Lady of the Lake by Andrzej Sapkowski

  He wanted to scream, where are you going? It is not worth pissing in the wind for me. But he could not scream. His voice was stifled by a wave of blood.

  It was noon, when the sorceresses arrived in Rivia, within sight of the shiny surface of Loc Eskalott, the towers of the castle and the red roofs of the city.

  'We're here,' said Yennefer. 'Rivia. What a curious and entangled destiny.'

  Ciri was excited and Kelpie kept dancing and shuffling on the edge of the road. Triss Merigold sighed unnoticed. Rather, she believed it had been unnoticed.

  'Please,' Yennefer looked at he. 'What strange sounds float from you beauteous breast, Triss. Ciri, go out and see what lies ahead.'

  Triss averted her face, determined not to give Yennefer any excuse. She is not expect it to work. For a long time she had been sensing Yennefer's anger and aggression growing stronger as they approached Rivia.

  'You, Triss,' Yennefer mischievously insisted, 'do not blush, do not sigh, do not drool or wiggle around in your saddle. Or is it that you think because I agreed to your request that I want to have you with us? That I was interested in seeing you spend a meeting with an old love? Ciri, I asked you to go on ahead. The two of us need to talk!'

  'It is not a discussion, it is a lecture,' Ciri dared to argue, but under the threatening glare from violet eyes, she immediately recoiled, clucked and galloped off on Kelpie on the road ahead.

  'You're not going to meet a loved one, Triss,' Yennefer continued. 'I am not so noble or stupid enough to give you the opportunity, or him the temptation. But just for today. I could not deny myself the sweet satisfaction. He knows what role you play as a member of the Lodge. He will thank you for that with his famous look. And I'll be looking at your quivering lips and trembling hands, I will listen to your lame apologies and excuses. And you know what, Triss? I will faint with delight.'

  'I knew,' Triss grunted. 'That you would not forget, that you would take your revenge. I agreed to this, because I was actually at fault. But one thing I must tell you, Yennefer. Do not count too much on fainting. He knows how to forgive.'

  'He knows what was done to him, of course,' Yennefer narrowed her eyes. 'But he will never forgive you for what was done to Ciri. And me.'

  'It is possible,' Triss swallowed. 'He may not forgive. Especially if you insist. But he won't fly into a rage. He won't lower himself like that.'

  Yennefer flicked her horse with her whip in anger. The animal whinnied and leapt and the sorceress swayed in her saddle.

  'Enough talk,' she snapped. 'more humility, you smug viper! He is my man, mine and only mine! Do you understand? You have to stop talking about him, to stop thinking about him, you have to stop admiring his noble character... As of right now, right now! Oh I want to grab you by your matted red hair...'

  'Try it!' screamed Triss. 'Just try it, you vindictive bitch and I'll scratch out your eyes!' I...'

  The both fell silent when they saw the cloud of dust as Ciri galloped back towards them. They immediately understood that something was happening. Even before Ciri had reach them.

  Above the thatched roofs and red tiles, suddenly shot out red tongues of flame and belching clouds of smoke. To the sorceresses ears came a sound like the intrusive buzz of flies, or the buzzing of angry bees. Screams grew stronger in counterpoint to the buzzing.

  'What the hell is going on?' Yennefer stood in her stirrups. 'A raid? A fire?'

  'Geralt...' Ciri suddenly groaned, turning as white as paper. 'Geralt!'

  'Ciri? What is the matter?'

  Ciri raised her hand and the sorceresses saw blood running down her palm. Down the life line.

  'He has come full circle,' said the girl, her eyes closed. 'e hurt me with the thorn from Shaerrawedd, the snake Uroboros biting his own tail. I'm coming, Geralt! I'm coming to you! I will not leave you alone!'

  Before the sorceresses were able to protest, she turned Kelpie and immediately went into a full gallop.

  They had enough presence of mind to immediately kick their horses into a gallop. But their mounts were not able to keep pace with Kelpie.

  'What is it?' shouted Yennefer, cutting the wind. 'What is going on?'

  'You know!' sobbed Triss, galloping at her side. 'Ride, Yennefer!'

