Geralt's Arc

Chapter 9 of 17

Malachar knelt bound on the tower floor, wrists tied, his violet eyes still burning. He had chained the dragon Geralt freed. Now he was the only man alive who knew how the runed cage in the north was built. Geralt needed that knowledge. The beast inside had woken and learned his scent. He crouched to the mage's level. "You built the cage. You know what holds it and what breaks it. Tell me how to put it down." Malachar did not blink. "You want the beast's weakness. I have it." His flat voice held no fear. "But knowledge is trade. You freed my dragon. You owe me. Loose these ropes and lift her silence." He tipped his head at Rain. "Give me back the deep currents. Then I speak." Geralt stood. "No." "Then die on the mountain," Malachar said. "The beast knows your smell. It will find you in the dark. I could save your life. You will not pay." Rain stepped close. She had answered for this mage before her order. She felt the weight of him like a debt. "He won't bargain his power back," she told Geralt. "Free him and he chains a hundred more." She looked at Malachar with cold eyes. "But you don't need his good will. You need what's in his head." Geralt understood. He drew his steel sword and set the flat against Malachar's shoulder. "You think I need to please you. I don't. You're already bound. Your power is scraps." He pressed the blade down. "Speak, or Rain carries you to your order in a sack. They'll pull the answer out slower than I will." Malachar's jaw tightened. For the first time his voice cracked. "You would not understand what you break." "Try me," Geralt said. The mage stared at the dead runes on the wall, the ones Rain had silenced. He had no currents to reach. No spell to save him. He weighed the sword and the sack and found nothing to trade with. "The cage was built to hold, not to kill," he said at last, flat again. "The beast draws strength from the runes on its own door. Break the door and you break its strength. Shatter the carved stone. Then steel will bite. Not before." Rain met Geralt's eyes. She gave a small nod. It was true. She knew the work. Geralt sheathed his sword. He had the answer and had given nothing. "We ride north," he said. He hauled Malachar up by the rope. "You come with us, bound, until your order takes you." Malachar laughed, low and bitter. "You'll break the door. Good. But a caged beast fights hardest the moment its bars fall. You've only made it stronger for one last breath." His violet eyes fixed on Geralt. "I hope you're fast." Geralt tightened the rope and said nothing. The way north was open now. So was the last door.