You hit the ground, the dust washing over you to break against an outcropping of rock. Another body tumbles next to you with a cry. You feel something splatter across your armour. Blood.
You rush to the Skard’s side, his body twisted – two immense broken spines speared through his chest. He coughs and chokes, fingers digging into the dusty earth as he writhes in pain.
‘Skoll . . .’ You crawl to his side, eyes drawn to the terrible wounds. The warrior’s eyes are already glazing over. He struggles to speak, bloody phlegm bubbling from his mouth.
Somehow he finds strength to lift his arm. He grabs your shoulder, pulling you close.
‘A song . . .’ he grunts, then manages a wheezy laughter. ‘Make sure they sing a bloody song of this.’
You nod your head, unable to speak.
‘Take it.’
You frown, uncertain what he means. Your eyes search the ground, looking for his axe – wondering if he seeks an end to his suffering.
‘The crown,’ he gasps, eyes starting to close.
You look upon the stone-grey helm that still rests atop his brow, its rim masterfully worked into a circle of runed spines. The Drokke’s crown.
‘I cannot.’ You draw back, aware now of the shapes emerging from the settling dust. Skards. They slowly start to surround you, heads bowed. You quickly scan their faces, realising that these warriors must represent the different tribes of the north. Some are clad in armour fashioned from bone, others simply wear fur and animal hide, their skin daubed in brightly-coloured paints. You search for those who may be familiar to you – and your eyes come to rest on Aslev, the einherjar. He has removed his helm, his snow-white locks braided and banded with gold. And next to him, Desnar of the bear tribe. His piercing blue-eyes meet your own, bright with a hunter’s cunning.
Skoll gives a groan. ‘I was wrong about you,’ he whispers weakly. ‘You will always be of the north. You are a Ska-inuin.’ He grunts, trying to lift his arms. With effort, he manages to put a hand to his crown. ‘Will you take this bloody thing off me!’
You reach forward, helping him to slide the helm free. ‘Good . . .’ His hand drops to his side, leaving you holding the crown.
‘You are Drokke,’ he gasps. ‘And you will lead my . . .’ A spasm of pain steals his words, forcing him to kick and squirm in the dirt. ‘Your people . . .’ he grins through bloody teeth.
Then his eyes lift, staring past your shoulder. They mirror the great winter sky as he breathes his last.
A crunch of dirt. Aslev moves to stand over you, Desnar at his side. The einherjar is holding Skoll’s warhammer, the huge rune-forged weapon known as Surtnost.
You realise you still are clutching the crown. Your eyes lift to Aslev, and for the briefest of moments you see surprise pull at his features. When you left Vindsvall you had been a man – at least something of flesh and bone. Now you are a ghost, a spectre – bound within a prison of frost-coated armour.
You offer him the crown, but he shakes his head.
‘I heard the Drokke speak. You have been chosen.’ He nods to the crown.
You rise to your feet, aware of the crowd watching you – and more joining them, a sea of heads, a gathering of people. Your people. You climb the side of the outcropping, stepping over the jumble of boulders until you are at its summit, looking out across the assembled Skards.
There are many tribes, standing shoulder to shoulder. Men and women from the four corners of the north, reunited because of a shared vow. A single purpose.
To serve the Drokke.
You place the crown upon your head.
Aslev is the first to kneel, followed by the others around him. The movement ripples outwards, as hundreds and hundreds of Skards bow their heads to their new leader. Only one remains standing. Desnar. The wind whips at his bear cloak, his hands gripped tightly around his spear. Ribbons dance in his hair, their bone charms rattling.
You meet his gaze, sensing the heat of his challenge.
He studies you, tongue working thoughtfully around his mouth. Then he breaks a smile.
‘Ancestors with you.’ He offers you a grudging nod before dropping to one knee, his dark hair falling across his narrow face. ‘My Drokke.’
If you have the title The Mourner, turn to 632. Otherwise, turn to 701.
723
You realise you will need to convince Jackson to leave his post. ‘Tell me, what hides have you got left – any mammoth? I’ll buy them off you for a good price.’ You fold your arms, awaiting an answer.
