Lady of the Lake

by Andrzej Sapkowski

  'There is nothing more pathetic,' said Ciri sternly, 'than a sorceress in tears. You taught me that. But now you're pathetic Yennefer. You and your magic, which is useless.'

  Yennefer did not reply. She could barely hold Geralt's head in both of her hands, while repeating a spell. In her hands, the witcher's cheeks and forehead crackled with blue sparks.

  Triss know how much energy was required for that spell. She also knew that the spell would not help. She was even more confident that the spell would prove powerless for someone who was sterile. It was too late. The spell only exhausted Yennefer. Triss was surprised that the black-haired sorceress was able to withstand for so long.

  Then she ceased to be surprised because Yennefer stopped in the middle of the magic formula and fell on the pavement next to the witcher.

  One of the dwarves swore again, the other bowed his head in silence. Triss Merigold still being propped up sniffed loudly.

  Suddenly it got very cold. The surface of the lake boiled like a witch's cauldron and was enveloped in mist. The fog grew rapidly, it swirled over the water and stood on the waves., covering them in a think white milk, that stifled and sounds and made shapes and figures vanish.

  'I,' Ciri said slowly, still kneeling on the bloody ground, 'I once gave up my power. If I didn't, I could save him now. I could cure him. I know it. But it is too late, I can't do anything. It is like I killed him myself.'

  The silence was broken by Kelpie's whinny. Then by Dandelion's muffled gasp.

  They were all stunned.

  A white unicorn appeared out of the mist, running light, agile and silent, lifting his beautiful head. This was not just anything unusual, they all knew the legend, and the passage

  about the fact that unicorns run lights, agile and silently. What was strange was that the unicorn was running on the surface of the lake, and did not even wrinkle the water.

  Dandelion gasped, this time in awe. Triss felt overwhelmed by her emotions. Euphoria.

  The unicorn's hooves rang on the stones of the waterfront. He shook his mane and horn and melodically neighed.

  'Ihuarraquax,' Ciri spoke to him. 'I was hoping you'd come.'

  The unicorn came closer, neighing again and digging his hooves into the hard cobblestones. He lowered his head, the horn which sprang from his head suddenly blazed with light, with a sheen that dispelled the fog.

  Ciri touched the horn.

  Triss gasped loudly when she saw the girl's eyes filled with white heat and her head enveloped in a halo. Ciri did not hear her, did not hear anyone. With one hand she touched the unicorn's horn, with the other she touched the witcher. From her fingers drifted a ribbon of flickering light.

  No one could say how long it lasted. It was unreal.

  Like a dream.

  The unicorn snorted, pawed at the ground several times and move his head as if pointing at something. Triss looked. Under a canopy of overhanging willow branches she could discern a dark outline in the mist. A boat sailing on the water.

  The unicorn once more shook its horn and began to disappear in the white fog.

  'Kelpie,' Ciri said. 'Go with him.'

  Kelpie snorted. She shook her head. Then obediently walked behind the unicorn. Her shoes made an echoing sound on the cobblestones. Then the sound abruptly stopped, as if the mare had taken flight, disappeared or dematerialized.

  The boat was on the shore, a few moments after the fog dissolved, Triss saw it clearly. It was a tatty old barge, formless as a trough in a barn.

  'Help me,' Ciri said, firmly and decisively.

  At first no one knew what the girl wanted help with. The poet was the first to understand. Perhaps because he knew the legend that he frequently lectured on and sang its verses. In his arms he picked up Yennefer. He marveled at how small and light she was. He would have sworn that someone helped him lift her. He would have sworn that he felt Cahir's arms helping. That he caught a glimpse of Milva's braid. He would have sworn that when he took the sorceress to the boat, he saw Angouleme's little had holding it steady.

  The dwarves picked up the witcher, Triss helped them, holding his head. Yarpen Zigrin blinked for a second, because he saw the two Dahlberg brothers. Zoltan Chivay would have sworn that Caleb Stratton help him lift the witcher into the boat. Triss Merigold was sure that she could smell the perfume of Lytta Neyd called Coral and in a haze of yellow-green her eyes saw Coën of Kaer Morhen.

  These tricks were brought to their minds by the dense fog around Loc Eskalott.

  'Ready, Ciri,' the sorceress said dully. 'You boat is waiting.'

  Ciri brushed the hair from her forehead and sniffed.

  'Apologize to the ladies at Montecalvo, Triss,' she said. 'But it can be no other way. I cannot stay if Geralt and Yennefer leave. I simple cannot. They must understand.'

  'They must.'

  'Goodbye, Triss Merigold. Take care, Dandelion. Take care all.'

  'Ciri,' Triss whispered. 'Little sister... Let me sail with you...'

  'You do not know what you ask, Triss.'

  'Will I ever see you...'

  'Definitely,' she interrupted.

  She climbed aboard the boat, which rocked and immediately began to move away from the shore. It disappeared into the fog. Those on the shore did not hear the slightest splash and there was no movement in the water. It was as if it had disappeared, like a ghost.

  For a brief moment they saw the small silhouette of Ciri, they saw her sitting at the bottom of the boat as it accelerated swiftly.

  And then there was only fog.

  She lied, thought Triss. I will never see her again. I won't see her, because... Vaesse deireádh aep eigean. Something ends.

  'Something ends,' said Dandelion.

  'Something begins,' Yarpen Zigrin finished.

  From somewhere on the other side of the lake a cock crowed loudly.

  The fog began to rapidly lift.

  Geralt opened his eyes irritated by the play of light and shadow through his closed eyelids. He saw above him leaves, a kaleidoscope of leaves glistening in the sun. He also saw branches full of apples.

