Chapter 86: Magical Trail

“Is it always like this?” Sam asked me.

He was standing next to me while I was sat at the table in the inn that the central group had commandeered for our command post. There was a bottle of wine in front of me that I was trying not to think about. I desperately wanted a drink but knew that it would be the first step down a long, dark hole that I might never climb out of. Tonight was not a night for drinking heavily. I would need my wits about me.

But it was looking at me.

“Is what always like this?” I asked him.

“The waiting?”

I gave a wry little chuckle. Probably the sort of chuckle that would have made me really cross if someone had chuckled at me in the same way.

“If I had a florin for every time someone had asked me that I'd have... well around 18 florins to tell you the truth.”

“That's not a comfort.” Sam hooked a chair over with his foot.

“Sam, you're a knight and a soldier. Surely you know what it's like, waiting, before an action.”

“It's not the same.” I noticed that he was drinking some milk. “With a big battle it's so big and so ….organised that there's no real time to sit around waiting for something to happen. They're always telling you what's going to happen and then they train you to obey instantly so you don't have the time to react with any other kind of emotion. After a while you get into the rhythm of it as well. Archers and bombardment first, loose formation, take cover, shields up, reform, mount cavalry charge, wheel away, defend against cavalry charge, beware infantry... and on and on it goes.

“You don't see a battle, you hear it and a bit of experience tells you what's going on and what you need to do. Battle is proactive. Even when you're waiting for the enemy to fall into your ambush or when you're preparing for incoming enemy charges, you are always doing something, looking for better ground, deciding where to stand and things. It's proactive where as this is just....Waiting for something to happen. Something which might not happen in the first place.”

I grunted and stared at my hands on the table.

“No,” I said after a while. “It's never like this. This is different, hugely different.”

I looked at him after a while, he was staring out the door at the night sky.

“You know that Mark asked me the same question.” I said after spending a bit of time trying to guess what he was thinking. “We were sat in the woods, the night before we captured Cousin Kalayn and all of the other sick fucks with him. I remember that he was really unhappy with the waiting and he tried to talk about how unhappy he was about Emma and Laurelen. As I recall I was spectacularly unhelpful to him.”

“What did you tell him?”

This work is hosted on mananovel.com

“You know?” I said. “I can't remember. I probably made a joke. He was so desperately unhappy and uncomfortable that I was trying to put him at ease and make him feel a better.”

“Yeah,” said Sam, “Did it work?”

“No.” I answered. “He was just on the verge of making me cross before we got the signal that it was time to move.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Probably.” I sighed and examined my finger-nails. “But I've been thinking about it since.”

“And your conclusions Master Frederick?” When he puts his mind to it, Sam can do an admirable impression of our childhood tutor.

“I think it's different every time. It's always scary but it's always different. In this case.... Emotional context is the key to understanding why it feels this way.”

“Emotional context?”

“Yes. In every hunt of a monster or waiting for that action in the woods. We were.... There's so much emotion involved. If you're hunting a monster that's killed a whole bunch of children then obviously that sucks and you want to bring the beast down. That or the ghosts, hunting ghosts is a little weird in that there's always a tragic back story. Often a really tragic one so that when you are hunting one of those, it's like putting down a sick animal of some kind and it always, always sucks.

“But here. Here there's something completely different. Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

“For a start, we don't really know what we're hunting. That's a giant Witcher taboo, to hunt something without knowing what it is. We have a rough idea, of course, but even that is very small scale compared to the greater substance of what we're up against. So there's fear there. What we face tonight, or what we might be facing tonight is so much bigger and scarier than a group of cultists.

“But then, and I don't know if I speak for you, there is also the really quite astonishing amount of anger and rage that is fuelling me. I can feel it in my hands and my fingers. My feet and my legs are actively trying to tip me out of the chair and onto the chase. I want to jump up and down on the bastards that did this Sammy. I want to jump up and down on them until their bones and insides are nothing but paste and goop.”

Sam shifted in his chair a little.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “There is very rarely any emotion in a battle because the poor bastards on the other side are just doing their job. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot of fear there and yes, in the heat of the moment, there is anger in the wake of the fear that departs after the first exchange of blows. But before hand and afterwards, certainly in my mind, there is very little feeling. When you look at the horror that you've made of the poor buggers who decided to block my mace with their faces, then you start to feel a little differently.

