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Contents ( 57)
  2. Sword of Destiny
  3. THE BOUNDS OF REASON
  4. I
  5. II
  6. III
  7. IV
  8. V
  9. VI
  10. VII
  11. VIII
  12. A SHARD OF ICE
  13. I
  14. II
  15. III
  16. IV
  17. V
  18. VI
  19. VII
  20. VIII
  21. IX
  22. ETERNAL FLAME
  23. I
  24. II
  25. III
  26. IV
  27. A LITTLE SACRIFICE
  28. I
  29. II
  30. III
  31. IV
  32. V
  33. VI
  34. VII
  35. VIII
  36. IX
  37. X
  38. THE SWORD OF DESTINY
  39. I
  40. II
  41. III
  42. IV
  43. V
  44. VI
  45. VII
  46. VIII
  47. SOMETHING MORE
  48. I
  49. II
  50. III
  51. IV
  52. V
  53. VI
  54. VII
  55. VIII
  56. IX

‘Run, Ciri!’

The beady-eyed man, who was drawing his sword, leaped, but was not fast enough. The Witcher slashed him across his chest, diagonally, downwards, and immediately, taking advantage of the blow’s momentum, upwards, from a kneeling position, cutting the mercenary open in a bloody ‘X’.

‘Men!’ Junghans yelled at the rest, who were frozen in astonishment. ‘Over here!’

Ciri leaped into a crooked beech tree and scampered like a squirrel up the branches, disappearing among the foliage. The forester sent an arrow after her but missed. The remaining men ran over, breaking up into a semi-circle, pulling out bows and arrows from quivers. Geralt, still kneeling, put his fingers together and struck with the Aard Sign, not at the bowmen, for they were too far away, but at the sandy road in front of them, spraying them in a cloud of sand.

Junghans, leaping aside, nimbly drew another arrow from his quiver.

‘No!’ Levecque yelled, springing up from the ground with his sword in his right hand and a dagger in his left. ‘Leave him, Junghans!’

The Witcher spun around smoothly, turning to face him.

‘He’s mine,’ Levecque said, shaking his head and wiping his cheek and mouth with his forearm. ‘Leave him to me!’

Geralt, crouching, started to circle, but Levecque did not, instead attacking at once, leaping forward in two strides.

He’s good, the Witcher thought, working hard to connect with the killer’s blade with a short moulinet, avoiding the dagger’s jab with a half-turn. He intentionally did not reply, but leaped back, counting on Levecque trying to reach him with a long, extended thrust and losing his balance. But the killer was no novice. He dropped into a crouch and also moved around in a semi-circle with soft, feline steps. He unexpectedly bounded forward, swung his sword and whirled, shortening the distance. The Witcher did not meet him halfway, but restricted himself to a swift, high feint which forced the killer to dodge. Levecque stooped over, offered a quarte, hiding the hand with the dagger behind his back. The Witcher did not attack this time either, did not move in, but described a semi-circle again, skirting around him.

‘Aha,’ Levecque drawled, straightening up. ‘Shall we prolong the game? Why not? You can never have too much amusement!’

He leaped, spun, struck, once, twice, thrice, in a rapid rhythm; a cut from above with his sword and immediately from the left with a flat, scything blow of his dagger. The Witcher did not disturb the rhythm; parried, leaped back and once again circled, forcing the killer to move around. Levecque suddenly drew back, circling in the opposite direction.

‘Every game,’ he hissed through clenched teeth, ‘must have its end. What would you say to a single blow, trickster? A single blow and then we’ll shoot your little brat down from the tree. How about that?’

Geralt saw that Levecque was watching his shadow, waiting for it to reach his opponent, indicating that he had the sun in his eyes. Geralt stopped circling to make the killer’s job easier.