In the light of the magical sphere, the desert, which seemed dead until then, came to life. Trying to escape from under her feet where a bright array of beetles and hairy spiders. A small yellow and red scorpion, dragging behind it its segmented tail ran across her path, swiftly disappearing through a crack between the rocks. A green long-tailed lizard disappeared into the darkness, making the sand crackle. There followed in its wake a large rodent like creature, which leaped nimbly and very high on its hind legs. She could make out several times in the dark bright eyes and once she heard a hissing sound coming from a rocky outcrop that froze the blood in her veins. At first she intended to catch something that she could eat, once she heard the hissing the desire to wander among the rocks was gone. She began to look more carefully where she was putting her feet and images of books she had read at Kaer Morhen swam before her eyes. A giant scorpion. The scarletia. The vicht. The lamia. Creatures that lived in deserts. She walked, looking fearfully around, her ears remained alert while her sweaty hand clutched the hilt of her sword.
A few hours later, the globe of light was growing weaker. The circle of light emanating from the globe grew smaller, darkened and blurred. Ciri concentrated with difficulty and again uttered the spell. The globe burned bright again for a few moments, but then darkened and shrink again. The effort staggered her, black and red spots danced before her eyes. She sat down heavily, grinding gravel and loose stones.
The globe of light went out completely. Ciri no longer attempted any spells, the exhaustion, emptiness and lack of energy she felt within herself predicted the failure of the attempt.
Before her, on the horizon, a vague glow was rising. I’ve taken a wrong turn, she thought with horror. I’ve been walking in circles… At first I was going west, now the sun will rise directly in from of me… That means…
She felt an overwhelming fatigue and drowsiness, that could not be dispelled by the fright or the cold that made her shiver. I will not sleep, she decided. I must not… I must…
She was awakened by a penetrating cold, the growing brightness, a stomach pain that twisted her bowls and the dry itching in her throat. She tried to get up but could not. Her sore and cramped limbs refused to obey. Groping her hands around, she felt a wetness on her fingers.
‘Water…’ she croaked. ‘Water!’
Trembling all over, she rose on all fours and put her lips to the basalt plate and feverishly poked out her tongue to collect the droplets of water that were running down the smooth surface of the rock, collection in the clefts. One such cleft held about an inch of water. She drank it down with the sand and gravel, not daring to spit. She looked around.
Carefully, so not to miss a drop, she licked up droplets from a thorny shrub that had somehow managed to grow among the rocks. Her sword lay on the ground. She could not remember drawing it from its sheath. The blade was thick with a layer of dew. Carefully and thoroughly she licked the cool metal.
Mastering the pain that numbed her body, she crawled forward on all fours, in pursuit of moisture on other stones. But the gold disc of the sun, rising above the rocky horizon, flooded the desert with blinding golden light and the rocks dried up within minutes. Ciri welcomed the rising heat, however she was aware of the fact that soon she would be mercilessly roast and she’d miss the cold night.
She turned her back to the bright sphere. It shone in the east. And she had to go west. She had to.
The heat grew and intensified rapidly and soon it became unbearable. As noon approached it became clear that like it or not, she’d have to change direction and seek some shade. She finally found a refuge, a large rock resembling a mushroom. She crawled beneath it.
And then see saw an object lying among the rocks. I was a small jade pot of hand cream, licked clean.
She found within herself enough strength to cry.
* * *
Hunger and thirst overcame her weariness and resignation. She undertook a staggering march. The sun was burning.
Far away on the horizon, through a shimmering curtain of heat, she was something that could only be a mountain range. A very distant mountain range.
As night fell, with enormous difficulty she drew upon the Force, but only managed to create a magical globe of light after several attempts and it exhausted her so she could not go on. She had lost all energy, her warming and relaxing spells had failed her, despite many attempts. The conjured light gave her courage and lifted her spirits, but the cold extinguished it. The piercing cold gripped her and made her shudder until dawn. She trembled, waiting patiently for the sunrise. She pulled her sword from it sheath, placing it carefully on a stone so the metal could collect the morning dew. She was terribly tired but hunger and thirst keep sleep at bay. She lasted until dawn. It was still dark when she began to hungrily lick the dew from the sword’s blade. When day broke, she immediately threw herself on all fours to look for moisture in the hollows and crevices.
