The Witcher

THE LAST WISH X

Geralt leapt away from another blazing orange shaft which shot from the sorceress's fingers.

 She was clearly tired, the shafts were weak and slow, and he avoided them with no great difficulty.

 'Yennefer!' he shouted. 'Calm down! Will you listen!? You won't be able—'

 He didn't finish. Thin red bolts of lightning spurted from the sorceress's hands, reaching him in many places and wrapping him up thoroughly. His clothes hissed and started to smoulder.

 'I won't be able to?' she said through her teeth, standing over him. 'You'll soon see what I'm capable of. It will suffice for you to lie there for a while and not get in my way.'

 'Get this off me!' he roared, struggling in the blazing spider's web. 'I'm burning, dammit!'

 'Lie there and don't move,' she advised, panting heavily. 'It only burns when you move ... I can't spare you any more time, witcher. We had a romp, but enough's enough. I've got to take care of the djinn; he's ready to run away—'

 'Run away?' Geralt screamed. 'It's you who should run away! That djinn . . . Yennefer, listen to me carefully. I've got to tell you the truth.'

 The djinn gave a tug at the fetters, traced a circle, tightened the lines holding it, and swept the little tower off Beau Berrant's house.

 'What a roar he's got!' Dandilion frowned, instinctively clasping his throat. 'What a terrible roar! It looks as if he's b****y furious!'

 'That's because he is,' said Krepp. Chireadan glanced at him.

 'What?'

 'He's furious,' repeated Krepp. 'And I'm not surprised. I'd be furious too if I had to fulfil, to the letter, the first wish accidentally expressed by the witcher—'

 'How's that?' shouted Dandilion. 'Geralt? Wish?'

 'He's the one who held the seal which imprisoned the djinn. The djinn's fulfilling his wishes.

 That's why the witch can't master it. But the witcher mustn't tell her, even if he's caught on to it by now. He shouldn't tell her.'

 'Dammit,' muttered Chireadan. 'I'm beginning to understand. The warder in the dungeon burst. . .'

 'That was the witcher's second wish. He's still got one left. The last one. But, gods help us, he shouldn't reveal that to Yennefer!'

 She stood motionless, leaning over him, paying no attention to the djinn struggling at its bonds above the tavern roof. The building shook, lime and splinters poured from the ceiling, furniture crept along the floor, shuddering spasmodically.

 'So that's how it is,' she hissed. 'Congratulations. You deceived me. Not Dandilion, but you.

 That's why the djinn's fighting so hard! But I haven't lost yet, Geralt. You underestimate me, and you underestimate my power. I've still got the djinn and you in my hand. You've still got one last wish, haven't you? So make it. You'll free the djinn and then I'll bottle it.'

 'You haven't got enough strength left, Yennefer.' 'You underestimate my strength. The wish, Geralt!' 'No, Yennefer. I can't . . . The djinn might fulfil it, but it won't spare you. It'll kill you when it's free. It'll take its revenge on you . . . You won't manage to catch it and you won't manage to defend yourself against it. You're weakened, you can barely stand. You'll die, Yennefer.'

 'That's my risk!' she shouted, enraged. 'What's it to you what happens to me? Think rather what the djinn can give you! You've still got one wish! You can ask what you like! Make use of it! Use it, witcher! You can have anything! Anything!'