The cavern was vast. Light penetrated through openings in the earth above. In some places the sun was dazzling, in others the soil had only ever known shadow. Strange mushrooms grew in the dark corners.
After we had left the narrow opening a few miles behind we stopped running. Our footsteps echoed back at us. Water dripped and birds twitted at us from nests high above. Occasionally we passed by the corpse of a wolf or rabbit. Their flesh had rotten and decomposed. Only bone and scraps of fur remained. Fungi grew wildly around their final resting places. The others and I shared a knowing look. The birds didn't dare approach or peck at the various colourful mushrooms and fungi. Their toxicity was obvious.
Bevald walked a few steps behind me. His eyes never stopped scanning the cavern, "Let's speed up."
No one spoke in response, but our footsteps quickened. The group's will was unanimous. This cavern was highly unusual. The living things that had fallen in from the openings above had all perished. The fungi that sprouted on their bones likely played a significant role in their death. Leaving as quickly as possible was the only thing on our minds.
"Fuck." Bevald hissed.
The three of us turned to look at him. He never did anything without reason. Vivald and Linon cursed casually, but he didn't. He met our gazes with a grim expression, "That fungus. The purple one we keep seeing, I recognize it from our herbology lessons. Its rare. Sorcerers love the stuff."
The mood immediately became tense. Anything that could draw a sorcerer's attention was undoubtedly abnormal. Their charms and potions required all manner of unearthly ingredients. Wherever magic was involved, danger often lurked close behind.
"It's called madman's breath. It only grows underground in stale air. This wasn't recorded in the books, the infestation must've taken root after the last batch of adepts had left." Bevald announced with gritted teeth.
Vivald clicked his tongue. The tension was mounting. He tried to keep his voice light, but there was a sharp edge beneath his words. "You would've made a good scholar. Now tell us why they call it that."
Bevald's knuckles tightened around his spear. His eyes stared intently at the twisted columns of stone that stretched up to the cavern's ceiling. He was silent for a few moments. Always watching, never blinking.
His eyes didn't stop scanning, "Because it turns you mad. It takes root inside you and grows and grows. It doesn't stop till it reaches the brain. It'll make you forget you even exist, it'll make you forget everything. All you'll do is run in circles till your fuckin' heart stops. Screaming and shouting at the walls. Those wolves and rabbits and rats we saw, it has the same effect on man and beast. The fungus doesn't want you to leave this place, it wants us to die here so it can keep on fuckin' reproducing."
His words painted a gruesome image. Vivald and Linon paled.
"How does it spread?" Linon asked in a low voice.
"Open wounds. Ingestion. Faeces. There's a cure, but the ingredients for it are rare. We might find em' at Kaer Morhen, we won't find them out here." Bevald answered.
Vivald's face brightened, "Oh you bastard! What's got your undies in such a bloody twist, I thought you were gonna say it spreads through the bleedin' air! So what, we won't eat anything and we won't rub the purple stuff in our wounds, I sure as hell don't plan to eat shit either. What's the big problem?"
Bevald looked at him sternly. He didn't share Vivald's optimism, "The fungus kills its hosts. Leave em' undisturbed and they'll run circles till they die of exhaustion. But it's not that simple. The fungus wants to spread, but it knows that it can't leave this cave. Don't worry its not bleedin' sentient, the mages are calling it evolution or something. It doesn't matter. The fungus, it can't leave the cave right?"
The question hung heavily in the air. A horrible truth loomed. Vivald rushed to answer, "Yeah, yeah, you said it already, stale air, we got it. So what's the bleedin' problem?"
We all heard it at the same time. In the distance the howl of a wolf rang out. The howl was hoarse and distorted. The pitch and volume shifted constantly. There was a frenziness contained within. Several more long howls added to the horrifying chorus.
The veins in Bevald's temples bulged, "A host's job is to spread the fungus. If it encounters a living thing it'll scratch and bite until it's muscles tear into ribbons. Then the fungus can grow happily on two corpses instead of one."
Vivald's relief was swept away. The mood dropped to freezing. I didn't fear the fungus, it's attempts to parasitize me could only end in crushing failure. Witchers were immune to most disease and highly resistant to the rest. The fungus was different. It was unknown whether they would be resistant to its spores. Even if their immune systems could purge the fungus, the recovery process would be by no means easy. The trial of the mountains did not allow for us to be weak or injured.
The snarls of beasts drew closer. Claws pounded against the earth. Their dense footsteps filled the air. Like a tidal wave they rushed out from behind a whorled stone column.
Purple tendrils poked out from their bodies and curled upwards. Flowers blossomed with a distorted sense of beauty on their flesh. There were a dozen of them. Their tongues lolled out of their mouths and their eyes were glassy and glazed over.
"They won't feel pain! Either aim to immobolise or aim for the head! Spear!" Bevald roared. He hurled his last spear with incredible force and precision. It pierced cleanly through the eye socket of an approaching wolf and into its brain. The beast's body stiffened and it fell to the ground. Death was likely a welcome release from its suffering.
Foxes and rabbits made up most of the numbers of the parasitzed groups. They hastened after the wolves, but their small frames caused them to drag a good distance behind. We struck fiercely before they could join the battle.
