‘A scholar, then,’ growls the demon, sounding impressed.
‘What happened here?’ You kick at one of the bones.
‘A lot of bad things,’ he replies darkly.
‘Enlighten me.’
‘Very well. Melusine used her magic – and that of her coven – to weaken the Titans. They were able to pull demons through. One in particular – Cerebris. He is the demon who is destroying the seals of Jormungdar’s prison.’ The dark angel raises his molten eyes towards the domed ceiling. ‘For six hundred years he has been growing, spreading, digging deep into the earth. His magic weakens the seals: powerful wards that the Titans and dwarves crafted an age before.’
‘Why did you bring me here?’ You step warily towards the glowing pool.
‘Are we talking in the grand sense – or for my own selfish whim?’ The demon’s lips curl back, revealing a crescent of white fangs. ‘I needed you to do one thing for me. Something I couldn’t do myself.’
In the distance you hear another tremor, tearing through the innards of the underworld. Your thoughts turn to your companions, and what may have become of them.
Anise . . .
‘You will see her again.’ The demon catches your eye.
You snarl, hands moving to your weapons. ‘Enough games! Why am I here? Answer me, demon.’
‘Demon?’ The creature snorts. ‘Not so long ago, I was just like you, Arran. Not a prince, no – but I had my humanity. What you see is through no choosing of my own.’
‘You sound like the witch! Blaming others for your misfortunes.’
The demon bristles. ‘I saved your life. Have you forgotten?’
‘I died. Did you forget that, too?’
‘I put you on the path – ensured your destiny would come to pass.’
‘Riddles!’ You tug your weapons free. ‘Tell me why I’m here!’
The demon gives a rumbling growl. ‘Because you’re special. Does that please you? No one else could have made the sacrifice. To give up everything – to pass through the eye of the storm. Without you, I would never have been able to reach the well.’
You shake your head, bewildered. ‘That’s it? You used me . . . just to kill the sentinel?’
There is another distant echo, of crashing rock and earth being rent asunder.
‘Your fate shines bright, Arran. You have a greater purpose to serve.’ The demon edges closer to the green pool, the shimmering radiance picking out the silver veins of his wings. ‘I’m simply here for vengeance. That same cold desire as you, Arran. Someone took something from me – an artefact of great power. His name is Lorcan. And this will lead me straight to him.’
‘How?’ You gesture to the stone Titans. ‘You would try and break their magic?’
The demon scoops his hand into the pool. He holds it out before him, letting the green light spill between his fingers. ‘No. The Titans’ magic is a barrier. It stops the creatures of the shroud from travelling into our world. But the magic will not deny someone achieving the opposite.’
Your mind fumbles for his meaning. ‘Wait, you mean this is a gateway – you intend to enter the shroud?’
The demon stretches its wings. ‘To find Lorcan, yes.’
You peer down into the swirling depths, feeling the familiar cold of the Norr rising up from its vaporous currents. It is almost enticing . . . an escape . . . freedom.
For a moment you feel your spirit being tugged towards it, joining with the chill waters, submitting to their undertow, letting them drag you down and down, back to the Norr . . . ‘No!’ You stagger back, fighting the compulsion. ‘You can’t. You’ll die.’
‘Ah, such touching concern.’ The demon forms a mockery of a smile. ‘Yes, I will die, eventually – that fate is written. And you’re going to save the world.’ His eyes fix on you with a steady gaze, so bright that the rest of his face is cast in shadow.
‘No, stay! Help me. We must stop this demon – Cerebris. The witch. I cannot face them alone!’ You resent the note of fear in your voice, but the loss of your companions and the pressing isolation of this underground realm has left you feeling suddenly vulnerable.
‘Alone.’ The demon holds your stare. ‘That is the future I have seen. If I interfere, that weave will come undone – and she will win. I cannot allow that.’
You feel your anger rise again. ‘Then go. Run – chase this Lorcan. I hope he’s worth it!’