  They had ridden between the city's outskirts before they passed their first fugitives fleeing from the city, Yennefer was bright enough to know what was happening in Rivia, no fire or raid of troops, but a pogrom. She also knew what Ciri had sensed, what -and whom - she was rushing too. She knew that she could not catch her. There was nothing she could do.

  Frightened people had compacted into a crowd and she and Triss had to slow their mounts to try and get through. Kelpie just jumped, the hooves of the horse knocking off a few hats and caps.

  'Ciri! Stop!'

  Before they knew it, they were among the streets crowded with people running and screaming. Yennefer, as she rode, saw bodies lying in gutters and noticed bodies hanging by their legs from posts and beams. She saw a dwarf lying on the ground, pounded by cudgels, she saw another who had been massacred with broken bottlenecks. She heard tormentors shout ad the screams of the tortured. She saw a woman thrown out of a window to the waiting crowd below an then beaten with sticks.

  The crowd thickened, the roar grew. It seemed that the distance between them and Ciri had decreased. The next obstacle was a group of halberdiers, who tried to fence the black mare in before Kelpie jumped over them. One was knocked to the ground and the rest cowered in fright.

  They rushed into a square, which was covered in acrid smoke. Yennefer realized that Ciri, undoubtedly guided by a prophetic vision, was heading to the heat of the incident. Where the fires burned and murder was raging.

  In the next street there was fighting, dwarves and elves were fiercely defending themselves from behind a hastily erected barricade, defending a helpless position, falling and perishing under the pressure of the screaming mob that pounced on them. Ciri screamed and clung to the neck of her mare. Kelpie rose into the air and jumped over the barricade, not like a horse, but lie a huge black bird.

  Yennefer rain into the crowd, but pulled her horse up short, knocking over several people. She was pulled from the saddle before she had time to scream. She was beaten on the shoulders, on her back and neck. She fell to her knees, and saw an unshaven man, wearing a cobbler's apron, who was preparing to kick.

  Yennefer had had enough of being kicked.

  From her extended fingers shot a bolt of blue flame, which whistled like a whip, burning the face, torso and arms of the people striking her. It started to smell of burning flesh and the screams of pain, raised above the surrounding noise and din.

  'Witch! Elf sorceress!'

  Another man rushed at her brandishing an axe. Yennefer shot flames into his face, his eyeballs boiled and them burst, running down his cheeks with a hiss. She relaxed, someone grabbed her by the arm, and Yennefer pulled ready to shot, but it was Triss.

  'Let's go... Yenna... Run!'

  I've already heard that voice, Yennefer thought. From those lips that look wooded, without a droplet of saliva to wet them. from those lips that is paralyzed with terror and shakes with panic. I've already heard that voice. On the Hill at Sodden.

  When I was dying in fear.

  Now he is dying in fear. Until the end of my days I'm going to be scared to death. Because those who do not break the cowardice, will be scared to death until the end of their days.

  The fingers that Triss dug into her arm were like steel, Yennefer liberated herself from the grip with a great effort.

  'Run if you want!' she shouted. 'Hide under the skirts of the Lodge! I have to nothing left to defend! I will not leave Ciri alone! Or Geralt! Begone! Get out of my way if you appreciate your skin!'

  The crowd keeping her away from her horse, retreated before the rays given off by the hands and eyes of the sorceress. Yennefer shook her head, ruffling her black curls. she seem to be fury incarnate, the avenging angel, with her flaming sword.
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br />   'Return home, scum!' she cried, leaping at the crowd with a fiery whip. 'Run! Otherwise catch fire like cattle!'

  'It's just one witch, people!' A sonorous voice rang from the crowd. 'One cursed elf witch!'

  'She's alone! The other has fled! Hey, bring us the stones!'

  'Death to non-humans! Death to witches!'

  'To the gallows with her!'

  The first stone whizzed past her ear. The second hit her in the shoulder and rocked her back. The third struck her in the face. Pain exploded behind her eyes, then everything was wrapped in black velvet.

  She came to, and groaned in pain. Both of her forearms and wrists ached like crazy. She mechanically fumbled around and noticed several layers of bandages. She groaned again, without words, desperate. With regret that this was not a dream. And regretting to have not succeeded.

