Published at 13th of February 2024 4:02 am

Chapter 633: Fierce Battle

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Thanedd was like a stone pillar jutting from the surface of the sea. It was covered in exquisite ziggurats, meandering stairs, lush gardens, magnificent palaces, and sky-high towers. Before the tallest tower, Tor Lara, a witcher waved his hand.

A sea of darkness churned, blocking the sunlight raining from above. It charged toward the Red Riders on the clearing before them, swift as lightning. What happened in Aretuza once more happened to the Red Riders. Caught by surprise, they and their steeds were surrounded, and the dark clouds moved them up into the air.

***

The witchers watched from afar, but they were still uneasy. Tense. Their medallions’ unusual buzzing worried them. They took out a few decoctions and gulped them all down. Black veins crawled over their faces.

Roy quickly made complicated gestures with his fingers, conjuring the Sign of Clamp and a crimson double cross. The frost atronach, mutated longhorn, and Roy’s illusion clone appeared.

Happy screeches tore through the air. Gryphon, after a long hiatus, appeared once more, flapping its wings in jubilance. It swayed its furry tail around, circling over its master’s head. And then the mountains shook as Leviathan the ice giant landed before the army, swinging an oak tree in one hand and slamming its chest armor made of rope and yellowing wooden boards. The cyst on its head was swollen with blood, shining crimson. And the giant roared into the skies.

Triss, Coral, and Yennefer chanted their spells, protecting the girls. A blue, oval shield appeared, and the witchers’ unease manifested into reality.

Lightning bolts roared, and silver snakes tore through the skies, creating a blinding storm. The storm struck the sea of bats, drowning the mountain’s clearing in a sea of light. The flash of light almost blinded everyone, and the stench of ozone filled the air.

The lighting only lasted a few moments, and the sea of bats was already bubbling from the scorching heat. They fell, smoke billowing in the air, and the bats turned into black silhouettes wearing nothing but tatters. They were covered in blisters and burns. Some sustained deep wounds, heat and purple electricity zapping through them.

The higher vampires’ regenerative abilities were rendered ineffective, their wounds too ghastly, and they fell unconscious. The spell, powerful as forbidden magic, tore through the dark clouds of bats in the form of a shining runic sword. Biting winds soared from the edge of the blade, and the vapor in the air was turned into flowers of frost. The flowers engulfed the cloaked figures, turning them into frozen statues, and the statues fell.

Eredin and four Red Riders appeared once more, standing in midair, looking worn out. Their armor was covered in dents, their eyes flickering with murder. The twenty Red Riders had three quarters of its numbers culled, and even their steeds were wrung into mangled bodies. The knights and their stallions lay among the frozen statues and charred bodies of the higher vampires.

The higher vampires were all taken out in one blow, and the Wild Hunt lost more than half its numbers. The witchers exchanged looks of horror.

“Damn you!” Eredin roared.

Roy responded by firing a bolt. His bowstring hummed, his bolt flickering through the air. Eredin held his greatsword before him like a shield, his weapon’s magic deflecting Roy’s bolt. But then, winds howled in his face, and the silver-eyed fellow appeared from nowhere, his face covered in black veins.

He held his ivory weapon overhead and brought it down on Eredin’s face. The air screeched, and a flash of white arced through the air. Jagged crimson light and Magma Quen swirled around Roy like a red sun. The octopus’ suckers opened up wide, tentacles holding on to Roy’s shoulder. And the octopus lashed out.

***

Eredin’s soul could feel the hitherto unknown danger coming to him. The dancing flames had death and destruction within them, and he stopped breathing for a moment. Not even the White Frost spooked him so much.

He no longer held back. White frost came spiraling out of Eredin’s weapon and armor, conjuring a sea of icicles in the air. The icicles charged at the image of the Most High, the crimson energy beam, and the incoming Aerondight.

Frost and flames clashed. The icicles shattered, and the flames died. Eredin and Roy froze in midair. The king of the Wild Hunt was stunned by the effects of Fear, a crack spanning from the top to the bottom of his mask appearing. Eredin had a look of fear and horror on his face.

Roy was covered in a layer of frost from head to toe, the freezing chill making his every cell shiver. He moved as stiff as a rusty machine, the flow of mana slower than sludge moving through rocky terrain. To make things worse, the frost was affecting his soul. Every skill related to his soul was frozen and sealed, unresponsive to his commands.

It was but a moment, and the knight with the ringed helmet behind Eredin let out a peculiar shout. He swayed his tower-like staff, releasing a bolt of blue electricity. Roy could barely produce Gabriel, and he couldn’t even make it in time to pull the trigger. He flew back ten yards, as if he were hit by a siege weapon.

The stalemate was broken. Eredin pulled on his reins, swinging his greatsword. Caranthir followed him as they charged at the witcher. The air rippled.

The moment the fighters clashed, they disappeared into thin air. Silver flashes of light and colorful Signs merged into a deadly spear hurtling toward the remaining Riders.

Leviathan was in the vanguard, while the veteran witchers followed behind. The sorceresses and the girls were in the center of the formation, while the young witchers were in the rear. Gryphon was high up in the air.

And then, a gash opened up in midair. A conical ram appeared from the portal and hit Leviathan in its chest. The momentum tore through its armor, icy-blue flesh, and iron-clad bones. The ice giant had its heart pierced, and the ram pushed it a distance backward.

The earth rumbled, two ravines left on its surface, but then waterfalls of blood filled them up. Leviathan roared in agony, grabbing the sides of the vessel with both hands. Its muscles exploded with strength as the giant tried to tear the ship in two.