The demon watches you for some moments, holding back an unspoken thought. Then he releases a sigh. ‘When this is done, do not pursue vengeance. Seeking to win back the throne of Valeron . . . It will not bring you peace, Arran. I am sorry.’
Rock crumbles beneath the beast’s claws as he kicks off into the air, wings beating for a brief instant – then he drops, passing from sight beneath the pool’s shimmering surface. There is no disturbance, not even a ripple to hint at his passage. For some minutes you stare at the whirling currents of light, the demon’s last words replaying in your mind.
It will not bring you peace, Arran. I am sorry.
The earth shifts and rumbles, dislodging a shower of dust from the domed ceiling. The tremor passes quickly, but it is enough to remind you of your purpose.
Turning away from the pool, you look around for the nearest exit. A jagged fissure in the nearby wall leads through into a rubble-strewn passageway. You make for it immediately, your thoughts now turned to the fate of your companions. Turn to 564.
585
Quest: Weird science
‘Good.’ Talia reaches into her cleavage and pulls out a tight roll of parchment. She then proceeds to unravel it across the table-top, using mugs to anchor it down. You lean forward with interest, realising that it is a map – a series of floor plans, painstakingly detailed with measurements and elevations.
‘That’s the prison,’ you state, craning your neck to admire the detail.
‘Yes, it is. These are the original architect’s plans – the only copy that exists. See this,’ she taps a finger on an area of the map, where a smaller floor plan has been drawn below the main one. ‘This is a secret basement, underneath the prison. I don’t think anyone knows of its existence – certainly not Ryker or the inmates. It was even a secret to the prison guards.’
‘What’s down there?’ you ask quickly, your curiosity aroused.
Talia glances round the taproom nervously, then leans in. ‘You know how the prison break started? One of the inmates went crazy – broke out of the medical wing. Crazy enough to smash through walls, rip bars from cells, kill a lot of guards. We’re talking superhuman strength. A mutant.’
You nod, urging her to continue.
‘This prison was a front, for medical experiments. I don’t think our former king knew about it, he thought he was doing a good thing housing prisoners here, hoping they might repent their sins. But the Church had other ideas. To them, these prisoners were already damned – lost souls. They used them as meat, test subjects for various covert experiments. The chemist assigned here was Viktor Mandaleev. He studied and taught at the University in Talanost before he was shipped to this hel-hole.’
‘He was experimenting on prisoners?’ You frown.
‘Indeed. His work had become very . . . specific. He had what some might term an obsession. To create the perfect soldier. A superhuman.’ Talia’s eyes drift back to the map. ‘That basement holds a lot of answers, and I need to get to them.’
‘Where do I fit into all this?’ You shift nervously in your seat. ‘Surely Ryker will have found and taken anything of worth; he runs the prison.’
Talia shakes her head. ‘I told you, no one else knows about this. Past the medical wing, there is a door that leads to a storeroom. That’s empty now, yes. And getting that key wasn’t easy.’ Talia breaks off, her fingers tracing a ring of fading bruises around her neck. ‘In the storeroom there’s a set of stairs – and a hidden mechanism. It opens a secret door.’ She taps an area of the floor plan where a corridor stretches away from an apparently solid s
ection of wall. ‘So far, so good. But then Viktor left a final obstacle. A doorway warded with holy scripture. The words are part of Judah’s teaching, a canticle. I believe the only way to pass through unscathed is to recite the end of that canticle.’
‘I’m not a Church man,’ you sigh, settling back into your chair. ‘I can’t help you.’
‘Neither am I,’ grins Talia. ‘But it just so happens there’s a monk here. He gambles and drinks down at the docks – I suppose his religious sensibilities are a little questionable these days. Alas, I know he has a book of scripture. Keeps it with him all the time.’
‘You’re resourceful. I’m sure you could work that seductive charm of yours . . .’ A smile steals across your lips.
Talia grimaces. ‘I’ve tried. I don’t think I’m to his taste. I even tried gambling to win it, but he’s too good a player. I’m also . . . conspicuous, as you have already pointed out. I don’t want his blood on my hands.’
‘You want me to kill him?’ You flinch in surprise.
