While Igris pinned his opponent in place, Ciri had not been idle. She had neutralized another enemy and swiftly slipped behind a rock for cover. With every shot, her mastery over the crossbow improved slightly. Yet when she glanced at the quiver leaning against the rock, she let out a deep sigh.
Only six bolts remained.
Just then she felt a sharp sting in her arm and involuntarily clicked her tongue.
"TCH!"
Lowering her head slightly, she looked at her arm and saw the freshly bandaged wound that had yet to stop bleeding. A moment of carelessness had cost her dearly: her arm had been grazed and the sleeve of her favorite shirt torn. A thin line of red blood slowly ran down her arm.
She had already wrapped the wound in a bandage she always kept on her belt, but the bleeding showed no sign of stopping. Still, one thing reassured Ciri: she felt no numbness in the wound. That meant the Dark Elves' poison had no effect on her body.
Of course, that did not mean she was pleased with the situation.
The Dark Elves possessed far sharper reflexes and far better marksmanship than she had anticipated. Looking down at herself, she counted two fresh tears in the legs of her trousers and three in her shirt. Fortunately, none of them had reached her skin—but seeing the miserable state of her clothes irritated her immensely.
Fixing these will be such a pain… That guy definitely owes me a new set of clothes! she grumbled inwardly.
Ciri shook her head slightly, gathering her thoughts as she observed the darkening sky and weighed the situation in her mind.
I managed to hit eleven Dark Elves… some dead, some badly wounded…
Her expression darkened further as she recalled the score.
…Thirty-five bolts fired, and only eleven hit their targets.
She sighed deeply and continued her analysis.
Those two men could arrive here any moment… But it's been more than twenty minutes since the last arrow was fired from the hill. The paralysis poison has probably finally taken hold of the twins. If the other elf is immobilized too, the enemies on the other slope must have already reached them. We have to do something—but what—
Before she could finish the thought, a thunderous laugh echoed across the ambush site, instantly drawing everyone's attention.
When Ciri turned her head, she saw two riders approaching through clouds of dust. Bamsı's unmistakable voice thundered across the valley.
"HAHAHAHA! FINALLY SOME FIGHTING!"
Beside him, Doğan wore a weary expression as he drew his bow from horseback. As he released his arrow toward its target, he scolded his companion riding next to him.
"Our surprise factor just got completely ruined because of your loud mouth, Bear-Strangler!"
The arrow struck the targeted Dark Elf cleanly in the shoulder. Bamsı paused for a moment as he realized the truth of Doğan's complaint—but he hardly cared. With his usual shameless grin, he replied:
"A true Warior faces his enemy boldly and directly!"
Doğan glanced at his friend, who could turn anything into philosophy, and answered with forced patience.
"The element of surprise and setting ambushes are fundamental principles of the art of war. What you're talking about has nothing to do with heroism!"
While speaking, Doğan released another arrow and raised his leather shield in front of his face. Within seconds three Dark Elf arrows struck his shield with heavy thuds. Four more arrows embedded themselves into the shield of Bamsı riding beside him.
Yet neither Warior slowed down. They continued driving their horses forward without hesitation.
Watching them, Ciri stared silently for a moment. Then she sighed deeply and covered her face with one hand.
"Men…"
Rubbing her temples lightly, Ciri decided not to question the situation any further. Instead she raised her hands and began signaling.
Doğan, holding his shield firmly before him like a barricade, followed Ciri's gestures carefully. When she decisively pointed toward the summit of the hill behind her, Doğan understood immediately and turned to Bamsı.
"Brother! The lads we're saving are on the opposite hill. I'll take position next to this sister here! You take my shield and charge straight ahead—I'll cover you from behind!"
Upon hearing the plan, a huge childlike grin spread across Bamsı's face. Two more arrows struck his shield with dull thuds, yet he did not even flinch.
"HAHAHA! NOW THAT'S MORE LIKE IT, BROTHER!"
Spurring their horses, the two warriors thundered downhill at full speed, skillfully deflecting the rain of enemy arrows with their shields.
Taking advantage of the chaos they created, Ciri immediately dashed out from behind the rock. She aimed her crossbow and fired, striking one of the Slaughterer Sisters directly in the chest. The moment the bolt struck, she threw herself back behind the rock.
Barely a second later, four arrows sliced through the air where she had been standing.
As Ciri reloaded her crossbow, she watched the two alps approaching rapidly.
Just as they reached her, Doğan swiftly passed his own shield to Bamsı. With only his bow in hand, Doğan straightened in the saddle and loosed seven arrows in rapid succession. The volley forced the Dark Elves into cover; one enemy died on the spot and two others were wounded.
The Dark Elves, stunned by the sudden and effective assault, could no longer even raise their heads from their cover.
Doğan slowed his horse and took position beside Ciri, while Bamsı charged relentlessly toward the hill, gripping both shields at his sides.
Doğan continued firing arrows without pause, forcing every Dark Elf who dared peek out—whether to the left, right, or directly ahead—to duck back into cover. Meanwhile Bamsı urged his loyal horse Bora up the slope with all his strength. Against the arrows raining from all sides, he protected both himself and Bora with the shields like living armor. His arms and eyes moved with astonishing speed to block every incoming strike.
Doğan, on the other hand, kept all ranged enemies targeting Bamsı under pressure with a relentless rain of arrows, while deftly evading those aimed at himself with swift maneuvers.
