The Road With No Return by Andrzej Sapkowski As published in the anthology anthology “Something Ends, Something Beings” fan-translation based on the official German translation, “Der Weg, von dem niemand zurückkehrt”, aus “Etwas endet, etwas beginnt”, published in 2012 by dtv
Updated: Updated: Wednesday, September 2, 2015 Progress: Progress : finished (based on the ebook) Translated by Tina B.
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I
The bird with the colorful plumage plumage resting on on Visenna’s Visenna’s shoulder began to cry, cry, batted batted its wings, rose and glided into the underbrush. Visenna reined in her horse, listened for a moment, then carefully continued along the forest path. The man seemed to be asleep. He sat leaning his back against a pole set into the middle of the crossroads. When she came closer, Visenna saw that his eyes were open. Even before that, she had noticed that he was wounded. The makeshift bandage covering his left shoulder and upper arm was soaked in blood which had not yet turned black. “Greetings, lad”, the wounded man sounded and spit out a long shaft of grass. “Where are you riding to, if one may ask?” Visenna didn’t like the the ‘lad’. She threw back back her hood. “One may ask”, she retorted, “but should justify one’s curiosity.” “Pardon me, Milady,” the man said and narrowed his eyes. “You wear man’s clothing. And regarding the curiosity: it is well justified! This here is an unusual crossroad. An interesting adventure has befallen me here…” “I see”, Visenna interrupted him and regarded the motionless, unnaturally bent figure lying halfway hidden in a bush no more than ten steps from the pole. The man looked in the same direction. Then their glances met. Visenna acted as if she were brushing back her hair and touched the diadem that was hidden under the snakeskin headband. “Ah yes,” the wounded man said calmly. “There is a corpse. You have quick eyes. Surely you think me a bandit. Am I in the right?” “You are not.” Visenna said without taking her hand off the diadem. “Ah…”, the man moaned, “Yes. Well…” “Your wound is bleeding.” “Most wounds have that strange property.” The injured man smiled. He had pretty teeth. “Covered with a bandage applied with only one hand, it will bleed for quite a while.” “Would you perhaps honor me with your help?” Visenna jumped off off her horse, her heels leaving leaving deep traces in the the soft ground. “My name is Visenna”, she said. “I do not honor anyone. I also do not appreciate being addressed in such a manner. Still I will treat your wound. Can you stand?” “Yes. Do I have to?” “No.”
“Visenna”, the man said while stretching slightly to allow her to remove the bandage more easily. “A pretty name. Has anyone told you, Visenna, that you have pretty hair? It’s called copper, isn’t it?” “No. Strawberry blond.” “Ah. When you’re done, I will give you a bunch of lupines that are growing in the ditch over there. And while you’re operating on me, just to pass the time, I will tell you what has happened to me. I did, you know, come here the same way as you. And I see, there at the crossroads, a pole. Yes, this one. And on this pole there is a board. That hurts.” “Most wounds have that strange property.” Visenna tore off the last layer of fabric without even trying trying to be especially careful. careful. “True, I’d forgotten. Where was I… Ah, yes. So I come closer, see what’s on the board. Horribly clumsy, I once knew an archer who could piss prettier letters in the snow. I read… And what’s that supposed to be, Milady? What kind of stone is that? Oh, damn it. I didn’t expect that.” Visenna gently gently ran the hematite hematite over the wound. wound. The bleeding bleeding stopped stopped immediately. immediately. She closed her eyes and gripped the man’s wounded arm with both hands, tightly pressing the edges together. She let go – the tissue had grown together, leaving behind nothing more than a jagged, scarlet line. The man was silent and watched attentively. Finally, he carefully raised his arm, stretched it, rubbed the scar, shook his head. He adjusted the bloody shirt and doublet, stood up, picked up the belt with the sword, money pouch and canteen. The belt buckle was shaped like a dragon’s head. head. “Well, that’s what you call luck”, he said without taking his eyes off Visenna. “I met a healer in the middle of the wilderness, where the Yaruga meets the Ina, where one usually is more likely to meet a werewolf or, even worse, a drunk lumberjack. What about payment for my treatment? I am a little short on money at the moment. Will a bunch of lupines suffice?” Visenna ignored ignored the question. She She stepped stepped closer to the pole, raised her head – the board was nailed on at a man’s eye-level. “’You, who come from the west’”, she read aloud. “’Go left and you will return. Go right, and you will return. Go straight ahead, and you will not return.’ Nonsense.” “My thoughts exactly,” the man said while brushing pine needles off his pant leg. “I know this region. Going straight, which means east, you get to the Klamat pass, onto the merchants’ road. Why should one be unable to return from there? Pretty girls who want to marry? Cheap booze? An opening as mayor?” “You digress, Korin.” The man opened opened his mouth in surprise. surprise. “How do you know that my name name is Korin?” “You have only just said it yourself. Go on.” “I have?” The man scrutinized her distrustfully. “Really? Well, perhaps… Where was I? Ah. So, I read and ask myself what idiot came up with that inscription. Suddenly, I hear someone babbling and muttering behind my back. I look back and see an old hag, grayhaired, crooked, with a cane, of course. I politely ask her what is wrong. She murmurs: ‘I’m hungry, dear knight, haven’t had a bite since morning.’ I think, so the hag has at least one
tooth left. I’m mighty touched, so from my knapsack I take a piece of bread and half a smoked brace, which I received from a fisherman on the Yaruga, and give it to the old woman. She sits down, chews, croaks, spits out fishbone. fi shbone. I keep looking at that strange signpost. Suddenly the old woman sounds: ‘You’re a good man, little knight, saved me, should have a reward.’ I wanted to let her know where she can stick her reward, but then the hag says: ‘Come closer, I have something to whisper in your ear, an important secret, how you can save many good people from woe, have fame and fortune.” Visenna sighed and sat down next to the wounded man. She liked him, tall, blond, with a narrow face and pronounced chin. He didn’t stink like most men she had met. She shooed away the persistent thought that she had been aimlessly wandering the woods and country roads by herself for too long. Korin continued his tale: “Hah, I thought, this is a classic opportunity. If the hag doesn’t have sclerosis and is still right in the head, then this may really prove useful for a poor warrior. I bend down, stretch my neck like a bumbling idiot. And if my reflexes hadn’t worked, she would have got me straight in the throat. I jumped back, the blood gushing from my arm like from a castle fountain, but the hag brandishes the knife, cries, sputters and spits. I still didn’t think it was serious. I go in close, to gain the advantage, and notice that she isn’t an old hag at all. Breasts as firm as flint…” Korin squinted at Visenna to see if she had blushed. Visenna was listening with polite interest. “Where was I… Ah. I thought I’d push her over and disarm her, but not a chance. Strong as a lynx. I notice that her hand, which his holding the knife, is going to slip from my grip any moment. What should I do? I pushed her away, drew the sword… She ran into it herself.” Visenna sat silent, silent, her hand at her her forehead, forehead, as if she were absentmindedly absentmindedly adjusting the snakeskin headband. “Visenna? I say it as it was. I know it was a woman, and I feel stupid, but I’ll croak if that was a normal woman. Right after she fell, she transformed. She got younger.” “An illusion”, Visenna said thoughtfully. “What?” “Nothing.” Visenna stood up, walked over to the corpse lying in the undergrowth of fern. “Look.” Korin stepped up to her. “A wench like a statue at the castle’s fountain. But she was bent and wrinkled like the backside of a hundred-year-old cow. If…” “Korin”, Visenna interrupted. “Do you have a strong stomach?” “Huh? What does my stomach have to do with this? But if you’re interested – I can’t complain.” Visenna removed the headband. The jeweled affixed to the diadem glowed in the milky gleam of light. She positioned herself in front of the corpse, stretched out her hands, closed her eyes. Korin watched, his mouth halfway open. Visenna slightly nodded her head, whispered something something he didn’t understand. understand. “Grealghane!” she shouted suddenly.
