‘Do you think, Horsey,’ she said, ‘that they can chase us?’
His snort was clear and unambiguous, even without the telepathy.
‘Have we not managed to escape far enough yet?’
The thought that he sent her she didn’t understand. Not far away and not close? What does that mean? The Spiral? What spiral?
She did not understand what he meant. But she understood his anxiety.
The hot heath was not the right place and not the right time.
They realised that night, when the heat had yielded and in the sky over the forest appeared not one moon, but two. One large and one small.
* * *
The next place was at the edge of a sea, on a very steep cliff from which doves were spread out on strangely shaped rocks. The wind smelled of the ocean, shrieking terns, gulls and petrels and white layer covered the rocky terraces. The sea reached to the horizon, framed by dark clouds.
Down on a stony beach, Ciri could suddenly distinguish the skeleton of a giant monstrous fish head partly buried in the gravel. The teeth that protruded from the white jaw were over three feet in length and the jaw itself gave the sense that one could going riding through the portal of the ribs without ever touching the head or spine.
Ciri was not sure if this was her world or her time as there were fish like that there as well.
They walked along the edge of the cliff. Seagulls and albatrosses did not seem frightened at all, they did not move out of the way, they even pecked and slashed their beaks at Kelpie and Ihuarraquax. Ciri knew that these birds had never seen a horse or unicorn. Or humans either.
Ihuarraquax snorted, shook his head and horn and was visibly uneasy.
He turned out to be correct. Something snapped, like the sound of torn fabric. The gulls rose with a shriek and a flutter, covering everything instantly in a cloud of white feathers. The air over the cliff suddenly trembled and became cloudy and broke like glass.
From the crack and darkness emerged riders. Behind them blew coats, whose colour resembled the reflection in the sky from the setting sun.
Dearg Ruadhri. The Red Riders.
Even before the screaming birds and the warning neigh, Ciri, Kelpie and the unicorn turned to flee. But the air had already cracked on the other side of them and from the crack spilled riders. The pursuers formed a semicircle around them and closed, pushing Ciri closed to the abyss. She screamed and pulled her sword from its sheath.
The unicorn sent her a strong signal that pierced her brain like a needle. Ciri understood immediately. He showed her the way. There was a hole in the skirmish line. The unicorn whinnied menacingly and threw himself against the elves.
‘Horsey!’
Save yourself, Star Eyes! Do not allow yourself to be caught.
She clung to Kelpie’s mane.
Two elves cut across her path. They held long poles with rope loops at the end. They tried to throw them around Kelpie’s neck. The first loop, the mare gracefully ducked her head under, without slowing in the least. The second loop was severed by a swing from Ciri’s sword. The mare swept between the elves like a storm.
But other pursuers were already on her heels, Ciri hear their cries and the clatter of hooves. What happened to Horsey? What did he do?
She had no time for reflection. The unicorn was right, she could not allow herself to be caught. She had to escape into space, hide and lose them in the maze of places and times. When she tried to concentrate, she felt panic, because in her head she suddenly found a strange emptiness and rapidly growing confusion.
They are casting a spell on me, she thought. They want to deceive me with spells. But even spells have a limited range. I cannot let them get to me.
‘Run, Kelpie!’
The black mare stretched her neck and flew like the wind. Ciri stuck to her neck to provide the minimum of wind resistance.
The shouts behind the, which only a moment before had been loud and dangerously close, faded and were drowned out by the cries of frightened birds. Then complete silence.
Kelpie ran like a storm. The sea wind howled through their ears.
In the distant cries of their pursuers came a note of anger. They had realised that they were not going to catch her. They were never going to reach the black mare galloping without any signs of tiredness, light, soft and elastic like a cheetah.
Ciri did not look back. She knew that her pursuers would still be following. They would follow until their own horses began to snort, wheeze and stumble almost to the ground, with their mouths open and full of foam. Only then would they stop following her and shout curses and impotent threats.
Kelpie ran like the wind.
* * *
The place to where she escaped was dry and windy. The prickly wind quickly dried the tears on her face. She was alone. Alone again. A tramp, and eternal pilgrim, a swimmer wandering the endless oceans between the islands, of places and time.
A swimmer losing hope.
The wind whistles and moaned and rushed over the cracked earth and clumps of weeks.
The wind dried her tears.
* * *
Inside her head a cool brightness murmured in her ears, the constant murmur of the heart of a sea shell. There was a burning sensation in her throat. Black soft nothingness.
A new place and time, another place and time. The islands of places and times.
* * *
‘Tonight,’ Nimue said, wrapping herself in fur, ‘will be a good night. I can feel it.’
Condwiramurs said nothing, although she had heard similar assurances several times. It was not the first night that they had sat on the balcony in front of them the shining lake and the setting sun, behind them the magic mirror and the magical tapestry.
From the lake echo the curses from the fisher King, who did not hesitate in voicing his distaste for fishing failures. According to his repertoire, it was possible to conclude that today he had been extremely successful.
