The soldier glowers at you, pouring another cup from his clay jug. ‘Listen, pup. Me gauntlets were me father’s, and his father’s before him. Proper Dwarven iron, magic, like. They’re worth a heap of coin – the most precious thing . . . the only thing . . . me family has in way of a fortune.’
‘And you suspect someone here of stealing them?’ You frown, finding it hard to believe that a soldier would steal from another soldier.
The man downs his mug, then proceeds to fill it again. ‘I reckon it’s that Rook. Shifty fellow. Sharpshooter and all that, always showing off. Don’t like the way he looks at people, like he’s better than ’em. I reckon he’s up to something. And I don’t trust it.’
You remember back to the hooded rogue, who you met briefly when you first awoke. ‘I didn’t get the impression he trusts many people,’ you add, nodding.
The soldier is quiet for a second, before releasing a noisy and foul-stinking belch. ‘Me name’s Ran, short for Randolph. You find anything, you be coming straight to me, right? Especially if you find those gauntlets. I’ll pay yer a finder’s fee, I promise yer that.’
‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ you reply, rising from your seat. ‘See what I can discover.’ (Make a note of the keyword thievery on your hero sheet.)
Will you:
Talk to the recruits? 199
Leave and return to the courtyard? 113
309
You wonder if the clerk has a means of opening the container/s. He waves them away with a nonchalant frown. ‘Go see Sam Scurvy – up at the prison. He’s the best thief . . . I mean locksmith, at Ryker’s. He’ll get those open for you.’
If you wish to trade with the clerk, turn to 104. Otherwise, with your business now concluded, you decide to leave. Turn to 659.
310
Underneath one of the fallen weapon racks, you discover some interesting items: a spear, a rusted helm and a pair of scuffed leather gloves. If you wish, you may take any/all of the following:
Knight’s reach Plague mitts Broken pride
(main hand: spear) (gloves) (head)
+1 speed +1 brawn +1 magic +1 armour
Ability: quicksilver Ability: rust Ability: retaliation
If you haven’t already, you may now watch the ghost’s game (turn to 414), or leave and continue your journey (turn to 188).
311
You stand with your back to a wall of grey mist, while ahead of you rises a nightmarish mockery of the great tree Yggdrasil. The scoured bark is charcoal black, its sap a poisonous green leaking from the many hollows and cracks that rake its vast heights. Dark boughs scratch at the broiling clouds, twisted and malformed, their withered leaves curled and blackened. Yggdrasil was a celebration of majesty and beauty – but this creation is its malformed shadow, corrupted and dying.
You look around but there is no sign of Nanuk. This is the first time, since you were joined, that you have travelled to the Norr and not had him at your side. You reach out, sensing for him – grasping for a glimmer of his presence. There is a faint echo of the bear’s spirit at the furthest limits of your awareness, but it is distant; somehow cut off by the wall of dank fog that rolls across the black sand.
You are alone.
Resolved to your fate, you draw your weapons and stride towards the tangled roots. As you near, five figures detach themselves from the shadows. They look almost human, but their bodies have been twisted out of shape, as if the bones have been snapped and reformed into devilish silhouettes. They shuffle towards you, moaning in tormented agony, their black bark-like skin coated in venomous thorns. You assume these creatures were once asynjur – shamans sent here to find Skoll – but they have fallen to the taint of this nightmarish place. It is time to fight:
Speed Magic (*) Armour(*) Health
Asynjur 6 5 5 20
Asynjur 6 5 5 20
Asynjur 5 5 5 15
Asynjur 5 5 5 15
Asynjur 5 5 5 15
Special abilities
Crowd control: For every asynjur that is defeated, the remaining asynjur have their magic and armour lowered by 1 each time.
Shadow thorns: At the end of each combat round, you must take 1 damage (ignoring armour) from each asynjur that is still alive.
If you manage to defeat these tormented mages, turn to 23.
312
You scramble out of the dell, making a bee-line for Sylvie’s cabin. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms that the giant warrior is loping after you, but thankfully his injured leg is slowing him down. With a burst of speed you clear the nearby ridge, changing course to follow the curve of the hills. You doubt the cabin will provide much refuge or safety, but right now in this hostile wilderness it seems your only choice.