The undergrowth moved violently. Korin jumped back, drew his sword, froze in a defensive posture. The corpse began to twitch. “Grealghane! Speak!” “Aaaaaaa!” A hoarse, tumescent cry sounded from the undergrowth. The corpse bent, almost levitated, touching the ground with its back and head. The cry faded, turned into a throaty stammer, broken sighs and screams, which slowly gained tonality but were utterly incomprehensible. Korin felt a stream of cold sweat on his back, irritating him like a creeping caterpillar. He balled his fists to suppress the tingling in his hands and with all his might fought the overwhelming urge to flew into the depths of the forest. “Oggg… nnnn… nngammmmm”, the corpse stammered while it clawed the ground with its fingernails, blisters of blood welling welling out of its mouth and and bursting on its lips. “Nam… “Nam… eeeggg…” “Speak!” A muddy stream of light seeped from Visenna’s outstretched hands; and in i n it, the dust tumbled and accumulated. accumulated. Dry leaves and stalks shot up from the undergrowth. undergrowth. The corpse chocked, began to smack its lips and, suddenly, to talk. Quite comprehensibly. “Crossroads six miles south of the source. At most. S…sent. The Circle. A lad. Slau…gh…er. Ordered.” “Who?” Visenna yelled. “Who gave the order? Speak!” “Fffff… ggg … genal. All letters, sheets, rings, amu…lets.” “Speak!” “…pass. The Koshchey. Ge…nal. Take letters. Par…chment. He comes from Maaaaa! Eeeeeee! Naaaaaa!!!” The stammering voice began to vibrate, to dissolve into a horrible cry. Korin could take it no longer, he dropped the sword, closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his ears. So he stood until he felt a touch on his arm. He shivered violently, all over, as if someone had hit him in the genitals. “It is over”, Visenna said and wiped sweat off her forehead. “I your stomach.”
had had enquired enquired
about
“What a day”, Korin groaned. He picked up the sword, pushed it into the sheath, taking care not to glance in the direction of the now motionless corpse. “Visenna?” “Yes?” “Let’s get away from here. As far away from this place as possible.”
II
Together, both of them on Visenna’s horse, they rode along an overgrown, uneven forest path. She sat in front in the saddle, Korin on the croup, behind her, his arms wrapped
around her waist. Visenna had long l ong since grown accustomed to enjoying the amenities that fate offered her without second thoughts; so she contently leaned back against the man’s chest. Both remained silent. After almost an hour it was Korin who who first brought himself to speak. speak. “Visenna.” “What is it?” “You’re not just a healer. You’re from the Circle?” Cir cle?” “Yes.” “Judging by that… demonstration, a mistress?” “Yes.” Korin let go of her waist and grabbed the pommel. Visenna angrily screwed up her eyes. Of course he didn’t see. “Visenna?” “What is it?” “Did you understand anything of what the… said?” “Not much.” Again they they were silent. A colorful bird flying through through the foliage above them screamed loudly. “Visenna?” “Korin, do me a favor.” “Hm?” “Stop talking. I want to think.” The forest road led them down into a ravine, to the bed of a shallow stream which lazily meandered between stones and black tree trunks. The air smelled strongly of mint and nettle. Once in a while the horse slipped on the stones, which were covered in clay and silt. To keep from falling off, Korin again wrapped his arms around Visenna’s waist. He shooed away the persistent thought that he had been aimlessly wandering the woods and country roads by himself for too long.
III
The settlement was a typical roadside village, clinging to the mountainside, huts of straw and wood, dirty, ducking between crooked fences. As they rode closer, dogs began to bark. Visenna’s horse quietly plodded forward in the middle of the r oad and paid no heed to the keen mutts stretching their foaming muzzles for its pasterns. At first, they saw no one. Then, from behind the fences, from the paths leading toward the farmsteads, appeared the residents – they approached slowly, barefoot and with
sinister faces. They carried pitchforks, sticks and flails. Someone bent down and picked up a stone. Visenna reined in i n the horse, raised a hand. Korin saw that in it, she was holding a small golden knife formed like a sickle. “I am a healer”, she said in a voice that was clear and sonorous, but in no way loud. The peasants lowered their their weapons, began to murmur, exchanged glances. glances. More and more arrived. Some of those closest took off their caps. “What is the name of this settlement?” “Key”, it sounded from the crowd after a short silence. “Who is your alderman?” “Topin, your ladyship. There, the hut.” Before they moved off, a woman holding an infant squeezed through the line of countryfolk. “Mistress…”, she moaned and carefully touched Visenna’s knee. “My daughter… She is burning with a fever…” Visenna jumped from the saddle, touched touched the child’s small small head, closed her eyes. eyes. “She will be healthy tomorrow. Don’t wrap her up so tightly.” “Thank you, your ladyship… A thousand thanks…” Topin, the alderman, was already in the yard, considering what to do with the pitchfork he was holding. Finally, he used it to free the stairs from the mess left by the chickens. “Pardon me”, he said and leaned the fork against the wall. “Milady. And you, milord. Times are unsafe… unsafe… Please step in. Let us us entertain you.” They went inside. inside. Topin’s wife, trailed trailed by two flaxen-haired flaxen-haired girls clinging clinging to their mother’s mother’s apron strings, served scrambled eggs, bread and sour milk. Afterwards, she vanished into her chamber. In contrast to Korin, Visenna ate little and was sullen and quiet. Topin rolled his eyes, scratched himself in various places and talked. “Times are unsafe. Unsafe. We are not doing well, Milady. We raise sheep, whose wool is meant to be sold, but since there are no merchants, we’re slaughtering the herd. We slaughter the sheep to have food on the table. Back then, the merchants traveled around Hornstone and Greenstone into the Amell, across the pass, where the pits are. They mine hornstone there. And when the merchants passed, they also took wool, paid and left other wares. Now there there are no more merchants. merchants. There’s There’s not even even salt; whatever whatever we slaughter slaughter we have to eat within three days.” “The merchants are steering clear of you? Why?” Every once in a while Visenna thoughtfully touched the headband. “They just do”, Topin growled. “The road to the Amell is closed, and that damned koshchey has taken the pass and doesn’t even let a single soul through. How are the merchants supposed to come here? To die?” Korin froze, spoon suspended in midair.
“Koshchey? What is a koshchey?” “Well, how should I know? The koshchey, they say, is a man-eater. He’s supposed to sit on the pass.” “And he’s not letting the caravans through?” Topin looked around around the the hut. hut. “Some “Some he he does. does. His own, they they say. say. He’s He’s letting letting his own through.” Visenna frowned. “What “What do you mean: ‘his ‘his own’?” “Well, his own”, Topin murmured and blanched. “The people of Amell have it even worse than we do. We can at least feed on the forest a little. But they are sitting on bare rock and only get what the koshchey’s people sell for the hornstone. Which is bad, because they are supposed to demand a high price for their wares, but what should the Amell people do? They can’t eat the hornstone after all.” “What ‘koshchey’s people’? Humans?” “Humans and vrans and some others. Thugs is what they are, Milady. What they take from us, they bring to the Amell and exchange it for hornstone and greenstone. They take it from us forcefully. They have often robbed the villages, raped the girls, murdered them, burnt them. Thugs. The koshchey’s.” “How many are they?” “Who is supposed to count, Milord. The villages defend themselves, hold together. And what’s it help us if they raid r aid us at night and set fire? We rather give them what they demand. Then they say…” Topin blanched even further, began to tremble violently. “What do they say, Topin?” “They say that when the koshchey’s angry, he will descend from the pass, come to us into the valleys.” Visenna rose abruptly, abruptly, her face had changed. changed. Korin felt a shiver run run down his spine. spine. “Topin”, the sorceress said. “Where is the closest smithy? My horse lost a shoe on the road.” “A little ways behind the village, near the forest. There’s a smithy and a barn.” “Good. Go now, and ask if anyone is sick or wounded.” “Thank you, merciful benefactress.” “Visenna”, Korin said as soon as the door had closed behind Topin. The druid turned around and looked at him. “All of your horse’s shoes are in perfect order.” Visenna remained remained silent. “Hornstone is obviously jasper, greenstone jadeite, for which the Amell’s mines are famous”, Korin continued. “And to get to the Amell, you need to travel the Klamat, over the pass. The road with no return. What did the dead woman at the crossroads say? Why did she want to kill me?” Visenna didn’t answer. answer.
“You’re silent? Never mind. It is all becoming clear so nicely. The wench at the crossroads was waiting for someone to stop at the stupid sign that forbids you to go east. That was the the first test: if the newcomer newcomer can read. read. Then the the wench verified again: who, who, if not a good Samaritan from the Circle of druids, would help a hungry old woman these days? Everybody else, I bet, would’ve even taken the stick from her. So the cunning wench investigates further, starts talking of poor, unhappy people who need help. The traveler, instead of thanking her with a kick and a curse, as any average resident of these parts would, listens closely. Yes, the wench thinks, this is him. The druid who’s here to clear out the bandits terrorizing the neighborhood. And since she herself was doubtlessly sent by said bandits, she draws a knife. Ha! Visenna! Am I not a paragon of intelligence?” Visenna didn’t answer. She stood facing the window. Outside she saw – the semitransparent membranes of air bladder were no obstacle to her sight – the bird with the colorful plumage sitting in a small cherry tree. “Visenna?” “Yes.” “What’s a koshchey?” “Korin”, Visenna said sharply and turned to face him. “Why are you getting involved in matters which are none of your concern?” “Listen” – Korin didn’t care about her tone of voice -, “I am already, as you say, involved in your matters. As it turns out, I was to be murdered in your stead.” “By chance.” “I thought sorceresses didn’t believe in chance, only in magical attraction, chain of events and such. Look, we’re sitting on the same horse. Literally and figuratively. In short… I offer you my help with the mission, whose purpose I can very well imagine. A refusal I will take as a sign of arrogance. They told me that you from the Circle look down upon ordinary mortals.” “That’s a lie.” “All the better.” Korin flashed his teeth. “So let’s not lose any time. Let’s ride to the smithy.”
