Geralt's Arc

Chapter 8 of 17

Geralt did not knock. He knew better than to fight a mage he had never seen. Charging blind meant dying blind. So he crouched at the base of the tower and studied the door. Runes ran across the stone, the same style he had seen on the beast's cage. He turned to Rain. "You know his work. Tell me what he can do before I open that." Rain knelt beside him and traced the runes with one finger. Her cold face tightened. "He drew from the deep currents once. The strongest sources most of us fear to touch." She pointed to a broken line in the carving, its glow dead. "But look. The pattern is cut. Someone bound him. He can't reach that power anymore." She met Geralt's eyes. "He fights with scraps now. Surface tricks. Dangerous, but not what he was." That was the answer Geralt needed. Not blind. He drew his steel sword. "Then we don't give him time to find more." He set his shoulder to the door and shoved. It swung open on a dark stair. A voice came down from above. Flat, cold, no warmth in it. "You freed my dragon." A small figure stood at the top, robes marked with gold runes, hair white as bone, eyes burning violet. Malachar Darkweave. He looked like a child and spoke like a judge. "You think that was mercy. It was waste. That beast held power you will never understand." Geralt climbed, sword ready. "It held chains. I cut them." Malachar raised a hand. The air snapped. A whip of force lashed down the stair and struck Geralt's chest. It hurt, but it did not throw him back. Rain's binding held true. His power was scraps. Geralt kept climbing. "Enough," Rain said behind him. Her hands rose. "You shamed the order. I answer for you now." She spoke a hard word. The runes on the walls flared and died. Malachar's next spell fizzled in his palm, a spark with no fire. He stared at his own empty hand. For the first time his flat voice cracked. "You. You cut me off again." Geralt reached the top and put his blade to the mage's throat. "On your knees." Malachar sank down, small and shaking with rage, his power gone. Geralt did not kill him. He bound the mage's wrists with rope while Rain held the silence over the tower. "He answers to your order," Geralt said. "Not my sword." Rain nodded, but her eyes stayed on Malachar. "He knows things," she said slowly. "He chained a dragon. He studied beasts no one else has seen." She crouched to the mage's level. "Tell me about the last true monster in the north." Malachar smiled through his rage. "The one in the runed cave? You already opened that door." His violet eyes fixed on Geralt. "It is not sleeping anymore. And it knows your scent."