The Heart of Winter || The Witcher

Chapter Two

"What do you think, Geralt?" Zoltan whispered. "She has to be in there somewhere."

"Yeah, but there are too many tents to check one by one. We wouldn't get a fraction of the way through them before we were discovered."

The fact that they had come so far only to find themselves no closer to saving Ciri really grated on Geralt. And it made him wish he had listened to his friends. Still, there was nothing else they could have done. They would have needed half the Guard to defeat this many men and Ciri didn't have that kind of time. Geralt's mind came up empty as he searched for a solution.

Next to him, Zoltan seemed to spot something to their left and pointed. "There!" he remarked in a hushed tone.

Geralt followed his gaze and saw a lone sentry on the northwestern edge of the camp, his back turned to Geralt and Zoltan.

Zoltan slung his axe from his back. "How about we go say hello?"

They did a quick check of their surroundings to make sure no other sentries were nearby and found none, so they wended their way over to the solitary man. There was really no way to make a silent approach over snow and even with the low murmuring of the camp behind them, their footsteps were clearly audible. Therefore, Geralt decided to opt for speed over stealth and nimbly snuck up behind the man. Just as the man realized there was someone there and turned, Geralt wrapped his arm around the man's mouth and twisted one of his arms behind his back to immobilize him. Then Zoltan came around front and jabbed him hard in the stomach with the top of his axe, doubling him over. Now that the man was unable to call out, Geralt let go of his mouth and cast Axii on him. A glassy-eyed trance came over the man, who immediately stopped struggling, though he was still bent over trying to catch his breath.

Geralt straightened him back up and calmly spoke into his ear from behind him. "Tell us where the girl is. The one who followed you into the forest."

The man answered in a monotone voice, eyes staring at nothing. "She's in the camp. In one of the tents."

"Which one? Show me." Still keeping a hold on the man in case he somehow broke free of the spell, Geralt steered him closer to the edge of the camp, but kept as far into the shadows as possible while still being able to see everything.

"There." The man languidly lifted a finger to indicate a tent directly in the middle of the camp.

Having received the information they needed, they knocked the man out and leaned him up against a tree to make it look like he had fallen asleep on the job.

They regrouped on the crest of the rise. Zoltan looked ready for a fight. "What's the plan?"

Studying the layout of the camp for a moment, Geralt didn't reply right away. "I'm going in alone."

"What?! No, I can't let you do that. It's suicide, Geralt."

"Look, no offense, Zoltan, but you'd be a little conspicuous down there. Our best bet is for me to go in there and walk straight to the tent without trying to hide. If I put my hood up, I'd be just another man bundled against the cold. But they would spot you immediately."

It wasn't ideal, but it was truly their best option. With that many men and the creaking snow betraying his location, Geralt would stand no chance at sneaking in there unnoticed. Not to the middle of the camp anyway. But with such a large force, it was unlikely that they would know all of the men by sight and their exact movements within the camp. He would pass a cursory glance. Especially when none of them were expecting anyone to find them here in the forest. They would see what they expected to see—just another man going out to take a piss or grab a drink. The way out would be slightly more problematic, but he was hoping the same principle would apply. If Ciri put her hood up, she might just pass for a smaller man.