“Or at least you're supposed to. In every army you get those psychopaths that are in it for the violence and the killing.

“But here? I can't get the image of Francesca's face out of my mind. I can't stop thinking of the fact that the last thing that I said to her was offhand. Something like “see you later,” rather than any kind of deep and intentional statement of love and respect. Flame Freddie but I don't want that to be the last thing I said to our sister.”

“I know what you mean. There's also the fact that this seems to have been deliberately targeted to piss me off. Invoking a scary thing from my past. Either as a taunt or some kind of insult, or what. I don't know what but this feels more personal somehow. There is another fear as well.

“Back when we faced the cultists, there was a sense of....the worst had already happened. Dad was dead, We knew what we faced and weren't that physically scared. There was a sense of...anticipation almost. There were answers in that clearing full of cultists. Here though.... I don't know what we're going to find here and I find that scary. The goals here are so broad and the unknowns are so....there are so many of them. What I'm really scared of....Really scared of is that the worst hasn't happened yet. It's been three days now since Frannie disappeared. That's a long time, She's young, fit and healthy so if she's been locked in a pit somewhere thene there's a good chance she's still alive but it's close. Very close.

“I keep going through these thoughts.” I went on. “I keep imagining all of the worst possible things that could be happening to her now. I know, I know I'm not supposed to but I can't help it. I keep imagining her in some cellar, locked in the hold of a ship. Even to the more fantastical, imagining her in some kind of evil ritual circle, being in another world. On her way to some far off shore as a slave. Even then, though that's not the worst thing.”

Sam looked sidelong at me. “Do you want me to ask what that is?”

I smiled a little feebly. “It's imagining her dead in some ditch just out of town, with her throat cut. Simple, basic and all too plausible.”

Sam grunted.

“But in the meantime there's still the other thing happening.” I went on.

“Which is?”

“We're in the eyes of the Empress. Let's be fair with each other here Sam. Did you think that we would ever be here? Or more importantly, do you thing that Father ever expected our family to be hob-nobbing with Imperial royalty?”

Sam laughed. But then we subsided for a while, staring into space.

In the distance I could hear a church-bell ringing. That was the signal to say that everything was in place. It had been delayed by the guard from it's normal time of ringing to mark the passage of midnight. I guessed that it might be a little late tonight as everyone got into their assigned places. I could well imagine everything happening. Soldiers settling into their deployments. Archers and lookouts on the roofs of the various buildings. Additional lanterns and fires had been set in the streets so that the entire place was lit and we could see everything when we needed to.

I shivered. I was afraid.

“You don't need to worry.” Sam said, having seen the shiver. “Big brother's here. I'll look after you.”

I grinned at him.

“I know. But that's not why I'm afraid.”

“You're not afraid of being eaten by terrible monsters from beyond the veil of darkness.” My brother joked. “I'm disappointed Freddie. I was looking forward to saving you from some of those.”

I chuckled at him. At first I wanted to write that I laughed at him but that would have been a little ambitious as to what actually happened. I wasn't quite up to laughing yet.

“No. If you think we're going to be let anywhere near the unspeakable horror, then I'm afraid to tell you that that's unlikely to happen. It can't have escaped your notice that there are an extra six soldiers with us along with Sir Thomas as an extra officer.”

“I had noticed. Not unusual for a central unit I thought,”

I smiled a little victory for the scholar over the soldier.

“I strongly suspect that if we tried to do anything away from the main unit then one of those six men would suddenly find themselves in our way. Also, if we try to run then I reckon they're under orders to knock us, smartly, on the top of our heads and drag us back to the palace where Emma and the Empress between them, will scold us enough to send our ears ringing. I will be grounded until marriage, at which time my keeping will be put into the hands of Ariadne, a woman that doesn't really need to sleep. You will find yourself deployed to some arctic or arid post in the far reaches of the Empire where you can grow old in service.”

There was a pause.

“Awww,” complained Sir Thomas from nearby where he was playing dice with a couple of soldiers and losing badly. “It's no fun when the target knows that you're coming.”

Sam glared at him but Thomas seemed unconcerned. He deserved his confidence as well. I had seen him practising the day before and I thought that he was among the finer swordsmen that I had seen. And I have seen Geralt of Rivia fight.

I got up and walked to the door where Kerrass was looking out into the night with one of the former Knight Errants. They were talking about routes to get to different places as fast as possible.