If you have the word prince on your hero sheet, turn to 68. If you have the word pauper on your hero sheet, turn to 304.
313
You look around frantically for an escape route but the other two Skards have moved closer, penning you in. With no other choice, you turn and sprint for the rock shelf. It stretches about three metres above you, but by vaulting onto the rock wall then making a leap for the shelf, you manage to grapple your fingers onto its edge.
But before you can haul yourself up, you feel a blow to your side. Then a heavy weight dragging you back to the ground.
‘Int sa sabet!’
You twist round, reaching for your weapons. The Skard warrior stands over you, nostrils flaring, eyes wide like some blood-crazed beast. ‘Fegis!’ He spits.
You swing at him, struggling to put any strength behind the blow. His boot kicks your weapon aside. Then he drops onto your stomach, knees first, his daggers blurring with unnatural speed. One punches you through the shoulder, another into your side. You hear a sickening ripping sound – then smell something foul. Another blow across the face, perhaps an elbow.
He clambers off you, snorting back snot and spittle. ‘Fegis,’ he grunts again, shaking his head. He turns and gestures to the shaven-headed hunter. ‘Slur den.’
The other Skard saunters towards you, his axe resting back on his shoulder.
Add two defeats to your hero sheet. Then turn to 656.
314
For defeating Instructor Barl you may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:
Aggressor’s mantle Assault grips The drill
(cloak) (gloves) (left hand: sword)
+2 speed +2 brawn +1 speed +2 brawn +2 speed +3 brawn
Ability: barbs Ability: piercing Ability: bleed, gouge
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 444.
315
Kirk leans back against the side of the cart, arms folded, legs crossed – looking for all the world like he has nothing better to do than take in the air. ‘Now, I probably don’t need to say this, kids, but we’re a team, right? And what happens on duty stays on duty, you take my meaning?’
You glance at Henna then back at Kirk. Your evident look of confusion draws a chortle from the pug-nosed soldier.
‘Where did you go?’ asks Henna, frowning. ‘You just left us to . . .’
‘We were leaving a little marker. For a friend. So he’d know it was safe.’
‘Friend?’ Your eyes narrow suspiciously.
‘Look, I just need you kids to keep tight-lipped, okay? No one is going to get hurt. It’s just a little trade, a bit of dealing on the side. You know?’
‘I don’t think I do.’ Henna draws herself straight, resting her hands on her hips. ‘Has this been authorised by Everard?’
‘He don’t need to know,’ mutters Lawson, the brim of his cowl lifting to reveal grey glittering eyes. ‘So keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.’
An uneasy silence falls. Kirk breaks it with a nervous chuckle. ‘Okay, okay. Everyone relax, let’s not make a big thing of this. Better we stick together and—’
The noise of barking dogs draws him to silence.
You look around, trying to place the source. Your gaze falls on an area of the canyon where we
athered pillars cast long shadows across the broken ground.
Three men are moving between them. Even from this distance, they look tall and muscular, clad in animal fur and hide.
‘Skards,’ gasps Henna. She goes to draw her sword but Kirk places a hand on her arm as he edges past her.
‘Don’t.’
Two of the men are struggling to keep a rein on their brutish pack of dogs. The animals are snapping and slavering to break free, tugging against their restraints until their corded necks are bulging.
The two dog-handlers hold back to the shadows, the wind sweeping their matted hair across their faces. The third continues to approach, carrying himself with a self-assured grace, like an animal prepared for the hunt.
He stops several metres from the cart. Blue eyes, like tundra ice, look to each of you in turn. Weighing you up, seeing how you measure. When your eyes meet, you are the first to look away, a queasiness pulling at your stomach as you take in the man’s unsettling array of hooked javelins, strapped to his back.
‘Hawt.’ The greeting is guttural, like an animal cry.