IV
Nicholas grabbed the rod more tightly with the pliers and turned it in the embers. “Step on it, Bung!” he ordered. The journeyman grabbed the handle of the bellows. His chubby face shone with sweat. In spite of the door being wide open, the smithy was unbearably hot. Nicholas lifted the rod onto the anvil, flattened the end with a few mighty blows of his hammer. The wheelwright wheelwright Radim, sitting on a rough block of birchwood, birchwood, was sweating sweating heavily heavily as well. He unbuttoned his overall and pulled the shirt out of his pants. “It’s easy for you to say, Nicholas”, he said. “You know all about fighting. Everybody knows that you haven’t
been standing in the smithy all your life. Back then, they say, you smashed heads instead of iron.” “Then be glad to have one like that on your side,” the smith responded. “I’m telling you again, I will no longer crawl to them. Or slave away for them. If you’re not coming with me, then I’ll go alone, or with anyone who has blood running in their veins, not small beer. We will go into the woods and finish them off one by one if we catch them. How many are they? Thirty? Perhaps not even that many. And how many villages are there on this side? Strong lads? Step on it, Bung!” “I am!” “More!” The hammer hammer beat beat the the anvil rhythmically, almost melodically. melodically. Bung Bung pulled the bellows. bellows. Radim snorted into his hand and wiped it on the shaft of his boot. “Easy for you to say”, he repeated. “And how many will join j oin us from Key?” The smith lowered the the hammer, remained remained silent. “That’s what I thought”, the wheelwright said. “Nobody will come.” “Key is a small village. You should have asked in Sill and Stalk.” “I did. I told you how it is. Without warriors from Mayena, the people won’t move a muscle. Some say: Those bobolaks and vrans, them we can take on one, two, three with our pitchforks, but what do we do if the koshchey descends on us? Flee into the woods. And the huts, our belongings? We can’t carry them on our backs. And we are powerless against the koshchey itself, you know that.” “How should I know? Has anybody seen it?” the smith yelled. “Maybe there is no koshchey? Maybe they just want to scare you peasants? Has anybody seen it?” “Don’t talk, Nicholas.” Radim cocked his head. “You know that among the merchants’ escort there were veritable murderers, murderers, hung with iron. And did one of them return from the pass? Not a single one. No, Nicholas. We must wait, I tell you. If the castellan of Mayena sends help, then that’s a different story.” Nicholas put down the hammer and placed the rod in the oven once more. “Mayena’s military will not come”, he said morosely. “The lords are squabbling among themselves. Mayena against Raswan.” “Why?” “Who understands the why and what for when the noble Lords are fighting? If you ask me – because of boredom, haughtiness!” the smith yelled. “I saw him, that castellan! Why do we even pay pay the bastard taxes?” taxes?” He tore the rod from the embers so that the sparks flew and gesticulated wildly. Bung jumped aside. Nicholas grabbed the hammer, hit once, twice, thrice. “When the castellan chased my boy off, I sent him to the Circle to ask for help. To the druids.” “To the sorcerers?” the wheelwright asked in disbelief. “Nicholas?” “To those. But the boy hasn’t come back yet.”
Radim shook his head, stood up and adjusted his pants. “I don’t know, Nicholas, I don’t know. That’s too much for me. But still it amounts to the same thing. We must wait. Finish your work, they will come soon, I must…” In front of the smithy, a horse neighed. The smith froze, his hammer raised above the anvil. The wheelwright’s teeth began to chatter, he blanched. Nicholas noticed his hands shivering; he involuntarily wiped them on his leather apron. It didn’t help. He swallowed and went to the door opening, from which the silhouettes of riders could be seen. Radim and Bung followed, stayed very close behind him. As he went out, the smith leaned the rod against the wall next to the door. He saw six figures, all on horseback, wearing leather-studded vests, hauberks, leather helmets with nose protection made of steel which ran as a straight line of metal between huge ruby eyes taking up half the face. They sat on their horses without moving, as if careless. Nicholas, who let his gaze sweep from one to the other, saw their weapons: short spears with broad blades. Swords with strangely forged crossguards. Broadaxes. Serrated glaives. Two of them them stood opposite the entrance. A tall tall vran on a gray mold, wearing a cloak, cloak, a sun emblem emblem on his helmet. helmet. And the other… other… “Mother”, Bung whispered behind the smith’s back. And started to sob. The other rider was was a human. He wore a dark vran cloak, but but from behind the the beakshaped helmet, pale blue eyes watched them, no red ones. In those eyes lay such cold, indifferent violence that Nicholas felt a terrible fear course through him, chilling his innards, causing nausea, a tickling in his behind. It was still quiet. The smith heard the flies humming above the manure pile behind the fence. The human with the beak-shaped helmet helmet was the first to speak. “Who of you is the smith?” The question was senseless, the the leather apron and and his posture gave gave away Nicholas at first glance. The smith remained silent. From the corner of his eye he noticed the paleeyed man making a small gesture to one of the vrans. The vran leaned forward in the saddle and gave a wide swing of the glaive he was holding by the middle of its shaft. Nicholas bent, instinctively ducked and covered his head and shoulders. The blow, however, was not meant for him. The wi wide de blade hit Bung in the neck and entered at an angle, deep, shattering a collarbone and vertebra. The young man reeled backwards against the wall of the smithy, tumbled against the door post and dropped to the ground right ri ght at the entrance. “I asked you a question”, the man with the beak-shaped helmet reminded them without taking taking his eyes off Nicholas. Nicholas. His gloved hand hand touched touched the ax ax fastened fastened to to the saddle. The vrans standing the farthest away lit a fire, ignited ignited links and passed them on to to the others. Calmly, unhurriedly they surrounded the smithy, held the torches to the thatched roof. Radim could bear it no longer. He pressed his face into his hands, started to sob and ran straight ahead between two horses. When he was on the level of a tall vran, the latter jauntily rammed a spear into his stomach. The wheelwright howled, fell, violently twitched twice and spread his legs. He moved no more. “So, what is it, Nicholas, or whatever you are called”, Pale-eyes said. “You alone remain. And for what? To rally the people to the send help? And to think we would not l earn
of it? You are stupid. In the villages, there are those who denounce others to get in our good books.” The thatched thatched roof of the smithy crackled, crackled, cracked, cracked, emitted a yellowish smoke, finally flared up, blazed, blew sparks, exuded a mighty stream of embers. “We caught your journeyman, he babbled about where you sent him. We are also waiting for the one who is to come from Mayena”, the man with the beak-shaped helmet continued. “Yes, Nicholas. You stuck your dirty nose where it doesn’t belong. For that you will now have to suffer severe inconveniences. inconveniences. I think it will pay to put you on the pole. Is there a decent pole in this area? Or better yet: We hang you by your feet, in a barn door, and peel off your skin like we would with an eel.” “Well, enough talk”, the tall vran with the sun on his helmet said while throwing his torch through the open door of the smithy. “Soon the whole village will gather here. Let’s finish him, get the horses from the stables and ride off. Why does making others suffer please you humans so? Especially when doing so needlessly? Go, finish him.” Pale-eyes didn’t turn to the vran. He bent forward in his saddle, ushered the horse toward the smith. “Go inside”, he said. A lust for murder shone in his pale eyes. “Into the house. I don’t have the time to properly execute you. But I can at least fry you.” Nicholas took a step back. On his back he felt the heat of the burning smithy, inside which ceiling beams were crashing crashing thunderously thunderously to the floor. One more step. He stumbled stumbled over Bung’s body and the rod, which the boy had thrown over in his fall. The rod. The smith bent over fast as lightning, took hold of the heavy iron and without straightening himself, from down low, rammed it into Pale-eyes’ chest with all the strength his hatred gave him. The chisel-shaped tip penetrated the chain mail. Nicholas didn’t wait for the man to fall off his horse. He ran across the yard. Behind him yelling, the stamping of hooves. He reached the woodshed, clutched the stake leaning against the wall with his fingers and hit immediately, in mid-spin, blindly. The blow struck the muzzle of the gray mold with the green covering. The horse reared, bucked off the vran with the sun on his helmet and sent him into the dust of the yard. Nicholas ducked, a short spear shot into the wall of the shed, became stuck, quivering. A second vran drew his sword and spurred his horse to evade the whistling stroke of the stake. Three others galloped closer, yelled, wildly gesticulated with their weapons. Nicholas groaned, while he defended himself with the heavy wood. He hit something, another horse, which neighed and started to dance on its hind legs. The vran remained in the saddle. Over the fence, from the direction of the forest, hurtled a horse, clashed with the gray mold with the green covering. The gray balked, tore at the reins, toppled the tall vran who was trying to get back into the saddle. Nicholas couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw how the newly arrived rider split into two – a weakling in a hood who leaned over the horse’s neck, and a fair-haired man with a sword, who sat in the back. The long narrow blade drew two semi-circles, two thunderbolts. Two vrans were blown from their saddles, they tumbled to the ground, veiled in clouds of dust. The third, who had had almost almost made made it to the the woodshed, woodshed, turned to the the peculiar peculiar pair and and took a thrust thrust under the beard, barely above the steel chest plate. The blade gl inted as it stuck out of the throat
