The following afternoon, in the forests of Flotsam.
"Vic, see that waterfall? That is Rose Falls. The water carries a faint fragrance of roses. We are almost there. From this point, we need to climb."
"Iorveth, your people truly are remarkable. A garden built in the middle of a forest, I have to say I admire your sense of beauty."
"Was that sincere praise, or are you complaining about how far we have traveled?"
"Both."
By bribing Iorveth with fine wine and music, Victor had persuaded him to personally guide him to this garden in the forest, where he intended to gather the special ingredient known as the rose of remembrance.
The petals Toruviel had obtained for Victor years ago had all been consumed during his experiments with various formulas. According to Nenneke, these roses were exceptionally rare.
This time, he did not intend merely to pick the flowers. He planned to collect seeds and cuttings for preservation, and perhaps bring some back to be cultivated in the temple's greenhouse.
Iorveth reached down and pulled Victor onto a boulder.
"Have you heard the legend of this place?"
"Of course. When Toruviel brought me the roses, she spent quite some time boasting about the love story that took place here."
"Legends are always beautiful, especially elven legends. Reality, however, usually leaves behind only the parts no one wanted."
The elf guiding him moved with light, effortless steps. The witcher was equally agile, so half their route followed ordinary paths, while the other half consisted of various feats of parkour.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through gaps in the leaves. The fresh forest air was rich with the scent of greenery, while the roar of the waterfall mingled with birdsong and the chirping of insects.
"According to her, Eldan and Cymoril's love story says Cymoril was so beautiful that even Francesca Findabair paled beside her. Was she truly that extraordinary? Francesca is widely regarded as the most beautiful woman in the world."
"Are you doing that deliberately? Do not mention that woman's name in front of me. Besides, in my eyes, she has long since ceased to be the most beautiful woman in the world."
"Oh, I understand."
"No... you do not. Do you think I only say that because I hate her? No. There truly is someone more beautiful, and soon we will..."
Iorveth abruptly stopped speaking.
The elf offered no explanation, and the witcher did not press him.
Victor knew the Scoia'tael were preparing to make a major move. He had originally intended to visit their camp and casually seize someone as a guide, but Iorveth had refused and chosen to escort him personally to gather the roses of remembrance instead.
After traveling for some time, the path curved unexpectedly.
Victor passed through a crumbling archway and finally saw the garden beyond. He involuntarily slowed as he approached.
"My God. This is the statue of the lovers."
"Eldan and Cymoril..." Iorveth murmured from behind him with a soft sigh.
Standing before the statue, Victor could vividly feel the love reflected in their eyes and the sweetness of their intimate embrace.
Through the sculptor's almost miraculous artistry, the lovers had remained lifelike for a thousand years.
Standing before a statue that symbolized love, Victor thought of many people.
Then he spent one second feeling ashamed that so many people had come to mind before shaking his head and laughing at himself.
After admiring the sculpture, he noticed Iorveth crouching nearby to examine the flowers and walked toward him.
Without warning, the ground beneath Victor's feet suddenly collapsed, and both men fell into the cavity below.
...
Neither Victor nor Iorveth was injured.
They had fallen into a structure belonging to the ancient ruins. Long ago, this place had been an elven pleasure garden, and the chamber they now occupied had been the bathhouse attached to the park.
It was a rose bath filled with entirely natural fragrances.
A large stone pool occupied the center, surrounded by a sea of red roses. The bathhouse was beautifully designed, with carved beams and elaborate decorations. Rose petals naturally drifted down into the water, while a constant stream poured from a jug carried on the shoulder of a nude female statue.
It was a masterpiece.
Judging from the structure's design, the fragrance carried by Rose Falls below the mountain probably originated here.
The two exchanged smiles.
"Iorveth, your people truly are remarkable. A bathhouse built directly beneath a garden, I have to say I love your sense of beauty."
"This time, I believe the praise is sincere."
After walking around and examining the chamber, they discovered that the original entrance and exit had been blocked by shifts in the terrain.
It appeared their only option was to climb back up the wall through the hole from which they had fallen. Naturally, that would not be enough to stop either of them.
Just then, voices came from above.
Someone else had evidently entered the garden.
A woman said, "Geralt, I simply cannot understand how elves became so cruel. That scarred elf carries so much hatred inside him."
