‘Your friends!’ he sneered. ‘Here is your friend!’
Suddenly he turned and threw the fisstech covered mirror.
‘Here is your friend,’ he repeated. ‘Look closely.’
He left the room, the sable fur trailing on the ground.
She looked into the mirror and saw only her blurred reflection. But almost immediately the mirror brightened and filled with smoke. And then an image.
Yennefer hanging in an abyss, her arms raised taunt above her head. The sleeves of her dress are like the outstretched wings of a bird. Her hair is wavy and fish swim among it. A whole school of fish flicker around her. Some start to nibble at the cheeks and eyes of the sorceress. From Yennefer’s legs a rope leads down to the bottom of a lake, trapped between the mud and seaweed, a large basket of stones. Above in the sky, the sun shines down on the face of the water.
Yennefer’s dress ripples around her like seaweed.
The smoke obscures the surface of the mirror, stained with fisstech.
Geralt, pale as glass, his eyes closed, is still frozen under some long icicles hanging from rocks, and will soon be buried by the blizzard. His white hair is now a mass of ice, a white frost envelops his eyebrows, eyelashes and lips. The snow will not stop falling on Geralt, it surrounds him covering his legs and shoulders with a soft blanket.
The blizzard howls and whistles…
Ciri jumped up and slammed the mirror hard against the wall. The amber frame burst and the glass shattered.
She recognized these kind of vision, she remembered them and knew what they were. Her old dreams.
‘This is not true,’ she cried. ‘You hear me, Auberon! I don’t believe it! It’s a lie! A deception! It’s just your anger, helpless at yourself! It’s your anger…’
She sat down on the floor and began to cry.
She suspected that the walls of the palace had ears. The next day, she could not endure the looks directed at her, she felt like they were laughing at her back. Avallac’h was nowhere to be found.
He knows, she thought, what happened and is trying to avoid me. Before I got up, he probably got far away, by land or by river, with his gold makeup elf. He doesn’t want to talk to me, doesn’t want to recognize that all of his plans have collapsed.
She could also not find Eredin. But that was quite normal – he was often out of the city accompanied by his Dearg Ruadhri, his Red Riders.
Ciri went and got Kelpie from the stables and went across the river. She was deep in thought and took no notice to anything around her.
I have to escape. It does not matter if those visions were true or false. On things is certain – Yennefer and Geralt are far away in my world and my place is with them. I have to get away, get out of here as quickly as possible. There must be some possibility. The same way I got here, O have to get myself out of here. Eredin suggested that I have a wild talent and Vysogota thought the same thing. I examined every corner of Tor Zireael, I found no portal, no exit. But maybe there is another tower somewhere…
She looked to the horizon and saw a remote hill, on whose summit towered against the sky, silhouettes of cromlechs. A forbidden area, she thought. Ha, I can see that it is too far. The barrier will probably not let me get there. It would be pointless exertion. I’d rather head up the river, I’ve never been there…
Kelpie snorted, shook her head and stamped her feet. She did not turn around, instead she started trotting towards the hill. Ciri was stunned for a moment to the point that she did not respond and let the mare run. Only after a while did she shout and pull on the reins. The result was that Kelpie reared, kicked and galloped onwards. Still in the same direction.
Ciri did not try and stop her, or try and control her. She was amazed. She knew Kelpie very well. The mare had quirks, but not like this. This behavior must mean something.
Kelpie slowed to a trot. She went up the side of the hill crowned with the cromlechs. A league or so, Ciri thought. The magic barrier will start to work soon.
The mare walked into the circle of stones, formed by a series of monoliths, fallen and mosses, very close together, which arose thought the brambles and suddenly sank into the ground. She did not move a muscle, except her ears, which stretched to hear better.
Ciri tried to turn her around and move. But it was in vain. If it wasn’t from her neck veins throbbing hot, she would have sworn she was sitting on a statue of a horse.