for a moment. The fair-haired man slid off his horse and ran across the yard to get the tall vran off his horse. The vran vran drew the blade. In the middle of the yard, the fifth vran was trying to regain control over his dancing horse, which balked at the burning smithy. His broadax raised, he looked around, hesitated. Finally, he yelled, spurred the horse and rushed r ushed toward the weakling clinging to the horse’s neck. Nicholas watched as the small one threw back his hood and tore a band from his forehead, and he realized how deeply he had erred. The girl shook her strawberry blond shock of hair and yelled something incomprehensible, while stretching her hands out towards the vran. A thin thread of light, bright as quicksilver, sprang from her fingers. The vran was hurled from the saddle in a high arc and crashed into the sand. His clothes were smoldering. The horse, hitting the ground with all four hooves, neighed, threw its head back and forth. The tall tall vran with the sun on his helmet helmet slowly backed away from the fair-haired fair-haired man, man, towards the burning shed, ducking, both hands – a sword in his right – stretched forward. The fair-haired one jumped forward, they exchange a few blows. The vran’s sword fl ew off to the side, yet he himself was stuck on the blade that had impaled him. The fair-haired man stepped back, removed the sword with a quick jerk. The vran fell onto his knees, toppled over, his face in the sand. The rider who had been thrown from his saddle by the strawberry-blonde’s flashes got up on all fours, groping around for a weapon. Nicholas had recovered from the surprise; he took two steps, picked up the stake and let it crash down onto the neck of the fallen one. Bones cracked. “That was not necessary”, he heard somebody say right beside him. The girl in the man’s clothing had freckles and green eyes. On her forehead shone a strange jewel. “That was not necessary”, she repeated. “My lady…”, the smith began to stammer and held his rod like a guardsman would his halberd. “They… burned the smithy. Beat the boy to death. And Radim. Beaten to death, those murderers. My lady…” The fair-haired man used his foot to turn over the body of the tall vran, inspected him, then came closer and sheathed his sword. “Well, Visenna”, he said. “Now I’ve gotten involved quite a bit. The only thing that makes me uneasy is whether I took down the right people.” Visenna raised her her eyes. “You’re the smith, smith, Nicholas?”, she asked. asked. “Yes. And you, Masters, are from the Circle of Druids? From Mayena?” Visenna didn’t answer. She looked toward the edge of the forest, at the crowd of people hurrying closer. “Those are our people”, the smith explained. “From Key.”
V
“We got three!” boasted the black-bearded leader of the group from Sill and shook the scythe set straight onto the shaft. “Three, Nicholas! They pursued the girls into the fields, and there, we… One of them managed to get away, reached a horse, that whoreson!” His people, crowded around the circle of campfires in the clearing, which studded the sable night sky with spots of flying embers, yelled, clamored, shook their weapons. Nicholas raised both his hands, demanded quiet to be able to hear the ensuing reports. “Four came riding to us last l ast night”, said the old, bony sheriff of Stalk. “Whatever. Someone must have spilled that I’m involved with you, smith. I barely made it onto the drying loft of the barn, pulled up the ladder, fork in hand, ‘come’, I yell, ‘scoundrels, who wants some’, I yell. They They were about to set fire to the the barn, that would have have been the end end of me, but our people didn’t stand by and watch, they all pounced on them. They had horses, managed to cut through. Some of ours fell, but we pulled one of them from his saddle.” “Does he live?” Nicholas inquired. “I told you to catch one alive.” “Well.” The thin one waved dismissively. “That we we didn’t manage. The wenches used boiling water, they got to him first…” “I’ve always said they’ve got hot wenches in Stalk”, the smith murmured and scratched the back of his neck. “And the snitch?” “Found him”, the bony man said briefly, without getting lost in detail. “Good. And now, people, listen. We already know where they are. At the mountainside, next to the shepherds’ huts, there are caves in the rock. That’s where the bandits have holed up, and that’s where we will catch them. We’ll take hay and brushwood on the carts, smoke them out like badgers. We’ll block the way with an abates so they don’t escape. That’s what I’ve consulted about with this knight here by the name of Korin. And I myself, as you are aware, do know a little li ttle something about fighting fighting as well. During the war I went against the vrans with General Grosim, before I settled down in Key.” From among the crowd warlike cries rang once more, but were swiftly quieted by words which spoken lowly and insecurely insecurely at first. Then Then became louder. louder. Finally, silence fell. Visenna stepped stepped from behind Nicholas’ back and stood next next to the smith. She did did not even reach his shoulder. The crowd began to murmur. Nicholas again raised both hands. “The time has come”, he called, “that I no longer want to conceal that that I have asked for help help from the Circle of Druids since the the castellan of Mayena would not supply it. I know very well that some of you eye me curiously because of that.” The crowd slowly turned quieter, but was still in motion, whispering. whispering. “This here is Lady Visenna”, Nicholas said slowly. “From the Mayena Circle. She answered our call for help. Those from Key are already acquainted with her, there she healed people, restored their health with her powers. Yes, men. She is a slight lady, but
her power is immense. It goes beyond our understanding and scares us, but it serves as help in our fight.” Visenna refrained from commenting, commenting, she did did not say a word and made no no gesture toward the assembled crowd. But the veiled power of the small, freckled sorceress was incredible. Korin felt, with surprise, how a strange enthusiasm filled him, how the fear of what waited at the pass, pass, the fear of the unknown, unknown, shrank, vanished, vanished, became unimportant, unimportant, as long as the bright jewel on Visenna’s forehead sparkled. “So you see”, Nicholas continued, “that there is something we can do against the koshchey. We will not go alone, not defenseless. But before that we have to get rid of those bandits!” “Nicholas is right!”, the bearded man from Sill called. “Magic or not, who cares! To the pass, people! To finish the koshchey’s thugs!” The crowd yelled its agreement agreement in unison, unison, raised scythes, pikes, axes axes and pitchforks reflecting the flames of the campfires. Korin squeezed through the rows of people near him toward the forest, found a kettle hanging over a fire, a bowl and a spoon. He scraped the burnt remains of pap with bacon off the bottom. He sat down, rested the bowl on his knees, ate slowly and spit out bits of barley. After a while he felt someone’s presence. “Sit down, Visenna”, he said with his mouth full. He kept eating while squinting at her profile, at the half-hidden cascade of hair that gleamed blood-red in the fire’s glow. Visenna remained silent, her gaze directed at the flames. “Hey, Visenna, why do we sit here like two owls?” Korin set down the bowl. “I can’t stand that, it makes me sad and cold. Where did they hide the moonshine? There was a small barrel here just a minute ago; Devil take it. It’s dark like…” The druid turned toward toward him. Her eyes glowed with a strange, strange, greenish sparkle. Korin fell silent. “Yes. True”, he said after a while and cleared his throat. “I’m a bandit. A mercenary. A robber. I got involved because because I like fighting, no matter matter who. I know the price of jasper, jasper, jadeite and all the other other stones there are are in the mines of the Amell. Amell. I want loot. Profit. I don’t care how many of these people will lose their lives tomorrow. What else do you want to know? I will say it myself, you don’t need to use that sparkly thing you’re hiding under the snakeskin. I don’t intend to hide anything. You’re right, I fit neither you nor your noble mission. That’s it. Good night. I’m going to sleep.” Despite his words he did not get up. He only took a stick and thrust at the burning logs. “Korin”, Visenna said quietly. “Yes?” “Don’t leave.”