At the mention of a scarred elf, Victor glanced at Iorveth, who happened to look back at him.
A man answered, "Triss, places like this show how much they have lost. There was once an entire elven city here. The forest was a place where they played, not somewhere they hid.
"Humans destroyed all of it and confined them to slums. Iorveth and those like him are seeking revenge, although not every elf follows their path."
So it was Geralt and Triss.
The two men below immediately recognized the speakers.
"Could what Ciaran said be true?" Triss asked. "Could everything really change? Could the elves have a better tomorrow?"
"He has his ideals and a clear vision of a certain kind of world. But do you believe humans would have any place in it if his dream came true?"
Both men below froze when they heard Ciaran's name.
Victor was merely surprised, but Iorveth knew that the sorceress and witcher should never have encountered Ciaran at all.
"Perhaps we are all the same," Triss said.
"You are wrong, Triss. We have been learning from one another for generations, but fundamentally, we are different."
"For some reason, that makes me feel terribly sad."
"You are not the first, and you will not be the last. Like this garden, it is beautiful and sorrowful."
The two men below were each lost in their own thoughts.
Above them, the White Wolf soon located a rose of remembrance. Its crimson petals were brilliant and beautiful. He crouched and cut away an entire stem with his dagger.
Triss spoke softly.
"Cymoril's roses of remembrance. Legend says they wilt if they are sold or fail to receive nourishment from blood. But when given to someone you love, they bloom forever."
Geralt listened, then turned and offered the rose to her.
"My lady, please accept this flower. I want you to have it. If there is any truth to the legend, then it will not wither even if you remove one or two petals.
"What I really want to say is... thank you for everything you have done for me. I love you, Triss."
"Oh, Geralt!"
This was followed by a prolonged series of moist kissing sounds.
The two men directly below were unexpectedly forced to swallow a generous helping of public affection.
Iorveth was somewhat distracted, as he was considering whether Ciaran might still be alive. After all, Loredo's men had taken the body away.
Victor had a much harder time. He had no other concerns to divert his attention, and his extraordinary hearing captured every tiny sound with perfect clarity.
...
Eventually, the endless smacking and murmuring of the kiss came to an end.
"This is the statue, Curly!"
Judging by the heavy footsteps and crude voice, several poorly dressed bandits had swaggered into the garden ruins.
That was precisely what had happened.
A potbellied thug puffed out his chest.
"As though I needed you to tell me. Just think of all the money we will get. I am going to spend an entire month in a brothel without leaving. If I use the money carefully, I might even manage six weeks!"
A thief wearing only his undergarments said, "Where did that woman get so much money? I mean, she and that old man want to buy a new house, and these statues are supposed to decorate the garden. They must have embezzled public funds. Town treasurers do it all the time, do they not?"
A bandit carrying tools said, "I do not care whether they stole public funds. I cannot wait to move into the Ladies' Secret Chamber!"
The potbellied thug said, "We cannot move it in one piece. I think we should remove the heads and feet first, then carry it away section by section."
Murderous fury appeared in Iorveth's eyes, and Victor frowned.
Before either of them could react, however, the sorceress who had only just received a declaration of love could no longer tolerate the bandits.
"Idiots!" Triss shouted angrily. "You would be better off removing your own heads!"
"Stupid bitch, shut your mouth! Oh, she is a pretty one."
"Come on, boys! I wonder whether she will still have that much spirit when I spread her legs!"
"There is a mutant with her! Kill them both!"
The clash of weapons rang out above.
After several screams, the disturbance abruptly ended.
Clearly, the hot-blooded gentlemen had all calmed down permanently.
Victor considered shouting to announce their presence, but then looked at Iorveth.
Only two days earlier, Geralt had told Vernon Roche that the Scoia'tael were the greatest obstacle preventing them from locating the Kingslayer.
The witcher chose to remain silent.
Heaven alone knew what might happen if Geralt and Iorveth encountered each other here.
The elf's willingness to travel alone with Victor represented absolute trust. Victor did not wish to risk betraying it.
"The flowers over here are beautiful!" Triss said, taking Geralt by the hand.
Their footsteps unexpectedly approached the hole.
Then the ceiling collapsed again, and Triss and Geralt fell into the chamber together.