Suddenly, she felt something on her shoulders, something sharp that went through her clothes and prodded her, hurting. Something was behind her. Emerging from behind some rocks, making no noise, appeared a unicorn with a red coat, with precise movements it thrust its horn under her armpit. Hard. Sharply. She felt blood trickle from her side.
From the other side emerged another unicorn. This one was completely white, from the tips of its ears to the end of its tail. Only his nostrils were pink and his eyes black. He approached her from the side, slowly, and very carefully put his head in her lap. The excitement was so strong that Ciri moaned.
I’ve grown up, a voice echoed in her head. I’ve grown up, Star Eyes. Then in the desert, I did not know how to behave. Now I know.
‘Little horse?’ she moaned, almost hanging from the two hors that were clicking together.
My name is Ihuarraquax. Do you remember me, Star Eyes? Do you remember how you healed me? How you saved me?
He stepped back and turned around. Ciri could see a trace of a scar on his leg. She recognized him. She remembered him,.
‘Little horse! It is you! But you had a different coat… You’ve grown up.’
Suddenly then was confusion in her head, whispers, voices, shouts and whinnies. The horns drew back. She saw that the other unicorn behind her back coat was blue.
The older ones are learning from you, Star eyes. Through me, they are learning from you. A little more and they’ll be able to speak for themselves. Soon they will tell you what they expect from you.
The cacophony in Ciri’s head exploded in an indescribable riot. But soon it relented, and began to flow like a stream of thoughts, clear and understandable.
We want to help you escape, Star Eyes.
She was silent, but her heart pounded in her chest.
Where is the crazy joy? Where is the thanks?
‘Where,’ she asked aggressively, ‘does this sudden urge to help me come from? Perhaps I failed to win your love?’
You have our love. But this is not your world. There is no place for you here.
She clenched her teeth. Although encouraged by the sudden hope, she shook her head dismissively. Little horse – Ihuarraquax – ears pricked up, stamped his hooves and stared at her with his black eyes. The red unicorn stamped until the earth trembled and shook menacingly. He snorted angrily and Ciri understood.
You do not trust us.
‘I do not trust you,’ she said coldly. ‘Everyone here plays their game and I, who don’t know the rules, am being used. Why should I believe you now? Between you and the elves apparently there is no friendship, I saw it there, in the wilderness, and there was almost a fight. I can safely assume that you want to use me to annoy the elves. I also do not like them, they imprisoned me and forced me to do something that I did not want. But I will not let you use me.’
Red shook his head, his horn again made a dangerous move. Blue whinnied. Ciri’s skull thudded and picked up their thoughts which were ominous.
‘Oh, she said. ‘You’re just like them. Be obedient and show humility, or violence and death! I’m not afraid. I will not be used!’
She felt chaos and confusion in her head. It lasted for a while, until from the chaos emerged legible thoughts.
That’s fine, Star Eyes, you do not like being used. That is precisely our idea. What we want, no more no less, is to guarantee that. For you and for ourselves. And the entire world. In all worlds.
‘I don’t understand.’
You’re a dangerous weapon, a threat. We cannot let that weapon fall into the hands of the King of
the Alders, the Fox and Sparrowhawk.
‘Who?’ she said ‘Oh…’
The King of the Alders is an elder. But the Fox and Sparrowhawk cannot gain mastery over the Ard Gaeth, the Gate of Worlds. Once they had it. And then lost it. Now all they can do is wander between the worlds as impotent ghosts. The Fox has reached Tir ná Béa
Arainne, and Sparrowhawk and his riders can get to the Spiral. They do not have the strength to go anywhere else. That’s why they dream of Ard Gaeth and power. We can show you how to use that power. I’ll show you, Star Eyes, when you leave here.
‘I can’t escape from here. I can’t get past the magic barrier – Geas Garadh.’
You cannot be imprisoned. You are the Lady of the Worlds.
‘No. I have no special talent, I have no control over anything. And I renounced my powers a year ago, back in the desert. Little horse witnessed it.’
In the desert you gave up only insignificant quackery. The power that is in your blood, you cannot give up. It is with you all the time. We well teach you how to use it.