I leant against the door and kept my peace.

“I notice that you didn't answer his question.” Kerrass said, handing me a cup of heavily watered wine.

“Which question is that?”

“What are you afraid of?”

I sighed and looked at him. “I'm afraid that this entire exercise is pointless.”

Kerrass grunted but otherwise kept silent.

I looked out at the sky. Only the odd star poked through the haze generated by the fires. The air was fairly cool and crisp. The moon, not quite full which I took to be a positive omen given the circumstances.

“Fine night for it.” I heard myself comment.

In all fairness, Kerrass and I have been in this kind of situation more times than either of us care to count. I was also tired, and bewildered by the vast storm of emotions and questions that were rattling around behind my eyes. But even as I said it, I could hear how ridiculous it sounded.

Kerrass looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Then I saw the corner of his lip started to turn up at the corner.

Then he smirked.

But that point I had already had the giggle beginning to form at the back of my throat trying to scrabble and claw it's way out and into the open air.

He chuckled, I laughed. The other soldiers looked at us as though we had completely lost our minds.

Which of course made our fit of giggles only increase until we were both helpless.

We managed to get our sobs of laughter back under control before we would look at each other again which would set us off again.

“Attend,” came a woman's voice in my ear. I didn't recognise it. It was cultured and educated. I thought that it was a Temerian accent but couldn't be sure. But as I heard the voice, the other soldiers were climbing to their feet, straightening other equipment and exchanging glances. The air was tense again. Kerrass had moved out, just into the night. He was staring up at the sky although I don't think he was looking for something. His head was tilted to one side and I thought that he was listening to something. His left hand was at his medallion and gripping it tightly.

I moved outside to stand next to him and strained to hear anything over the flickering sounds of the flames and the crackling of the straw and wood that fuelled the burning.

But I could hear something even though it took me a few moments to identify it.

Someone was laughing. A long way off but I could hear it. Just the hint of it, echoing off the walls and other buildings. It was the sound of someone who was anticipating a treat of some kind. Low and sinister.

I could imagine a huge grin and clown make-up.

“He's here,” Kerrass said.

“Rather ominous comment,” I muttered.

He smiled at me, put his hand on my shoulder and steered me back inside. The Guards and knights had got to their feet and were arranging their weapons.

“Here we go,” Sam muttered. “It's exactly the same as a battle after all.”

I raised my eyebrows at him in question.

“You don't see a battle,” he said, “you hear it.”

“Contact,” said a voice and I spun round. It was the Imperial knight that was attached to our unit. “Down near the docks.”

Kerrass nodded. “Makes sense. Lots of ground and obstacles to make his move without being cornered.”

We all crowded round the door to the inn, straining to hear the first sounds of combat. A shout, a yell, a scream, the clash of steel. Anything that might give us a clue.

“Keep a loose net.” the guardsman's voice again relaying orders from the citadel and the coven. “Central group hold position. Second and third teams, start moving south. Keep it loose though. Let's not tighten the net too much before we've got the bastard.” The guardsman was stood with his hands covering his ears, presumably so he could concentrate on what he was being told.

“Ok, folks.” Kerrass told us all. “It looks like this is it. So keep your eyes on your mates. Hold the formations that we've discussed and remember the briefing. I wasn't exaggerating how dangerous this prize piece of shit is so for the Gods and Godesses sake. Keep to your formation. Do NOT pursue unless you are with three others and sound off if you do so.”

We all spun back to the door as we heard a scream in the night air that seemed to stop abruptly.

“Remember,” Kerrass went on after he was sure everyone was looking at him again. “This is not a search and destroy, this is a search and capture. No matter how much he hurts us we need to bring him down alive. Do we all get that?”

There were affirmative sounds. Someone started to swear by the heron that it would be so but petered off after they realised what they were saying and in who's company they were standing.

“The word is not, Good hunting.” Kerrass said finally. “The word is “Be careful,” Take it to heart gentlemen.”

There were more nods.

There was another scream, but this was more an ongoing exclamation of pain that drifted to us over the roof. It went on and on and on.

“Team 2 and 3,” the Guardsman spoke. “Relieve four and five respectively. Four and five, fan out and sweep southwards towards the docks. Eyes on the roof-tops.”

I realised that I was kicking the wall. It was foolish but it took an effort of will to stop.

