Chapter 211

Mist clung thick along the shores of Lake Vizima in the morning.

Boat after boat glided across the water like monsters cutting through the surface, ramming open the fog as they moved toward the center of the lake, where sunlight faintly outlined a barren island.

“Black Gull Island...” The Witchers stood side by side at the bow. Two months had passed, and now they had returned to this island where so much blood had been spilled and so many corpses left behind. The evil god Dagon had been driven off. The degenerate vodyanoi had been wiped out.

Now, how did the Lady of the Lake intend to deal with this band of fully armed knights?

Since they were operating on the lake, the Knights of the White Rose had cast off their heavy mail and donned lighter leather armor instead. Swords hung at their waists, and one hand on each man gripped a Gabriel, a hand-crossbow made in imitation of the Verden style.

These knights had been drawn here by Rudolf under the pretext of submitting to the goddess, to accompany the High Priestess and witness the Lady of the Lake’s miracle.

On another boat, the grand master of the Order and his trusted men wore black, inconspicuous pendants at their throats, dark and dull as river pebbles.

“Dimeritium.” Letho leaned close behind Roy. “Commonly called anti-magic metal. A necklace made from it can resist enchantment magic.”

“Then the line between enemy and ally is quite plain...” The Witcher’s green cat-eyes pierced through the mist as he studied the more than forty knights on the surrounding boats. Roughly three-quarters wore the necklaces. The remaining ten either leaned toward Princess Adda, or were men Rudolf trusted less.

They had one thing in common. Every last one had survived the battle on Black Gull Island.

Sorcerer Azar himself was nowhere to be seen among them, but the Witcher had no doubt the man had a dozen ways to follow unseen, so he stayed wary.

Before long, the boats bumped against the soft wet mud of Black Gull Island. They dragged them into the reeds at the shore, then followed Princess Adda, dressed in sacramental robes, slowly toward the island’s center.

All at once, Adda shed her stately bearing. She slipped off her shoes and stockings at will, letting her pale bare feet tread the soft sand and leave behind a line of dainty prints. Beneath the hem of her dress, a length of slender white calf showed itself. Her figure was graceful, her waist slim, her full hips swaying under the smooth, close-fitting ritual robe. Even from behind, she was enough to set hearts trembling.

The knights hastily averted their eyes, or lowered their heads in stiff unease. Only Rudolf Valaris felt his doubts deepen.

Almost no one noticed that after they landed, clusters of bubbles had begun rising in the water along the shore.

...

There had once been a dense wood on Black Gull Island. But during the last battle, some White Rose knight covering the retreat had burned it to ash. More than two months of wind and sun had passed, yet the traces of destruction were still plain to see, blackened stumps, charred branches and leaves scattered everywhere, and the unrecognizable bones of wild beasts here and there.