Korin lowered his head. From a chunk of birchwood in the fire erupted blue geysers of flame. He looked at her but could not bear the intensity of those eerily sparkling eyes. He turned his head toward the fire. “Don’t ask too much of yourself”, Visenna said and wrapped wr apped herself in her cloak. “It is common for the unnatural to spark fear. And loathing.” “Visenna…” “Don’t interrupt me. Yes, Korin, the people need our help, they are thankful, oftentimes even honestly so, but they despise us, fear us, don’t look us in the eyes, spit behind our backs. The more intelligent, like you, are less honest. You are no exception, Korin. I have heard from many that they are unworthy of sitting at a fire with me. But it so happens that it is we who need the help of… normal folk. Or their company.” Korin kept silent. “I know”, Visenna continued, “that it would be easier for you if I had a gray beard reaching my belt and a hooked nose. Then the revulsion against my person would not cause such confusion in your mind. Yes, Korin, revulsion. This sparkly thing that I wear on my forehead is a chalcedony. To it, I owe a large portion of my magical abilities. You are right, with the help of the chalcedony I am easily able to read the more concrete thoughts. thoughts. Yours are exceedingly exceedingly plain. Do not ask me to perceive perceive that as pleasing. pleasing. I am a sorceress, a witch, but also a woman. I came because I wanted to sleep with you.” “Visenna…” “No. I no longer want to. Not now.” They sat quietly. quietly. The colorful bird, sitting on a branch branch in the dark depth of the forest, felt fear. There were owls in the woods. “You overdid it a little”, Korin finally sounded “with the revulsion. But I do admit that you cause in me some some kind of… unrest. You shouldn’t have allowed me to watch that that scene at the crossroads. The corpse, you know?” “Korin”, the sorceress said calmly. “When you thrust your sword into the vran’s throat at the smithy, I almost vomited into the horse’s mane. But let us let our specialties rest. We should end the conversation that leads to nothing.” “We should end it.” The sorceress drew her her cloak more tightly around herself. herself. Korin threw a few pine cones into the fire. “Korin?” “Yes?” “I wish you were no longer indifferent of how many lose their lives l ives tomorrow. Humans and… and others. I count on your help.” “I will help you.” “That is not all. There is still the issue of the pass. I need to open the road across the Klamat.”
With the glowing end of a twig Korin pointed at the other other campfires and the the people who slept or talked quietly. “With “With our glorious army, that should should be no problem.” “Our army will vanish home once I stop clouding their heads with magic.” Visenna smiled sadly. “But I will not cloud them. I do not want any of them to die for an unfamiliar cause. And the koshchey is not their business, but that of the Circle. I need to go to the pass alone.” “No. You’re not going alone”, Korin said. “We’ll go together. I, Visenna, have known from early childhood when to flee and when it’s still too early. I’ve perfected that knowledge in years of practice, and that’s why I’m currently considered brave. I don’t intend to do your opinion of me any harm. You don’t need to cloud me with magic. First, let’s see what that koshchey looks like. By the way, what do you think is this koshchey?” Visenna lowered her her head. “I’m afraid”, she whispered, whispered, “it is death.”
VI
The others did not let themselves be caught off-guard in the caves. They waited in the saddle, motionless, erect, their eyes directed at the rows of armed peasants coming from the forest. The wind tearing at their mantles made them look like haggard birds of prey with ruffled up plumage, plumage, threatening, inspiring awe and and fear. “Eighteen”, Korin counted standing in the stirrups. “All mounted. Six near horses. One cart. Nicholas!” The smith rapidly changed his company’s formation. Those with pikes and spears kneeled at the edge of the brush, the ends of their weapons rammed into the ground. The archers took position behind the trees. The rest retreated into the thicket. One of the riders came toward them. He stopped his horse, raise his hand above his head, called something. “A feint”, Nicholas murmured. “I know them, those whoresons.” “Let’s make sure”, Korin said and jumped from the saddle. “Come.” Slowly, the two of them walked up to the mounted one. After a while Korin noticed Visenna following them. them. The rider was a bobolak. “I will be brief”, he called without dismounting. His small, sparkling eyes glinted, halfway hidden by the fur that covered his face. “I am the current leader of the group that you see over there. Nine bobolaks, five humans, three vrans, one elf. The The rest rest is dead. There was a difference of opinion. Our former leader, whose plans led us here, lies in that cave over there, bound. Do with him as you please. We want to ride off.” “That really was brief”, Nicholas snorted. “You want to ride off. And we want to tear out your guts. What do you say?”
The bobolak flashed his pointed teeth, stretched his small form in the saddle. “Do you believe believe we fear fear you enough to be willing to make concessions? You, a band band of cowards in bast shoes? Please, if you insist, we will ride over your paunches. That is our trade, peasant. I know that we’re taking a risk. Even if some of us fall, the others will make it through. That’s life.” “The cart won’t make it through”, Korin said forcefully. “That’s life.” “We are prepared for that.” “What’s on the cart?” The bobolak spit over his right shoulder. “A twentieth of what has remained r emained in the cave. And just to be clear: if you ask us to leave the cart behind, we won’t agree. If we’re supposed to get out of this thing without a profit, then at least not without a fight. So, what is it? If we are to fight, then I’d rather do it now, in the morning, before the dear sun begins to burn.” “You’re brave”, said Nicholas. “So are all of my family.” “We will let you go if you lower your weapons.” The bobolak spit again, this this time over his left shoulder, shoulder, for a change. “Not a chance”, he growled curtly. Korin laughed. “That’s what’s bothering you. Without your weapons, you’re garbage!” “And what are you without weapons?” the small one asked without emotion. “A prince? I see what you are. Do you think I’m blind?” “With weapons you could be back tomorrow”, Nicholas said. “Let’s say, to get what’s left in the cave. To make more profit.” The bobolak bared his teeth. “That was an option. But we dropped it after a short discussion.” “Rightly so”, Visenna said suddenly, stepped from behind Korin’s back and stood closely in front of the mounted one. “It was right of you to drop it, Kehl.” Korin felt as if the wind had suddenly grown stronger, it began howling between the rocks and grasses, assaulted it with cold. Visenna continued in an unfamiliar, metallic voice. “Each of you who tires to return here will die. I see it and I am saying it in advance. Ride from here immediately. Now. Each who tries to return will die.” The bobolak leaned forward and looked at the sorceress across the neck of his horse. He wasn’t young – his fur war almost ashen, streaked white. “It is you? I thought so. I’m glad that… But enough of that. I told you I don’t intend to return here. We joined Fregenal to make a profit. That’s over. Now the Circle is breathing down our neck, and all the villages in the area, but Fregenal is babbling about world domination. We’ve had enough of him and that creature at the pass.” He tore at the reins, turned his horse. “Why am I saying that? We are leaving. Farewell.”
Nobody answered. The bobolak hesitated, looked toward the edge of the forest, then let his gaze glide along the row of his motionless riders. Again he leaned forward in the saddle and looked Visenna in the eyes. “I was against the attack on you”, he said. “Now I see that I was right. If I tell you that the koshchey’s death, you will nevertheless go to the pass, won’t you?” “True.” Kehl straightened his back, called something to his horse, galloped to his people. Immediately, the mounted ones formed a convoy around the cart, moved off toward the road. Nicholas was already with his men, talking to them, calming the bearded man from Sill and others, who were demanding blood and revenge. Korin and Visenna silently regarded the company passing them. They rode slowly, looked straight ahead, showed calm and cold disdain. Only Kehl raised his hand in a parting gesture when he passed them, all the while watching Visenna with a strange expression. Then he abruptly spurred his horse, trotted past the head of the convoy, vanished between the trees.
