Witcher 7 - The Lady of the Lake by Andrzej Sapkowski

Author:Andrzej Sapkowski [Sapkowski, Andrzej]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780316273831
Published: 2017-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

The heath to which she had jumped was not the familiar heath, Ciri knew immediately. She did not even have to wait until evening, she was confident that see would not see two moons.

She rode around the edges of the forest and also noticed differences. For example, there were many more birches and much less beeches. She had not heard or seen any birds. There was among the clumps of heather only dry sand, there used to be a green carpet. Even the grasshoppers here were different, frightened by Kelpie’s steps. So familiar. And yet…

Her heart beat faster. She saw a path, overgrown and neglected. Leading into the forest.

Ciri thoroughly explored the surrounding area and made sure that the path did not end. That it did not lead to the woods, but led through it. She wasted no time, kicking her heels into her mare and rode into the trees. I’ll ride for half a day, she thought, if I don’t find anything I’ll turn around and go the opposite direction, into the heath.

She walked under the canopy of the trees, looking carefully around her, trying not to miss anything important. Thanks to this approach she did not miss the little old man who watched her from behind an oak.

The old man was small, but not hunched. He was wearing a linen shirt and trousers of the same material. On his feet he wore enormous, ridiculously looking sandals. In one hand he carried a gnarled cane and in the other a wicker basket. Ciri could not clearly see his face as it was concealed by a straw hat, from which protruded a sunburned nose and a mattered grey beard.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said. ‘I won’t harm you.’

Greybeard shifted from behind the oak and took off his hat. His face was round and dotted with age spots but vigorous with a little wrinkled brow and a small chin. He had long grey hair at the nape of his neck which he had pulled back into a ponytail, but the crown of his head was bare, shiny and yellow like a pumpkin.

She noticed that he was looking at her sword, the hilt of which was protruding over her right shoulder.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ she repeated.

‘Hey, hey!’ he said, mumbling a bit. ‘Hey, hey, my lady. Gramps is not afraid. Not afraid, on no.’

He smiled. His teeth were big and due to his receding lower jaw, his upper teeth stuck out of his mouth. There for his speech was hard to understand.

‘Gramps is not afraid of strangers,’ he said. ‘Even bandits. Gramps is poor and pitiful. Gramps is peaceful, no threat to anyone. Hey!’

He smiled again. His smile seemed to be comprised of only his front teeth.

‘And you my lady, are you afraid of Gramps?’

Ciri snorted.

‘I’m not afraid of you.’

‘Hey, hey, hey! Whatever you say!’

He stepped towards her, leaning on his cane. Kelpie snorted. Ciri pulled on the reins.

‘She does not like strangers,’ Ciri warned. ‘And she bites.’

‘Hey, hey. Gramps understands. Bad,

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