Sword of Destiny (The Witcher, #0.7)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

You never change; a pox on the lot of you.”

The monster was dead, now part of the midden where it had dwelled. Another star fell. “A garbage heap,” the Witcher said with effort. “Muck, filth and shit.”

She also possessed a very expertly stuffed unicorn, on whose back she liked to make love. Geralt was of the opinion that if there existed a place less suitable for having sex it was probably only the back of a live unicorn. Unlike

shape with tender strokes, slowly, from top to bottom. The air between her fingers began to congeal and become turbid, swell and pulsate like smoke.

“Do you feel foolish, by any chance?” “Yes, I do,” the Witcher reluctantly admitted. “That’s a relief,” Istredd muttered. “Because I feel like an utter dolt.

“Ashamed?” the bard said, astonished. “What matters is what and how one sings, and not where.

What a hideous smile I have, Geralt thought, reaching for his sword. What a hideous face I have. And how hideously I squint. So is that what I look like? Damn.

“You cannot defeat me,” the doppler snarled. “Because I am you, Geralt.”

And what kind of love would it be if the one who loves were not capable of a little sacrifice?”

My mama was a witch, so you’d better watch your step. And my papa was enchanted, too. It was all told to me by one of my nannies, and when grandmamma found out about it, there was a dreadful to-do. Because I’m destined, you know?” “To do what?” “I don’t know,” Ciri said intently. “But I’m destined.

desire for vengeance, Eithné. You will arouse a consuming hatred.” “Human hatred is nothing new to me. No, Geralt. I shall not give her up. Particularly since she is hale. That has been uncommon recently.”

I want the iron and copper that are beneath the earth. I want the gold that lies on Craag An. I want to fell and saw, and dig in the earth, without having to listen to the whistling of arrows. And most importantly; I want at last to be a king, one to whom everything bows down in

Only those who assimilate with humans will survive. The rest will perish. Eithné, there are forests where dryads, rusalkas and elves live peacefully,

Our destiny is asleep. And when she awakes… Mousesack, one must occasionally give up… even the most extraordinary things.”

And I’ll ask you my question. Or perhaps I won’t ask you, because it’s too late. Destiny? Oh, yes, Yen was right. It’s not sufficient to be destined for each other. Something more is needed… But tomorrow I’ll look into your eyes… In the light of the sun…”

Yennefer of Vengerberg.” “And the flowers are mine.” “Let us be done with this,” he said with effort. “Take… Take me by the hand.”

Wars are waged for two reasons. One is power and the other is money.” “Don’t philosophise, Geralt!