  He felt the delicate touch of fingers on his temple and his cheek. Fingers he knew. He loved her so much that it hurt. His stomach, chest and ribs aches, and a corset of tight bandages convinced him completely that the pitchfork in the city of Rivia had not been a nightmare.

  'Lay quietly, my love,' said Yennefer. 'Lay quietly. Do not move.'

  'Where are we, Yen?'

  'Does it matter? We are together. you and me.'

  The birds sang. It smelled of herbs, rosemary flowers and apples.

  'Where is Ciri?'

  'She is gone.'

  She shifted and gently freed her arm from under his head, and lay beside him on the grass so that she could look into his eyes. She looked eagerly, as if she would memorize his image, as if to save it for the future, for all eternity. He also looked at her as nostalgia gripped his throat.

  'We were in a boat with Ciri,' Geralt recalled. 'On a lake. the on a river with a strong current. Among the fog.'

  He fingers found his hand and squeezed hard.

  'Lay still, my love. Lay still. I'm with you. It does not matter what happened, it does not matter where we were. Now I'm with you. I will never leave you. Never.'

  'I love you, Yen.'

  'I know.'

  'Nevertheless,' he sighed. 'I'd like to know where we are.'

  'Me too,' Yennefer said, quietly, after a while.

  'And that,' Galahad asked, 'is the end of the story?'

  'Certainly not,' said Ciri, rubbing one foot against the other, trying to get rid f the sand sticking to her feet. 'You want it to end? I do not!'

  'So what happened next?'

  'The normal,' she snorted. 'They got married.'

  'Tell me.'

  'What's to tell? The celebrate with a big wedding. They invited everyone - Dandelion, Mother Nenneke, Iola and Eurneid, Yarpen Zigrin, Vesemir, Eskel... Coën, Milva, Angouleme... And Mistle. I was the
re too, and we were drinking wine and mead. And they, Yennefer and Geralt, built a house and the live there happily ever after. Like in a fairytale. Do you understand?'

  'Why are you crying, Lady of the Lake?'

  'I'm not crying, the tears in my eyes are from the wind!'

  There was a long silence and they watched the sun go down over the mountain peaks.

  'Upon my soul,' Galahad said after a while. 'It was a unheard of story. Strange is the world from which you came, Lady Ciri.'

  She sniffed loudly.

  'Yes,' continued Galahad, clearing his throat a few times, somewhat depressed by the silence. 'But here in our lands, adventure occurs, worthy of wonder. Take for example what happen with Lord Gawain and the Green Knight... Or my uncle Bors and Tristan... Listen then, Lady Ciri. Lord Bors and Lord Tristan were riding to the west, towards Tintagel. Their path led them through a wild and threatening forest. They continued to ride and keep a careful watch. Then there appeared a white deer and next to it a lady, dressed all in black, as black as anything you have seen in your nightmares. And that lady was beautiful, more beautiful than any lady in the world, well not Lady Guinevere... The knights saw the lady standing next to the deer and waved and she told them this...'

  'Galahad.'

  'Yes?'

  'Be quiet.'

  He coughed, and fell silent. Both were silent staring at the sun. they stayed that way for a long time.

  'Lady of the Lake?'

  'I asked you not to call me that.'

  'Lady Ciri?'

  'Go ahead.'

  'Come with me to Camelot, Lady Ciri. You have to meet King Arthur, he will show you honor and reverence... I will... I will always love and worship...'

  'Get up! Or not. While you are kneeling you can rub my feet. they are hurting me terribly. Thank you. you are very kind. I said my feet! Feet end at the ankles.'

  'Lady Ciri?'

  'I'm still here.'

  'The sun is about to set...'

  'That's the truth,' Ciri bent down and buckled her shoes, then stood up. 'We'll saddle the horses, Galahad. Is there somewhere around here where we can spend the night? Ha! From your look I can see you know this land about as well as me. But no matter, let us set out, whether to sleep in the open or in the woods. Let's not let twilight catch us near the lake. The night will be very cold here... What are you looking at?'

  'Oh,' she said seeing the young man blush. 'You're smiling at the thought of spending the night in a carpet of moss bed under a hazel bush? In the arms of a fairy? Listen well, young man, I do not have the slightest desire...'

  She paused, looking at his blush and sparkling eyes. Seeing something there, in his face, which was not really ugly. Something squeezed her stomach and gut, and it was not hunger.

  Something is happening to me, she though. What's wrong with me?

  'Do not bother!' she almost cried. 'Let's saddle the horses!'

  When they were in the saddle, she looked at him and laughed out loud. He looked at her, his eyes filled with amazement and questions.

  'Nothing, nothing,' she said easily. 'It was just something I was thinking. Led the way, Galahad.'

  Carpet of moss, she thought, holding back a chuckle. A hazel bush. And me in the role of a fairy. Well, well.

  'Lady Ciri...'

  'What?'

  'Will you come with me to Camelot?'

  She held out her hand. He held out his hand. Holding hands, they rode side by side.

  The devil, she thought, why not? I bet any money that this world has jobs for a witcheress.

  'Lady Ciri?'

  'Let's not talk about it now. Let's ride.'

  They rode off towards the sunset. Behind them they left a darkening valley. Behind them was a lake, and enchanted lake, a lake blue and smooth as a polished sapphire. Behind them were left the boulders littering the shore. And pine trees on the slope.

  That was left behind them.

  And everything else was in front of them.

  Also by Andrzej Sapkowski

  The Last Wish

  Blood of Elves

  Time of Contempt

  Baptism of Fire

  Sword of Destiny

  The Tower of the Swallow

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Also by Andrzej Sapkowski