The Last Wish PDF Book by Andrzej Sapkowski

Click here to Download The Last Wish PDF Book by Andrzej Sapkowski having PDF Size 2 MB and No of Pages 326.

Yet this faint sound was enough to wake the witcher—or maybe it only tore him from the half-slumber in which he rocked monotonously, as though traveling through fathomless depths, suspended between the seabed and its calm surface amid gently undulating strands of seaweed.

The Last Wish PDF Book by Andrzej Sapkowski

Name of Book The Last Wish
Author Andrzej Sapkowski
PDF Size 2 MB
No of Pages 326
Language English
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 About Book – The Last Wish PDF Book Download by Andrzej Sapkowski

He did not move, did not stir. The girl flitted closer, threw off her mantle and slowly, hesitantly, rested her knee on the edge of the large bed. He observed her through lowered lashes, still not betraying his wakefulness. The girl carefully climbed onto the bedclothes, and onto him, wrapping her thighs around him.

Leaning forward on straining arms, she brushed his face with hair which smelled of chamomile. Determined, and as if impatient, she leaned over and touched his eyelids, cheeks, lips with the tips of her breasts. He smiled, very slowly, delicately, grasping her by the shoulders, and she straightened, escaping his fingers.

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She was radiant, luminous in the misty brilliance of dawn. He moved, but with pressure from both hands, she forbade him to change position and, with a light but decisive movement of her hips, demanded a response. The Last Wish PDF Book Download He responded. She no longer backed away from his hands; she threw her head back, shook her hair.

Her skin was cool and surprisingly smooth. Her eyes, glimpsed when her face came close to his, were huge and dark as the eyes of a water nymph. Rocked, he sank into a sea of chamomile as it grew agitated and seethed. Later, it was said the man came from the north, from Ropers Gate.

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He came on foot, leading his laden horse by the bridle. It was late afternoon and the ropers’, saddlers’ and tanners’ stalls were already closed, the street empty. It was hot but the man had a black coat thrown over his shoulders. The Last Wish PDF Book Download He drew attention to himself. He stopped in front of the Old Narakort Inn, stood there for a moment, listened to the hubbub of voices.

As usual, at this hour, it was full of people. The stranger did not enter the Old Narakort. He pulled his horse farther down the street to another tavern, a smaller one, called The Fox. Not enjoying the best of reputations, it was almost empty. The innkeeper raised his head above a barrel of pickled cucumbers and measured the man with his gaze.

The outsider, still in his coat, stood stiffly in front of the counter, motionless and silent. The following day, late in the evening, the miller was brought to the small chamber above the guardhouse allocated to the witcher. The Last Wish PDF Book Download He was led in by a soldier in a hooded coat. The conversation did not yield any significant results.

The miller was terrified; he mumbled and stammered, and his scars told the witcher more than he did. The striga could open her jaws impressively wide and had extremely sharp teeth, including very long upper fangs—four of them, two on each side. Her claws were sharper than a wildcat’s, but less curved.

And it was only because of that the miller had managed to tear himself away. Having finished his examination Geralt nodded to the miller and soldier, dismissing them. The Last Wish PDF Book Download The soldier pushed the peasant through the door and lowered his hood. It was Foltest himself. Geralt looked out of the palace window for the last time.

Dusk was falling rapidly. Beyond the lake the distant lights of Wyzim twinkled. There was a wilderness around the old palace—a strip of no-man’s land with which, over seven years, the town had cut itself off from this dangerous place, leaving nothing but a few ruins, rotten beams and the remains of a gap-toothed palisade which had obviously not been worth dismantling and moving.

As far away as possible —at the opposite end of the settlement—the king had built his new residence. The stout tower of his new palace loomed black in the distance, against the darkening blue of the sky. In one of the empty, plundered chambers, the witcher returned to the dusty table at which he was preparing, calmly and meticulously.

He knew he had plenty of time. The striga would not leave her crypt before midnight. On the table in front of him he had a small chest with metal fittings. He opened it. Inside, packed tightly in compartments lined with dried grass, stood small vials of dark glass. The witcher removed three.

 From the floor, he picked up an oblong packet thickly wrapped in sheep’s skins and fastened with a leather strap. He unwrapped it and pulled out a sword with an elaborate hilt, in a black, shiny scabbard covered with rows of runic signs and symbols. The Last Wish PDF Book He drew the blade, which lit up with a pure shine of mirror-like brightness.

It was pure silver. Geralt whispered an incantation and drank, one after the other, the contents of two vials, placing his left hand on the blade of the sword after each sip. Then, wrapping himself tightly in his black coat, he sat down on the floor. There were no chairs in the chamber, or in the rest of the palace.