Kirk echoes it, with none of the same gusto. ‘You brought friends,’ he says, leaning on tiptoe to view the growling dog-teams. ‘I’ve always been a bit of a dog man too. Man’s best friend and all that. The faithful hound, always looking out for . . . his . . .’ He drawls into silence, swallowing nervously. ‘Yes, well let’s get to business. Law.’
The hooded soldier walks to the back of the cart, reappearing moments later dragging a sack. Its many bulges and ridges, and the clunk of metal, suggests it is filled with a multitude of objects. The sack is placed down in front of the Skard.
‘Some good items there – good steel. Pair of gauntlets I think might be Dwarven.’
The Skard curls his upper lip, glaring at Kirk.
‘Yes, yes, allow me.’ He stoops down to open the sack, pulling out two plain-looking longswords. You are in no doubt these items have been stolen from the keep’s armoury. The Skard takes one of the swords, testing its weight, turning the blade over in the leaden light. He puts a thumb to its edge, grinning when he sees it draw blood.
‘Good,’ he says simply, nodding.
‘And . . .’ Kirk spreads his arms wide, in a beckoning manner.
The Skard looks down at him, the shadows cutting grim lines around his sneer. He shakes his head. ‘No. Nothing. Not have anything.’ His words are hesitant, struggling with the language. But they carry command. Finality.
Kirk gives Lawson a sideways glance. You feel Henna at your side shifting uneasily. Her hand is on her sword.
‘We have a deal,’ says Kirk, licking his dry lips. ‘I give you iron and steel, you bring me some of those magic stones, like you did before. Then I sell ’em on and we’re all happy.’
The Skard shrugs and turns away, as if signalling the meeting is at its end.
Kirk starts forward, reaching out desperately. ‘Wait, we had a—’
You didn’t see the Northman move. But the eight inches of steel sticking out of Kirk’s neck did not get there by accident. The Skard glares at him, teeth clenched, as he twists the blade. Kirk’s gargling screams echo around the canyon. Then the body drops to the ground with a wet-sounding slap.
For a moment, you feel only stunned disbelief.
A sudden rush of air blasts past your ear. You stagger sideways, disorientated. When you look back Lawson is standing there, an arrow still nocked to his bow. But his mouth is open, eyes fixed on the javelin in his chest. With barely a cry, he topples backwards.
‘Run!’
It is Henna’s voice, but you barely hear it over the baying of the dogs. They have been released from their restraints and are now sprinting straight for you on their short but powerful legs.
You turn, slipping on a loose stone, grateful for your mishap as another javelin skims your back by inches. You stagger into the side of the cart, pushing off from it into a full-on sprint. The dogs are right on your heels, their teeth snapping for a hold. There is no time to stop – you have to find a means of escape.
To your left you spot a narrow cleft, forming a tunnel into the maze-like canyons. Ahead of you and to the right, there is the black lake of tar. A series of rocks criss-cross its surface, leading to a cave on the opposite bank.
Will you:
Cross the tar pit to reach the cave? 289
Head into the gullies and canyons? 172
316
You are halfway across the cave when you suddenly hear a squeal from one of the goblins. The small one with the shield has spotted you, pointing a stubby finger in your direction.
The other goblins are pulling rusty knives from their belts. All except for the leader.
‘Me arm – it’s stuck!’ The largest goblin leans back, boots sliding in the dirt as he tries desperately to free himself. His companions hang back, torn between attacking or helping their struggling leader.
‘Wha’ yer waitin’ for?’ He growls. ‘Just stick ’im!’
The three goblins hurry to attack, while their leader continues to grunt and curse as he tries to pull his arm free. It is time to fight:
Speed Brawn Armour Health
Grubnose 3/5(*) 3 3 25
Goblin 3 3 2 16
Goblin 3 3 2 12
Goblin 3 2 1 10
Special abilities
Stick ’im!: At the end of each combat round, you must take 1 damage ignoring armour from each surviving goblin (not including Grubnose).
Grr, ’tis ain’t fair: (*) Grubnose has his arm stuck. He will still be able to attack and defend, but will do so with a speed of 3. At the start of the fourth combat round, Grubnose will have freed his arm – raising his speed to 5 for the remainder of the combat.