Sam's words came back to me. “You don't see a battle, you hear it” he said but I was becoming awfully concerned that I wouldn't take part in this battle. I wanted to be part of it. I needed to be part of it. To see the thing that I had brought down here to interfere in my families life.

I had gone back to kicking the floor.

“Central team, move south. Take it slow and stop when you reach the band-stand at the end of Higher-market square. Watch the roof-tops.”

“That's us,” Kerrass called. “Take it slow folks. Good luck.”

We left the tavern quickly and formed up in the street. We split in half and stayed close to the walls. We moved slowly, painfully slowly to me but every open door and side street was checked.

We heard another scream and an exclamation of laughter. It was too loud that laughter. It echoed and magnified in a way that could not be possible. I saw a couple of the soldiers exchange glances.

We moved on, frustratingly slowly.

We came round a corner we saw our first casualty.

He wasn't dead. He had been skewered through the thigh and was leaving a trail of blood behind him. He was supported by another two men who were hurrying him along as best as they could. They weren't looking where they were going though and almost walked into one of the Knights Errant that was with our party.

“Hold,” the knight rumbled. He was a big man, big enough that it almost seemed as though he was different species from those of us who had smaller, more normal proportions. I saw Kerrass walk over and bent down to talk to the wounded man. I couldn't tell what was said but I know Kerrass well enough to know that he wasn't pleased. The wounded man continued up the hill supported by one of the men that he had come with.

The third man was commandeered by Kerrass and ordered to take us on to where the attack happened.

Sam was next to me and he said something but I didn't quite hear him. I was too busy concentrating on something else.

“What?”

“Clever bastard.” He seemed almost startled that he had spoken aloud in the first place. “When Archers are at the point where they're actually picking out targets rather than just aiming in volleys, they are told to aim to wound rather than to kill. Aim for shoulders, thighs and stomachs. Don't try to kill outright. Aim to wound.”

I sighed theatrically. “I know why, but tell me anyway, I know you want to show off how clever you are.”

He grinned at me. It was an unhappy grin.

“It's because nothing saps the morale of a group of soldiers like the screams of a wounded man. Whether they're calling for water, a quick blade, mercy or screaming for their mothers. The other thing is that a good wound will take more than one man out of the fight. It will take another one, or two to get the wounded man back to the surgeons.”

He shrugged again.

“Clever bastard.”

We moved up a few doorways.

“Sounds like you admire the man.” I commented.

“I do.” Sam bared his teeth in a snarl. “I also hate the bastard for making me admire him. I tell you Freddie,” he spat. “I quit. After this is decided one way or another, I'm going to devote myself to sorting out the Kalayn lands. Then when....when Mark is no longer with us I'm going to devote myself to the same improvements that Father began. Both at home and at castle Kalayn. I don't want to think like this any more. I want to look on these things with horror rather than admiring the skill that it took to achieve.”

“Turn your sword into a plough you mean.”

He considered. “Probably not. If the need arises I would still need to be able to lead our families regiments to the front. But I want that to be a last resort. I don't want to do this any more.”

“After tonight.”

“After tonight, and once more. After we find the bastards that took Francesca.” He said with a fair amount of venom.

“Amen brother.”

We came round a corner again and we found our first body. It was a guardsman, lying where he had tumbled to the floor, hand outstretched to where his sword had fallen. A man from our group went over and rolled him over. His throat had been sliced open.

He looked surprised.

A bit further round we found more bodies. One man had bled to death trying to staunch the flow of blood from a wound he had taken in his upper thigh. Another man had fallen dead, a look of utter astonishment on his face. Only a small bead of blood had spilled from the corner of his mouth. We didn't have time to examine though as we moved past him.

We didn't see anyone else before we got to our objective. A small band stand at the market place. The Market place looked as though it had been abandoned at speed. A lot of the stalls were still in place while the goods had been taken off somewhere. Apart from the odd fish and piece of vegetable matter that tripped up an unfortunate soldier who cursed a little too loudly for the nerves of a couple of the men who glared at him.

“The three of them had chased him.” Sam commented. “And he destroyed those two before chasing the last man down and killing him.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Central group, move west.” Came the order.

“Stay together,” Kerrass said again. “Do not chase him. That's what he wants. We want to fight him on our ground, not his.”

The men muttered. They had been shaken by the dead men. None of them had expected to die during the celebration of the Empress' coronation. Brave men all but I heard one man comment that he would rather face a cavalry charge than this.