She heard a hiss.
A large colourful lizard was sitting on a nearby block of rock, revealing a toothless mouth, its impressive crest swelled and it hit the rock with its tail. In front of the lizard was a tiny fissure filled with water.
At first, Ciri backed away scared but immediately became overwhelmed by a wild and desperate rage. Groping around with her trembling hands, she grabbed a sharp piece of rock.
‘That’s my water!’ She cried. “Mine!’
She threw the stone. It missed. The lizard sprang onto the long nimble claws on its feet and scurried away into the maze of rocks. Ciri threw herself down flat on the stone, and drank the remains of the water from the fissure. It was then she saw it.
Behind the stone in a round nest, lay seven eggs partially protruding from the red sand. She did not hesitate for a moment. She approached the nest on her knees, grabbed one of the eggs and fixed her teeth in it. The leathery shell burst and a sticky ooze ran down her hands and flowed into her sleeve. Ciri sucked on the egg and licked her hand. She swallowed with difficulty and did not notice the taste.
She sipped the eggs and remained down on her hands and knees, sticky, dirty, covered in sand with gluten hanging from her teeth, frantically digging in the sand and uttering inhuman, weeping sounds. She froze.
(Straighten up, Princess! Don not put your elbows on the table! Be careful when you reach for the plate, or you’ll dirt the lace on your sleeves! Wipe your mouth with a napkin and stop smacking your lips! By the gods, has no one taught you child how to behave at a table? Cirilla!)
Ciri began to cry, her head resting on her knees.
* * *
She lasted until noon, then the heat of the day forced her to rest. She slept for a long time, hidden in the shadow of an overhanging rock. The shadow was not cold, but it was better than the burning sun. Thirst and hunger drove away sleep.
The distant mountain range, seemed to be on fire with the shining sunlight. At the top of those mountains, she thought, there could be snow, there could be ice, and there could be streams. I have to get there. I have to get there quickly.
She walked for almost the whole night. She decided to follow the stars. The whole sky was covered in stars. Ciri regretted not having paid attention in lessons and not wanting to study the atlas of the sky in the Temple library. She knew, of course, the most important constellations: The Seven Goats, the Vase, the Serpent, the Dragon and the Lady of Winter, but they were too high in the sky and it was difficult to rely on them during the march.
She managed to finally choose from a bright star, which indicated in her opinion, the right direction. She didn’t know what the star was called, so she gave it a name.
She called it the Eye.
* * *
She walked. The mountain range which was her target was not one bit closer, it was still as far away as it was the previous day. But it showed the way.
As she walked, she looked around intently. She found another lizard’s nest with four eggs in it. She spotted a green plant, which was no longer than her little finger, which so
mehow managed to grow between the boulders. She tracked down a large brown beetle. And a thin legged spider.
She ate everything.
* * *
At noon she threw up what she ate, and then fainted. When she awoke, she looked for a bit of shadow to curl up in, clutching her hands to her aching stomach.
At sunset, she began to march again. Stiffly, like an automaton. Several times she fell but got up again and walked on.
She walked. She had to go on.
* * *
Evening. Rest. Night. The Eye leads the way. March until complete exhaustion, which arrived well before sunrise. Rest. A little sleep. Hunger. Cold. There was no magical sources, failure to conjure heat and light. Only the intense desire to lick the dew in the morning from the sword blade and the stones.
When the sun rose, she fell asleep in the growing heat. She was awakened by a searing heat. She got up and kept going.
She fainted after less than an hour’s walk. When she came back to her senses, the sun was at its zenith, beating down. She did not have the strength to seek shade. She had no strength to stand. But she got up.