VII
They found the first corpse right at the entrance to the caves, crushed, shoved between sacks of oat and a pile of brushwood. The path branched off, at the fork they saw the next two dead – one nearly headless from a blow with a mace or the back of an ax, the other covered in clotted blood from many wounds. All of them humans. Visenna removed the headband headband from her forehead. A light radiated from the diadem, diadem, brighter than the fire of the torches, and lit the dark interior of the cave. The passage led into a bigger grotto. Korin emitted a soft whistle. Against the walls leaned crates, sacks and barrels, stacks of harnesses, balls of wool, weapons, equipment. A few crates were shattered and empty. Others were full. In passing, Korin saw a dull green pile of jasper, dark broken pieces of jadeite, agates, opals, chrysoprases and other jewels he didn’t know. On the stone floor, here and there glittering with golden, silver and copper coins, lay scattered bundles of fur – marmot, lynx, l ynx, fox, wolverine. Without stopping stopping for even a moment, Visenna Visenna hurried into a more remote, remote, small and dark cavern. Korin followed her. “Here I am”, sounded a dark, indistinct shape lying on a stack of rags and furs covering the floor. They walked closer. closer. The bound man was was squat, squat, bald, obese. A large bruise covered covered half his face. Visenna touched touched the diadem, for a moment moment the chalcedony chalcedony flared up more brightly. brightly. “That is unnecessary”, the bound man said. “I know you. I forget what you are called. I know what’s on your forehead. That is unnecessary, I say. They assaulted me in my sleep, took my ring, destroyed my staff. I am powerless.” “Fregenal”, Visenna said. “You’ve changed.”
“Visenna”, the fat one murmured. “I remember. I thought it would be a man, that’s what I sent Manissa. Manissa. My Manissa could have have handled a man.” man.” “She couldn’t”, Korin blustered while looking around. “Still, one has to give the dead her due. She really made an effort.” “Too bad.” Visenna looked looked around the cave, cave, walked into a corner with sure step, turned a stone over the with tip of her boot, removed a small clay pouch wrapped in leather from the hollow below it. With her golden sickle she cut a strap, pulled out a sheaf of parchment. Fregenal watched with hostility. “Well, well”, he said, his voice quivering with wi th hatred. “What a talent. It deserves praise. We can find hidden things. What else can we do? Divine from an oxen’s gut? Cure a heifer’s flatulence?” Visenna looked at sheet sheet after sheet without without paying any attention attention to him. “Interesting”, she said after a while. “Eleven years ago, when you were expelled from the Circle, certain pages vanished from forbidden books. It’s pleasing that they have been found, enriched with commentary, no less. To think you had the audacity to use the double cross of Alzur – now, now. I don’t think you forgot about the fate that befell Alzur. Some of his creatures supposedly still roam the world, among them his last, the vij who killed him and destroyed half of Maribor before fleeing into the woods of the ri ver country.” She folded a few pages of parchment, slid them into a pocket in the puffy sleeve of her jacket. She unrolled the next pages. “Aha”, she said and frowned. “The formula of tree root, slightly altered. And here, the triangle within a triangle, a method with which one can affect a sequence of mutations and cause enormous gain in body mass. And what, Fregenal, served as your creature of origin? Looks like a common spider. Fregenal, something is missing. I hope you know what I am talking about?” “I’m glad you’ve noticed.” He wizard grinned. “A common spider, you say? Once that common spider descends from the pass, the world will turn mute with horror. For a moment. And then it will scream.” “Yes, yes. Where are the missing spells?” “Nowhere. I didn’t want them to fall into the wrong hands. Especially not yours. I know that the whole Circle dreams of the power those spells can give, but no chance. You will never be capable of creating anything even half as terrible as a koshchey.” “You seem to have been hit in the head, Fregenal”, Visenna said calmly. “Due to that, it seems, you have not yet regained your intellectual capabilities. Who talks of creation? Your creature needs to be destroyed, eradicated. Through the simple inversion of a binding spell, the mirror effect. The binding spell, of course, was tuned to the staff, so it needs to be retuned to my chalcedony.” “Too much of ‘needs to be”, the fat man growled. “You can sit here until Judgment Day and ‘need to’, my clever miss. Where did you get the silly idea that I would give you the binding spell? You will get nothing from me, neither alive nor dead. I have a block. Don’t ogle me like that, or that stone will burn through your forehead. Hurry, unbind me, my limbs have already fallen asleep.”
“If you want, I can give you a few kicks.” Korin smiled. “That should get your circulation going. You don’t seem to grasp your situation, you bald swine. Any moment, the peasants are going to be here, the ones you’ve threatened, and they’ll quarter you with their horses. Have you ever seen how that’s done? The arms tear off fir st.” Fregenal flexed his neck, his eyes bulging and tried to spit on Korin’s boots. But that was quite difficult from the position he was in, so he merely merely spat on his own chin. “That’s”, he snorted, “that’s what I think of your threats! You will do nothing! You presume a great deal, vagrant! You’ve gotten in far over your head! Ask her why she’s here! Visenna! Enlighten him, he seems to take take you for a noble liberator of the oppressed, a fighter fighter for the good of the common people! But this is about money, you cretin! A lot of money!” Visenna remained quiet. Fregenal straightened, the binds screaming, turned over onto his side by bending his legs at the knees. “Is it not true”, he yelled, “that the Circle sent you to reopen the golden faucet which has run dry? For the Circle draws profit from the mining for jasper and jadeite, it imposes taxes on the merchants and caravans as payment for protective amulets which, as has been shown, do nothing against my koshchey!” Visenna didn’t answer. She didn’t didn’t look at the bound bound man. Her gaze gaze rested on Korin. Korin. “Aha!” the sorcerer yelled. “You don’t even deny it! That means all the world. Back then, only the Elders knew of it, and greenhorns like you were made believe that the Circle’s only goal was to fight evil. That does not surprise me: the world is changing, the people are beginning to understand that they can live without magic and magicians. Before you know it, you will be out of work, will have to live off what you have stolen until then. Nothing matters to you, only profit. That is why you will unbind me this moment. You will not kill me or have me killed, for that would mean further losses for the Circle. And the Circle would not forgive you for that, that much much is obvious.” “It is not”, Visenna said coldly, arms crossed in front of her chest. “You see, Fregenal, greenhorns like me don’t pay too much attention to material wealth. What do I care if the Circle makes a profit or has losses, or if it even stops to exist. I can very well live on curing a heifer’s flatulence. Or impotence in old geezers like you. But that is unimportant. What is important is that you want to live and therefore wag your tongue. Everybody wants to live. That is why you will now give me the binding spell. Immediately. Then you will help me find the koshchey, and destroy it. And if not… Well, then I suppose I will take a walk in the woods. Afterwards I can tell the the Circle that I did not notice notice the angry peasants.” peasants.” The sorcerer ground his teeth. “You’ve always been cynical. Even back then in Mayena. Especially in your relationships with men. You were fourteen, but there was a lot of talk of your…” “Stop, Fregenal”, the druid interrupted. “What you are saying does not impress me in the least. Not him, either. He is not my lover. Say that you agree. And be done with the blabbering. You do agree, after all!” Fregenal screwed up his eyes, averted his gaze. “Of course”, he croaked. “Do you take me for a fool? Everybody wants to live.”
VIII
Fregenal stopped, wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “Behind those rocks begins a ravine. The old maps mark it as Duran-Orit, the gorge of mice. That’s the gate to the Klamat. We need to leave the horses here. On horseback there’d be no chance to get close to it unnoticed.” “Nicholas”, Visenna said while dismounting. “Wait until the evening, no longer. If I don’t return, do not enter the pass, under no circumstances. Return home. Do you understand, Nicholas?” The smith nodded. There were only four villagers still with him. The rest of the company had melted away on the road like snow in May. “I understand, Milady”, he murmured and squinted at Fregenal. “Still I’m surprised that you trust this bastard. I think the peasants were right. Should have torn off his head. Just look at those pig eyes, Milady, that traitorous mug.” Visenna didn’t answer. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she looked toward the mountain, at the entrance of the ravine. “Take the lead, Fregenal”, Korin ordered and tightened his belt. They set off. After half an hour of marching they saw the first cart, pushed over, shattered. Then another – with a broken wheel. Skeletons of horses. The skeleton of a human. Another. A third. A fourth. A pile. A pile of broken, crunched bones. bones. “You whoreson”, Korin said quietly, his eyes on a skull in whose eye sockets were growing the stalks of large nettles. “Those are merchants, right? I don’t know what’s k eeping me from…” “We have an agreement”, Fregenal interrupted him hastily. “An agreement. I told you everything, Visenna. I’m helping you. I’m leading you. We have an agreement!” Korin spat. Visenna looked at him, pale, then turned toward the sorcerer. “We have an agreement”, she confirmed. “You will help us find and destroy it, then you will take off. Your death will not bring back back those who lie here.” “Destroy, destroy… Visenna, I’m warning you again, and I repeat: stun it, paralyze it, you know the spells. But don’t destroy it. It is worth a fortune. fortune. You can always…” always…” “Stop, Fregenal. We have already talked about this. Lead us.” They walked on, careful careful to avoid the skeletons. skeletons. “Visenna”, Fregenal panted panted after a while. “Are you aware of the risk? This is no joke. You know the mirror effect effect can go this way or the other. other. If the inversion doesn’t doesn’t work, we’re done for. I’ve seen what it’s capable of.” Visenna stopped. “No excuses”, excuses”, she said. “Who do you take me for? The inversion will work if…” “If you didn’t scam us”, Korin added, his voice toneless with anger. “And if you did… You say you saw saw what your monster monster is capable of. But But do you know what what I am capable capable of?