Another man commented that we were being hunted.

“No,” Kerrass told him. “We are hunting him. Think of him as the most dangerous beast that you've ever hunted. We might lose some but the bastard is going down.” He grinned nastily at the younger man.

We moved west. Without signals being given we had split into smaller groups. I saw one of the knights Errant scowl a bit before bending down to smear some horse dung over his armour to take the shine off. No-one commented on it.

“Move quickly west towards the lower gate. Group five is engaging. Keep him busy, Group six is coming in behind you to reinforce. Move it.”

Kerrass whistled to catch the attention of the nearby men. He gestured and broke off at a run. We followed him and we came out onto the square that lead to the lower gate into the city. We knew that the cavalry was patrolling outside the gates. There was a group of men against a wall, one was a field medic of some kind and was seeing to the injured.

“He's like smoke.” A man said clutching a rag of some kind to his face despite the blood that was still seeping between his fingers. He was obviously in shock. Sir Thomas and his men steered Sam and I into that direction. I shrugged, stole a couple of bandages and a spare sewing kit and got to work. I needed to feel useful.

It didn't help. These men were dying. Their enemy knew his work.

More men were coming and being carried into place. One called for water. That I could do.

We appeared to be in some kind of staging area. I saw Kerrass lead his men off, further to the East. There was no sounds of fighting. I remember that. But now that I was closer I could hear the whistle of weapons moving through the air at speed. The twang of arrow strings and the strange buzzing sounds of arrows flying through the air. Still with the sounds of the flames.

“He's like smoke. You can't touch him. He just isn't where he should be. He's like smoke.”

“My God Freddie,” Sam was helping me hold down another wounded man who didn't want to stay still. “What is happening here. These men aren't slouches. One man did this?”

Sir Thomas and his men were screening the wounded and was chasing the other men back to the fight.

“He's like smoke.”

“I know,” I tried to take the man's hand away from his injury. The gash across his face was awful and if he lived, he would have lost his sight in his eye. “I know friend just let me look at it.”

“He's like smoke.” He stared over my shoulder and a look of horror came across his face. I had seen such things before and assumed that he was dying but he wasn't, his hand lifted to point.

“Freddie.” Sam shook my shoulder, “Look,”

A man stood on a roof top. He was dressed in a long coat of indeterminate colour. I thought it might be brown or dark green in the firelight. He had a large hat on his head, the brim shading his eyes so that we couldn't see much of his face but what we could see was covered in cloth. In his right hand he held a long slim sword that dripped with gore and his other hand carried a large club or cudgel. There was also a knife in his belt which was a belt of thick leather. He was wearing long boots.

He was laughing. Even though I couldn't hear it over the groans of the wounded, you could see that his shoulders were shaking.

“More meat for the grist.” He called down to us. A bow sang from nearby and he jumped off the roof into the square with us. Sam roared and charged him, followed by Sir Thomas and his men. Other men joined in the formation closing in from the wings of Sam's impromptu formation.

Kerrass called another half a dozen men to him and followed keeping a deliberate gap between his men and the charging men. I wondered why but then the mystery man appeared again, nimbly leaping over the front rank. Kerrass closed with him then as Sam's men turned. It should have been all over. All told I thought that “Jack” was surrounded by a good fifteen or sixteen men.

But then the laughter started to come through clear and free.

Again I felt myself shiver, just before I saw Jack, because who else could it be, vault over one soldier and run at the next line of soldiers. I felt my mouth open in surprise and shock. I had a better look at him now as he ran straight at the next line of soldiers, he darted one way before jinking the other as the next line of soldiers closed on him. Then he seemed to collapse as he slid under the line. Under a man's shield and then he was up running.

A man was screaming. Later I would discover that Jack had slashed a man's femoral artery as he went under. He didn't scream for long though.

A soldier saw what was happening and ran to engage him. I would like to say that I saw the sword moves that this involved. But I didn't. Instead I saw a shimmer of steel and then the soldier spun away, his hand going to his throat to stop the fountain of blood that was bursting forth. But It was easy to see that he was already dying. He staggered aside.

I climbed to my feet and hefted my spear a little but I didn't get chance. I saw Jack dance aside to avoid an arrow that was fired at him from the roof-top before taking to his heels and running down a nearby alley. I saw him run up a wall by the entrance to the alley and disappear over the rooftops.

