The Tower of the Swallow: Witcher 6 (The Witcher) by Sapkowski Andrzej

Author:Sapkowski, Andrzej [Sapkowski, Andrzej]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9781473211582
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2016-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

*

The bay wasn’t fit to ride any further. It was barely walking, legs as stiff as boards, panting hard, the air escaping from it in a hoarse wheezing. It finally fell over on its side, kicked stiffly, looked at its rider; and there was reproach in its cloudy eye.

Cahir’s horse was in somewhat better shape, but Cahir’s condition was worse. He simply fell from the saddle, raised himself, but only onto his hands and knees, and retched spasmodically, though his stomach was empty.

When Geralt and Angoulême tried to touch his bloodied head he screamed.

‘Dammit,’ said the girl. ‘It’s quite a haircut they’ve given him.’

The skin of the young Nilfgaardian’s forehead and temple, along with the hair, was detached from the skull along a considerable length. Were it not for the fact that the blood had formed a sticky clot, the loose patch would probably have fallen off all the way to his ear. It was a gruesome sight.

‘How did that happen?’

‘They threw a hatchet right at him. To make it even funnier, it wasn’t a Nilfgaardian, nor any of Nightingale’s men, but one of the quarrymen.’

‘Doesn’t matter who threw it.’ The Witcher bound Cahir’s head tightly with a torn-off shirtsleeve. ‘It matters, luckily, that he was a poor shot, and he just scalped him, rather than smashing his skull in. But Cahir took a hefty whack in the pate. And the brain felt it too. He won’t stay upright in the saddle, even if the horse could bear his weight.’

‘What shall we do then? Your horse has died, his is almost dead, and the sweat’s dropping off mine . . . And they’re on our trail. We can’t stay here . . . ’

‘We have to stay here. Me and Cahir. And Cahir’s horse. You ride on. Hard. Your horse is strong, it can withstand a gallop. And even were you to exhaust it . . . Angoulême, somewhere in Sansretour valley Regis, Milva and Dandelion are waiting for us. They don’t know anything of this and may fall into Schirrú’s clutches. You have to find them and warn them, and then all four of you must ride as fast as you can to Toussaint. You won’t be followed there. I hope.’

‘What about you and Cahir?’ Angoulême bit her lip. ‘What will happen to you? Nightingale isn’t stupid. When he sees a half-dead riderless horse he’ll rake over every hollow in the region! And you won’t get far with Cahir!’

‘Schirrú – for he’s the one pursuing us – will follow your trail.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘I’m certain. Go.’

‘What will aunty say when I show up without you?’

‘You’ll explain. But not to Milva; to Regis. Regis will know what’s to be done. And we . . . When Cahir’s mop dries a bit harder onto his pate, we’ll make for Toussaint. We’ll meet up there somehow. Very well, don’t dally. Get on your horse and ride. Don’t let our pursuers get any closer. Don’t let them hunt you by sight.’

‘Don’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs.

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