Victor and Iorveth hurried into the shadows of the bathhouse.
Victor lowered his voice.
"Geralt is my senior. Do me a favor and let them leave first. That woman is a sorceress, so she will certainly have some way to get back up."
Perhaps because their earlier conversation had revealed compassion for the elves, and because they had protected the statue from desecration, Iorveth also had no desire to draw his sword and kill them.
He nodded in agreement.
"The ancient elves..." Triss said. "The structures they built before humans sailed into the Pontar Delta are astonishing. Elves possessed a sensitivity and artistry humans could never dream of."
Victor glanced toward Iorveth.
The face disfigured by scars formed an awkward smile in response to Triss's heartfelt praise.
"It appears we are trapped," Triss said.
"Mm," Geralt replied.
"There must be another way out."
"Mm."
"Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?"
"No."
Triss's voice suddenly became soft and seductive.
"Oh, witcher, what wicked idea is running through your mind?"
Geralt's voice was low and hoarse.
"You know exactly what I am thinking. Let us have some fun. You can wash yourself while we are at it."
"Shame on you. What a shameless idea... although perhaps you could use a bath as well."
What kind of conversation was this supposed to be?
Victor's expression shifted through every color of the rainbow. Iorveth looked equally incapable of describing what he was hearing.
"That filthy, depraved White Wolf! And that shameless woman! What are you planning to do in someone else's elven bathhouse?"
The constant splash of water from the nude statue completely prevented Geralt and Triss from realizing that anyone else was present.
Victor cautiously peered from behind a pillar.
He happened to see Triss Merigold cast a spell that transformed her clothes into a swarm of fluttering butterflies.
From this angle, Victor could see Geralt's back and Triss's completely bare back.
She walked slowly to the edge of the pool, then dived into the secret elven rose bath.
Victor withdrew behind the pillar.
He pressed his palms together and shook his head pleadingly at Iorveth.
The elf first looked at Victor from the corner of his eye with an expression of racial contempt, the sort of look that expressed his disdain for humans being willing to mate at any time and in any place.
Then Iorveth waved a hand, closed his eyes, and leaned against the wall to rest.
Relieved, Victor likewise leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
Naturally, he had no intention of spying.
He did not want to listen either, but he was a witcher with a legendary body. His extraordinary hearing not only possessed perfect pitch, but could even determine distances and the shapes of objects through sound.
Thus, he heard Geralt removing his equipment.
Clink, that was his belt hitting the floor.
Rustle, that was his trousers falling.
Clatter, that was his sword being set down.
Thump, that was his shirt being thrown aside.
Geralt approached the pool.
Before he even had time to remove his boots, Triss rose from the water, seized him, and dragged him into the pool.
What followed was obvious to everyone.
On the court, both hands took control of the ball and drove straight through the full-court press.
They kissed, and then they had sex.
...
Some time later, the light footsteps of elves sounded near the statue above.
Victor guessed they were Iorveth's men patrolling the area in a group of three.
The elf leading them said, "These corpses... Each was killed with a single strike. Those wounds were probably made by a witcher's blade. It appears Letho came through here."
The companion beside him answered, "Perhaps, but he is no longer here. There is no reason for us to remain."
The leader kicked one of the bodies.
"Damn it! Humans stole the story of Eldan and Cymoril. They stole the roses that preserve our memories, and now they even want to steal the statue!
"They transformed the story into something dull and shallow.
"'Once there was a beautiful pair of elven lovers who lived in an enchanted forest. Then a handsome human prince arrived, riding a magnificent cream-colored stallion...'
"Damned humans!
"Only we elves remember the true story. It was one of infinite loyalty, passion, devotion, and sacrifice."
The elf's furious curses mixed with the sounds of an energetic battle taking place in the bathhouse below.
Listening to both at once, Victor experienced an indescribable mixture of emotions.
Legend claimed that the lovers' sighs still clung to the statue and could be heard only by those in love.
One of the elves above happened to stand near the opening.
He faintly heard the distorted sounds drifting upward from below and felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, mistakenly believing that he had heard the lovers' sighs.
"Singing trees, muttering stones... I did not hear a damned thing."
He quickened his pace and hurried after his companions.
...
Several days later.