‘And it is not by chance, she cried, ‘that this power that gives dominion over worlds, you want me to give to you?’
Not so. We do not need to gain this power. For we have had it forever.
Trust them, Ihuarraquax requested. Trust them, Star Eyes.
‘On one condition.’
The Red unicorn abruptly raised his head, opened his nostrils and she could swear his eyes threw sparks. They will not like it, Ciri thought, when I give them the condition, they do not even like the sound of the word. The Plague, I do not know what I’m doing… I hope this doesn’t end in tragedy…’
We are listening. What is this condition?
‘Ihuarraquax will come with me.’
That evening the sky became cloudy and it became muggy, from the river rose a thick, stick mist. When it became dark, from afar came muffled thunder and lightning lit up the horizon.
Ciri had long been prepared. Dressed in black riding clothes, with her sword on her back, tense and impatient, waiting for the coming of night. When it came, she silently walked through deserted halls and stealthily took arcades and descended terraces. The willow rustled down by the River Easnadh.
In the sky distant thunder rolled.
Ciri got Kelpie from the stables. The mare knew what was expected of her and obediently trotted towards Porphyry Bridge. Ciri stared for a moment behind her, looking at the terrace where the boats were moored.
I can’t, she thought. I have to see him again. Maybe it will succeed in delaying pursuit. It’s risky, But it cannot be helped.
At first, she thought he was not there, that the royal apartments were empty, the silence and stillness were absolute.
After a moment, she saw him. He was in a corner, sitting on a couch, with a white shirt that exposed his narrow shoulders. The fabric was so delicate that if clung to his body as if wet. The face and hands of the King of the Alders were almost as white as his shirt.
He looked up at her, those eyes were empty.
‘Shiadhal?’ she whispered. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. You know, they have been saying that you’re dead.’
He opened his hand and something fell to the carpet. It was the grey-green bottle.
‘Lara,’ the King of the Alders shook his head and touched his neck as if the golden royal torc’h was choking him. ‘Cáemm a me, Luned. Come to me daughter. Cáemm a me, elaine.’
His breath smelled of death.
‘Elaine blath, fainne wedd...’ he crooned. ‘Look, luned, you have untied your ribbon… Let me…’
He tried to raise his hand, but he failed. He sighed deeply, raised his hand abruptly and looked into her eyes. This time they were alive.
‘Zireael,’ he said, ‘Loc'hlaith, you are destined to be the Lady of the Lake, and mine as it turns out.’
‘Va 'esse deireádh aep eigean…’ he said after a moment and Ciri in horror realized that his movements and words had begun to slow.
‘But,’ he added with a sigh, ‘it is a good thing that, something also begins.’
Through the window cane the lengthy sound of thunder. The storm was still far away.
But it was fast approaching.
‘Yet,’ spoke the king, ‘I have no desire to die, Zireael. And I find it terribly sad that it has to happen. Who would have thought. I thought that I would have no regrets. I have live a long time, I have known everything. I’m bored of it all… However, now I fell regret. And do you want to know something else? Come closer, I whisper it. Let it be our secret.’
Ciri leaned forward.
‘I’m afraid,’ he whispered.
‘I know.’
‘Are you with me?’
‘I am.’
‘Va Faill, Luned.’
‘Goodbye, King of the Alders/’
She sat beside him, still holding his hand after his breathing hushed and ceased. She did not wipe away her tears. She let them flow.
The storm was approaching. On the horizon lightning burned.
She ran down the marble staircase to the pier at which the boats bobbed. She untied one of them which she had set her eye on that evening. She left the pier, pushing off with a mahogany pole that had previously been used to hang curtains. She doubted the fact that the boat would obey her commands like it did Avallac’h.
The boat glided silently downstream. Tir Na Lia was dark and quiet. Only the status on the terraces gazed at her with dead eyes. Ciri was counting bridges.
The sky above lit up with a flash of lightning. After a second, thundered rumbled across the sky.
The third bridge.