I hurled my spear. It flew like a javelin through the air. I wished that I had my bow. As long as my quiver was full it would be almost too easy to massacre the approaching horde. After throwing my last sharpened spear I was left only with the crude staff I had used to snap a few of the drowner's fingers. Staff was an embellishment. It was a branch.
The spear struck the edge of a wolf's skull. It was impressive, but I lacked the good fortune of Bevald's brain-shattering throw. The spear ricocheted off the bone and sank into the wolf's chest. To my delight it immediately began to bleed profusely. The strength vanished from the beast's limbs. It struggled desperately to continue running, but it was an uphill struggle. After a few seconds it's paws collided and it tumbled to the earth. As the blood pooled around it, it desperately tried to drag itself closer so it's jaws could close around my neck.
I didn't have time to watch the wolf draw it's final breath. Another one was fast approaching. It's fur was dyed a vibrant purple. I charged towards it. The branch was thick, I prayed that it would last until the battle was over. Wood and bone collided. The wolf staggered backwards from the impact, shaking its head as if to dispel the dizziness. Its momentum sent me tumbling back as well. I hastily corrected my balance and charged again. With both hands I grasped the stick tightly and brought it down as hard as I could.
The stick penetrated snugly into its eye socket. I planted my foot on its skull and forcefully yanked out it out. Without giving me any time to think another wolf hurled itself at me. It's paws landed heavily against my shoulder. I felt it dislocate. The inertia from it's strike flung me back. I twisted in mid air, deliberately positioning my injured shoulder to absorb the fall. Pain rocketed through my arm. The accompanying click showed that my idea was successful. I rolled a few times, dispersing the rest of the force.
The wolf leapt into the air. Its bleeding gums and dripping saliva were desperate to sink into my flesh. It was destined to be dissapointed. Half-kneeling on the ground I watched the wolf fall through the air towards me. The butt of my stick was planted firmly on the earth. The wolf's snapping jaw opened to allow it to pierce straight through the roof of its mouth and into the soft grey matter above. This time the collision between bone and wood did not lean favourably towards me. The stick cracked and splintered, I managed to tug it out from the wolf's skull, but it was too deformed to serve as much use.
Another wolf raced towards me. Watching its companions die hadn't detterred it's crippled mind. I snatched up a stone from the ground. It was heavy in my hand. The wolf lunged at me with its claws. I didn't try to dodge. It's claws raked across my chest. My ribs blocked the blow, one or two might've broken, but it didn't matter. I smashed the stone down on the wolf's head. Once and then twice and then again and again and again. It's jaws closed around my arm and it chewed frantically. I ignored the pain. After a dozen or so smashes the shape of the wolf's head had deformed completely. Its brains oozed out from the now concave skull.
My left arm was wounded, but still useable. I sprinted towards Linon, he was the weakest among us, this kind of direct confrontation suited him the worst. A wolf was racing towards him. The fallen body of another nearby showed that he hadn't had an easy time either. Currents of chaos drifted through the air. The intensity of battle had forced him to unleash several blasts of ard already.
I threw myself at the charging wolf. My shoulder slammed into it. The beast staggered sideways. Linon seized the chance immediately. With a stone in each hand he slammed them down on the wolf's skull. I followed suit and delivered a crunching blow. The wolf wasn't given any chance to resist as we struck it mercilessly with constant blows to the head. Disorientated and dazed it soon sank to the ground dead. Its skull was no longer recognizeable as belonging to the canine family.
Linon and I rushed to Vivald's side. He was fiercely fending off a wolf with his staff. Without regard for safety I leapt at it and brought my stone down on its head. In exchange it sank its teeth into my shoulder. I didn't care. The stone in my hand kept moving.
There was no time for saying thanks. With the wolf killed we sprinted over to Bevald. As ever the son of fortune was making something incredibly hard look easy. He battled two wolves at the same time. His footwork was fast and cunning. The rythm of battle was totally under his control. The wolves had only managed to leave a few minor cuts on his arms. With the four of us working together they wolves soon joined their kin in eternal slumber.
The lacerations on my chest had almost completely recovered. Granulating tissue could be seen shifting and moving about freely. The puncture wounds in my neck and shoulder were almost healed too.
The foxes and rabbits behind the wolves finally arrived. The fungus had rendered their once nimble nervous systems stiff and slow. A swift kick to the temple was enough to shatter their skulls.
After more than a quarter of an hour of constant fighting, the battle finally came to an end. Vivald crunched the last fox's skull with murderous glee. Then all three of them sat down heavily on the floor. I panted with them for a second before my healing factor restored my stamina to its peak. I stood guard with a stone in each hand.
After a few minutes of rest Bevald pushed himself to his feet. His eyes were determined. I wanted to suggest that he sit down and continue resting, but he cut me off with a raise of his hand, "We start moving. Now. All of us have the fungus in our systems, there's no doubt about it. I've got a dozen cuts and so do the two of you. We need to move. We have to get past the rock trolls. Today. Before it sinks any deeper."
The words I was going to say dissapeared from my tongue. He was right. Vivald and Linon stood up with solemn faces. We had to press on. Our march continued.