Chapter 191

In the dim burial chamber, the two Witchers stood back to back with silver swords in hand, wholly focused, wholly alert.

The firelight wavered on the verge of dying, casting out several drifting blue shadows.

They kept flickering into view in midair, letting out short, hollow cries, then vanishing at once into the darkness, ghostlike and impossible to grasp.

The Witchers strained their sight to catch those blue shapes. The Wraiths appeared and disappeared, but whenever they came, the air shifted, the wind hissed, there were signs enough to follow.

After listening and feeling for a moment, bald Letho’s gaze darkened. He raised four fingers behind his back in signal, then lightly touched the companion at his rear. At once, both hands moved in perfect accord to the bombs at their waists.

Bang. Bang.

Two dull explosions broke out. White phosphorus flared, and a blinding cloud of dust rose through the chamber. In the next instant, four pale blue Wraiths manifested out of the air. Their half-transparent bodies flickered unstably, but Moon Dust held them fast and denied them the chance to vanish again.

Roy held Aerondight across his body and sprang forward at two of the Wraiths.

Then, shifting his weight onto the toes of his left foot, he twisted and brought down a heavy cut.

But without the suppressing force of Yrden, the Wraiths showed frightening speed. One light backward drift of their translucent bodies was enough to evade the blade, and in the space after Roy’s strength ran through the strike, they countered from both sides at once.

The Wraiths plunged down like falling stars, rushing from above to Roy’s front in an instant. At the same time, their bodies spun like tops, lantern and dagger turning into serrated teeth that screeched over the Witcher’s blade, showering sparks and sending out a chain of grinding sounds harsh enough to set a man’s gums on edge.

Roy felt a numbness tear through his grip, his sword nearly flying from his hand. He gave ground at once, feet darting in two quick steps to the side, slipping past the comrade at his back.

Bald Letho took over his opponents.

Roy drew a deep breath, snatched Gabriel into his left hand, and sent a bolt at the lone Wraith drifting farther off.

The air rippled. His body turned to nothingness, and in the next second he appeared behind the isolated third Wraith in eerie silence.

Slash, slash, slash. Aerondight, slick with blade oil, lashed out like wind and lightning, striking in rapid succession across the Wraith’s undefended neck, chest, belly, and legs.

With an unwilling scream, it dissolved into blue smoke.

Roy had no time to breathe. Another gust of force burst from the black corridor. He turned his blade and caught it once, then at once felt pain tear through his left shoulder. The ambushing Wraith had broken straight through Quen and left a bloody gash there.

“Damn it!” Roy battered the Wraith away with a furious swing, glanced at the wound, and saw the flesh peeled open like a baby’s mouth. It hurt just to look at it.

But long years of tempering himself between life and death let him steady his mind at once. He did not rush in blindly. Instead, he worked it down with practiced swordsmanship and Signs, circling, grinding, and wearing the last Wraith to death by inches.

“Wraith slain, XP +60, Witcher LV6 (1060/3500).”