If you manage to defeat these motley scavengers, turn to 583.
317
The battle is over in a matter of seconds, a life ended in brutally short fashion. You stand over the corpse, wanting to feel something – regret, elation. But all you are left with is a cold numbness in your limbs. You glance down, watching a trail of black blood ooze from a shallow wound in your arm.
What am I becoming?
You go to take a breath, but your chest remains tight and constricted. Instead you end up choking, your throat cutting like razors as you spit out a foul-smelling bile. You wipe it against your sleeve, trembling . . . frightened.
It is some time before you are able to calm yourself – to focus on the matter at hand. Have to get back. Find the others.
Kneeling next to the corpse, you scan the body for anything of use. The axe blade is dulled and thick with rust, but the bone knife looks sharp and serviceable. You also notice a shimmer of magic around the hunter’s white-fur boots – and an iron ring, etched with runes. You may now take one of the following rewards:
Flenching knife White vixen Hunter’s eye
(left hand: dagger) (feet) (ring)
+1 brawn +1 speed Ability: sneak
Ability: evade
With your pursuers defeated, you decide to head cautiously back to the cart. Turn to 391.
318
You eyes scan the four Skard warriors, then return to Gurt. ‘I would hardly call those fair odds,’ you rasp, clenching your fists as your magic continues to ebb away.
‘Agreed, few men could match a single einherjar in battle – let alone four,’ sniggers Gurt, sucking the last of the meat from his bone.
‘No, you misunderstand me . . .’ You lift your manacled hand, the chain rattling against the table. ‘I can defeat your warriors. But you have me chained. Is that how you fight your battles?’
Gurt slams his fists on the table, rattling the pots. ‘Take him out! Remove him! Teach him what it means to cross the einherjar!’
You are dragged forcibly from the hall. Once you are back on the snow fields the four warriors surround you, pulling axes from their belts. They exchange words in Skard – their tone questioning, uncertain. The white-haired warrior, Aslev, barks a command – then they set ab
out you, kicking and hacking with their weapons.
You feel a sudden rush of strength as a primal hoarse-throated roar is ripped from your lips. Nanuk’s spirit flows into you, fighting the magic of the rune-carved restraint. Your weapons fly into your hands, then you are twisting and dodging the incoming attacks, your bestial snarls rending the air. With nothing to lose, you turn on the einherjar. It is time to fight:
Speed Brawn Armour Health
Handler 7 6 4 40
Einherjar 7 5 4 40
Einherjar 7 6 4 35
Einherjar 7 5 4 30
Special abilities
Bow to your will: Once an einherjar is reduced to 10 or less health, they surrender and kneel – taking no further part in the combat.
Chain of command: You are weakened by the black iron manacle. This reduces your speed by 1 and your brawn and magic by 4 for the duration of the combat. If you defeat the handler (by reducing them to 10 or less health), you break free of the chain – restoring your attributes.
Outnumbered: At the end of each combat round, you must take 1 damage from each surviving opponent, ignoring armour. This ability only applies if you are faced with multiple opponents.
If you manage to defeat these Skard heroes, turn to 354. Otherwise, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet, then turn to 46.
319
You unfasten the gold clips on your scabbard and hand the weapon to Hort. ‘I think this is more fitting for a holy warrior, don’t you?’
He smiles at that, taking the grip and sliding the sword free with a ringing echo of steel. As he does so, the sigils along its blade burst into billowing white light, coming alive at his touch.
The wolf snarls, drawing back, its eyes narrowing to slits of glittering amber.
‘This is a mighty weapon,’ grins the inquisitor. ‘And it will make a glorious end.’ He drops into a low stance, dagger in one hand and the sword in the other. ‘Run, Prince Arran,’ he whispers. ‘I will buy you time. My debt to you is repaid.’
There is a roar from the darkness, then the wolf springs forward, its black body slamming into the warrior, fangs and steel slicing through the air. (Make a note of the keyword sacrifice on your hero sheet, then turn to 231.)
The Eye of Winter's Fury Page 29