  'It did not work,' Tissaia de Vries said, sitting next to the bed.

  Yennefer wanted a drink, something to wet her sticky lips. But she did not ask. Her pride would not allow it.

  'It did not work,' said Tissaia de Vries. 'But not because you did not try. You cut yourself deeply and accurately. Therefore, I am now with you. If you did not mean it seriously, if it was just a ridiculous, bogus exhibition, I have only contempt for you. But you cut yourself deep. Seriously.'

  Yennefer numbly stared at the ceiling.

  'I will take care of you, girl I think you are worth it. I'll work with you here. It will not be easy. I have to straighten the spine and flatten the hump. But I also have to treat those hands. When you cut your veins, you severed tendons. And the hands of a sorceress are a very important instrument, Yennefer.'

  Moister on her lips. Water.

  'You'll live,' said Tissaia factually, seriously, even severe. 'Your time is yet to come. But when it arrives, you'll remember this day.'

  Yennefer eagerly suck moisture from a stick wrapped in a wet dressing.

  'I'll take care of you,' echoed Tissaia de Vries, touching her hair gently. 'And now... We're here alone, without witnesses. Not one is looking at us, and I'm not going to say anything to

  anyone. Cry, girl. Pour it all out. Make it your last cry. Starting now you will never cry. There is nothing more pathetic than a sorceress in tears.'

  She came too, coughing and spitting blood. Someone had dragged her across the ground, it was Triss, she was met by the smell of her perfume. Close to them, on the pavement, shod hooves rang, with a vibrated clang. Yennefer saw a rider in full armor, with a white shield with a red chevron, from the height of his saddle he was whipping the crowd. Stones hurled by the mob bounced harmlessly off on the armor and helmet. The horse neighed and kicked out.

  Yennefer felt that instead of an upper lip, she had a big potato. At least one front tooth was chipped or knocked out and it hurt to talk.

  'Triss...' she stammered. 'Teleport us out of here!'

  'No, Yennefer,' Triss' voice was very quiet and very cold.

  'They'll kill us...'

  'No, Yennefer. I will not run away. I will not hide under the skirts of the Lodge. And even though it I am ready to faint with fear, like at Sodden, I will get over it!'

  Near the entrance of the alley, on the ledge of a wall covered with moss, had formed a large pile of manure, debris and trash. It was a colossal heap. A splendid hill.

  The crowd had finally managed to knock the knight from his horse. He was dragged to the ground with a terrible crash and the mob crawled over him like lice.

  Triss grabbed Yennefer and dragged her towards the pile of rubbish and raised her hands. She shouted a spell with such rage, that the crowd fell silent for a moment.

  'They will kill us,' Yennefer spat blood.

  'Help me, Yennefer, 'Triss stopped for a moment. 'help me. Let's cast Alzur's Thunder...'

  That will kill five, thought Yennefer. Then the rest will tear us apart. But okay, Triss. I will not run away. You will not see me run.

  She joined in the enchantment. And they shouted in duet.

  The people stared at them blankly, staring, but quickly recovered. They again began throwing stones at the sorceresses. Triss felt one whizz pass her head, but did not flinch.

  It won't work, thought Yennefer. The spell will not work. We cannot conjure up something as complicated as Alzur's Thunder. It was said that Alzur had a voice like a bell and superior diction. And we are babbling and crying the words and melody...

  She was ready to stop the chant and use her remaining strength to concentrate on some other spell, something to teleport them, or to distract the charging mob - if only for a second - with something unpleasant. But it turned out it was not necessary.

  The sky darkened suddenly with clouds over the city. The shadows spread quickly. And a cold wind rose.

  'Oh,' said Yennefer. 'It seems that you did it...'

  'Merigold's Hailstorm,' said Nimue. 'Basically, the name is used illegally, since the magic has never been registered, and no one has been able to repeat it. The reason is simple - Triss had an injured mouth and spoke slurred and distorted. Some also claim that fear affected her language.'

  'I do not believe it,' Condwiramurs pursed her lips. 'In the annals there is no shortage of other examples of courage and heroism from Venerable Triss, some even call her chronically

  fearless. But I wanted to ask you about something else. On version of the legend has it that Triss was not alone on Rivia Hill. That Yennefer was also there with her.'

