‘It looks cold,’ says Brack, shivering in the wind.
You can’t help but agree. The wind carries a bitter edge, moaning and howling from the rift below. The torches sputter, sometimes dimming to mere embers – but their magic somehow keeps them alight.
‘A shame they don’t give off any heat,’ says Anise, putting a hand close to the blue flames.
‘Quit complaining,’ snaps Harris, stepping towards the front door. He procures a small key from his robes and inserts it into the lock. There is a loud click followed by a teeth-grating squeal as the boy pushes against the heavy oak. Slowly, it opens inwards, then Harris is gone – swallowed by the darkness inside.
You follow, emerging in a large oval chamber. There are no windows, only plain stone walls scabbed with creeping mould. The torchlight continues to waver and dance, filling the space with an assembly of shadows, stretched and distorted like the ghoulish monsters you were expecting to find.
As the light shifts across the room, you are presented with a few mouldy sheets lying in one corner and an overturned copper pot in another. In the facing wall there is a door of wood and banded iron.
Anise hands you the torch, then proceeds to unfasten a small sack from her belt.
‘What’s that – you brought us supper?’ snorts Brack.
‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ says Anise. ‘What did you bring, just the empty space between your ears?’ She opens up the sack. ‘I got some cakes – and this.’ She throws a small flask to the warrior, who catches it, glaring at it as if it were a draught of poison.
‘You expect me to drink anything you’ve made?’ He removes the stopper then sniffs the contents. Looking undecided, he takes a drink, spitting it out a second later. ‘It’s disgusting.’
‘That’s two-hundred-year-old Assay brandy. Too strong for you?’
Brack sneers, then takes another gulp. Swallowing this time. ‘Hmm, it’s okay,’ he concedes, with a disgruntled frown. ‘Least it’s warm.’
‘Speaking of which, we should try and find some wood.’ Harris is standing in front of a disused fireplace, its recess filled with netted cobwebs. ‘If we could light a proper fire, the night will pass a lot easier. What do you say?’
You find his eyes looking straight at you. ‘Me?’ You glance towards the closed door that leads deeper into the tower.
‘I’ll go with you,’ smiles Anise, sensing your uncertainty. She tosses the sack to Harris, then takes the torch back. ‘I’m not scared of shadows and ghost stories.’
‘Wait,’ you raise your hands for attention. ‘Shouldn’t we stay together? I’ve read a lot of stories, and believe me – it’s always the ones that go off and leave the group that end up . . .’ You wince, leaving the sentence unfinished.
‘And what of those left behind?’ grins Harris. You notice that he is fiddling with something around his neck – a prism of black glass. Its smooth faces flash bright as they catch the torchlight.
Brack takes another swig from the flask, blowing out his cheeks. ‘This stuff should keep us all right, I’d say.’ He catches Anise’s jubilant smile. ‘Only drinking it out of courtesy, mind. Don’t think I like it, Skard.’
‘Come on,’ Anise tugs on your arm. ‘Let’s take a look around.’
As you move towards the door, you notice Harris is now wearing a pair of spectacles and is poring over one of the pages in his spell book. Around his neck the black prism starts to glow, suffused with its own inner light.
‘Hey, what . . .’ You go to question what the mage is doing, but Anise gives you another sharp tug. The next thing you know, she is throwing open the door and bundling you through into the narrow corridor beyond.
As she follows behind, the door suddenly slams shut with a deafening crack, hitting her on the back and throwing her forward. You catch her as she bumps into you, the two of you shaking in the corridor as you stare at the closed door.
‘Did . . . did you do that?’ you whisper.
Anise shakes her head, her breath escaping in short gasps.
A light flickers under the door, green then purple. There is a loud bang and a scream. You think it might have been Brack. You rush to the door, pulling against the handle – but it won’t move. It feels like some force, some pressure, has a hold on it, stopping it from opening.
‘Harris! Brack!’ You slam your shoulder repeatedly into the wood, but it is hard and tough – reinforced by studded iron bands. It stands firm, leaving you stumbling back, rubbing your grazed shoulder.
