158 Thanedd Coup (Part 3)
After the events of today surviving elves will tell stories about a pair of youths, who went through their rows of warriors like a hot knife through butter. But right now the duo and Yen, who fought using spells felt overwhelmed.
Scoia'taels attacked and after several their brethren died, they attacked to kill.
There was something desperate in their swords, something ruthless and relentless. They never expected to stay among living and were dying here for a greater cause.
For a dream Nilfgaard promised them.
Dol Blatana.
They wanted freedom and land, a kingdom belonging only to themselves. So Scoia'taels fought. Fought like fanatics and warriors with no regard for life.
Yennefer tried to offer support but was stopped by Terranova and knight in black armor. The battle inside Garshtang was still ongoing, and it seems Tissaia got serious with Vilgefortz, using everything at her disposal. The walls wailed under pressure and trembled from shock waves.
"No one will come. It is over. Give me the boy, Yennefer, and I won't interfere." - said Artaud with an arrogant look.
"Arrogance? How so, Teranova? You can be regarded as a mage only with a great stretch of imagination. Pathetic." - Yen looked at him with no fear and complete disregard, as if gazing at a bug she can squash at any time.
Eyes of the old man grew dark and a sadistic smile blossomed on his face.
"I will enjoy this." - he said and was so engrossed in his fantasies that never noticed one little detail.
Alan turned around in the distance and waved his sword horizontally. A rupture in space shone with turquoise luster. Steel disappeared from reality for a split second.
Artaud felt something was off only after razor-sharp edge of the sword started digging through his neck, cutting his muscles and carotid artery and severing his spine. He saw a body standing there headless and found it rather fascinating, even funny.
Until the last moment, he failed to understand what happened.
Yen didn't have time to marvel at his death, as an entire army was heading their way. They were surrounded from the two sides and had only one route to take.
The one leading to Tor Lara, the tower with a portal.
Alan shifted to the girl's side, standing back to back. Right at that moment, an elf tried to assault Ciri's back. His blade was caught in the offsetting motion of the witcher sword. The elf felt trapped in a whirlwind of the sword and forces. He lost the footing and tripped on the blood on his brethren.
The last thing he ever saw in his life was a straight thrust of steel impaling his eye, going through the brain and out of the head at the other side.
Alan twisted his sword, guided the body to the side, and parried another attack using it.
Ciri was afraid, Alan felt it from the rigid movements of her sword, from quick breaths and uneven steps. Only training in Kaer Morhen helped her to get back on track and parry several attacks.
However, when she saw the knight with the winged helmet, everything about her changed. Scoia'taels saw her raging style of fighting. She was like a little demon, killing them uncontrollably.
But if they are to choose the opponent, they will remain at her side, because the other youth was a complete menace.
If the pale-haired girl was a little demoness than the purple-eyed witcher was a cold, emotionless devil. He slaughtered them like cattle, one by one. His sword moved through space and each strike found a target with utmost precision, like a machine.
Soon Scoia'taels understood one simple truth.
Their targets for capture were not merely kids. Both of them were very hard to deal with, but if the girl wasn't skillful enough for them to take seriously. The youth was another matter altogether.
He was someone to fear.
Yet, none of them backed down or asked for mercy. They fought with abandon, relentless and ruthless.
Alan made his way up, taking step after step on crimson stairs slippery from blood, while Ciri followed defending the rear. Soon a dozen elves that blocked their path ahead were no more. Ciri watched all of this with trembling lips and pale face. She saw her own share of killing and even a battlefield, but she had never taken lives like this, in heat of deadly struggle when any wrong move can end her for good.
"Cirilla! Stop! You should come with me!" - a knight with a winged helmet shouted from below. That triggered the girl even further, and she turned around.
"Go, don't stop!" - said Yen in return. She was completely drained but created a force field on the path of the approaching troops.
But Alan merely glanced at that and took a brief look above.
"What took you so long?" - he asked the white-haired blur descending from the top.
"Dijkstra, Keira, and all this mess." - he answered briefly and looked around. Fighting stopped for a moment. One witcher was enough to let them feel a headache, two...
Two warranted the wails of despair.
"Take Yen away. We can teleport safely with the two of us. Don't worry, I'll keep her safe." - whispered Alan to Geralt and the latter looked at the woman clad in black was at her wit's end.
"You caught a wyvern, why not use it?"
"It's dead. I'll explain later."
At their moment of talking, Yen cried, and the shield was cut through with a precise spell.
Geralt didn't wait, he moved faster than wind and caught her, retreating to the edge of the stairs. Sea was raging in a storm down below.
"Old man, take Yen away. We will find both of you, don't do anything stupid." - said Alan and disappeared with Ciri in a flash of turquoise light.
"Jump, Geralt. Hold me tight and jump. He will take care of our girl and himself." - said Yen weakly. She knew that her presence is only a hindrance to the two children. Either they leave her like that or she must leave the battle.
"Vilgefortz..." - said Geralt while stepping on the railing with her and retreating. Troops made their way to them without a hurry. Or to be more accurate, soldiers lack confidence in fighting a witcher.
Prior to tonight most of them found stories about witchers swordsmanship and reflexes just fairy tales.
After tonight they will curse anyone who disregards the threat that a witcher posses to normal people in battle.
"They won't escape." - sounded a voice from below and a handsome middle-aged man arrived at the site.
"They will. You can't stop them. No one can." - said Yen firmly, feeling the grip on her waist slightly tightening. She knew he was ready to go in battle alone. But she also knew Vilgefortz. He is too strong in strengthening magic.
If there is one mage that can wipe the floor with Geralt, then it will be Vilgefortz, simply because he counters every advantage Geralt might have against regular mage.
"But I can catch you both and later have a pleasant chat while placing swords at your necks." - said the mage with a slight smile on his face. He could still maintain a graceful appearance while talking about blackmail and killing.
But he miscalculated this one time.
Never in his dreams, he expected Yennefer, that Yennefer without heart and any human feelings, to do what she did a moment later.
She pulled Geralt over the railings and they both jumped down.
Vilgefortz even gawked at this for a moment. It was completely out of her character. He expected negotiation, even a last-ditch struggle that will end with capture. But not self-sacrifice. Jumping down at her state was nearly suicidal.
Still, perhaps with Geralt there, they both will make it.
Vilgefortz laughed. Laughed like never before, with a face full of fascination and amusement.
"Okay, you win this one round." - he said to the air, but his voice spread far in the distance. Then he gazed at the stairs and smirked. - "Time to claim the trophy."
He waved his hand, and a long black staff appeared in it. Symbols burned with a crimson glow and shifted to his arms.
"Vilgefortz, by the order of the Emperor I must escort Cirilla back to Nilfgaard." - said the knight.
Middle-aged mage stopped in his tracks. He was deep in thought. After a moment, he nodded.
"Fine. But leave the boy to me. He is unique. He is so unique and precious that no one in this world can compare."
"Cirilla is the daughter of the most powerful person in the world, the Emperor of Nilfgaard. Who can compare to her." - said the knight passionately. His eyes shown with something more than only an appreciation of her position. There one can find fascination, even budding love.
"Ignorant idiot." - cursed Vilgefortz. - "Follow me!"
But just as they were ready to follow the duo to the Tor Lara, something they can never explain in words descended from the sky and slammed in front of them. A tremendous impact and a wave of force made everyone except for Vilgefortz to fall back.
"You will not take a step forward, human. He belongs to us." - said the creature, while standing up straight and looming over the troops with its sheer height. - "But I welcome you to try. It's been a while since I had a good meal."
