Blood of the Elves. Witcher. Blood of Elves Andrzej Sapkowski Blood of Elves download pdf

Andrzej Sapkowski is a famous Polish writer. His series about the witcher Geralt gained great popularity. The third book in the series is called “Blood of Elves.” Andrzej Sapkowski manages to create an incredibly colorful and special fantasy world, where the powers of magic and sword are perfectly combined, where extraordinary creatures live, where things are possible that are not in reality. This is what is addictive and attracts many readers. Although the writer does not like to delve into political details, willy-nilly, certain subtleties are mentioned in the plot. After all, what kind of magical world can do without the struggle between kingdoms, without the thirst for power and the use of magic in their own interests?

The Witcher, whose calling is to fight monsters, miraculously saved Cirilla, the heiress of the kingdom of Cintra, which was now captured. He sends the girl to the witchers' refuge, where she will be safe. There, Ciri must undergo training that will help her master many skills in order to be able to fend for herself. Many people are hunting for the girl; they do not believe that Ciri is dead, and they are looking for the heiress with all their might. Ciri begins to show magical abilities. To understand what they are, Geralt turns to his old friend Triss. She invites Geralt to entrust the teaching of magic to Yennefer, who will be an excellent teacher for the girl.

The peculiarity of this book is the atmosphere of expectation, as if something is about to happen. Although this is not written exactly, this feeling seems to be in the air. The writer narrates the lives of the characters along with their problems and character traits, which makes them vivid and vivid. It is very interesting to read about Ciri’s learning process, because although she has magic, she remains a restless girl. Much attention is paid specifically to the process of education and the relationships of the characters. And yet you feel that something will happen soon... The book will give you many pleasant moments and will certainly make you want to read the sequel.

On our website you can download the book “Blood of Elves” by Andrzej Sapkowski for free and without registration in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format, read the book online or buy the book in the online store.

The Witcher - 3

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Blood of Elves,” of course, a novel about the witcher Geralt. As well as a novel about a princess from Cintra, raised by witchers and becoming a witcher. This is a book about Kaer Morhen - the stronghold of the witchers. Their house. This is a work about life and death, love and separation. About fidelity to duty and about Destination... About the great war and its consequences. About a world in which there is less and less room for magic and more and more room for materialism... And the connecting link not only of the entire novel, but of the cycle as a whole was and is Ciri - the Child of the Elder Blood...
The little princess Ciri from Cintra, a girl whose fate is inextricably linked with a simple witcher - a representative of a vanishing profession, is, as prophecies say, a bearer of “elder” - elven blood. Having become Geralt's Destination, young Ciri, under the auspices of the witchers, is being trained in their castle. At the same time, magical abilities begin to awaken in her...

Blood of the Elves

Chapter 1

Elaine Blath, Feainnewedd
Dearme aen a"caelrne tedd
Eigean evelienn deireadh
Que "n esse, va en esseath
Feainnewedd, elaine blath!
"Flower". A lullaby and a popular children's rhyme of the elves.

Truly, truly, I say to you, the age of the Sword and the Ax will come, the age of the Wolf Blizzard. The Hour of White Cold and White Light will come. The Hour of Madness and the Hour of Contempt, Tedd Deireadh. Hour of the End. The world will die, plunged into darkness, and will be reborn with a new sun. He will arise from the Elder Blood, from Hen Ichaer, from the grain sown. The grain that does not germinate will not sprout, but will burst into flames.
Ess"tuath esse! So be it! Heed the signs! And what will they be, I tell you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe. With the blood of the Elves...
Aen Ithlinnespeath, prophecy of Ithlinne Aegli aep Aevenien.