She walked. She did not give up. For almost the entire day and part of the night.
* * *
Once again during the hottest part of the day she slept, curled up under an overhanging boulder stuck in the sand. The sleep was light and tormenting. She dreamed of water, water that she could drink. A large white waterfall, surrounded by mist and rainbows. A babbling brook. A small spring in the woods, obscured by ferns submerged in the water. Fragrant, wet marble palace fountains. Mossy wells and tubs overflowing… Drops dripping from melting icicles… Water. Cold, crisp water that makes her teeth hurt, but it tastes wonderful and unforgettable…
She awoke and jumped to her feet and began to walk in the direction from which it came. Again, stumbling and falling. She had to get back! She had walked past the water! She had left behind a steam gurgling among the rocks! How could she have been so stupid!
She came to her senses.
The heat abated, approaching evening. The sun pointed to the west. To the mountains. The sun had no right to be right behind her. Ciri expelled her delusions and stopped her crying. She turned and walked on.
* * *
She walked all night, but very slowly. She did not get far. She dozed off on the march, dreaming of water. The rising sun found her sitting on a stone block, staring at her sword blade and bare forearm.
Blood is liquid. You can drink it.
She expelled the delusions and nightmares. Licked the dewy sword blade and continued walking.
* * *
She fainted again. When she came to her senses, she was lying on hot stones, burning in the sun.
Before her, through the quivering curtain of heat, she was the jagged toothed chain of mountains.
Closer. Much closer.
However she had no strength left. She sat down.
The sword in her hand reflected the burning sun. It was sharp. She knew it.
‘Why are you tormenting yourself?’ asked the serious and calm voice of the pedantic sorceress called Tissaia de Vries. “Why prolong the suffering? Finally be done with it!’
‘No. I will not surrender.’
‘You do not understand. Do you know how you die of thirst? At any time you will become mad and then it will be too late. Then you will no longer know how to finish it.’
‘No. I will not surrender. I will endure.’
She put her sword back into its sheath. Rose, staggered, fell. She rose once more, staggered and began to walk.
Above her, high in the yellow sky, she saw a vulture.
* * *
When she regained consciousness, she did not remember when she fell. She could not remember how long she had been lying there. She looked up. Two other vultures had joined the other one circling around in the sky. She did not have enough strength to get up.
She realized that this was the end. She accepted this calmly. Even with relief,
* * *
Something touched her.
Something lightly and carefully touched her arm. After a long period of solitude, where only dead and motionless stones had surrounded her, the contact caused, despite her exhaustion, her to suddenly jump up, or at least try to jump up. The thing that had touched her backed away, making a loud stamping.
With an effort, Ciri sat back down, rubbing her bleary eyes with her fingers.
I’ve gone mad, she thought.
A few paces in front of her stood a horse. She blinked. It was not an illusion. It was a real horse. A little horse. A young horse, almost a foal.
She regained control of herself. She licked her cracked lips and cleared her throat involuntary. The little horse scampered back, grinding gravel beneath its hooves. It moved very strangely and its coat was an unusual colour, a bay or grey. But perhaps it only seemed so because it stood against the sun.
The little horse snorted and took a few steps towards her. Now she could see it better. So much so that in addition to the unusual colour, she also saw other strange anomalies on its body: a small head, the unusual slenderness of its neck, thin hocks and a long rich tail. The horse stopped and looked at her, turning its head in profile. Ciri sighed silently.
From the sloping forehead of the horse protruded a horn at least two spans long.
Impossible. Impossible, thought Ciri, regaining consciousness and collecting her thoughts. Unicorns do not exist on this world, they have become extinct! Even in the books at the witcher’s keep – Kaer Morhen there are no unicorns! I only read about them in books about myths at the Temple… Oh, and in the book Physiologus which I read in the bank of Mr Giancardi there was an illustration of a unicorn… But the unicorn in the illustration looked more like a goat than a horse, it had a hairy goatee and its horns, I think, were about two cubits…
She was surprised that she remembered those events, they felt like they had happened a hundred years ago. Her head suddenly started to spin and her bowels twisted in pain. She moaned and curled into a ball. The unicorn snorted and stepped towards her then stopped and raised its head high. Ciri suddenly recalled what the book had said about unicorns.
