Blood of Elves Read Free Page A

request, he slew a ferocious griffin which was preying on the caravans and thus saved the lives of many good people. No. This is no legend or fairy-tale. It is the truth, the sincere truth, which Master Dandilion sang for us.”
    “I second that,” said a slender female warrior with her black hair smoothly brushed back and plaited into a thick braid. “I, Rayla of Lyria, also know Geralt the White Wolf, the famous slayer of monsters. And I’ve met the enchantress, Lady Yennefer, on several occasions – I used to visit Aedirn and her home town of Vengerberg. I don’t know anything about their being in love, though.”
    “But it has to be true,” the attractive elf in the ermine toque suddenly said in a melodious voice. “Such a beautiful ballad of love could not but be true.”
    “It could not!” Baron Vilibert’s daughters supported the elf and, as if on command, wiped their eyes on their scarves. “Not by any measure!”
    “Honourable wizard!” Vera Loewenhaupt turned to Radcliffe. “Were they in love or not? Surely you know what truly happened to them, Yennefer and the witcher. Disclose the secret!”
    “If the song says they were in love,” replied the wizard, “then that’s what happened, and their love will endure down the ages. Such is the power of poetry.”
    “It is said,” interrupted Baron Vilibert all of a sudden, “that Yennefer of Vengerberg was killed on Sodden Hill. Several enchantresses were killed there—”
    “That’s not true,” said Donimir of Troy. “Her name is not on the monument. I am from those parts and have often climbed Sodden Hill and read the names engraved on the monument. Three enchantresses died there: Triss Merigold, Lytta Neyd, known as Coral… hmm… and the name of the third has slipped my mind…”
    The knight glanced at Wizard Radcliffe, who smiled wordlessly.
    “And this witcher,” Sheldon Skaggs suddenly called out, “this Geralt who loved Yennefer, has also bitten the dust, apparently. I heard he was killed somewhere in Transriver. He slew and slew monsters until he met his match. That’s how it goes: he who fights with the sword dies by the sword. Everyone comes across someone who will better them eventually, and is made to taste cold hard iron.”
    “I don’t believe it.” The slender warrior contorted her pale lips, spat vehemently on the ground and crossed her chainmail-clad arms with a crunch. “I don’t believe there is anyone to best Geralt of Rivia. I have seen this witcher handle a sword. His speed is simply inhuman—”
    “Well said,” threw in Wizard Radcliffe. “Inhuman. Witchers are mutated, so their reactions—”
    “I don’t understand you, magician.” The warrior twisted her lips even more nastily. “Your words are too learned. I know one thing: no swordsman I have ever seen can match Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. And so I will not accept that he was defeated in battle as the dwarf claims.”
    “Every swordsman’s an arse when the enemy’s not sparse,” remarked Sheldon Skaggs sententiously. “As the elves say.”
    “Elves,” stated a tall, fair-haired representative of the Elder Race coldly, from his place beside the elf with the beautiful toque, “are not in the habit of using such vulgar language.”
    “No! No!” squealed Baron Vilibert’s daughters from behind their green scarves. “Geralt the Witcher can’t have been killed! The witcher found Ciri, the child destined for him, and then the Enchantress Yennefer, and all three lived happily ever after! Isn’t that true, Master Dandilion?”
    “’Twas a ballad, my noble young ladies,” said the beer-parched gnome, manufacturer of ironwares, with a yawn. “Why look for truth in a ballad? Truth is one thing, poetry another. Let’s take this – what was her name? – Ciri? The famous Child Surprise. Master Dandilion trumped that up for sure. I’ve been to Cintra many a time and the king and queen lived in a childless home, with no daughter, no