‘I don’t sell hides, I buy,’ mutters Jackson incredulously. ‘You lost your mind?’
‘Actually, no. Winter’s here and you won’t be seeing another trading ship for a while, so the fur isn’t earning you anything right now, is it? How about you check out back and see what you got. I’ll pay double.’
You hear a grumbling curse, then notice the gun muzzles go slack as footsteps go clanging away over an iron floor. When you are sure he is no longer at his post, you take the seal blubber from your pack (remember to remove this item from your hero sheet) and stuff the greasy mixture into the two barrels, packing it in tight. When you have finished, you step back across the line and draw your weapons.
The guns jump to attention as an eye reappears at the peep hole. ‘Got no mammoth, but how about a . . .’ He stops. ‘What you doing? Put those away at once.’ He rattles his guns at you. ‘No weapons, didn’t you read the sign outside?’
‘What sign?’
‘Darn Skards must have taken it – or wind blown it down. No matter, put your weapons away or I’ll blow you back out into the snow. You hear me?’
You take a step forward.
There is a noisy intake of breath followed by a blustery outpouring of anger. ‘Get back I tell you! Back, back! No one crosses the line!’
‘I just did . . .’
There is a click as triggers are pulled. Then there is an explosion, loud and powerful enough to send you flying backwards across the room. At first you fear you’ve been shot and your plan has backfired, but then you see the smoke and flames billowing from behind one of the service hatches. It has been blown open in the blast. You hear glass shattering and another explosion. Clearly there was something highly flammable and volatile in the storeroom.
Will you:
Beat a hasty retreat? 604
Risk entering the blazing storeroom? 633
724
‘Cellar’s outta bounds to everyone except staff,’ bellows the guard, his sneer revealing gold and silver teeth. ‘I knows you ain’t staff, so don’t even try it. Already had one fool sneak in and drink half the stock dry.’
‘I was sent here,’ you lie, glancing back across the room. ‘I’m a footman on an errand – and it wouldn’t do to disappoint my superiors.’
‘Yeah?’ The guard suddenly looks uncertain. ‘Well, can’t let you take stuff for free. I’d get it in the neck for that. Herta behind the bar will give me a right tongue lashing.’
Will you:
Ask to put it on Lord Eaton’s tab? 438
Ask to put it on Baron Fromark’s tab? 265
Ask to put it on Lady Hawkers’ tab? 605
725
With the spectral guardian defeated, you may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:
Monstrous beast Tekk’s trumpet Plainstrider
(talisman) (left hand: horn) (ring)
+1 speed +5 health +2 speed +2 brawn +1 armour
Ability: bleed Ability: stampede Ability: haste
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 339.
726
The tunnel you are following joins a much wider passageway cutting through the stark black rock. As you advance the walls fan outwards, the ceiling lifting higher until you find yourself walking along an immense vaulted hall. Thick beams of ice are now visible in the rock – trickling water into glittering mirror-like pools that pockmark the paved floor.
‘The glacier is melting.’ You glance at Caul, wonder
ing if he will agree or refute your statement.
He merely shrugs his shoulders. ‘The Skards say that when the ice of the north vanishes, the great serpent will rise from the underworld. Its coils will rip the land in two, its poison will turn the oceans to blood. It will be the end of all things.’
‘Of course,’ you remark wryly. ‘And here was me, worried about wet boots.’
You pass along a row of finely-carved statues, each set on an angular pedestal jutting from the walls of the chamber. They look like Dwarves, resplendent in rune-carved armour – several have long braided beards, sparkling with gemstones. There are no marks or script on the pedestals to denote who they might have been – you wonder if they are merely decorative, or were put here to venerate ancient kings or heroes.
It isn’t until you have passed the first set of statues that you hear the flaking rustle of crumbling stone, followed by a series of sharp echoing cracks. When you look back, your eyes widen in horror as you see several of the dwarves coming to life, ripping free of their pedestals.