The woman shrugs her shoulders. ‘I need that book. I don’t really care how you do it. There’s a lot at stake here. I believe there could be all kinds of chemicals down in that basement. It’s an accident waiting to happen.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re doing this out of some environmental concern,’ you smirk dubiously.
Talia answers you with a hard stare. ‘Get me the book and I’ll reward you. Meet me in the prison, past the medical wing. I’ll be waiting.’ The woman snatches up the map and begins to roll it back up. ‘I’m counting on you, honey. Don’t let me down.’ (Record the word scripture on your hero sheet.)
Will you:
Talk to the barman? 420
Listen to the conversation at the bar? 534
Leave? 426
586
‘No . . .’ Your hands clench into fists, sending magic crackling through the air. ‘Not her – she did not deserve this!’
By force of habit you reach out for Nanuk, begging for his aid. But your desperate plea goes unanswered. Now there is only a chill hollow where the bear’s spirit had once shone. The loss of Nanuk only makes the pain worse, driving home an overwhelming sense of loneliness. Failure.
‘If only I could give you life.’
The words spark a memory. In your mind’s eye, you are back at Bitter Keep. Another tremor rips through the courtyard. Walls are collapsing. Everything is breaking up. The ground tilts wildly towards the sky, sending rubble and bodies tumbling into the darkness. Your hands flail for a handhold, settling around the corpse of a drakeling. You remember fingers pressed tight to the scaly skin. A flood of energy, passing through you.
New life had been pushed into the drakeling’s body – a mere shadow, yes. But still a life. One that saved your own, on that fateful day.
Is such a thing . . . possible?
Your hand is already moving, fingers reaching for the girl’s throat. Then you stop, drawing back. It would not be Anise. You would create an aberration, a walking corpse – no different to what you yourself were, once upon a time. But the pain of loss is unbearable. The pain of missing her . . . Surely any life is better than none?
Will you:
Use your magic to raise her from the dead? 689
Leave her to rest in peace? 550
587
‘Vela styker. A blood challenge – a test. To decide who will be chief.’ Sura says it matter-of-factly, as if it is of no consequence. But her words startle you all the same.
‘Blood challenge! To lead your tribe?’ You look around wildly, suddenly feeling penned in by the confines of the ice shelter. ‘I can’t lead anyone – I should be going. I am not meant . . .’
‘Hush, boy.’ Sura chuckles softly, a fond smile creasing the lines of her face. For a moment her kindly expression, the crinkling around the eyes, reminds you of your old nurse, Molly. ‘I will train you,’ says Sura, her tone resuming its usual seriousness. ‘I see you have the power. With my help, I can teach you how to use it.’
Will you:
Ask about the shaman’s magic? 688
Ask about the bear necklace? 545
End the conversation? 575
588
After severing the demon’s wings you focus your attacks on the eye, smashing through its magical barrier to penetrate the soft, oily tissue beneath. Black ichor sprays from its many wounds as you slice and blast with unrelenting fury, your attacks bolstered by your heightened magic.
The creature dies in silence, its legs twitching feebly in the air.
Then you feel it. An immense rush of calm, like a deeply-held breath finally released. The spinning vortex above you starts to recede, folding back on itself in angry waves until the evening sky is finally revealed, flecked by curtains of pink and violet light.
The storm continues to ebb – rolling and tumbling through clouds of rock and dust until nothing is left but a thin haze, hugging the contours of the outer city and the wasteland beyond.
The demon has been defeated, and with it the source of the magical storm. Your companions will now be able to enter the city unharmed.
If you wish, you may now take one of the following rewards:
Storm eye Sentinel wings Spirit fire
(ring) (cloak) (talisman)
+2 brawn +2 magic +2 speed +3 health +1 speed +5 health
Ability: windblast Ability: haste Ability: sear
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 653.
589
You tentatively place one foot onto the bridge, the colours swirling and pooling around your boot as it presses against the surface. To your surprise the bridge proves firm underfoot, having the consistency of a soft carpet. Confident that the crossing will be safe, you follow the glittering span over to the floating island – a bare chunk of rock and earth that looks as if it was ripped free from the ground.
