Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов

           Themare,proddedonbythewitcher’sheels,carefullysteppedoverapileofbricksandpassedthroughthebrokenarcade.Herhorseshoes,ringingagainsttheflagstones,awokeweirdechoesbetweenthewalls,muffledbythehowlinggale.Ciritrembled,diggingherhandsintothehorse’smane.

           "I’mfrightened,"shewhispered.

           "There’snothingtobefrightenedof,"repliedthewitcher,layinghishandonhershoulder."It’shardtofindasaferplaceinthewholeworld.ThisisKaerMorhen,theWitchers’Keep.Thereusedtobeabeautifulcastlehere.Alongtimeago."

           Shedidnotreply,bowingherheadlow.Thewitcher’smare,calledRoach,snortedquietly,asifshetoowantedtoreassurethegirl.

           Theyimmersedthemselvesinadarkabyss,inalong,unendingblacktunneldottedwithcolumnsandarcades.Roachsteppedconfidentlyandwillingly,ignoringtheimpenetrabledarkness,andherhorseshoesrangbrightlyagainstthefloor.

           Infrontofthem,attheendofthetunnel,astraight,verticallinesuddenlyflaredwitharedlight.Growingtallerandwideritbecameadoorbeyondwhichwasafaintglow,theflickeringbrightnessoftorchesstuckinironmountsonthewalls.Ablackfigurestoodframedinthedoor,blurredbythebrightness.

           "Whocomes?"Ciriheardamenacing,metallicvoicewhichsoundedlikeadog’sbark."Geralt?"

           "Yes,Eskel.It’sme."

           "Comein."