assuming you are both... Well, I would assume middle aged."

He gave me a look and then a brief smirk appeared. "Life in the old dog yet, Ragnar. And Anna... I don't believe in miracles, but when she told me, it was perhaps the first time she'd ever seen me cry. I had such hope, Ragnar, such hope for the future. But the drink... I just can't..."

"You're an addict." He nodded sadly. "You're not the first soldier, won't be the last. Seen plenty of it myself over the years." I finished my cup and stood up. "You should get some sleep, Phillip. Sitting here drinking all night won't solve your problems." I walked around the desk and held out my hand. He looked at it and the bottle before he sighed and handed over the bottle. "Got anything in your room?"

"No," he replied quietly.

"Sure?"

He glanced at me but finally relented and nodded. "I usually pass out in here then just stagger to bed if I actually wake up."

I stepped back and gestured with my head. "Come on, I'll make sure you're actually in your bedroom first."

"No need to treat me..." he trailed off and realised I was actually just trying to do a decent thing. Did he deserve it? Not really. I didn't think he was completely evil. Rarely are events black and white, merely different shades of grey. He had treated his wife and child like shit but he had clearly led a chaotic life, seen the worst of humanity, and it had merely rubbed off on him in an awful way.

Heading to the room I had for the evening, the same room Ciri had used during her stay, I enjoyed a peaceful night's rest. Breaking bread with the baron's men the next morning, some were nursing a sore head as usual, none seemingly aware of my ride to and from Oxenfurt, and I think even if they were, I honestly don't think they really cared.

Returning to the bedroom, I pulled out my xenovox and hoped it worked. "Geralt?"

He replied quicker than I expected. "Morning, Ragnar. Are you well?"

"As can be expected. Update on Tamara. I found her in Oxenfurt. She's safe and sound. Now with people from the Eternal Fire. Won't be returning home."

"No surprise there, at least regarding returning home. How did the baron take it?"

"How you'd expect. Full of sorrow and self-pity. You need my help there or...?"

"Honestly, yes. I'll explain more when you get here, but... I've got a bad feeling, Ragnar. And when I've got a bad feeling, we both know it's actually worse than it seems."

"I'll prepare and be on the road in half an hour. Are there signs for Crookback Bog on the way?"

"Yes. Head towards Lindenvale. The road from there will take you to the start of the Trail of Treats. Follow that and you'll end up where I'm based for the moment. It's been interesting..."

I didn't have much to pack, simply making sure I had a little food before I headed outside, grabbed my horse, and once I was pointed in the right direction on the main road heading east, I quickly had my horse in a canter, aware it was going to be a long ride, and I'd probably end up camping. In the end, I decided on stopping in Lindenvale, once I'd asked what was between there and Crookback Bog, being warned there was only one other village closer but it didn't have a tavern.

Heading into the forest early next morning, I made sure I had my wits about me. With Geralt likely having already passed through, I would assume any monsters near the road would have already been dealt with, but there were still the animals that could even cause me a spot of bother. Arriving at the crest of a hill by lunchtime, I was afforded a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside.

Finding the Trail of Treats wasn't particularly difficult. There was a wooden statue I couldn't identify, but the trees had biscuits and sweets attached to them, so I could see why those struggling for food would end up following the trail. It felt like I was following a path that led into the heart of the swamp, eventually arriving in a clearing where there were a few buildings, a whole lot of children running about, and Geralt sitting on a log, leaning back against the wall of one building. He noticed me and waved me over.

Shaking hands, I took a seat next to him. "Who are they?"

"War orphans mostly. Not sure how long I've sat here watching them." Despite his demeanour at times, I knew Geralt adored children. He showed more patience with them than anyone. Always kind and gentle. Compared to how he would treat certain other people, it was rather amusing at times. We sat side by side, watching them play some sort of game before he finally asked, "So Tamara is safe?"

"Aye, safe and sound. Made new friends with the Church of Eternal Fire. Seems happy enough."

"What does she intend to do?"

"Search for her mother."

"Hmmm."

"Something going on here?"

Geralt explained what he'd done so far. After arriving her, he'd discovered the children and a woman they called 'Gran'. He realised straight away that Gran was what they called a sandwich short of a picnic. But he also recognised she must have suffered tremendous trauma, but she cared for the children, and that was what mattered. There was the adventure of trying to find Johnny, a young boy who turned out to be a godling. Never met one myself, but Geralt spoke of him warmly, particularly the small adventure of trying to find his voice. He explained what that meant and it all eventually led to him talking to the 'Ladies of the Wood', otherwise known as the Crones.

"Tomorrow, we head to somewhere called Downwarren. I know it's some sort of trick or trap but it's the only way I can learn about Ciri." He glanced at me. "How was Oxenfurt?"

"Fine."

"Meet anyone while I was there?" I definitely looked at him with wide eyes. "Heightened senses, Ragnar. I can smell her on you."

"For fuck..." He chuckled at my expense. "I honestly didn't expect to run into her."

"I know that but you obviously enjoyed time with her. Is she well?"