I know a blow that leaves a man with nothing but an ear, a cheek and half his jaw. One can survive, but never again, let’s say, play the flute.” “Visenna, calm down that murderer”, Fregenal stuttered, having blanched significantly. “Explain to him that I could not lie to you, that you would have noticed…” “Don’t talk so much, Fregenal. Lead us.” A little further down the path they spied the next cart. And the next skeletons. Carelessly scattered, tangled ribcages glistening white in the grass, shins sticking from the debris, skulls grinning eerily. Korin was silent, his sweaty hand tightly gripping the sword’s handle. “Watch out”, Fregenal panted. “We’re close. Walk silently.” “At what distance does it react? Fregenal, I’m talking to you.” “I’ll give you a sign.” They continued, continued, glanced glanced over the walls of the ravine, ravine, which where where steep, covered in creeping, crippled shrubbery, streaked with gaps and rock failures. “Visenna? Do you sense it yet?” “Yes. But indistinctly. How far is it, Fregenal?” “I will give you a sign. It’s too bad I can’t help you. Without my staff and ring I can do nothing. I’m powerless. Except for…” “Except for what?” “This!” With a speed of which one would not have considered considered him capable, the the obese man grabbed an edged boulder and struck it against the back of Visenna’s head. Without a sigh the druid tumbled to the ground, face forward. Korin swung his sword, but the magician was incredibly agile. He dropped onto onto all fours to evade the blade, blade, rolled up to his feet and smashed the rock he had not dropped against his knee. Korin howled, fell; the pain momentarily took his breath away, and then a wave of nausea worked its way up from his gut to his throat. Fregenal jumped up like li ke a cat, prepared for another blow. The colorful bird dropped like a bullet, brushed across the wizard’s face. Fregenal jumped back, threw up his hands and dropped the stone. Korin, leaning on his elbow, hit with the sword, but missed the obese man by a hair’s breadth; breadth; the latter turned around around and ran toward the pass, screamed and laughed. Korin tried to get up and catch up with him, but the attempt made his vision go black. He fell back down and sent a torrent of disgusting curses after the sorcerer. Fregenal looked back from a safe distance, stopped. “You wayward witch!” he yelled. “You red-headed piece of filth! You wanted to outsmart Fregenal? Graciously give me my life? You thought I would watch calmly while you killed it?” Korin, still on the ground, rubbed his knee to calm the pulsating pain. Visenna lay motionless. “It comes!” Fregenal screamed. “Look! Rejoice in this view, for any moment my koshchey will blow the eyes from your skulls! It comes already!”
Korin looked around. From behind a scattering of rocks, a good one hundred steps away, towered the clunky, bent joints of a spider’s legs. Moments later, a body, six meters in diameter, pushed itself rumbling over the rocky pile, flat as a plate, rust colored, rough, covered in prickly growths. Three pairs of legs stepped forward measuredly, carried the plate-shaped body through the debris. The fourth, frontal pair of limbs, disproportionally long, were armed with mighty pincers, pincers, which carried rows of pointy pointy spikes and horns. This is a dream, Korin thought. A nightmare. Wake up. Scream and wake up. Scream. Scream. Scream. He forgot about the painful knee and ran over to Visenna, pulled at her slack shoulder. The druid’s hair was drenched in blood which already ran down her neck. “Visenna…”, he pressed through a throat constricted with fear. “Visenna…” Fregenal erupted with crazy laughter, which reverberated off the walls of the ravine. The laughter downed out the steps steps of of Nicholas, Nicholas, who was hurrying hurrying over, over, ax in hand. hand. Fregenal Fregenal only noticed him when it was already too late. The ax struck his back, a little above the hip, and entered up to the shaft. The wizard fell to the ground with a cry of pain, so that the ax was torn from the smith’s hand. Nicholas set his foot on his back, removed the ax, struck again. Fregenal’s head tumbled across the debris and came to a halt, its forehead resting against one of the skulls which lay under the wheels of the shattered cart. Limping, stumbling over stones, Korin pulled Visenna after himself; she was limp and soft. Nicholas jumped toward them, grabbed the girl, effortlessly threw her over his shoulder and started running. Even without the burden Korin was not able to follow. He looked back over his shoulder. The koshchey was coming closer, crunching its joints; the extended pincers ran through the shaggy grass, stirred rocks. “Nicholas!” Korin yelled desperately. The smith looked back, set Visenna down, ran over to Korin, supported supported him, together they ran. The koshchey gained speed, raised its spiky pincers. “We won’t make it”, Nicholas panted after throwing a glance back. “We won’t get away form it…” They reached reached Visenna lying prone. prone. “She’s bleeding to death”, Nicholas groaned. Korin gathered himself. He tore the pouch from Visenna’s belt, shook out its contents and grabbed, without paying any attention to the other items, the russet mineral covered in runes, brushed away the strawberry blond, blood-soaked hair, pressed the hematite against the wound. The blood immediately stopped flowing. “Korin!” Nicholas yelled. The koshchey was close. It stretched out its front legs, the jagged pincers opened. Nicholas saw the eyes rotating on stalks and the crunching, sickle-shaped sickle-shaped jaw below them. Creeping forward, the koshchey k oshchey hissed rhythmically: “Tsss, tsss, tsss…” “Korin!” Korin didn’t react, whispered something without taking the hematite off the wound. Nicholas jumped at him, grabbed his arm, dragged him from Visenna, took the druid in his
arms. They ran. The koshchey, not stopping the hissing for even a moment, raised the pincers, scraped his chitinous belly across the rock r ock and hurried after them. Nicholas realized that they didn’t stand a chance. From the pass, a rider in a leather vest dashed toward them at breakneck speed, broadsword raised high above the head in the chainmail helmet. In the hairy face, small eyes sparkled, pointed teeth flashed. With a battle cry, cry, Kehl lunged at the the koshchey. But But before he had had even reached reached the monster, the terrible pincers closed, grabbed the horse with spiky pliers. The bobolak fell from the saddle, tumbled to the ground. Without any visible visible effort, the koshchey raised the the horse with its pincers and stabbed stabbed it with the pointy thorn protruding from the front of its body. The sickle-shaped jaws snapped shut, the blood of the horse splattered onto the stones, steaming guts exploded from the slashed stomach onto the ground. Nicholas jumped, picked up the bobolak, but the latter pushed him back, tore up his sword, screamed lough enough to drown out the horse’s dying cries and swooped down on the koshchey. With apelike agility, he slipped under the bony, thickened joints of one of the front limbs and stabbed at a stalk-mounted eye with all his might. The koshchey hissed, dropped the horse, threw its pincers to the side, hitting Kehl with the pointy spikes, tore him off the ground, hurtled him off to the side. Kehl crashed onto the stones, dropped the sword. The koshchey made a semi-turn, extended its pincers and grabbed him. The bobolak’s small figure was suspended in mid-air. Nicholas screamed angrily, reached the monster in two long steps, struck out and hit the chitin shell with his ax. Korin let go of Visenna and without thinking twice joined from the other side, used both hands to stab his sword into a gap between the shell and a leg. He braced his chest against the handle and rammed it in up to the crossguard. Nicholas groaned and hit again, the shell ruptured, a stinking green liquid bubbled up. The koshchey hissed again, let go of the bobolak, raised its pincers. Korin braced himself against the ground, tugged at the sword – in i n vain. “Nicholas!” he yelled. “Back!” Both turned to flee, smartly in different directions. The koshchey hesitated, scraped its belly across the rock and hurried toward Visenna, who tried to get onto all fours, her head lolling forward. A little above her hovered the colorful bird, batted its wings and screamed, screamed, screamed… The koshchey was close. Both, Nicholas and Korin, jumped for her at the same time, stood in the monster’s way. “Visenna!” “Milady!” Without stopping, the the koshchey spread spread its pincers. “Out of the way!” Visenna yelled from her knees and raised her hands. “Korin! Out of the way!” Both scrambled off, to the walls of the ravine.
