The entrance to the mines was a jagged and gaping wound in the earth. The air smelled of coal and sweat. A few soldiers stood guard, their expressions unnerved and fearful. They knew that their armour and spears would do nothing to stop the beast's jaws. Perhaps it would tear them apart into smaller pieces before consuming them to remove the unpalatable metal and leather.
The scent of mutton was noticeable also. At noon the previous day the servants in charge of feeding the beast had thrown a whole sheep's corpse, its stomach stuffed until almost bursting, with nightshade into the mines. The scent of nightshade was faint, suggesting the beast had dragged it deeper into the tunnels to feed upon. It would be a fool's dream to think that the poison could kill the beast, but it would certainly weaken it. Whether the beast had intelligence enough to avoid the poison remained to be seen.
I advanced ahead of Radkin. The veins around his eyes and those that ran down his neck were bulging. The blood beneath his skin was the colour of darkness. Potions had no effect on me, they were detoxified too rapidly upon ingestion to take effect. Nonetheless, alchemy remained a useful skill. Sword oils and alchemical bombs, though the ingredients for the latter were as rare as dragon's teeth, were helpful fighting aides.
The shafts of the mine welcomed us with murky darkness. The absence of light had only a minor effect, my pupils dilated until they consumed almost all of the whiteness of my irises. A foul stench grew more pungent as we advanced. Every footstep was slow, careful, the muscles in my legs coiled into tight springs ready to push off and evade the beast's attack. The nervousness I had once felt in the first month of my apprenticeship was gone. I held my blade with cold certainty and nothing more.
Radkin lurked a few steps behind. His flesh did not granulate in seconds as mine did, he was more suited to guard the rear. His eyes glowed amber in the darkness. I no longer made careless mistakes as I once did, I had learned to move with calculated efficiency, to adapt as variables evolved. His presence would speed up the hunt, but it was far from necessary. Last winter we had returned to Kaer Morhen, I was relieved to see Vivald, Bevald and Linon alive and well, albeit with fresh scars. Radkin had reported my progress to Vessemir. A judgement was quickly made. My apprenticeship would be shortened from three years to two. Though Radkin's company was lively and boisterous, I longed to plan my own route and seek out work throughout the continent alone.
The scent of iron in the air intensified sharply. The shaft ahead curved right. I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter. We rounded the corner. Ruined armour and weapons lay strewn about. Skulls, the flesh stripped cleanly from the bone, accompanied the armaments they had once wielded. Such a grave was undeserving of the brave warriors who had fallen. But bravery alone could not halt an arrow's flight or dull a thief's sword. Brave men died just as easily as cowards. Death had become a close companion to me. She hounded me wherever I went.
Something hard struck the rock. The silence of the mines was broken. The sound echoed again, this time louder in intensity and countless times more frequent. It faintly resembled the rustling of reeds in the wind.
I crouched low behind a boulder. A pickaxe had been carelessly discarded at my feet. Likely left behind by a miner too possessed by fear to care about the weapon's value. At last I caught sight of the beast. It was huge, stretching perhaps fifteen feet in lenght. Innumerable legs supported its sleek armoured body. It was these legs that had struck the rock and produced the sound.
The beast's chitinous exoskeleton was sickly grey in colour. A few chips and depressions marked where the soldiers' had struck it with their blades. Their strength was insufficient to cause any harm beyond a small aesthetic defect. The beast's lengthy form was curled around a sheep. Its sharp legs were occupied tearing through the fur and flesh of its prey. It moved with a sense of purpose that seemed almost curious. Within moments the creature had torn through the sheep's abdomen. Immediately, purple liquid began to ooze out. Crushed stems and petals spilled out onto the earth.
The myriapod lifted its head, tilting it to the side and snapping its mandibles together as if in thought. Then in an instant it screamed. The sound bounced endlessly off the walls of the tunnel, compounding into a piercing and shrill buzz. With a slight exertion of its strength the beast tossed the sheep's corpse aside. The corpse crashed into the wall with such terrible impetus that its bones snapped crisply upon impact. Bones pierced through the sheep's hide and stuck out at nightmarish angles. The creature's head hung limply from its broken neck. Perhaps by coincidence or perhaps by fate, the sheep's lifeless eyes happened to face our direction. Its cold vertical pupils stared unblinkingly.
The myriapod reared up, revealing its underside that teemed with countless legs. It threw its head back and cried out wrathfully. It had seen through our trick. The failed attempt to enfeeble it had stirred it into a state of murderous arousal. Myriapods had huge and powerful bodies. Their brains in comparison were pathetically small. Nonethless, the beast knew enough to seek vengence. With astonishing deftness it scuttled forwards, its antennae swaying furiously and combing the air for scents.
The myriapod's head jerked suddenly left. The speed would've been sufficient to snap a human's neck. The beast's sense of smell far exceeded its poor vision. Its antennae flickered faster. Then the rapid movements came to a halt. Its compound eyes fell upon us. The timing was unfortunate. Our assault could no longer employ the element of surprise. Instead we were forced to defend.
The beast shot forwards, screeching furiously at the invasion of the territory it had deemed its nest. Its innumerable legs clawed through the air. It sought to leverage its monstrous weight and pin me underneath it. Then within an instant its sharp legs would litter my face and chest with deep lacerations. I threw myself to one side, narrowly dodging the blow. The beast's legs fell upon the boulder instead, striking with such incredible force that fragments of stone flew through the air.
