The Battle of Wills || The Witcher

Chapter Four

Geralt awoke to blinding, white light pouring down on him, the sun pitching heavily in the sky. As his faculties recovered, he realized it wasn't the sun that was moving. The smell of salt, the creaking of wood, and the lapping of water told Geralt he was in a boat. When he groggily pulled himself to a sitting position, he could tell they had been there for a while. There was no land in sight.

"Took you long enough!"

Geralt recoiled as the voice pounded in his head. He held up his hand against the sun and squinted for the source, everything starting to clear around him.

Gudrik appeared from Geralt's left. He sat himself across from Geralt and crossed his arms. "That was more than a few hours."

A softer voice cut in from Geralt's right, a tone of mirth ringing its words. "Gudrik's been worried sick about you."

Geralt turned to see Cerys at the helm of the boat, a laugh tilting her eyes. He couldn't think of anything witty to say, so he went with honesty instead. "Glad somebody was. That's a luxury I'm not used to." He swore he saw an instant of vindication flash over Gudrik's face. "Where are we?" he went on.

"Heading for Rannvaig harbor," Cerys answered. "From there, we can cut across to Gedyneith. Hopefully, Lugos and Ralen won't have taken the port."

Unfamiliar with the geography of Skellige other than a general sense things, Geralt didn't have an answer.

"It's the next major port south of Kaer Trolde," Gudrik said aside to Geralt. "It's risky, but it's a straight shot to Gedyneith from there. It would take us a week or more out of our way to go to another."

Groaning, Geralt pushed himself to his feet, finding his balance on the pitching boat. "I trust your judgment." He nodded to both of them in turn. "I take it you've filled Cerys in on more of the details?" he added to Gudrik.

"Yes. As much as I know anyway. You know a lot more than I do."

"Unfortunately," Geralt mumbled to himself.

"This Ralen," Cerys started, "who is he?"

"I'm not sure, really," Geralt replied. "But his power." He shook his head. "It's unimaginable."

"Can you defeat him?"

"No," Geralt answered all too readily. "Not in a straight fight anyway."

Gudrik stood. "That's something we've been discussing while you've been out. We think we might have an idea about that."

Geralt raised his eyebrows.

Cerys strapped the tiller in place and came closer to the two of them. "There's an alchemist that lives at Gedyneith. Gremist. He's said to be the greatest alchemist of our time. We think he might be able to figure out some kind of concoction that could suppress Ralen's powers."

"Mmm," Geralt thought aloud. "Is such a thing possible?"

Cerys shrugged. "I don't know. But it's worth a try."

~~~

They sailed for another day and a half, pulling into Rannvaig harbor and sourcing a few horses without trouble. Ralen's reach, it seemed, hadn't yet extended far beyond Kaer Trolde. From there, it was another few days' ride to Gedyneith, nestled in a dense forest. Cerys had described it as magical. Geralt was skeptical at first, but as they drew near, he could almost feel it in the air. Like the forest was watching them, judging them. Deciding whether they were worthy of passage.

Whether the forest deemed it so or not, they arrived at the massive oak of Gedyneith almost a week after leaving Spikeroog. It sat atop a verdant hill, its gnarled roots poking out of the top and sides every so often. Cut into the hillside were dozens and dozens of passageways. Cerys explained that the druids lived underneath the hill in small caves they had dug into the ground.