Geralt's Arc

Chapter 5 of 17

Geralt stood at the runed door with steel in his good hand. The runes burned bright. Something huge shifted behind the stone. But he did not push the door open. His hand hovered on the cold rock. "Someone locked this thing in alive," he said. "A killer, or a prisoner. I open this and I choose which." Rain came close. Her purple eyes moved over the glowing marks. "The runes only say it wakes. Not what it is." Her voice was low and steady. Days ago she had begged him to spare the beast. Now she stood at his shoulder, ready either way. "If it is innocent, you free it. If it is not, you kill it. You can't do both blind." Geralt pressed his ear to the door. He heard breathing, slow and vast. No snarl. No claws raking to get out. Just weight, waiting. "It's not fighting the door," he said. "A killer would." "Or it's clever," Rain said. He drew his silver sword with the other hand. Two blades now, one for men, one for monsters. He would decide by what came through. "Open it," he told her. "Stand behind me." Rain spoke a word. The runes flared white, then died. The door ground inward. Hot air rolled out. In the dark coiled a dragon. Red scales, black spines, claws long as knives. Its golden eye fixed on Geralt. It did not lunge. It lay pinned by chains bolted to the cave floor, rusted deep into the stone. Old wounds crossed its hide. Someone had chained it, not caged a wild thing. "It's bound," Rain breathed. "It's been bound this whole time." The dragon's head turned. It watched the silver blade, then Geralt's face. It made no move to strike. Geralt looked at the chains, the sores, the years of dark. Whatever it had done long ago, someone had punished it past all reason and left it to rot. "The stories called it the last monster," Geralt said. "They didn't call it a captive." He lowered the silver sword. He would not swing on a thing in chains. That was not the lesser evil. That was murder. He stepped forward and set steel to the nearest chain. He struck. The link snapped. He struck again. The dragon went still, letting him work. "Geralt," Rain warned. "If you free it and you're wrong—" "Then it's on me." He cut the last chain. It fell with a crash. The dragon rose. It filled the cave. Its wings scraped the walls. It looked down at the two who had opened its door. Then it pushed past them into the night sky and was gone over the peaks. Geralt sheathed both blades. His hunt was over, and it had not ended with a kill. "Whoever chained it is still out there," he said. "That's the real monster." Rain met his eyes and, for the first time, she smiled.