Another scream, then the door rattles. The flickering light grows brighter, then winks out.
There is silence. Anise stifles her sobs behind the palm of her hand.
For seconds, maybe even minutes, you both wait – ears straining to hear anything from the room. You think you detect footsteps, pacing back and forth.
‘Harris?’ you call. There is no answer.
You shift round in the tight passage, looking at the way ahead. In the glow of the torchlight you see the corridor continue for several metres before ending in another door. This one is hanging off its hinges, the shredded wood looking like it was ravaged by some beast.
To your left, an archway leads through to a set of stairs, leading up into darkness. From somewhere above, you hear a persistent banging noise, like a door being opened and closed.
‘There should be a signal fire at the top of the tower,’ says Anise, still trembling. ‘If we can light it, perhaps the guards will see it from the walls.’ She looks at you imploringly, then back at the closed door behind you. ‘I think we should do that – keep moving.’
Will you:
Climb the stairs? 111
Head past the broken door? 28
298
The alpha male lies at your feet, its body broken and torn as if savaged by some wild animal. The rest of the wolves scamper into the trees, leaving you alone at the centre of the blood-spattered clearing.
You may now choose one of the following rewards:
Duran’s shard Alpha’s tooth The howling
(main hand: dagger) (left hand: dagger) (cloak)
+1 magic +1 brawn +1 brawn +1 magic +1 speed
Ability: bleed Ability: dominate Ability: savagery
When you have made your decision and updated your hero sheet, turn to 338.
299
It takes a while to catch the woman’s attention amidst the clamouring crowd of customers. When she finally hurries over to you, she appears flustered and impatient. ‘Come on then, what’s your poison?’ she asks brusquely, reaching for an empty tankard. ‘Though by the looks of it, you swallowed some already.’
If you have the word Bowfinch on your hero sheet, turn to 74. Otherwise, you decline the drink and turn back to the taproom. Return to 80.
300
All of a sudden, the Skard is staggering away from the cart, grunting in pain. He drops the wand, its bright glow fading to black. At first you cannot see the cause of the warrior’s distress, then you glimpse a bright flash of steel from beside one of the wheels. The Skard gives an angered cry, then tumbles back into the dirt, gripping his bloody leg.
He doesn’t see the scrawny boy crawling back into the shadows – but you do.
Mitch! You realise the young recruit must have hidden under the cart when the Skards attacked. His intervention may have just saved the day.
Drawing your weapons, you charge out of hiding towards the injured Skard. As you do so, you hear a woman’s battle cry and the clatter of plate armour. Henna comes bounding over the rocks to your left, her two-handed sword raised high above her head. Together, you may stand a chance against this powerful Northman. It is time to fight:
Speed Brawn Armour Health
Igluk 2 2 1 40
Special abilities
Hopping mad: Igluk has been wounded by Mitch’s dagger. The Skard automatically loses 1 health at the end of each combat round, ignoring armour.
Watch my back: Henna adds 2 to your damage score for the duration of this combat.
If you manage to defeat this ferocious warrior, turn to 233. If you lose the combat, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet. You may then attempt the combat again or return to the map.
301
A set of weather-worn stairs wind around the edge of the tower, bringing you to a rusted iron door. You contemplate knocking, but decide in the end to simply push it open. Once inside the tower, you are surprised to find yourself stepping into an opulent library, its marble floor lined with wooden tables, each one lit by a solitary candle. The walls are high, with several tiers of shelving all groaning under the weight of books, stone tablets and scroll cases. Wheeled ladders rest at intervals around the room, allowing access to the higher shelves.
As you pass along the rows of tables, you realise that the room is impossibly large – too big to fit inside the confines of the tower. Clearly, some magic is at work.
At the end of the library, past a rune-etched archway, you see Segg – the crimson-robed mage – seated in front of an iron brazier. Shadows dance and wheel around the walls of the side-chamber, cast by the bright glow of the flames.