‘Time,’ said Nimue, ‘has no beginning and no end. It is like the serpent Ouroboros, which holds in its teeth its own tail. Every moment hides eternity and eternity is made up of moments. Eternity is an archipelago of moments, which can float, but navigation is extremely difficult and deviation from the course is dangerous. It is good to have a beacon that can light the way in the darkness, to hear a cry through the fog…’
She paused for a moment.
‘How do we end this interesting legend? It seems to us, you and me, we know how it ends. But Ouroboros still keeps his teeth in his own tail and how the legend ends will be decided in this moment. It just depends on whether the wandering swimmer sees or hears the beacon through the fog.’
From the lake they could hear more swearing, splashing water and the creaking of oars.
‘Tonight will be a good night. The last before the summer solstice. The moon wanes, the sun enters the fourth house, enters the sign of Capricorn. The best time to dream. Concentrate, Condwiramurs.’
Like so many times before, Condwiramurs obediently focused until falling into a trace-like state.
‘Find her,’ said Nimue. ‘She is somewhere between the stars, somewhere in the moonlight, between the islands of places and times. She is alone. She needs help. Help her Condwiramurs.’
* * *
Concentration, fist on her temples. In her ears the sound like from inside a conch shell. A flash. And suddenly soft, black nothingness.
* * *
She was in a place where Ciri could see flaming piles. The women who were in them were chained to stakes, begging for mercy, but the crowd laughed, cheered and danced. She was in a place where a great city was burning, the flames leapt from collapsing roofs and black smoke covered the sky. She was in a place where giant lizards fought and the wounds from their terrible teeth and claws flowed with blood. She was in a place where hundreds of identical white windmills intersected the air with slender blades. She was in a place where the stones rustled and rattled with the sounds of scales and the hissing of t
housands of snakes. She was in place where they was only darkness and in the darkness, voices whispered in fear.
She was in a lot of other places. But none of them were right.
* * *
She transported from place to place and it was going so well she decided to started a little experiment. One of the few places where she was not afraid was the heated hearth on the edge of the forest. She summoned a memory of the sight of the two moons and repeated this in her mind that this is what she wanted. Ciri concentrated, strained and plunged into nothingness.
She succeed on the second try.
The success gave her confidence and encouraged her to an even more daring attempt. It was clear that part from visiting different places, she could also visit different times, Vysogota and the elves and mentioned it and so had the unicorns.
She did it, albeit unknowingly, earlier. When she had been wounded in the face she escaped her enemies by jumping to another time. She transported herself four days ahead, and when Vysogota calculated the days, it didn’t fit…
So maybe it was her chance? To jump through time?
She decided to try it. The burning city for example, would not burn eternally. What if she got there before the fire? Or after?
She jumped right into the center of the fire. Arousing panic among the refugees who ran from their houses, scorching her lashes and eyebrows.
She escaped to the friendly heath. It is not worth risking it this way, she thought, the devil knows what could happen. I’ll stick to the proven method of jumps between different places, but I’ll try to get to places that I can remember. One where I was safe.
She started with the temple of Melitele, imagining the gate, the building, the parks and workshops, the dormitories of the adepts, the room in which she lived with Yennefer.
She focused on the temple recalled the faces of Nenneke, Eurneid, Katye and Iola the Second.
It did not work. She jumped into a swamp full of mosquitoes where the whistle of turtles resounded and frogs croaked.
After she tried – without success – Kaer Morhen, the Skellige islands and the bank in Gors Velen where Fabio Sachs worked. She did not dare try and enter Cintra, she knew the city was occupied by the Nilfgaardians. Instead she attempted Vizima, the city where she and Yennefer went shopping once.
* * *
Aarhenius Krantz, a sage, alchemist, astronomer and astrologer, squirmed on his hard stood with his eye pressed against the eyepiece of a telescope. The first magnitude comet, which would only be in the sky for a week, was necessary to study and describe. The learned astrologer knew that such a comet with a fiery red tail predicted great misfortune, war and bloodshed. In truth, this time the comet was a little late, because the war with Nilfgaard had already stretched for a long time and bloodshed could be reliably predicted without celestial phenomena. But Aarehnius Krantz was thoroughly familiar with the movement of the comet and so he was going to calculate how many years or centuries until the comet returned, heralding a new war, to which, who know, they will be better prepared than the current one.
The astronomer rose, rubbed his backside and went to relieve his bladder, over the side of the terrace. He always pissed for the terrace directly into the bed of peonies, regardless of the owners reprimands. The toilet was just too far away, the time wasted in the long march there would make him risk losing valuable observations, an no scientist could afford that.
He stood at the railing, undid his pants and looked at the reflection of Vizima’s lights in the lake. He sighed in relief and raised his eyes to the stars/
The stars, he thought, and constellations. Lady Winter, The Seven goats, the Pitcher. According to some theories they are not just blinking light, but worlds. Other worlds. Worlds, which are separated from us by time and space… I firmly believe, that it will be possible to travel to these other places, to those other times and cosmos. Yes, certainly it will be possible one day. There is a way. But this will require whole new ideas, new and refreshing ideas that will burst the dogma of today…
Ah, he thought, if only it were possible… Attaining enlightenment, finding clues! If I found one unique occasion…
Below, next to the terrace, something shone, the dark night burst like a star and with a pop there appeared a horse, with a rider on its back. The rider was a girl.