The city was burning.
The narrow streets, clogged with smoke, leading to the moat, to the first terrace, blazed with heat, the tongues of flame devoured the thatched roofs of the houses leaning against each other, and licked the walls of the castle. From the west, from the port gates, came a scream, the sounds of a furious battle, and the dull blows of a ram that shook the walls.
The attackers suddenly surrounded them, breaking through the barricade, which was defended by a few soldiers, townspeople with halberds and crossbowmen. Horses covered with black blankets flew like ghosts over the barriers, shiny swords struck the retreating defenders.
Ciri felt the knight carrying her on the pommel of his saddle abruptly rein in his horse. I heard him scream. “Hold on,” he shouted. - Hold on!
Other knights in the colors of Cintra got ahead of them and immediately grappled with the Nilfgaardians. Ciri saw it for just one moment, out of the corner of her eye - a mad whirlpool of blue-green and black cloaks, the clanging of steel, the blows of blades on shields, the neighing of horses...
Scream. No, not a scream - a howl.
"Hold on!"
Fear. Every jerk, every blow, every leap of the horse painfully tears the hands clenching the belt. My legs, cramped with painful cramps, cannot find support, my eyes are watering from the smoke. The hand that grabbed her suffocates, crushes, almost breaks her ribs. A scream like she's never heard before rises up around her. What needs to be done to a person to make him scream like that?
Fear. A will-binding, paralyzing, suffocating fear.
Again the clanging of iron, the snoring of horses. The houses around are dancing, the windows emanating fire suddenly appear where there had just been a street clogged with mud, strewn with corpses, littered with the belongings of fugitives. The knight behind her suddenly breaks into a strange, hoarse cough. Blood pours out onto his hands clinging to the belt. Scream. The whistling of arrows.
Falling, painful blows on armor. Hooves beat nearby, a horse's belly and torn harness fly overhead, again a horse's belly, a fluttering black cloak, sounds of blows like those made by a lumberjack felling a tree.

Jul 7, 2017

Witcher. Blood of the Elves Andrzej Sapkowski

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Title: The Witcher. Blood of the Elves

About the book “The Witcher. Blood of Elves" Andrzej Sapkowski

The swords of Geralt of Rivia are still sharp, and there are no fewer monsters in this world, even if not all of them are fanged monsters. And yet the world familiar to readers from the first two books of the series is rapidly changing. Forget about intimacy and fabulousness! Epic scope, high politics and... the expectation of great disaster come to the fore. Kings and military leaders, magicians and mercenaries, people and non-humans play a complex game, sparing neither themselves nor the enemy. And at the center of this game is her: the crown princess of Cintra, the pupil of the witchers of Kaer Morhen and the sorceress Yennefer of Vengerberg, the Destination of the White Wolf. Child of the Elder Blood. More and more elf blood flowing...

The saga of A. Sapkowski has long occupied an honorable place in the world tradition of the fantasy genre, and Geralt has become a cult character not only in the world of literature, but also in the universe of computer games. The third book in the Witcher series is published for the first time with illustrations by Denis Gordeev, created specifically for this publication.

On our website about books lifeinbooks.net you can download for free without registration or read online the book “The Witcher. Blood of Elves" by Andrzej Sapkowski in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

Andrzej Sapkowski

Witcher. Blood of the Elves

Andrzej Sapkowski

Krew elfow

Elaine Blath, Feainnewedd

Dearme aen a'caelme tedd

Eigean evelienn deireadh

Que'n esse, va en esseath

Feainnewedd, elaine blath!

"Flower".

Lullaby and popular children's rhyme of the elves

Chapter first

Ess'tuath esse! Let it be so! Heed the signs! And what they will be, I tell you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe. Blood of Elves...

"Aen Ithlinnespeath"

prophecy Ithlinne Aegli aep Aevenien

The city was burning.

The narrow streets, clogged with smoke, leading to the moat, to the first terrace, were blazing with heat, the flames were devouring the thatched roofs of the houses leaning against each other, licking the walls of the castle. From the west, from the port gates, came a scream, the sounds of a furious battle, and the dull blows of a ram that shook the walls.

The attackers suddenly surrounded them, breaking through the barricade, which was defended by a few soldiers, townspeople with halberds and crossbowmen. Horses covered with black blankets flew like ghosts over the barriers, shiny swords struck the retreating defenders.

Ciri felt the knight carrying her on the pommel of his saddle abruptly rein in his horse. I heard him scream. “Hold on,” he shouted. - Hold on!

Other knights in the colors of Cintra got ahead of them and immediately grappled with the Nilfgaardians. Ciri saw it for just one moment, out of the corner of her eye - a mad whirlpool of blue-green and black cloaks, the clanging of steel, the blows of blades on shields, the neighing of horses...

Scream. No, not a scream - a howl.

"Hold on!"

Fear. Every jerk, every blow, every leap of the horse painfully tears the hands clenching the belt. My legs, cramped with painful cramps, cannot find support, my eyes are watering from the smoke. The hand that grabbed her suffocates, crushes, almost breaks her ribs. A scream like she's never heard before rises up around her. What needs to be done to a person to make him scream like that?

Fear. A will-binding, paralyzing, suffocating fear.

Again the clanging of iron, the snoring of horses. The houses around are dancing, the windows emanating fire suddenly appear where there had just been a street clogged with mud, strewn with corpses, littered with the belongings of fugitives. The knight behind her suddenly breaks into a strange hoarse cough. Blood pours out onto his hands clinging to the belt. Scream. The whistling of arrows.