‘More blasted traps!’ Caul scuttles away from the nearest statue as it jumps down from its pedestal, the ground cracking and splintering beneath its immense feet.
Another three statues are also moving, a sudden fiery light blossoming from the jewels sunk into their eyes. You sense that these mighty stone guardians are far too powerful to defeat. You glance at Caul, who reads your expression – then you both turn and run.
The world seems to reel and shake as the statues pursue you down the hall, their heavy limbs pounding against the stone. Thankfully their movements are slow and ungainly. Within minutes they are lost to sight as the hall turns a corner and then another, forming a snaking pathway. More pedestals blur past you – but instead of statues they are supporting stone columns topped with circular rings. Some appear to have glass orbs resting inside. Others are empty.
‘Look – just ahead!’ Caul points with his spear, picking up the pace.
The light from your weapons falls on a set of stairs leading up to a stone balcony. Behind it is an immense wall of ice, bulging into the hall. A runic door has been carved into the glacier’s surface, but there seems no way of opening it or passing through.
You hurry up the stairs, looking desperately for an alternate means of escape. Caul immediately moves to the balcony rail, where a stone plinth overlooks the hall below.
‘Over here!’
You hurry to join him, surprised to discover that the stone has a number of runes engraved onto its surface. They follow a snaking pattern, which mirrors the winding pathway you have followed through the hall.
‘What’s it do?’ asks Caul. ‘Will it get us through that?’ He glances back towards the wall of ice.
‘No, I think these are defences.’ You touch one of the runes, pouring your magic into its grooves and channels. A second later, the rune-shape flickers and then bursts into a bright crimson glow – kindling further lights along the hall as a selection of the stone rings pulse with magic. Only those that contain orbs have lit up. The others have remained dark and lifeless.
You spot several glass spheres lying next to the plinth, each one radiating a different coloured glow. ‘The orbs . . . Perhaps we can use them to defeat the guardians.’
Caul pulls a confused frown. ‘I’ll leave that up to you. I’ll work on the door.’ He reaches inside his furs, producing a dagger of black stone. Dwarven runes are etched along its length, sparkling with silver light. ‘A Skard gave it to me. They call them Atataq – the wonder fire.’ He places his thumb and forefinger over the runes, producing a spark and then a flame from its tip. ‘Do what you can to hold off those guardians.’ The trapper dashes over to the ice wall and begins cutting into the frozen door with the heated stone of his dagger.
You turn back to the rune-covered console, trying to fathom its purpose and how you can use its power against the advancing statues. Turn to 600.
727
Ignoring Ratatosk’s fervent protests, you draw your weapons across his throat, ending his life. You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:
Crimson vair Tawny paws Shadow tail
(feet) (gloves) (left hand: club)
+1 speed +1 brawn +1 speed +1 armour +2 speed +2 brawn
Ability: critical strike Ability: agility Ability: rake
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 616.
728
‘Found these on some bodies, Skards by my guess.’ He shifts his gaze nervously to Skoll, who is hovering by the entrance. ‘There’s Dwarf work in the horn and totem, real nice rune crafting. The sword, though, that’s something else. Almost tempted to keep it.’ He snorts, scratching at his bristly chin. ‘Nah, take it. Less weight, more speed.’
You may purchase any of the following for 200 gold crowns:
Vibrato Bone clef Siren’s maxim
(left hand: glass sword) (left hand: totem) (left hand: horn)
+2 speed +4 brawn +2 speed +4 magic +2 speed +3 brawn
Ability: sweet spot Ability: weaver Ability: windblast, fear
(requirement: rogue) (requirement: mage) (requirement: warrior)
You may now purchase first aid supplies (turn to 639), view Hal’s treasures (turn to 674), trade your own items (turn to 95) or leave and return to the quest map.