  Nimue looked at the watercolor depicting a black mountain, steep and sharp as a knife, against dark blue clouds. At the top of the hill could be seen a slender silhouette of a woman with outstretched arms and red hair.

  Through the fog that covered the surface of the water came the rhythmic clatter of the Fisher King's oars.

  'If anyone was there with Triss,' said the Lady of the Lake, 'they did not survive the vision of the artist.'

  'It seems that you did it,' said Yennefer. 'Watch out, Triss!'

  From the black clouds over the city of Rivia fell a barrage of icy hailstones the size of hens eggs. They beat down so hard they broke rooftops. They fell so densely that they covered the streets and squares in a thick layer of ice. The crowd swayed, people fell, covering their heads, hiding under one another and fleeing and falling on the slippery ground, rolling about and crowding the archways under ledges. Not everyone managed to escape, some remained lying on the ice like dead fish, which was heavily dyed with blood.

  Hail rattled on the magical shield that Yennefer was able to throw up at the last minute above both sorceresses and threatened to break through. She did not try any other spells. She knew what had been done, could not be stopped, an elemental force had been accidently unleashed and had to reach its climax. Which it would soon reach.

  That was the hope, at least.

  Lightning flashed and thunder boomed until the surrounding houses were shaken to their foundation. All beat all around with a devastating effect. The sky began to brighten. From a cleft in the clouds appeared sunlight. Triss made a strange cry or sob from her throat.

  Hail sparkled in the sun like diamonds. They were still falling, but the biggest downpour had abated, Yennefer could tell by the pounding on the magical shield, then the hail stopped. Suddenly, as if cut off. Guards stormed into the street, the shoes of their horses scraped on the ice. The rabble screamed and fled, whipped by whips and beaten with the flats of swords.

  'Bravo, Triss,' croaked Yennefer. 'I don't know what that was... But it was effective.'

  'There was something to defend,' croaked Triss Merigold - heroine of the hill.

  'There always is. We better run, Triss. Because it is probably not over yet.'

  That was the end. The sorceresses hail that they had launched at the city had cooled the hot heads. So much so that the army dared to intervene and restore order. Until then the soldiers had been afraid. They knew what they were threatened with in case of an attack by the feverish crowd with a thirst for death and who fears nothing. However, the explosion of t
he elements tamed the many-headed beast and the army charged and did the rest.

  The hail was a terrible disaster for the city. And so, men who had moments ago tried to kill a dwarf by smashing his head against a wall, now sobbing, looked at what remained of his house.

  In Rivia all was quiet. If it had not been for the two hundred massacred corpses and some burning houses, you might have thought that nothing had happened.

  In the Elms district, next to Loc Eskalott, over which burned a rainbow in the sky, and the weeping willows reflected in the clear mirror of the water, the birds sang again and the grass smelled wet. Everything looked idyllic.

  Even the witcher who lay in a pool of blood in which Ciri knelt.

  Geralt lay senseless, white as chalk. He lay motionless, but when they reached him, he began to cough, and to spit blood. He began to shake and to tremble so violently that Ciri could not hold him. Yennefer knelt beside him. Triss saw her hands shaking. Suddenly she felt very weak and her vision blurred. Someone grabbed her, preventing her from falling on the ground. She recognized Dandelion.

  'It won't work,' said Ciri's voice, radiating despair. 'Your magic cannot cure him, Yennefer.'

  'We arrived...' Yennefer could barely move her lips. 'We're too late.'

  'Your magic won't work, 'Ciri repeated as if she had not heard. 'Is this what it is worth, all of your magic?'

  You're right, Ciri, Triss thought, feeling something catch in her throat. We can produce hail, but we cannot ward off death. Although apparently the latter is easier.

  'We sent for physician,' said a dwarf standing next to Dandelion, in a husky voice,. 'but he has not appeared...'

  'it is too late for a doctor,' Triss said, surprising herself that her voice sounded so calm. 'He is dying.'

  Geralt continued to stir, coughing blood, then becoming very tense and froze. Dandelion, still holding Triss, sighed in despair, the dwarf cursed. Yennefer moaned, her face changing suddenly, contracted and ugly.