"Aye. Conscripted into the Redanian Army. Now a fully-fledged doctor too. She passes on her good wishes as always."

"You know, I should be a little pissed off you're getting more action than I am. Tomira, then Keira, now Shani. Who next, Ragnar?"

"Triss, hopefully. You could always sail to Skellige."

"I could, but that means leaving the job here half done. Once we're in Novigrad, I'll find time to enjoy myself. I'll hopefully complete a few contracts and earn some coin at the same time."

I think our presence was barely tolerated by Gran at best. I was introduced to her, but apart from exchanging a terse pleasantry, from her side at least, she practically ignored us, all her attention focused on the children. Geralt and I kept to ourselves, thankful that I'd brought a tent at least so, if the weather did turn, I would stay somewhat dry.

Thankfully, it remained dry, and we set out the next morning for Downwarren. It was only a short ride back up the hill, a small village of barely a half dozen homesteads. Geralt must have had a description of the ealdorman we had to meet, and though he wasn't expecting us, as soon as Geralt showed him a ceremonial dagger, he was immediately cooperative, and explained what was required of us.

We were told about an area nearby named the Whispering Hillock. There was a mention of an evil power or spirit. Peasants haunted by nightmares. Various other omens that scared the peasants and suggested darker forces were at play. It was clear the ealdorman both feared but respected the Crones, and it seemed that, in their own way, they did help and protect those living near or within the woods.

I still didn't completely understand the world I lived in, even after around ten years or more, but I knew anywhere that was infested with the bones of the dead could be haunted. And it sounded like this evil power was feeding on the souls of the dead. Could be wrong, but if what I'd been told about the Crones already, they certainly took payment from the living in the form of some sort of sacrifice which gave them their power.

Assuring the ealdorman we'd take care of the problem, Geralt and I mounted off and headed in the vague direction of the Whispering Hillock. We remained rather quiet as we rode along. I was left with the sense we were being watched by the woods, whether it be the trees around us, the birds in the sky, or the animals scurrying along the ground. Woods such as these were alive, had their own energy, their own life cycle. Been through more than one forest to sense I was entering almost a foreign land.

"What do you think?" I finally asked.

"If there is another spirit that inhabits these woods, no wonder the Crones hate it. So I do wonder who or what this spirit is and what it will have to offer."

"But it sounds evil... I mean, I know the Crones are not exactly the friendliest of spirits from what you told me, but the peasants seemed genuinely afraid of whatever this spirit is."

"Most peasants are idiots, Ragnar. I'm sure you've realised that. Superstitious fools."

I couldn't help chuckle. "Come on, Geralt. After all the things you've seen and done, do you blame them?"

He gave that a moment of thought. "Hmmm. Guess I'm being a little harsh. But you know enough to know I won't make a judgement yet, regarding either the Crones or whatever this spirit is."

Approaching the hill upon which an enormous oak tree rested, we dismounted as the path narrowed considerably. We were immediately upon by a pack of wolves, which suggested the spirit sensed our presence and meant to defend itself. The wolves were easy to take care, flames generally scaring them off, but if needed, we'd cut them down.

We found more than one corpse, a couple were rather 'fresh', while others had obviously lain there for longer as they had started to decompose. Then we ran into a werewolf. Geralt immediately had his silver word unsheathed. Werewolves were practically the same as those back on my world, so as long as we didn't let it gain an upper hand, we would be safe. I kept it distracted with flame, almost taunting it at times. Trick worked, of course, as the werewolf only had eyes for me, leaving Geralt free to stick his sword through its spine, before putting it out of its misery with a strike through the heart.

Then it was time to deal with the ancient power, whatever it was. And it turned out to be... something beneath the ancient oak. Hard to explain, to be honest, but if it looked like anything, it was a giant heart. What surprised us both is that the voices we had heard approaching the cave was of the spirit. It suggested to us that it had been imprisoned against its will. That it could help up against the witches of Crookbag Bog. That it could save the children under the care of Gran. It practically insinuated that the witches would eat the children.

Geralt told the spirit that we needed to think about it. The spirit didn't particularly like that, but as we had listened, and been generally cooperative, it couldn't try and attack us, otherwise it would remain stuck where it was. Roots that had originally blocked out way had now disappeared, the pair of us heading outside.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Didn't believe a word of it." He paused and made a sound. "Okay, I think whatever the spirit is would keep its word about the children. Definitely trying to appeal to our better nature."

"Want me to head back and keep an eye on them?"

"No. They are powerful witches, Ragnar. I know you have your gift and everything but I only know of these witches by reputation, and it's obvious how powerful they are. I think we've barely seen a taste of what they're capable of."

"So is this spirit benign or something else?"

"Well, it's clearly got ulterior motives. If we release it, I simply don't know what it's truly capable of. These witches are a known quantity, at least. Are they completely evil? They seem to care for those living in the woods, in their own way. It's one of these times when there really isn't a right answer, Ragnar. Nothing is ever black or white. It's always shades of grey." He sighed, running a hand through his white hair, before unsheathing his sword. "I've made my decision. Come on, let's just get this over and done with."