Falling, painful blows on armor. Hooves beat nearby, a horse's belly and torn harness fly overhead, again a horse's belly, a fluttering black cloak, sounds of blows like those made by a lumberjack felling a tree. But this is not wood, this is iron on iron. The scream is muffled and muffled, and very close something black and huge falls into the mud, splashing blood. The iron-clad leg twitches, tearing the ground with a huge spur.

Jerk. Some force picks her up and pulls her onto the saddle. "Hold on!" Gallop again. Hands and feet are desperately looking for support. The horse rears up. "Hold on!" No support. No... No... Blood. The horse falls. You can’t jump back, you can’t get out, you can’t escape from the grip of chainmail-covered hands. It is impossible to hide from the blood gushing on your head and neck.

A jerk, a slurp of dirt, a sharp blow to the ground, surprisingly motionless after a wild jump. The wheezing and piercing squeal of a horse trying to raise its croup. The blows of horseshoes, flashing pasterns and hooves. Black cloaks and blankets. Scream.

There is fire outside, a roaring red wall of fire. In the background is a rider, huge, stretching, it seems, higher than the flaming roofs. The horse, covered with a black blanket, dances, shakes its head, neighs.

The rider looks at her. Ciri sees how his eyes sparkle in the slit of a huge helmet, decorated with the wings of a bird of prey. He sees the reflection of a fire on the wide blade of the sword, which he holds in his low hand.

The rider looks. Ciri cannot move. She is disturbed by the stiff hands of the murdered man, encircling her waist. She holds something heavy and wet with blood that lies on her thigh and presses her to the ground.

And yet fear does not allow her to move. Monstrous, gut-wrenching fear, because of which Ciri no longer hears the groan of a wounded horse, the roar of a fire, the screams of people being killed and the roar of drums. The only thing that exists, that has to be reckoned with, that matters, is fear. Fear in the guise of a black knight with a helmet decorated with feathers, a knight frozen against the background of a blood-red wall of raging flames.

The rider holds back his horse, the wings of the bird of prey on his helmet spread out, and the bird takes flight. It rushes at a defenseless victim paralyzed by fear. A bird - or maybe a knight - screams, screams terribly, terribly, triumphantly. A black horse, black armor, a black flowing cloak, and behind all this fire, a sea of fire.

The bird squeals. The wings flutter, the feathers hit the face. Fear!

"For help! Why doesn't anyone help me? I’m lonely, I’m small, defenseless, I can’t move, I can’t even make a sound with my throat seized by a spasm. Why doesn't anyone come to my aid?

I'm afraid!"

Eyes burning in the slit of a huge winged helmet. The black cloak obscures everything around...

She wakes up covered in sweat, frozen, and her own scream, the scream that woke her up, is still trembling, vibrating somewhere inside, in her chest, tearing her dry throat. My hands clinging to the blanket hurt, my back hurts...

-Ciri, calm down.

All around is night, dark and windy, monotonously and melodiously rustling the crowns of pine trees, creaking trunks. There is no longer any fire, no screaming, only this noisy lullaby remains. Nearby, the bivouac fire is playing with fire and glowing with warmth, flames flare up on the buckles of the harness, burn purple on the hilt of the sword and the frame of the scabbard, leaning against the saddle lying on the ground. There is no other fire, no other iron. The hand touching her cheek smells of leather and ash. Not with blood.

- Geralt...

– It was just a dream. Bad dream.

Ciri trembles, clenches her hands, and picks up her legs.

Dream. Just a dream.

The fire had already died down, the birch logs had become red and transparent, crackling, every now and then shooting out bluish flames. The flame illuminates white hair and the sharp profile of the man who wraps her in a blanket and covers her with a casing.

- Geralt, I...

- I'm near. Sleep, Ciri. You have to relax. We still have a long road ahead of us.

“I hear music,” she suddenly thought. – In this noise... there is music. Sounds of a lute. And voices. Princess from Cintra... Child of Destiny... Child of the Elder Blood, the blood of the elves. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf and his Destination. No, no, it's a legend. A poet's invention. She's gone. She is dead. She was killed on the streets of the city when she was running away..."

"Hold on... Hold on..."

- Geralt?

- What, Ciri?

-What did he do to me? What happened then? What did he... do to me?

- Knight... Black knight with feathers on his helmet... I don’t remember anything. He screamed... and looked at me. I don't remember what happened. I only remember that I was afraid. I was terribly afraid...