729
The floating mountain is only a few miles ahead – but your pursuers are much closer, and gaining fast. Caught out in the open, you watch as the two decaying dragons sweep past in a flurry of wings. The largest of the two opens their jaws, belching a cloud of noxious green gas into the air. The other hisses the words of a spell, surrounding you in a black miasma of magic – a cursed aura that saps at your strength, leeching away at your precious reserves of magic. With no chance of outrunning these dogged foes, you have no alternative but to fight:
Speed Magic Armour Health
Tiamort 12 7 5 60
Luicris 12 6 6 70
Special abilities
Aura of enfeeblement: While Tiamort is alive, you cannot use speed abilities.
Choking cloud: You must lose 2 health at the end of the first combat round. This damage increases by 1 each round up to a maximum of 5. Once Luicris is defeated the cloud decreases in damage by 1 in each subsequent round, until it reaches zero.
Rough ride: If you have the keyword frazzled or rocked on your hero sheet, you may lower both opponents’ starting health by 10.
Fire at will: You may use your nail gun or dragon fire ability in this combat. (Note: If your transport’s stability has been reduced to zero, you can no longer use its associated ability.)
If you manage to defeat the two zombie dragons, turn to 651.
730
‘Go on then, big shot, let’s see what you got. Remember, I got a good eye for a good hide, so don’t be expecting winter prices for any summer skins. You can keep those for yer long-johns.’
The trading post will purchase the following items from you:
Item: Payment (in gold crowns):
Seal blubber 15
White fox pelt 30
Muttok pelt 50
Yeti pelt 70
Sasquatch pelt 120
Mammoth pelt 160
Remember to remove any sold items from your hero sheet. (If you have the trapper career you can increase the value of each pelt by 5 gold.) When you have updated your hero sheet, return to 685 to ask another question or return to the quest map to continue your adventure.
731
You edge further into the shadows, pulling down your hood to conceal your face. The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself, but now you feel eyes upon you – curious and questioning.
Talia notes your nervousness with a smile. ‘Relax dear, I don’t bite.’ The bard tosses her hat onto your seat, then takes the chair opposite. ‘You’re new around here, aren’t you?’
Your silence draws an amused smirk from the woman. ‘Silent type, huh? Well, I’m Talia – a ray of sunshine around thi
s bleak forsaken dirt pile. What about you, handsome?’ She takes a delicate sip of her ale, her eyes focused intently on the shadows beneath your hood.
Her accent is cultured, the jewellery sparkling on her fingers and in her ears calling to mind the high-born women from court. ‘You draw a lot of attention,’ you hiss, glancing over her shoulder.
‘Yes, I do have that effect. And around here, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Distraction can work wonders, especially on these simpletons.’ She arches an eyebrow. ‘Do I distract you, handsome?’
You pull back your hood.
Talia leans back in her seat. ‘Well, lookee there – hmm, you do have a certain cadaverous charm, I’ll give you that.’
‘What do you want?’ You tug your hood down as the barman walks over and places a tankard of watery ale in front of you. He glances at Talia thoughtfully, then returns to the bar.
‘I’m on a mission,’ the woman says, once he is out of earshot. ‘A dangerous one.’ She drops her voice, edging closer to the table. ‘And you look like the kind of man I could use right now.’ She lifts her chin, eyes peering over at your weapons and armour. ‘Yes, you’re positively perfect.’
Will you:
Agree to help? (This begins a red quest) 585
Politely refuse? 687
732
A smooth stone corridor angles downwards for several hundred metres before levelling off into a wider corridor lined with carved heads. They appear reptilian, like the Nisse you fought at Bitter Keep, with blue fire flickering in the hollows of their eyes. Their light bathes the black-stone passage with a cold luminosity, picking out a series of glittering runes running across the floor and ceiling.
Caul stops you before you take a step. ‘It’s a trap,’ he whispers. He takes one of his knives and throws it down the corridor. As the spinning blade passes each of the drake heads fire gouts from their nostrils, filling the passage with billowing flame. The knife brightens with the heat, leaving a smoking trail as it arcs down the corridor to finally rattle down onto the rune-covered floor. As it comes to rest the surrounding glyphs immediately ignite, triggering a flurry of lightning bolts. The knife is thrown back into the air, where the flames continue to bake it in a fierce heat.
The Eye of Winter's Fury Page 63