The soldiers began a pursuit, relatively well ordered to my eyes but Kerrass called them off.

“Stop.” He bellowed into the chaos. “Form up.”

It took a while but with the shouting of the Guards officers, order was quickly restored.

I was in shock. I had seen the Imperial Guard train. They weren't slouches with the blade. But I had seen one man tear them apart with ease. Two men down with surgical precision in three seconds.

I found Sam. He was white-faced but I was pleased to see that he was unhurt.

“So fast. Sweet flame of the Prophets. So very fast.”

He looked up at my face as he drank from the skin of water that I had offered him.

“I couldn't get near him Freddie, couldn't get near him.”

“I know Sam, next time.”

“God Freddie, I don't think I want there to be a next time.”

“Possibly the most sensible thing we've said between us in several days.”

Sam grinned at that but it was a tired grin. The kind that had taken effort to perform.

“Freddie,” Kerrass called me over and Sam came with me. Kerrass was stood with Gaetan the Cat Witcher who was stood with a cloth held over his arm. His face caught half between a grimace and a wince. There was another Witcher that Kerrass introduced me to with the name of Lambert. A thin, pinch faced man with a surprising widow's peak. He looked as though he had just eaten a sour piece of fruit when he had been expecting sweetness. The Imperial guard Captains came in quick although one waved off and told us that he would be securing the square.

“What's the count?”

“12 dead. Only four wounded. But they won't fight again.”

There were winces all round.

“Off one exchange.” one of the captains said. “That's a high rate of attrition.

I should mention that it was. The Imperial guard were far from slouches and it was a bit of a knock to see how easily “Jack” had run rings around them.

“This isn't working.” Kerrass said. “He's using our numbers against us, tying us in knots and making us become a threat to each other. That and archers firing into the mix means that all we're getting is confused while he leads us around and into whatever position that he wants us to be in. If we keep going like this, all we're going to do is end up with a lot of dead guardsmen and a few dead Witchers and Knights. First of all, am I wrong?”

There was plenty of looking at each other before looking away. The Witcher Lambert looked as though he wanted to argue.

“We concur,” The guardsman who was communicating with the magic users said. He had that vacant look that I had begun to associate with the communication without the input of ears and mouth. “What do you suggest?”

“We're letting him dictate the chase.” Lambert grumbled. “He's obviously clever and ridiculously fast. We assume that that is magical so he can't be tired out. What can we do about that?”

“We're going to struggle to bring him to us.” Kerrass said. “We have nothing he wants so laying a trap is all but impossible.”

“What about...”

“No,” The Captain spoke for the mages. “The Empress declared that bait is out of the question.”

“Lovely,” Lambert declared. “So, to face up to him with his level of skill, the only people that stand a hope are the Witchers and maybe, maybe one or two of the knight's errant. The Guardsmen are good but they're soldiers not policemen. When they see the bad guy they chase them. Can we use that?”

“That strikes me as a good way to get spread out and picked off.” Gaetan said. He took a deep breath and examined the cloth that he had pressed to his arm before grimacing and pressing it back. “We know he's out there. We know he's not rational or that he's otherwise being compelled in some way otherwise he would just go to ground.”

“Right. So.” Kerrass blew his breath out of his mouth. “We can't set up a trap or lay bait. So what's next?”

“How are we tracking him?” Sam asked. He was chewing his lip, an old habit from when he was puzzling over a problem that a tutor had set us.

“He leaves a magical trail, an echo if you will.”

“So is he the being itself or an imposter?”

“It's hard to say with certainty.” Lambert commented. “Leave the thinking to the grown ups would you.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Sam said without venom. “I suppose it would be too easy for the mages to just disrupt his magic?”

“It would,” Lady Eilhart told us through the soldier.

“So hang about.” Sam said. “How many of that Coven, coterie, circle -jerk of mages up at the citadel are needed to track the thing and how east would it be to open a gate for the Witchers to jump through to wherever he is?”

“It's possible.” said the guardsman, frowning in concentration.

“What are you thinking?” Kerrass asked Sam while glaring at Lambert who was trying to argue.

“Well, I'm just thinking that this is a hunt right? It's the largest and most dangerous hunt that we have. We also need, only the Witchers to fight the bastard so we're reserving the kill.”

“Sam,” Kerrass' voiced betrayed some frustration.

“Alright look. Father used to run a hunting reserve.”