He sat motionless, his eyes closed. His breathing, at first even, suddenly quickened, became rasping and tense. The Last Wish PDF Book And then stopped completely. The mixture which helped the witcher gain full control of his body was chiefly made up of veratrum, stramonium, hawthorn and spurge. The other ingredients had no name in any human language.

For anyone who was not, like Geralt, inured to it from childhood, it would have been lethal poison. The Last Wish PDF Book The witcher turned his head abruptly. In the silence his hearing, sharpened beyond measure, easily picked out a rustle of footsteps through the courtyard overgrown with stinging nettles. It could not be the striga.

The steps were too light. Geralt threw his sword across his back, hid his bundle in the hearth of the ruined chimney-place and, silent as a bat, ran downstairs. It was still light enough in the courtyard for the approaching man to see the witcher’s face. The man, Ostrit, backed away abruptly; an involuntary grimace of terror and repulsion contorted his lips.

The witcher smiled wryly—he knew what he looked like. After drinking a mixture of banewart, monk’s hood and eyebright the face takes on the color of chalk, and the pupils fill the entire iris. But the mixture enables one to see in the deepest darkness, and this is what Geralt wanted.

Ostrit did not hear the scrape of the tomb lid being moved aside, but the witcher did. The Last Wish PDF He leaned over and, with his dagger, cut the magnate’s bonds. Ostrit did not wait, for the word. He jumped up, numb, hobbled clumsily, and ran. His eyes had grown accustomed enough to the darkness for him to see his way from the main hall to the exit.

The slab blocking the entrance to the crypt opened and fell to the floor with a thud. Geralt, prudently behind the staircase balustrade, saw the misshapen figure of the striga speeding swiftly and unerringly in the direction of Ostrit’s receeding footsteps. Not the slightest sound issued from the striga.

A terrible, quivering, frenzied scream tore the night, shook the old walls, continued rising and falling, vibrating. The witcher couldn’t make out exactly how far away it was— his sharpened hearing deceived him—but he knew that the striga had caught up with Ostrit quickly. Too quickly.

He stepped into the middle of the hall, stood right at the entrance to the crypt. He threw down his coat, twitched his shoulders, adjusted the position of his sword, pulled on his gauntlets. He still had some time. He knew that the striga, although well fed after the last full moon, would not readily abandon Ostrit’s corpse.

The heart and liver were, for her, valuable reserves of nutrition for the long periods spent in lethargic sleep. The witcher waited. By his count, there were about three hours left until dawn. The cock’s crow could only mislead him. The Last Wish PDF Besides, there were probably no cocks in the neighborhood. He heard her.

She was trudging slowly, shuffling along the floor. And then he saw her. The description had been accurate. The disproportionately large head set on a short neck was surrounded by a tangled, curly halo of reddish hair. Her eyes shone in the darkness like an animal’s. The striga stood motionless, her gaze fixed on Geralt.

Suddenly she opened her jaws—as if proud of her rows of pointed white teeth— then snapped them shut with a crack like a chest being closed. And leapt, slashing at the witcher with her bloodied claws. Geralt jumped to the side, spun a swift pirouette. The striga rubbed against him, also spun around, slicing through the air with her talons.

She didn’t lose her balance and attacked anew, mid-spin, gnashing her teeth fractions of an inch from Geralt’s chest. The Rivian jumped away, changing the direction of his spin with a fluttering pirouette to confuse the striga. As he leapt away he dealt a hard blow to the side of her head with the silver spikes studding the knuckles of his gauntlet.

The striga roared horribly, filling the palace with a booming echo, fell to the ground, froze and started to howl hollowly and furiously. The witcher smiled maliciously. His first attempt, as he had hoped, had gone well. Silver was fatal to the striga, as it was for most monsters brought into existence through magic.

So there was a chance: the beast was like the others, and that boded well for lifting the spell, while the silver sword would, as a last resort, assure his life. The striga was in no hurry with her next attack. She approached slowly, baring her fangs, dribbling repulsively. Geralt backed away and, carefully placing his feet, traced a semi-circle.

By slowing and quickening his movements he distracted the striga, making it difficult for her to leap. As he walked, the witcher unwound a long, strong silver chain, weighted at the end. The Last Wish PDF The moment the striga tensed and leapt the chain whistled through the air and, coiling like a snake, twined itself around the monster’s shoulders, neck and head.

The striga’s jump became a tumble, and she let out an ear piercing whistle. She thrashed around on the floor, howling horribly with fury or from the burning pain inflicted by the despised metal. She came to him toward morning. She entered very carefully, moving silently, floating through the chamber like a phantom; the only sound was that of her mantle brushing her naked skin.

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