Chapter 42: It's Actually a Message
Geralt had been watching all this time, and it wasn't until he saw Thor collapse onto the ground like a log that he finally stopped his silence.
"You didn't kill him, did you?"
"Naturally, I tried to hold back," Lynn shrugged. "But after all, he's Brouver's son, and it would be most appropriate to hand him over to the elder."
As he spoke, he pulled out a rope and tied Thor's hands and feet behind his back.
"Even though I don't know why he would want to defy his father, now he can't do anything. He just has to wait here for us to come back."
Geralt also nodded, approving Lynn's action.
"The abandoned mine with the sick-making is deeper inside. The specter must be bound and cannot go outside of the abandoned mine far. Otherwise, the barricades and wooden boards at the entrance will not be able to contain it."
Then he turned his head and noticed that Lynn had bound Thor.
However, this way of tying up was not only complicated, but also had. how would he put it, Geralt even felt a sort of special beauty from it.
At that moment, a bold idea even came to Geralt's mind:
He wanted to try if it would fit Yennefer.
Provided he wouldn't get beaten to death by Yennefer.
Glancing into Geralt's curious and fascinated eyes, Lynn clarified: "This is Kinbaku, people in my hometown who live well enjoy playing ."
Geralt had not remembered any country of the Northern Kingdoms possessing such a game.
But it didn't matter, and he was not going to look into it.
After they had managed this little incident, the two just kept walking, their feet trudging on the dark black tunnel for about an hour.
The deeper they went, the less there were signs of manmade excavation.
A dimly hollow cave stood in front of them.
This cave was seemingly a resting camp for the miners.
Everything in the camp was terribly decayed.
But at the center of the camp, there was a strange purple light that glowed.
Lynn came over to take a look and found the light to be a magic barrier in miniature size.
There was a magic stone constantly supplying power for this magic barrier.
Used to protect a few tattered sheepskin manuscripts from the ravages of time.
"You read first, I'll be on guard."
Geralt unsheathed the silver sword in his back, turned the sword, and stood at Lynn's side.
Lynn nodded, pulled the manuscript off the magic barrier, and torchless, he read it immediately with the darkness vision afforded him by the Cat potion.
"My name is Casti, head of the Healers Guild."
"I left these manuscripts, praying to warn those to come."
"If my comrades find these manuscripts, then study all the manuscripts carefully. I hope that my manuscripts will help you exterminate the ghost deep within the mine."
"Otherwise, just make a dash, escape here, run as fast as you can."
"November 6, 897, my members and I were given orders by Elder Otto to go to Mahakam. We intend to exterminate the great plague plaguing the hills of Mahakam."
"November 10, 897, by investigation, I found that the cause of the great plague was not disease, but a mine that mined orichalcum ore. It may be a plague specter or something similar other presence. We can only destroy the great plague of Mahakam by solving it."
"The pen-holding hand is shaking. Is that fright? Yes, after looking at the deplorable state of those plague-stricken dwarves, one cannot help but be afraid."
"Or more precisely, more than death, I am more terrified of dying in such miserable state."
"But even the youngest Elma did not falter. What could I, who am to lead, do?"
"The Healers Guild is there to 'save as many people as possible.' How do we ever cease to move forward?"
"November 12, 897, take heed of the objects in the mine. I don't know what it is, but it is most definitely not friendly to living folk."
"Aberrants—I so call them for the present."
"After we killed one, my members and I studied the body."
"It can be seen that this animal was a dwarf who worked in this mine before he died, but now, something horrific has changed him."
"Before we killed him during the time when we were infecting him, most of his organs in his body were in bad shape, and he also had symptoms of hemorrhagic fever."
"How did he survive up to now?"
"November 14, 897, my members and I were all infected."
"In theory, this shouldn't have happened, because sorceresses don't get sick."
"But the thing is that we all bear symptoms such as hemorrhagic fever, just like the aberrants we killed."
"We have to get out of here."
"November 15, 897, I underestimated Elder Otto's fear of the big plague, and I overestimated my place in his heart."
"Since my people and I entered the mine, Elder Otto had the mine entrance closed off. No matter what I explained to them, they would not open the door."
"---For to do so would be to open the door, and those cursed, idiot, obstinate dwarven guards didn't know whether opening the door would gaze into the face of a sorceress, or a woman specter who used a sorceress's voice to persuade them to open the door."
"Requests, intimidation, threats. I have tried every option, but they refuse outright to open the door."
"The reason for the great plague, the Crimson Plague Ghost, is tied to me and my members, as with those infected dwarf miners."
"If the Crimson Plague Ghost tied to me hadn't jammed my magic circuit, I could have blown open the door blocking the mine entrance with a mere flick of my finger."
"My magic circuit is jammed, and I'm not even able to summon a small flame."
"Wait, how did I learn the name Crimson Plague Ghost?"
"November 897, what day is today? Or is December already here? I can't remember."
"Among my members, the youngest Elma committed suicide because she couldn't take it anymore."
"Then Andy and Randy were present. Their symptoms were becoming more and more similar to those whom we met when we first entered the mine."
"In order not to hurt me, while they were still rational, they rushed into the deepest part of the mine and never came back."
"Now I'm the only one left, only I'm trapped in the darkness."
"I feel like all the strength in my body has been drained, and it's like I'm on fire."
"I'm starting to think that I won't be able to get out."
"November 897 (?), whoever finds this, remember, don't stay more than a day in the mine, or you'll be like me."
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