“Is there a point to all of this,” Lambert exploded only to be calmed by Gaetan's hand on his shoulder.

“Let him speak,” Gaetan muttered.

“Father used to run a hunting reserve. Periodically, when there was something juicy in the reserve that was being saved for a particularly important guest, one of the Duke's or when the King came to stay or something, the beaters would go out to track the beast and find it so that the VIPs could be steered in the right direction.”

Kerrass nodded. “I see your point.”

“I don't,” Lambert said but I thought he was doing it deliberately.

“The Witchers are the VIP's,” Sam told him. “The Guardsmen are the beaters. They identify and track the “beast” and contain it in an area. The beaters used sticks and loud noises but, I don't know, big ass shields? Tell them not to get in the way and to just put the shields between themselves and the “beast”. One or two Witcher's get gated in and hold the beast there while the rest come in to “make the kill” as it were.”

“The idea has some merit.” Gaetan admitted. “If the guard station themselves in a perimeter around the city in a ring, move the circle in slowly. Until the guards and their shields become a wall. That way we can steer them into the direction and to the place where we want him to go. That way we can hopefully control the ground as well.”

“If I were Jack,” Kerrass mused, “I would attack the wall.”

“Then the guard fall back.” Sam said. “Their job is not to engage, their job is to identify, track and contain the bastard. If we know where he is then that's half the battle. As it is we concentrate our forces making it easier for him to escape and evade. We contain him, the Witchers come and kill him.”

“Hard on the Witchers that have to do all the running around though.” Lambert complained.

“Aww, poor lamb. Scared of a bit of running.” Sam chided him.

Lambert told him to go off and do something obscene.

“What is it with Wolves and going soft.” Gaetan seemed satisfied with the state of the rag that had been pressed against his arm and tucked it into a pouch. “Must be all of those Sorceresses that they keep hanging around with.”

Lambert repeated his earlier obscene gesture.

The plan was passed around. The Imperial guard weren't happy, they had lost men now and needed to see some kind of vengeance. Being told to back off and let the professionals deal with it was not taken well.

“Where do you want us?” Sam and I were, again, feeling like fifth wheels on the wagon.

“Want you?” Kerrass smiled slyly. “Preferably back at the palace surrounded by guardsmen. But failing that, stay with the guard reserves.”

We nodded and did what we were told.

The Imperial Guard did their jobs well. Shields were found, huge long and wide things. I was astonished that they actually had wheels on the bottom to carry the weight. I later found that they were designed for use in sieges to protect those men who would dig the trenches to get nearer to the castle walls. The guard though moved them around with astonishing speed and agility.

As an extra officer, Sam was drafted in to provide some extra authority.

“Step by Step Lord Kalayn.” said one of the knights. I got the impression that the knight in question was unsure as to Sam's authority and was just managing to stop himself short from ordering my brother around. My brother ignored him and proceeded to show that he knew how to call the march.

“No heroics.” He yelled at the men. I noticed that he was stood directly in front of the men, facing them with his back towards whatever potential threat that there might be as though he was both ignoring and scornful of any danger that might be presented. He knew his business though.

He only had to be told a soldiers name once and he not only remembered it but also seemed to pick up on the men's nicknames and gossip as he ordered them on, step by step. Double ranks and single ranks. “Calling the cadence” is what he called it and although I don't know what he meant by that, that's what it sounded like. I stayed behind the ranks and felt as though I was horribly in the way. I clutched my spear hard, far too hard and wondered what Ariadne would say if she could see me now.

It was the first time I had thought of her in some time and I was awash with a sudden wave of guilt at my neglect of her. The woman that I was pretty sure that I loved by now. Loved and feared in equal measure. I had been looking forward to spending time with her. To spend time with her so that I might confront that fear head on.

But here I was, crouched behind a shield wall hunting what was potentially the most dangerous thing that I had hunted up to and including the beast of Amber's crossing. I would have wept for the uselessness of it. Then I remembered and fished in my shirt and produced the holy symbol that she had made for me. I grasped it in my palm and thought of her.

I got a sense of where she was standing. In a small room, somewhere towards the top of the citadel that towered above us, crouched over a basin of clear water.

“Don't interrupt.” She told me but I could sense a smile behind the order.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered to her.

“I know,” she whispered softly before her voice became stern again. “But focus. We both have tasks to perform this night. Snap to it,”

“Yes ma'am”