I felt the air thicken. The pull of magic was unmistakeable. I didn't turn to look, but I could picture Radkin's snarl and outstretched arm. Then the sign was unleashed. Ard whipped the air into a frenzy of power, delivering an immaterial blast that seperated the myriapod's huge body from the ground and hurled it into the wall of the cave.
I smelled blood, but it was neither human nor animal. Dozens of the creatures legs had broken from the impact. Greenish blood pooled on the earth. The myriapod's body shook violently. It cried out incessantly, seemingly trying to shake itself free from its dazed state. One of its antenna hung half-broken. The beast charged forwards again. To a scared human, the changes in its gait might've gone unnoticed, but to a witcher they were clear as day. The creature veered slightly as it scurried, the broken antennae severely hampered its ability to locate its prey. The numerous broken legs crumpled further under the intensity of its movement, bringing fresh waves of pain and diminishing its agility.
But for a creature of such enormous size, the wounds we had inflicted did nothing more than enrage it further. Even when blinded by a hunter's arrows, a brown bear could slaughter a hunting party simply by throwing its titanic weight about. The myriapod was countless times more dangerous.
The beast was eager to slaughter the bug that had caused it such pain. Radkin's eyes followed its charge with unmatched intensity. A single mistake could spell his death. This knowledge sharpened his attention to its limits.
His sword dripped with oil. The instant before the beast's mandibles were about to snap shut around his neck, he threw himself to the side. The lethal blow was evaded successfully. Decades of experience allowed Radkin to wield his sword even when death snapped at his heels, his blade cut a silvery crescent through the air. The creature's antannae, one already half-broken, fell twitching to the floor. Radkin's blow was clean and ruthless. He had severed them at the base.
For a moment the creature seemed stricken with disbelief. Then pain blazed through its mind. All concepts of strategy were immediately buried beneath a primal savagery. Pain, insult and the near-complete deprivation of one of its senses drove the myriapod into a state of mindless fury. Its fifteen feet long body writhed wildly, slamming into boulders and walls alike. Its poor vision guided it to our figures as we desperately leapt and contorted our bodies to evade the strikes that would cripple if they did kill.
Magic required focus. Sweat ran in rivulets down Radkin's brow. The scales of destiny tilted towards our defeat. With a cry of defiance he flung his arm forwards. The air shimmered. Then the illusory became corporeal. A telekenetic blast crashed into the beast once more. It's enormous body was hurled through the air until it came to a violent stop against the walls of the cave. Fury gave the myriapod strength, with barely a second's delay it bolted towards us.
Were the circumstances different the beast would've delighted in giving us a slow and painful death, but in its current state all it desired was our swift and immediate end. Perhaps with a desperate use of ard I could buy Radkin enough time to flee. Though I knew that he would rather die at the myriapod's claws than turn tale from a fight. Whether Radkin escaped or not, the beast would swallow me into its wriggling acid-filled stomach. Then I would be forced to suffer the agony of regenerating again and again until my fingers managed to tear through its thick abdominal muscles. Even then it's immense vitality might still stubbornly resist death, forcing me to intensify my struggles until I managed to bite or claw through its heart or other vital organs.
The myriapod had me as its target. It's countless legs covered the distance at incredible speed. Even in the small and cramped undergound space, it was no less swift than a bolting horse. I feared suffering. I feared the pain of its stomach acid dissolving my flesh as my cells frantically divided and repaired themselves. Disgust rose in my chest. It cloyed in my throat and caused my sword to quiver as my hands trembled.
Magic was inherently linked to emotion. With potent enough sorrow a mage could burrow an entire town beneath the earth. Though chaos might claim their soul as the price.
Fire was the element of fury and destruction. It welcomed me in its embrace. Time seemed to slow. The myriapod's hulking form descended from above. Its countless clawing legs were poised and hungry to cleave into my flesh. I looked up at them. I felt detached, powerful, my connection to reality blurred by the power that coursed through me. Flame poured out from my palm and onto my sword. The blade glowed red hot in the darkness, bathing the tunnel in an ominous and violent crimson glow.
The myriapod's mammoth-like weight was it's greatest strength. It shrugged off our strikes with ease, only ard could repel it. Fighting it was akin to a child throwing rocks at a tree. Perhaps a few branches might break and crash to the ground, but the trunk remained everlasting. But now, its weight became death's icy kiss.
The beast's body fell through the air. Thousands of its pointed legs cut with wild abandon through the air. They pierced into my flesh. First my scalp and eyes. Then my chin. Then my neck, arms and chest. But I didn't need to resist. I only needed to hold my blade firm.
The pain registered like a hushed whisper. I was aware of it, but it was faint, distant. Darkness crept forth. My lips were sliced into bloodied ribbons. The lacerated muscles managed a weak smile. The smell of burnt flesh was unmistakeable. The myriapod's huge body weighed like a mountain upon me. My sword penetrated cleanly through its skull. I gave it an almost giddy twist. The creature's twitching grew more feeble.
My knees gave way, they slammed heavily into the dirt. Again, the pain was far-away and distant. The darkness surged forwards. The last fragments of my sight fell away like broken glass. Then the darkness broke free from its chains.
I was swallowed whole into the belly of a silent and pitch-black beast. Then, like a candle snuffed out by the wind, I ceased to think.