Hounds of the Wild Hunt, big as calves, climbed up Leviathan’s body through the ram. They moved with great agility, snarling and spitting breaths of frost. Despite feeding on the cold, Leviathan couldn’t devour the White Frost, and it was covered in a layer of ice right away. The ice giant’s movements slowed to a crawl, much like a broken wristwatch. It pulled some Hounds off its body and crushed them into shards of ice under its feet.

In the end, the giant’s roars came to a stop, its ruby eyes losing their gleam. And then, it froze up, turned into a figurehead for the vessel.

***

A silhouette flew through the air. Gryphon screeched, pouncing at a Hound. It grabbed the sturdy creature and flew high up into the air.

Then the griffin let the Hound go. The Hound was smashed into smithereens, exploding like glass. But then, a wave of Hounds and Red Riders leapt off the black ship and clashed with the witchers.

***

Ivar rolled across the ground, evading the frosty breath of a Hound. The grandmaster circled round the Hound’s back and leapt into the air like an eagle. He fell between the icicles and brought his sword down, the blade piercing through the Hound’s nape easily. The Hound howled powerlessly before it fell and broke into a pile of ice.

Before Ivar could even heave a sigh of relief, he felt a gust of wind coming from behind. The old Viper spun around and dodged the ambush in the nick of time. He shoved a blast of Aard, and the Wild Hunt’s knight was sent flying into a pool of blood. He held his sword up again and leapt into the air, bringing his weapon down with ferocity.

The soldier rolled away from the blade. When he stood up, he quickly cast a golden barrier of Quen around himself. He then spun his elven-made shortsword, dancing around the old Viper. Ivar recognized this dance. “You are…”

He looked at the amber eyes under the helm, and he glanced at the buzzing medallion before the knight’s chest. It was like a viper hissing at its prey. This was a Viper. One of Ivar’s kidnapped kin.

Noticing the situation, Letho, Auckes, and Serrit stepped over the bodies of the Hounds and stood with Ivar. Three Wild Hunt knights wearing Viper medallions joined the fight.

“Time to take these lost boys home, lads.”

Silver light flashed through the air. The Vipers charged at their nemeses. Their erstwhile comrades.

***

Vesemir pirouetted with his blade in hand. He feinted and quickly slashed at a soldier’s chest. The plate armor was as sturdy as a fortress. Vesemir’s attack was enough to crush anyone’s bones, but it only left a mark on the armor.

The soldier brought his weapon down at the old man’s neck, but he had no idea of the agility of a witcher who had consumed decoctions. Vesemir crouched and slid through the opening between the blades. He spun his weapon and buried his blade into the soldier’s underarm, piercing the flesh revealed between the joints, and the sword came out from the other side of the soldier’s neck.

Blood was spilled. The soldier grunted, his eyes going wide. With the last of his strength, he shoved a patch of frost to Vesemir’s back.

Feeling the incoming danger, Vesemir quickly let go of his weapon and moved away, but he was one step too late. The frost had frozen his left arm, and he couldn’t feel half his body. Bone-chilling iciness tore through Vesemir’s iron will. The veteran witcher staggered and gasped sharply. For a moment, his consciousness was fading.

Claws tore through the air as three Hounds attacked Vesemir from the back and sides, trying to tear away at his throat and lower back, but then, a magical air current slammed into the ground like a meteor, and the impact undulated like waves. The Hounds were sent flying away.

“Can you still hang in there?” Geralt pulled back his Sign and looked around. Lambert and Eskel were in an exquisite, deadly dance, dealing with a group of three ambushers.

“Beware the White Frost.” Vesemir held his sword with both hands and stood back up defiantly, though his voice and teeth were chattering uncontrollably. “It’s more threatening than any higher vampire.”

***

The battlefield was a mess. Fights of the same magnitude happened everywhere. The witchers were affected by the frost coming from the Wild Hunt. Geralt, Felix, and the veteran witchers could kill their enemies despite their sapped strength thanks to their swordplay, Sign potency, and decoctions. The younger witchers, however, had to team up with Roy’s minions in a formation in the rear guard.

***

Carl and Monti, the most skilled among the younger ones, circled a moving fortress. They quickly moved their hands and touched the knight’s armor, sticking two blobs of something resembling clay. They then quickly retreated and threw a stream of flames at the knight before them.

A pillar of flame rocked the skies and rumbled the earth. A cloud of dust swirled, and a crater was left in the ground. The knight, along with his armor, were shattered into chunks of meat and steel.

Carl and Monti heaved a sigh of relief, then they wiped the flesh off their faces.

But then, gusts of icy wind came attacking as Hounds pounced from the shadows, breathing ice.

Two purple bolts of electricity arced through the air, sizzling it. A pair of charred lines crossed the ground. Electrocuted, the Hounds fell, and a stream of roaring flames engulfed them.

“Look alive, lads. Be careful and don’t do anything rash.” Sabrina swung a fiery whip and a Hound tripped. The flames soared into the air, and so did clouds of smoke. Sabrina’s fiery hair billowed, and she looked like a goddess. “You don’t want to die and have your mentors hold your funerals.”

Philippa spread her hands, her dress billowing in the wind, and then furious owls came flying out of her dress, flickering through the air, pecking at the knights’ unprotected eyes.

Tissaia, Radcliffe, Cadouin, Keira, and more than twenty sorcerers followed them, looking solemn. And they rained magic on the Wild Hunt.

***

In the center of the battlefield, where Ciri and Eileni were protected, a bone-chilling voice echoed within the ears of the sorceresses. “I see there isn’t only one child of the Elder Blood. This is a miracle destiny hasn’t foreseen. I see.”

Avallac’h appeared out of nowhere, wearing something with complicated patterns embroidered on it. He hung in midair, his eyes turning to Ciri, then to the young Eileni in her arms. The girl blinked.

The air froze.

***

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