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Coming straight at them, blocking the path, raced two horses dragging a harness, reins and a
broken shaft behind them. Ciri did not hold her chestnut back and shot past them at full speed,
flakes of froth skimming across her face. Behind her she heard Roach neigh and Geralt's
curses as he was forced to a halt.
She tore around a bend in the path in to a large glade.
The convoy was in flames. From thickets, flaming arrows flew towards the wagons like fire
birds, perforating the canvas and digging into the boards. The Scoia'tael attacked with war-
cries and yells.
Ciri, ignoring Geralt's shouts from behind her, directed her horse straight at the first two
wagons brought to the fore. One was lying on its side and Yarpen Zigrin, axe in one hand,
crossbow in the other, stood next to it. At his feet, motionless, with her blue dress hitched
halfway up her thighs, lay . . .
'Triiiiiisss!' Ciri straightened in the saddle, thumping her horse with her heels. The Scoia'tael
turned towards her and arrows whistled past the girl's ears. She shook her head without
slowing her gallop. She heard Geralt shout, ordering her to flee into the woods. She did not
intend to obey. She leaned down and bolted straight towards the archers shooting at her.
Suddenly she smelt the overpowering scent of the white rose pinned to her jerkin.
'Triiiiisss!'
The elves leaped out of the way of the speeding horses. Ciri caught one lightly with her
stirrup. She heard a sharp buzz, her
steed struggled, whinnied and threw itself to the side. Ciri saw an arrow dug deep, just below
the withers, right by her thigh. She tore her feet from the stirrups, jumped up, squatted in the
saddle, bounced off strongly and leaped.
She fell softly on the body of the overturned wagon, used her hands to balance herself and
jumped again, landing with bent knees next to Yarpen who was roaring and brandishing his
axe. Next to them, on the second wagon, Paulie Dahlberg was fighting while Regan, leaning
back and bracing his legs against the board, was struggling to hold on to the harnessed horses.
They neighed wildly, stamped their hooves and yanked at the shaft in fear of the fire
devouring the canvas.
She rushed to Triss, who lay amongst the scattered barrels and chests, grabbed her by her
clothes and started to drag her towards the overturned wagon. The enchantress moaned,
holding her head just above the ear. Right by Ciri's side, hooves suddenly clattered and horses
snorted  two elves, brandishing their swords, were pressing the madly fighting Yarpen hard.
The dwarf spun like a top and agilely deflected the blows directed against him with his axe.
Ciri heard curses, grunts and the whining clang of metal.
Another span of horses detached itself from the flaming convoy and rushed towards them,
dragging smoke and flames behind it and scattering burning rags. The wagon-man hung
inertly from the box and Yannick Brass stood next to him, barely keeping his balance. With
one hand he wielded the reins, with the other he was cutting himself away from two elves
galloping one at each side of the wagon. A third Scoia'tael, keeping up with the harnessed
horses, was shooting arrow after arrow into their sides.
'Jump!' yelled Yarpen, shouting over the noise. 'Jump. Yannick!'
Ciri saw Geralt catch up with the speeding wagon and with a short, spare slash of his sword
swipe one of the elves from his saddle while Wenck, riding up on the opposite side, hewed at
the other, the elf shooting the horses. Yannick threw the reins down and jumped off - straight
under the third Scoia'tael's horse. The elf stood in his stirrups and slashed at him with his
sword. The dwarf fell. At that moment the flaming wagon crashed into those
still fighting, parting and scattering them. Ciri barely managed to pull Triss out from beneath
the crazed horses' hooves at the last moment. The swingle-tree tore away with a crack, the
wagon leaped into the air, lost a wheel and overturned, scattering its load and smouldering
boards everywhere.
Ciri dragged the enchantress under Yarpen's overturned wagon. Paulie Dahlberg, who
suddenly found himself next to her, helped, while Geralt covered them both, shoving Roach
between them and the charging Scoia'tael. All around the wagon, battle seethed: Ciri heard
shouting, blades clashing, horses snorting, hooves clattering. Yarpen, Wenck and Geralt,
surrounded on all sides by the elves, fought like raging demons.
The fighters were suddenly parted by Regan's span as he struggled in the coachman's box with
a halfling wearing a lynx fur hat. The halfling was sitting on Regan trying to jab him with a
long knife.
Yarpen deftly leaped onto the wagon, caught the halfling by the neck and kicked him
overboard. Regan gave a piercing yell, grabbed the reins and lashed the horses. The span
jerked, the wagon rolled and gathered speed in a flash.
'Circle, Regan!' roared Yarpen. 'Circle! Go round!'
The wagon turned and descended on the elves again, parting them. One of them sprung up, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]