‘Feel free to approach…’ Ciri croaked, trying to sit down again. ‘You can, because I’m…’
The unicorn snorted, moved back and galloped away, waving its sharply. But after a moment it stopped, shook its head, pawed at the ground with its hooves and whinnied loudly.
‘Not true!’ Ciri cried, sobbing. ‘Jarre just gave me a kiss and that doesn’t count! Come back!’
The effort obscured her sight and she feel lifelessly onto the stone. When at last she lifted her head, the unicorn was again standing close by. He looked at her inquiringly, bowed his head and snorted softly.
‘Don’t be afraid of me…’ she whispered. ‘You don’t have to be, because… Because after all, I’m dying…’
The unicorn whinnied, shaking its head. Ciri fainted.
* * *
When she awoke she was alone. Sore, stiff, thirsty, hungry and alone as a thumb. The unicorn had been a mirage, an illusion, a dream. And it had vanished just like a dream disappears. She understood it, accepted it, and yet she was filled with sorrow and despair, as if the creature really existed, had been with her and then abandoned her. Just like everyone abandoned her.
She wanted to get up but could not. She rested her face on the rocks. Gradually she moved her hand to her side, fondling the hilt of her sword.
Blood is liquid. I have to drink.
She heard a pounding of hooves and a whinny.
‘You came back…’ she whispered, lifting her head. ‘You really came back?’
The unicorn gave a loud whinny. She saw its hooves close beside her. The hooves were wet. Dripping with water.
* * *
Hope gave her strength and filled her with euphoria. The unicorn lead the way and Ciri walked behind it, still not sure whether this was a dream or not. However, exhaustion eventually overc
ame her and she got down onto her hands and knees. Then she crawled.
The unicorns lead her between the rocks to a shallow ravine, whose bottom was covered in sand. With her remaining strength, Ciri crawled. She crawled. Because the sand was wet.
The unicorn stood before a recess in the sand, snorted and scratched with its hooves, once, twice, three times. She understood. Ciri crawled closer to help it. She dug, breaking fingernails, clawing the sand aside. She sobbed while she dug, but she was unsure why. At the bottom of the recess a muddy liquid appeared, she immediately put her lips to it and swallowed the murky water along with the sand, so eagerly that the liquid disappeared. With great effort Ciri controlled herself and continued to deepen the hole with the help of her sword, then sat and waited. Grinding the sand that was between her teeth and trembling with impatience, but she waited until the recess was filled with water again. And then she drank. For a long time.
On the third occasion she allowed the water stand for a bit then drank four swallows without sand or silt. Then she remembered the unicorn.
‘Surely you’re thirsty to horse.’ She said. ‘But you won’t drink mud. No horse drinks mud.’
The unicorn snorted.
Ciri deepened the hole further, reinforcing its edges with rocks.
‘Wait, horse. Rest for a bit…’
“Little Horse” snorted and kicked and turned its head.
‘Don’t look sideways at it. Drink.’
The unicorn approached the water with caution.
‘Drink, Little Horse. It is not a dream. It’s real water.’
* * *
Ciri, at first was reluctant to move away from the spring. She had just invented a new way of drinking involving squeezing a soaked handkerchief into her mouth, allowing her to remove a large amount of the sand and silt. But the unicorn neighed and stamped its hooves insistent that they leave, showing her the path again. Ciri, after thinking it over, obeyed thinking the animal was correct, she had to keep walking, walking towards the mountains and out of the desert. She went after the unicorn, first looking around and etching in her mind the location of the spring. She did not want to miss it if she had to come back here.
Andrzej Sapkowski - [Witcher 03] Page 27