“Henenaa fireaaoth kerelanth!” the sorceress yelled sonorously and extended her arms toward the koshchey. Nicholas noticed something invisible moving from her toward the creature. The grass was depressed, small stones hurtled to the side as if under weight of a huge sphere, which rolled in i n at increasing speed. From Visenna’s palms shot a blinding, jagged streak of light, hit the the koshchey, spread spread across the shell shell like a net of tongues tongues of fire. The air tore with a deafening boom. The koshchey exploded, burst in a green fountain of bodily fluids, a cloud of chitin, legs, guts; it all gushed upwards, rained down, pattered onto the rocks, rustled the undergrowth. Nicholas dropped onto one knee, raised his hands above his head. It was silent. Where the monster had been only moments before, a black, smoking, round crater expanded, splattered with green fluid, covered in repulsive shreds hard to recognize. Korin wiped the green spots off his face and helped Visenna up. Visenna shivered. Nicholas leaned over Kehl. The bobolak’s eyes were open. The thick vest of horse leather was torn to shreds; underneath was visible what little remained of shoulder and fl ank. The smith wanted to say something, but was not able to. Korin joined him, supporting Visenna. The bobolak turned his head toward them. Korin regarded his shoulder and swallowed with effort. “It’s you, prince”, Kehl said softly, but calmly. “You were right… I’m nothing without my weapons. And without my arm? Shitty, huh?” The bobolak’s calm was more disconcerting disconcerting to Korin than the sight of crushed crushed bones jutting from the horrible wounds. wounds. To think the creature creature was even alive; alive; it was unimaginable. “Visenna”, Korin whispered and looked at the sorceress pleadingly. “There is nothing I can do, Korin”, Visenna said, her voice breaking. “His metabolism is completely different from that of a human… Nicholas… Don’t touch him…” “You came back, bobolak”, Nicholas whispered. “Why?” “Because my metabolism is completely different… from that of a human”, Kehl said, his voice laced with pride, and much effort. A rivulet of blood flowed from his mouth and tainted the ashen fur. He turned his head, looked Visenna in the eyes. “Well, red-headed witch! Your prophecy was right, but you will need to fulfill it yourself.” “No!” Visenna moaned. “Yes”, Kehl said. “You must. Help me. It’s time.” “Visenna”, Korin sighed, horrified. “Don’t tell me you want to…” “Go away!” the druid screamed and stifled a sob. “Go away, both of you!” Nicholas averted his gaze and pulled Korin by the arm. Korin followed him. He only saw Visenna kneeling at the bobolak’s side, softly stroking his forehead, touching his temples. Kehl twitched, began to shiver, tense and froze, motionless. Visenna cried.
IX
The colorful bird bird on Visenna’s Visenna’s shoulder cocked cocked its slender slender head, fixed fixed the sorceress sorceress with round, lifeless eyes. The horse trotted along the broken country road, the sky was cobalt blue and clear. “Tuuit tuiit trk”, said the colorful bird. “Possibly”, Visenna agreed. “But it is not about that. You do not understand. I do not blame anyone. It saddens me that I learned about the whole affair from Fregenal, not from you. It does. But I have known you for years, I know you’re not very talkative. I think if I had asked you directly, you would have answered.” “Trk, tuuuit?” “Of course. For a while. But you know how it is with us. One big secret, everything is secret. It all comes down to criteria. I don’t refuse to be paid for a healing if somebody offers the money and I know he can afford it. I know that the price for certain services can be quite high. And for good reason, everything is becoming more and more expensive, you have to take care of yourself. It is not about that.” “Twwiiit.” The bird stepped from one tiny foot onto the other. “Korriiin.” “You’re a clever one.” Visenna smiled sourly, stretched her head toward the bird so it could softly touch her cheek with its beak. “That is what worries me. I saw how he looked at me. Not just a witch, he thought surely, but also a swindler, greedy and calculating.” “Tuwiit trk trk trk tuuuiiit?” Visenna turned turned her head. “Well, “Well, it is not that bad”, she murmured murmured and blinked. “I am, am, as you know, no little girl, I don’t lose my head that easily. Though I have to admit… For too long I have wandered aimlessly, alone… But that is none of your business. Hold your beak.” The bird bird was silent, ruffled ruffled its plumage. They came ever closer closer to the forest; forest; the road vanished in the thicket thicket under the portal of treetops. “Listen”, Visenna sounded after a while. “What do you think, what could the future look like? Is it really possible that humans will no longer have need of us? For the simplest things, matters of healing? There is some progress, let us look at, for example, herbalism, but can you imagine that one day, it can cure the whooping cough? Childbed fever? Lockjaw?” “Twiik twiiit.” “That is also an answer, I suppose. Theoretically it is even possible for the horse to join our conversation at any moment. To say something clever. And what what about cancer? Will they handle cancer? Without magic?” “Trrk!” “I think so, too.”
They entered the forest which smelled like cold and humidity. They crossed a shallow stream. Visenna rode onto a small rise, then back down into heather which reached her stirrups. She found the path again, which was sandy, overgrown. She knew this path, had followed it merely three days ago. Only in the opposite direction. “It seems to me”, she continued. “that a small change would do us good. We atrophy, cling too tightly and uncritically to tradition. If I return…” “Twiit”, the colorful bird interrupted. “What?” “Twiit.” “What are you trying to say? Why not?” “Trrrrk.” “What inscription? And what pole?” The bird flitted from her shoulder, shoulder, flew off, disappeared in the the foliage. Korin sat there, resting his back against a pole at the crossroad, and watched her with a bold smile. Visenna jumped from the saddle, walked closer. She felt herself smile against her will, more than that she surmised that her smile might not looked especially clever. “Visenna”, Korin called. “Admit it, are you possibly clouding my mind with magic? Because I feel quite some joy at this meeting, amdownright unnatural joy. Unbidden, knock on wood. It has to be magic.” “You were waiting for me.” “You are incredibly clever. You see, I woke up in the morning and noticed that you had ridden off. How nice of you, I thought, not waking me for such a stupid, meaningless farewell. Works just as well without it. Who greets and says goodbye these days, after all? It’s nothing but a prejudice, a habit, right? I turned around and slept some more. It was only after breakfast that I remembered something unusually important I need to tell you. So I mounted my horse and took the shortcut.” “And what do you need to tell me?” Visenna inquired while coming closer and looking in his blue eyes which she had seen in her dream the night before. Korin showed his teeth in a broad smile. “It’s a delicate matter”, he said. “It can’t be summarized in a few words. I don’t know if I can make it until dusk.” “Start, at least.” “That’s the catch. I don’t know how.” “Sir Korin is at a loss for words.” Visenna shook her head, still smiling. “An unprecedented unprecedented event. So let’s say: Start at the beginning.” “Not a bad thought”, Korin retorted in mock seriousness. “You know, Visenna, for too long I’ve been…” “…aimlessly wandering the woods and country roads by myself”, the sorceress finished and snaked her arms around his neck.
The colorful bird, bird, high up on a branch, branch, batted batted its tiny wings, spread spread them, them, threw threw back back its head. “Trrrk twiit twiiit”, it said. Visenna broke away from Korin’s lips and looked at the bird, winking. “You were right”, she responded. “This really is a road with no return. Fly, tell them…” She hesitated, dismissed it. “Tell them nothing.”
Translator’s notes
There are a few points points of this translation that I would would like to remark on. The source of this document document is the official German translation of “Droga, z której si! si! nie wraca”, called “Der Weg, von dem niemand zurückkehrt” (‘The Road With No Return’) published in the anthology ‘Co" ‘Co" si! si! ko# ko#czy, co" co" si! si! zaczyna’, respectively “Etwas endet, etwas beginnt” (‘Something Ends, Something Begins’). The German edition, as is most likely true for the Polish original as well, is prefaced by an introduction written by Sapkowski himself. While I consider it important, I decided to prioritize the actual story and its translation. I will, of course, add the preface once I have finished the story. Names (of places, people, etc.) are often a problem in translations, Sapkowski’s novels are no exceptions here. In the official German version, all names derived from fr om actual nouns (e.g. ‘Dandelion’ in English, ‘Jaskier’ in Polish, ‘Rittersporn’ in German) have been translated. Hence, I have decided to keep with that tradition and ‘anglicize’ when possible and appropriate. The following table lists all the names found in the story in both the Polish and German versions as well as the English translation I am using. Although I hope it won’t be the case, some translations might change; more will certainly be added throughout the translation process, though. (The names for beasts were taken from the official Wiki)
Polish (original, official)
German (official)
English (proposed translation)
Klucz (loc.)
Schlüssel
Key
Mikula (Name)
Niklas
Nicholas
Czop (Name)
Zapf
Bung (?)
Porog (loc.)
Schwelle
Sill
Kaczan (loc.)
Strunk
Stalk