Will you:
Explore the library? 353
Speak with Segg? 328
Return to the main courtyard? 113
302
For besting Desnar and becoming leader of the bear tribe, your bond with Nanuk’s spirit has strengthened. You have also gained the following special ability:
Spirit call (co + pa): Instead of rolling for a damage score after winning a round, you can summon a bear spirit to fight by your side. The bear spirit causes 2 damage at the end of each combat round to one nominated opponent. This ability can only be used once per combat.
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 721.
303
You drag yourself out of the slime, your clothes and armour steaming from its deadly toxins. (You must lose one attribute point from an equipped item.) After taking a moment to recover from your ordeal, you press on into the tunnel. Turn to 468.
304
You throw open the door to the cabin, startling Sylvie who is serving up eggs and sausage onto a plate. She drops what she is doing, hurrying around the table. ‘Hel’s tears, what’s got into you, boy? Are you all right?’
‘Inquisitor!’ you manage to gasp, struggling to catch your breath. ‘One of the bandits . . . the ones that ambushed me on the road. He’s still alive – he’s after me.’
Sylvie’s face becomes a scowl of anger. ‘I knew it! Harbouring a thief – I should have known this would bring me ill luck.’
‘Wait!’ You look around frantically, your mind racing with fear. ‘Is there nowhere to hide – anywhere we can go?’
‘Not we. You! You’re going far away from here!’ The woman ushers you to the door. ‘I can’t have the inquisition sniffing into my affairs. My charms, my magic – they’ll have me for a heretic. Be gone, thief!’
Before you can argue, you find yourself back outside the cabin. The door slams closed behind you, followed by the sound of bolts being dragged into place.
You scan the nearby hills, your gaze halting on the menacing silhouette of the inquisitor, lurching towards you like one of the demons from your nightmares. With no other option, you hurry away from the cabin, making for the tangled confines of the forest. Turn to 244.
305
You squeeze your toes over the edge of the rock, feeling the chill wind from below gust around you. With arms stretched to your sides you give Caul a last cursory glance, offering a nod of encouragement – then you launch yourself into space.
You have no fear of death – after all, you are already dead, your body just a cold vessel for your trapped soul. Nevertheless, as you go tumbling past the roaring waters, you feel a sudden fear take hold. Below you there is only darkness, with no sign of its end.
As you continue to tumble through the void, you notice a distant light twinkling against the darkness. It quickly grows bigger, fragmenting into a dazzling expanse of radiance, dancing and shimmering in kaleidoscopic patterns.
Water, you realise. An immense pool, its surface rocked by the force of the waterfall crashing down into its centre.
With no means of slowing your descent, you watch as the roiling waters rush up at speed, their foaming waves offering scant warning of the dangers that may lurk beneath.
To survive the fall you will need to take a speed challenge:
Speed
Leap of faith 10
If you are successful, turn to 345. If you fail the challenge, turn to 442.
306
As you are finishing up the last barrel, a clinking of armour alerts you to the returning soldiers. ‘Well, lookee here.’ Kirk runs his eyes across the row of barrels, impressed that you have completed the task. ‘Nice work, rookies. Now, let’s get these loaded onto the wagon.’
Henna flicks tar from her gloves, her anger made plain. ‘Care to let us in on your little adventure?’ she asks sharply. ‘It’s not standard practice to leave untrained—’
‘Oh relax.’ Kirk cuts her off, putting an edge into his voice. ‘Tar first, talk later.’ Turn to 142.
307
The camp is only minutes away, so close you are surprised that you missed it. A tribute to the Skards’ skill at concealing their numbers. Past a rise of high-peaked snow berms you come upon a dozen shelters, carved from blocks of hard-packed ice. Against the whiteness of the wastelands, they are almost invisible.
There are no cooking fires to alert unwanted attention. Instead you see chunks of raw meat being handed around a circle of men sitting cross-legged at the centre of the camp. The carcass of an animal lies in the snow nearby, where a woman is cutting slivers of meat and placing them onto the crimson-stained snow.