At the same time, the situation at the summit of the hill had become critical.
Elrohir and Elladan were now completely unable to move due to the poison coursing through their veins. Their minds remained clear—they could still speak and move their eyes—but even turning their necks had become an impossible agony.
Elrohir leaned against a hard rock, gritting his teeth. Across from him, Elladan was slumped against another stone, breathing in broken gasps. Both of their quivers were empty; their final arrows had long since been spent.
As Elrohir bitterly reflected on how they had ended up in this situation, he could not help blaming himself. If he had not been struck down at the very beginning, his brother would never have lost focus and suffered such a severe wound.
At the same time, he now realized how right his grandparents had been in their warnings about Dark Elves. These people were true masters of ambush and treacherous combat.
They both understood that they would soon be captured—and they could already imagine the political chaos that would follow.
Just as they were about to lose hope entirely, two Dark Elves emerged from the rocks behind Elrohir. These were Witch Elves serving under Morathi. Seeing the twins lying helpless, they breathed a sigh of relief and signaled to the units waiting below.
As the Witch Elves hurried toward the twins to collect their prize, they spoke to each other.
"At last we managed to package these two. We barely escaped Lady Morathi's wrath."
The other nodded, listening to the sounds of fighting coming from below the hill.
"Yes, but these cockroaches held out much longer than we expected. The plan almost blew up in our faces. The others are still dealing with enemies down there. We need to leave immediately."
"Alright. Let's go."
Just as the two women bent down to hoist the motionless twins onto their shoulders, they suddenly froze.
The sharp sound of pounding hooves echoed from between the rocks.
Startled, they looked at each other in confusion.
"What's going on?"
The other one merely shrugged, unable to give an answer. At that exact moment, a massive shadow burst into the air from the towering rocks on Elladan's side.
Bamsı had arrived—almost as if he had dropped straight from the heavens—together with his loyal horse, Bora.
The shield strapped to Bora's side resembled a porcupine from the number of arrows embedded in it, yet Bamsı himself did not have a single scratch on him. Bora had suffered several grazes, however, and the poison had already begun coursing through the animal's blood. Only minutes remained before the poor creature would succumb to paralysis and collapse.
While the horse was still midair, Bamsı assessed the situation within seconds. With a remarkable reflex, he leapt down from the saddle and crashed down like a hammer onto the Witch Elf beneath him. He slammed the edge of the shield in his hand into the woman's head with such force that she staggered violently and was thrown sideways by the impact.
Bamsı did not stop.
Spinning around himself like a raging storm, he hurled the shield in his hand like a spinning disk toward the other Witch Elf standing near Elrohir's head. The second Elf, caught completely off guard, staggered backward as the shield struck her.
Without wasting another moment, Bamsı delivered a resounding slap across the first Witch Elf's face. The crack of the blow echoed through the rocky terrain, and the Dark Elf reeled in utter shock from the force of it.
Grabbing the woman by the arm, Bamsı yanked her toward himself. With his other hand he seized her by the trousers, hoisted her into the air, and hurled her like a sack straight toward the other Witch Elf.
This time the second Elf was ready. Regaining her balance quickly, she rolled sharply to the side and narrowly avoided the body of her sister flying toward her.
The thrown Dark Elf slammed hard against a rock and collapsed to the ground. Meanwhile the other Witch Elf drew the short swords at her waist and lunged at Bamsı with burning hatred.
In response, Bamsı hurled the second shield in his hand straight at her.
The Witch Elf dropped low, sliding on her knees to avoid the incoming leather shield. It whistled past just above her head and crashed against the rocks behind her. At that very moment, Bamsı moved with a single clean motion—drawing the blades at his right and left hips simultaneously—and launched a deadly counterattack.
The Witch Elf slid a short distance on her knees but wasted no time. She sprang back to her feet in a swift motion and swung her short sword in a wide horizontal arc. Bamsı met the sudden strike with ease, raising his own blade to block it cleanly. In the same instant, he followed up with his other sword, delivering a sharp diagonal downward slash toward his opponent.
The Witch Elf reacted with impressive agility, gliding sideways just in time to avoid the strike by a hair's breadth. Without giving him a moment to breathe, she retaliated with a swift horizontal counterattack. Bamsı stepped back and avoided the blow, then immediately surged forward again, slamming his shoulder hard into the elf without losing his momentum.
The Dark Elf staggered backward as the impact disrupted her balance. Bamsı gave her no chance to recover. He swiftly lashed out with a powerful kick aimed at her waist. With a pained cry, the elf collapsed to the ground and rolled several times from the force of the blow.
Seizing the moment while his opponent was still down, Bamsı leapt into the air. Raising both swords high, he brought them down simultaneously in a brutal vertical strike. Seeing the deadly attack descending upon her, the Witch Elf on the ground clenched her teeth against the pain and rolled to the side at the last possible moment, narrowly escaping the lethal blow.
She struggled back onto her feet and once again assumed a fighting stance, breathing hard. By then the other Witch Elf had already come to stand beside her. The second elf clutched her injured head with both hands, glaring at Bamsı with eyes burning with pain and deep hatred.
As the two elves stood side by side, trying to regain their composure, Bamsı looked at their shaken state and let out a mocking chuckle. Then, without giving them time to fully recover, he lunged forward once again to launch another counterattack.
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