‘Good evening,’ she greeted politely. ‘I apologise if it is late. Could you tell me what this place is? And the date?’
Aarhenius Krantz gulped gasped and spluttered.
‘The place?’ the girl repeated patiently. ‘The date.’
‘Aha… This… Ahh…’
The horse snorted. The girl sighed.
‘We are in the wrong place, I failed again. Wrong place, wrong time! But try to answer me man! At least one intelligible word. Because I’ve never found a world where people have forgotten how to speak!’
‘Er…’
‘Just one word.’
‘Er…’
‘Damn you, fucking idiot,’ said the girl.
And the disappeared. Along with the horse.
Aarhenius Krantz shut his mouth. He remained standing for a moment beside the railing, staring into the night, into the lake which reflected Vizima’s lights. The he tied up his pants and returned to his telescope.
The comet crossed the sky at full speed. It needed to be constantly monitored, without looking away from the eyepiece. It needed to be watched until it disappeared into the depth of space. That was the unique opportunity that no true scholar must squander.
* * *
I’ll try another way, she thought as she watched the two moons. It was now seen as two narrow crescents, one bigger and one smaller. I’ll try it another way, I’ve tried imagining a place or a face, Now I’ll try a powerful desire. I wish strongly, from my heart…
What’s the harm in trying?
Geralt. I want Geralt. I really want Geralt.
* * *
‘Oh no,’ she cried. ‘The devil take me!’
Kelpie neighed confirmed her felt the same way. Steam exploded from his nostrils and his hooves sank into the snow.
The storm howled, blinding them with sharp ice crystals that hacked at their faces. Cold penetrated her clothing and bit like a wolf. Ciri was shaking, stooping her shoulder and her neck, trying to hide herself in her raised collar.
To the right and left loomed majestic peaks, granite monuments, whose peaks bathed in the blizzard. In a valley a rushing river was rushing and thick with ice. Everywhere was white.
I have these abilities, Ciri thought, such power. I’m the Lady of the Worlds but there is no point! I wanted Geralt and I find myself lost in the wilderness, in winter in a blizzard.
‘Come, Kelpie, move or you’ll freeze!’ she pulled on the reins with fingers that were numb with cold. ‘Come on, bullhead! I know that this is the wrong place, now we’ll return to our warm heath. But I have to concentrate and it takes some time. So, move!’
The mare exhaled a cloud of steam.
The wind blew; snow fell on her face and froze her eyelashes. The wind howled and whistled.
* * *
‘Look!’ Angouleme shouted above the wind. ‘Look there! There are hoof prints. Someone was here!’
‘What did you say?’ Geralt moved the scarf which he had around his head to avoid his ears freezing. ‘What, Angouleme?’
‘Footprints! Hoof prints!’
‘Who could bring a horse here?’ Cahir also had to scream above the river Sansretour, which thundered and echoed. ‘How can you get a horse up here?’
‘Look for yourself?’
‘Indeed,’ said the vampire, the only member of the company that showed no symptoms of freezing, obviously had equal susceptibility to low and high temperatures. ‘They’re tracks. But are they really from a horse?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Cahir running his cheeks and nose. ‘Not in this wilderness. It must have been some wild animal. Probably an ibex.’
‘You’re an ibex, you stup
id goat!’ shouted Angouleme. ‘When I say it was a horse, it was a horse!’
Milva, as usual, preferred practice to theory. She jumped from her saddle and knelt, throwing back her hood.
‘The brat is right, it is definitely a horse. Perhaps even shod, but it’s hard to say. The wind has blown away a lot of traces. They went there into that ravine.’
‘Ha!’ Angouleme rubbed her hands together. ‘I knew it! Someone lives here! Let’s follow their trail maybe we’ll find a warm cottage. Maybe they have a fire? Perhaps they’ll welcome us?’
‘Perhaps with an arrow from a crossbow,’ Cahir added sarcastically.
‘It would be wiser to stick to the plan of following the river,’ Regis decreed in his omniscient voice. ‘We will not run the risk of getting lost. And along the shore of the Sansretour there are trading posts we can fall back on.’
‘What do you think, Geralt?’
The witcher was silent, staring into the swirling snowstorm.
‘We’ll follow the tracks,’ he said finally.
‘I do not…’ the vampire begun, but Geralt did not let him finish.
‘We’ll follow the tracks! Let’s go,’ he ordered.
The spurred their horses, but did not travel too far. They had gone into the ravine about a quarter mile.
‘They’ve ended,’ Angouleme said, looking down at the pristine snow. ‘The horse has disappeared like in an Elvish circus.’
‘What now, witcher?’ Cahir turned in his saddle. ‘The tracks have disappeared. The wind has covered them.’
‘No,’ disagreed Milva. ‘The storm isn’t blowing hard enough in the ravine to hide tracks.’
‘So what happened to the horse?’
The archer shrugged and huddled up in her saddle.
‘Where is the horse?’ Cahir did not give up. ‘Did it fly away? Vanish? Or are we just dreaming?’
Andrzej Sapkowski - [Witcher 06] Page 26