You smell the sharp tang of blood and the odour of unwashed bodies. Several children are playing at the edge of the camp. Noting your arrival, they go running amongst the shelters whistling and calling. Within seconds you see men and women emerging from their ice homes. The men in the circle look round with interest but continue to eat, pulling at the stringy meat with sharpened teeth. Only one stands at your approach. A tall, lithe-bodied man, his long black hair swept back over his shoulders. He has bright, keen eyes and a look about him that suggests a surly confidence – and guile.
There is a racking sob. A woman staggers towards you, an arm covering her mouth. Feet crunch through the snow as a man pushes past her, his red hair knotted into horn-like bands. You realise they must be Imnek’s parents. The warrior from the lake carefully places the body into the father’s arms. They exchange glances, then the father turns and carries him away; no words are spoken.
Sura stands before the circle of men. She stamps her staff into the ground, then speaks in Skard. You notice the men in the circle shifting to look at you, their eyes locked on the bear necklace.
The black-haired Skard is trembling, his fists clenched at his side. His cool demeanour has dissolved into a look of animal-like rage. You tense, sensing that your meeting may have already turned sour.
Sura puts out a hand, as if willing him to calm. But the Skard is inconsolable. He surges forward, fingers bent like claws. You barely have a chance to raise your hands, summoning magic to your palms, before the agile warrior is upon you – snatching the necklace from around your neck.
Your magic blows him backwards, sending him somersaulting through the air to crash down amongst his men. They are immediately on their feet, axes and spears clattering to attention.
The dark-haired Skard throws back his head, blood coating his teeth. The necklace is gripped tightly to his chest. ‘I am blood of Taulu. I am leader!’
Sura points a gnarled finger at you. ‘This one has an ancestor spirit. I see it in his eyes. You know the ways of our people, Desnar. You must take the test.’
The Skard wipes the blood from his lips, glowering at you with contempt. ‘Vela styker? With a southlander?’ There are angry mutterings from his entourage of warriors.
&nbs
p; ‘Do you fear losing, Desnar?’ The woman’s eyes gleam bright beneath her furred hood. ‘Taulu gave this one the halstek. He has a right to vela styker.’ She puts out her hand, palm upwards, and gestures to the Skard. ‘Do not test my patience.’
‘Demons take you, witch.’ Desnar shoulders through his men and puts the necklace into her hand. ‘This clan is mine. No one can match me.’
‘Then you have nothing to fear.’ The woman’s bony fingers snap closed around the necklace. ‘Vela styker it is. I suggest you prepare for dawn light.’ She shifts round, a mischievous smile twisting the corners of her mouth. ‘And that goes for you too, southlander. Come with me.’ Turn to 358.
308
(If you have the keyword gains on your hero sheet, turn to 277.)
‘May I?’ You straddle the bench opposite the soldier, holding out a hand in friendship. He glares at it distrustfully, taking another gulp from his mug.
‘Not seen you before,’ he grunts, wiping froth from his beard. ‘Yer remind me of that shifty-eyed Rook. Seems more new faces every damn day.’ He glances sideways at the soldiers further along the table, grinding his teeth together noisily. ‘Listen to ’em. Think they could take on the whole north, the way they talk.’
‘But new blood’s got to be good,’ you venture. ‘I daresay this keep needs as many able men as it can get.’
The soldier snorts, stabbing a wedge of cheese with his knife. ‘Depends though, don’t it? Depends who you can trust.’
You lean forward, trying to ignore the stench of beer and sweat. ‘Go on.’
The soldier takes a bite of cheese, working it around his mouth thoughtfully before swallowing with a gulp. ‘Things been going missing. I ain’t alone in noticing – a sword here, a helmet there, nothing that might cause serious concern. But now me gauntlets have gone. I keep them in me bed locker. No one touches ’em save me. And someone’s taken ’em.’
‘Can’t you get replacements? I’m sure—’
The Eye of Winter's Fury Page 28