At the centre of this odd anomaly is a pedestal – and hovering above it, revolving slowly on an invisible axis, is a magnificent twobladed sword. The hilt and handle are fashioned from a cobalt-blue metal, inlaid with black gemstones. The blades are rapier thin, sparkling with a fine coating of hoarfrost.
Behind the pedestal, there is a black iron chest. A dark aura surrounds it, crackling and hissing with arcane energies. You note several runes and glyphs etched into the lid, their shapes crawling and twisting as if refusing to let their true forms be known.
Will you:
Take the sword? 62
Open the chest? 167
Cross back to the tree and continue onwards? 509
590
You detect a stale, musty odour as you descend into the darkness. Your own eyes quickly attune to the gloom, noting that the ground below is littered with jagged fragments of shell – eggs. Caul mutters a curse, his hand groping for your shoulder. ‘How d’you see in here? I’m going back for my lamp.’ He starts to turn, but you urge him to wait.
‘Relax.’ You reach out with your mind, touching the dreamscape and drawing on Nanuk’s power. The magic courses into you, searing your veins with its burning chill. Raising your arms, you let the cold fire spill from your fingertips, coating both of your weapons in a pale green light. The radiance blossoms outwards, filling the chamber – and illuminating Caul’s astonished expression.
‘How’d you do that?’ he gasps.
‘Magic,’ you grin.
You turn back to your surroundings, prodding one of the serrated egg pieces. It appears that all the eggs have cracked open; whatever creatures were inside have long since hatched. You cast your light over the fragments, noticing a number of black scales amongst the debris. They remind you of the creatures that you fought at Bitter Keep.
‘Smells like a drake.’ Caul wrinkles his nose.
You look back at him expectantly.
‘I was part of a hunting crew once, down south in the pine mountains. Some creature had got loose, was causing all kinds of havoc. Two heads, spitting acid and fire . . . savage thing it was; took ten of us to ki
ll it.’ He shakes his head as he looks around at the dozen or so eggs. ‘Now, if each one of these was a drake . . .’ He lifts his eyes, the pupils mirroring the ghost-fire from your weapons. ‘We’re in trouble.’
‘Not the most inspiring speech, Caul.’ You turn towards the room’s only exit, a carved stone archway that leads through into a large spacious chamber.
‘They’re crafty beasts,’ warns the hunter, putting two hands to his spear.
‘Indeed.’ You cross the room, boot heels cracking loudly through the carpet of egg shards. ‘Let’s hope they’re also hard of hearing.’
The chamber is a vast hall, the walls and ceiling carved with angular designs. A row of wide square columns cut across the centre of the room, each one trailing black-iron chains across the ground. The nearest one ends in a large collar-shaped device, crusted with blood and grime. Whatever creature was tethered here, it had to be of an immense size . . .
You advance with caution, your light picking out the deep-gouged claw marks that rake the ground and run across several of the pillars. One wall looks like it has been melted by a terrible heat, the angular carvings now frozen in fluid, wax-like patterns.
Caul grabs your arm abruptly, pulling you to a halt.
You don’t need to ask what has startled him. You hear the shuffle of feet, the clink of chain. The shadow comes into view before the creature – a hulking silhouette of darkness that stretches out from behind one of the pillars.
When the beast finally moves into your line of sight you discover it is not the draconian monster you had been imagining, but a hunch-backed giant. It lurches around the pillar, dragging a malformed foot behind it. The creature’s body is half-covered in scales – the rest is a weeping mass of blisters. Tufts of hair sprout from its ridged skull, where a pair of horns curl in opposing directions, both broken and ending in toothed splinters.
The beast turns to face you. For a moment, its sorrowful appearance stays your weapons – but then the creature raises one of its stumpy arms. The scaled flesh ends in a reptilian head, a living creature with burning red eyes and wide gaping jaws. Somehow the two have become melded together; a horrible union of giant and drake.
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