The witcher and the sorceress had finally put their clothes back on.
Triss nestled against Geralt.
"We should have continued a little longer. It allows me to forget Flotsam, the Scoia'tael, the Kingslayer, and this entire world for a while. Truly..."
In the shadows behind the pillars, Victor screamed internally.
"You have already been doing it for ages! Could you please leave now? Otherwise, the gentleman beside me is going to leap out and lose his temper!"
"I am pleased to know I still possess that kind of charm," Geralt said.
Triss pulled slightly away from him.
"Although we obtained the rose petals, I need time to prepare the spell for restoring your memories. It may take several days. What do you intend to do in the meantime?"
"I intend to meet with Iorveth," the White Wolf answered seriously.
"I do not think there is any need to hurry. Attempting that now would be both dangerous and foolish. He may not believe us when we repeat Ciaran's final words.
"Besides, once your memories return, I have a feeling you will see many things differently. We may also discover what happened to Yennefer."
At the words "final words," Iorveth's fist abruptly tightened while his eyes remained closed.
Victor was equally stunned.
Why had Geralt and Triss been the ones to hear Ciaran's dying words?
Geralt laughed.
"Do you think I would abandon everything and tell Roche, 'Sorry, but Foltest is no longer my concern. I have somewhere else to go and someone else to find'?
"No. We must find the Kingslayer and clear both my name and yours."
"Before you lost your memory, I believe you would have risked everything for Yennefer. I mean... we do not truly owe Roche or Temeria anything.
"I am afraid you will walk into a trap and never return. Iorveth is a cunning old elf who has been fighting humans for at least a century. Letho is no ordinary bandit either. I tremble whenever I imagine who might be directing them from behind the scenes."
Victor glanced at Iorveth.
The elf's eyes remained closed, but the faint upward curve of his lips revealed that he appreciated Triss's words.
That woman truly knew how to speak. She should keep going.
An idea occurred to Victor, and he took out a new music box, one equipped with a recording function.
Triss continued.
"Geralt, this is a swamp, deep and hungry. It will swallow you whole before you even realize what is happening."
The White Wolf shook his head.
"We are already in the swamp..."
Triss raised her voice and spoke over him.
"I want you to know that I am prepared to follow you to the ends of the world to save Yennefer. I owe that to you, and I owe it to her.
"I would do anything for you. I am ready to abandon court life and leave behind politics, regicide, and every other chain binding me. I could even live at Kaer Morhen. The choice is yours."
Victor silently raised his thumb.
"Damn, that was impressive. That confession was so heartfelt and moving that every judge would hit the button and turn their chair after hearing her voice alone."
"Triss..."
Caught completely unprepared by her confession, the White Wolf did not know how to respond.
The sorceress reached up and caressed his face.
"Please let me finish. I am afraid I may not have the courage later.
"I love you.
"If you choose to search for Iorveth alone, I will understand and will not try to dissuade you. Just remember that I love you, and come back alive."
The witcher pulled the sorceress tightly into his arms.
"Triss, I do not know what the future holds. I do not know what lies hidden within my mind. But whatever it is, and whatever happens, I do not want to lose you.
"If I abandoned you, I would be a complete fool and an ungrateful bastard."
"You are wonderful. Thank you. Does that mean we will leave the Kingslayer to Roche and turn our attention to our own concerns?"
"I truly want to leave, but I must clear my name, and more importantly, yours.
"We cannot simply walk away. Foltest's men and every kind of bounty hunter will not give up. We would become fugitives, and that is not the life either of us wants.
"Besides, leaving now would feel like surrendering before the outcome has been decided. It would feel as though we were fleeing in defeat. As far as I am concerned, we have not lost yet.
"With Ciaran's final words, I believe Iorveth will be willing to listen to me."
Hearing the determination in Geralt's voice, Triss raised her head and kissed him.
"Whatever you decide, I want you to understand that you can rely on me. I will need several days to prepare the spell."
He kissed her in return.
"I will find Zoltan first. I need him to guide me to Iorveth. Remember, this discussion is not finished. Once I have settled matters with the Kingslayer, we will speak about our future in detail."
Another prolonged series of wet kisses followed.
In the shadows, Victor covered his mouth with one hand.
He had swallowed so much public affection that he was about to vomit.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810