Something flashed across the bridge, quiet, agile, like a big black rat. It rocked the boat when it jumped into the bow. Ciri dropped the pole and drew her sword.
‘I see,’ hissed Eredin Bréacc Glas, ‘you want to deprive us of your company?’
He also drew his sword. During a brief lightning flash she was able to see the weapon. The blade was single-edged, slightly curved, with polished finish and uniformly sharp. The hilt was long and the hand-guard was a circular plate. She could see right away that the elf knew how to use the sword.
Unexpectedly, he rocked the boat, stomping on the side. Ciri deftly balanced by tilting her boat with the movements of the boat, and in turn used the same trick when he jumped with both feet on the opposite side. He did not lose his balance either.
He attacked. She parried his lunged rather instinctively, because in the dark she could barely see. She returned his attack with a quick bottom cut. Eredin parried and struck out again, Ciri deflected the blow. From the blades, sparks flew.
Again he rocked the boat. Ciri spread her arms and balanced on the bench. He stepped towards the bow and lowered his sword.
‘Where did you learn all this, Swallow?’
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘I doubt it. The river can overcome the barrier. Did you figure this out yourself or did someone advise you?’
‘I doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes it does. And we’ll find out. We have our ways. But now, drop the sword and return.’
‘Never.’
‘We are going back, Zireael. Auberon is waiting. I guarantee that tonight he will be full of desires and requests.’
‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘He overdosed on the stimulant you gave him. Or was it meant to do something else entirely?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘He’s dead.’
He quickly shook of his surprise and lunged at her, rocking the boat. She balanced and exchanged a few angry cuts, the water carried the sound of the vibrant clash of steel on steel.
Lightning lit up the night. Another bridge passed overhead.
One of the last of Tir Na Lia’s bridges. Or is it the last?
‘Surely you realize, Swallow,’ he said hoarsely, ‘that you are only delaying the inevitable. I cannot let you leave.’
‘Why? Auberon is dead. And I’m nobody and of no im
portance. It was you who told me that.’
‘Because that is the truth,’ he said raising his sword. ‘You mean nothing. You are a tiny moth, which I can crush between my two fingers into silver powder. But if left alone, you can do irreparable damage to the most precious fabric. You are nothing. Nothing but annoying.’
Lightning flashed again. In the light Ciri could see what she wanted to see. The elf had his sword raised and waving, pointing to the back of the boat. He had the height advantage. She had to win the next attack.
‘You dared to take up arms against me, Zireael. It’s too late to regret or forgive something like that. I will not kill you. But a few weeks in bed with bandages will do you good.’
‘Hold on. I want to say something else. I want to reveal a secret.’
‘What do you have to tell me?’ he laughed. ‘What pathetic secret?’
‘This, that you will not fit under this bridge.’
Without any time to react, he hit the bottom of the bridge, and flew forward, losing his balance completely. Ciri could simply throw him out of the boat, however, that was not
enough and she was afraid that he would continue his pursuit. Moreover, he intentionally or by negligence killed the King of the Alders. And he had to feel pain.
She stabbed him in the thigh, just below the chainmail. He did not even scream. He jumped overboard into the river and the waters closed over him.
She turned back to see what was going to happen. It took a long time before he floated to the top. In a flash of lightning she watched him made his way to the shore and remain lying in the mud and blood.
‘A few weeks in bed in bandages,’ she muttered, ‘will do you good.’
She grabbed the pole and pushed hard. The Easnadh river was getting more rough, the boat ran faster. Soon she left the last of the buildings of Tir Na Lia behind.
She did not look back.
At first it was very dark, the boat sailed through the old forest, the trees and branches touched together above the river, creating a tunnel. Then it began to brighten. The forest ended and on both sides were alders, reeds and cattails. In the clear river appeared clusters of aquatic plants, drifting on the current. When the lightning flashed, she noticed circles on the water, and before the thunder drowned out all sound, she heard the splashing of startled fish. Several times, not far from the boat, she saw big phosphorescent eyes, and the boat repeated collided with something big and alive.
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