As you can see, I carry two. Every witcher has two swords. Malevolent people say the silver one is for monsters and the iron one for people. Of course that's untrue. There are monsters that can be struck only with a silver blade, but there are also some for which iron is lethal. No, Iola, not any iron, only iron from a meteorite. You ask what is a meteorite? It's a falling star. Perhaps sometime you have seen a falling star, a short, bright streak in the night sky. Perhaps at its sight you uttered a wish, or maybe for you it was another reason to believe in gods. For me, a meteorite is just a piece of metal that falls down and sticks in the ground. Metal suitable for making a sword.
You can, of course, you can take my sword in hand. See how light it is? Even you can lift it without difficulty. No! Don't touch the blade, you will hurt yourself. It's sharper than a razor. It has to be.
Yes, I exercise a lot. In every spare moment. I mustn't get out of practice. So I came here, to the most remote part of the temple park, to move my body, to burn out of my muscles this nasty, wretched numbness that falls upon me, this coldness circulating in me. And you have found me here. Funny, for several days I tried to find you. I was looking around for you. I wanted...
I need this talk, Iola. Let's sit down, let's talk for a while.
But you don't know me at all, Iola.
My name is Geralt. Geralt from... No. Just Geralt. Geralt from nowhere. I'm a witcher.
My home is Kaer Morhen, the Witchers' Place. I come from there. There is... There used to be a fortress. Not much is left of it.
Kaer Morhen... There they used to produce ones like me. It's no longer done, and no one lives in Kaer Morhen now. No one except for Vesemir. You ask who is Vesemir? He's my father. Why are you looking at me in surprise? What's so strange about it? Everyone has a father. Mine is Vesemir. That he's not my true father, so what? I didn't know the real one, nor my mother. I don't even know if they're alive. And as a matter of fact, I don't care much about that.
Yes, Kaer Morhen... I underwent the usual mutation there. The Grass Test, and then what is usually done. Hormones, herbs, infection with a virus. And from the beginning again. And once more. Till the desired result. They say I endured the Changes surprisingly well, I was sick for a very short time. So they decided I was an extraordinarily resistant guy and selected me for further, more complex... experiments. That went worse. Much worse. But, as you can see, I survived. The only one from among those selected for the experiments. Since then I have had white hair. Total loss of pigmentation. Side-effect they call it. Trifle. Little disturbance.
Later I was taught many things. For quite a long time. And finally came the day when I left Kaer Morhen and took to the road. I already had my medallion, here, this one. Sign of the Wolf School. I also had two swords, a silver one and an iron one. Apart from the swords, I carried determination, enthusiasm, motivation and... faith. Faith that I was needed and useful. Because the world, Iola, was supposed to be filled with monsters and beasts, and my task was to protect those threatened by the beasts. When I was leaving Kaer Morhen, I dreamt of meeting my first monster, I couldn't wait to confront it eye to eye. And I got what I wanted.
My first monster, Iola, was bald and had exceptionally ugly, rotten teeth. I met him on the road, where together with his monster companions, some army marauders, he stopped a peasant's cart and dragged out of it a girl, maybe thirteen years old, or maybe even less. His companions held her father while the bald one was tearing the dress off the girl and shouting it was high time she learned what a real man was like. I approached them, got off the horse and told the bald one that such a time had come for him, too. It seemed extremely witty to me. The bald man let the girl go and charged at me with an ax. He was very slow but durable. I hit him twice before he collapsed. These were not exactly perfect cuts, but, I would say, quite spectacular, such that made the bald man's companions run at the sight of what the witcher's sword can do with a man...
Am I not boring you, Iola?
I need this talk. I really need it.
What was I saying? Right, my first noble deed. You see, Iola, in Kaer Morhen they hammered that into my head-Don't get involved in these things, pass them at a distance, don't play the knight errant and don't do the job of the guardians of the law. I took the road not to show off but to carry out paid orders. And I got involved, like a fool, having traveled less than fifty miles from the foot of the mountains. Do you know why I did that? I wanted to see the girl bursting with tears of gratitude for me, her rescuer, kissing my hands, and her father thanking me on his knees. But the girl's father ran along with the marauders, while the girl, who got splattered all over with her oppressor's blood, threw up and got an attack of hysteria, and when I approached her, she fainted. Since then I have very rarely got involved in such things.
I was doing my job. I learned the way quickly. I neared village outskirts, I stopped at the foot of the palisades of settlements and cities. And I waited. If they spat, cursed and threw stones, I left. If, instead, someone came out and gave me an order, I carried it out.
I visited cities and strongholds, I looked for messages nailed to posts at crossroads. I was looking for announcements: "Witcher needed urgently." And then it was usually a backwoods place, a dungeon, a necropolis or ruins, a forest ravine or a grotto in the mountains, full of bones and stinking of carcasses. And there was something whose only goal in life was to kill. From hunger, for pleasure, directed by someone's sick will, or for other reasons. Manticora, vivern, fogger, dragon-fly, girazor, horribler, wooder, vampire, ghoul, graveir, werewolf, gigascorpion, lamia, eater, kikimore, vipper. And there was dancing in the darkness and a sword cutting. And fear and repulsion in the eyes of they who later handed me my payment.
Translation by
Agnieszka Zych
Andrzej Sapkowski
Czesław Apiecionek, owner of the Odeon network of bookstores:
Each new book by Andrzej Sapkowski is a publishing hit that makes its way onto the bestsellers list. What's more, it remains there for many weeks, which is a rarity. In Poland, a book that manages to stay on the top for a week is already a success. And Sapkowski's books draw people to bookstores. Press or radio information about publishing a new novel always sends them to the stores.
Sapkowski's books reach a wide audience from all strata of society, but young readers dominate. Not teenagers, but mature young people who seem loyal to the writer. Many compare Sapkowski to [the best-known Polish science-fiction author] Stanisław Lem because of the subject of his works and popularity among young readers.
Perhaps Sapkowski owes his success to the brilliant sense of humor present in his novels, an original interpretation of our times and the consistency of his writing. He knows his audience's tastes and remains faithful to them. Also, he writes in a very lively way. He successfully uses his great literary knowledge while writing. It should also be noted that contemporary readers are well-acquainted with computers and the latest technology, and Sapkowski excellently moves around in that world. Despite his numerous successes, there is a widespread opinion that the writer still has his best days ahead of him-that he hasn't shown all his cards.
Back to
the first page of Voice - People Section.
Back to
the first page of this issue.