Virgil grabs the leather bag, his eyes falling on one of the sheets of parchment. ‘I have secured you passage on a merchant vessel. It is heading south to Sheril and will be calling at the Emerald Isle on the way – your destination.’
‘Don’t I have a say in this?’ you snap irritably. ‘What if I just told you to—’
‘Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I was you.’ Virgil tosses the leather bag onto the bed. ‘You see, part of the demon is inside you now. Given time, you will start to change . . . to become just like him. A demon.’
Your eyes widen in horror.
‘But you can save yourself. Defeat the demon and take its heart. With it, Modoc will be able to do the necessary enchantments to halt the . . . changes.’
You take the bag and lift it onto your lap. ‘And what is this?’ you ask, your anger having frayed to a surly resentment.
‘Some items to help you on your way. Sadly, I cannot accompany you – I must travel east to the capital and speak with the council. Avian Dale will need to know what happened. Then I will rejoin you, if I can – hopefully with aid.’
‘Avian Dale?’ The name sounded familiar. ‘He was the one who wanted me released. From Durnhollow.’
Virgil nods. ‘He’s had his eye on you for some time.’
You look up. ‘I’m nothing special.’
‘Oh really?’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Visions of the future don’t make you special? Look, Avian is one of the good guys, trust me. A powerful mage – and not someone you want to get on the wrong side of. Understand?’
You glance down at the bag. Opening it up, you discover a purse and a number of leather gourds inside. You have gained 30 gold crowns and may take any/all of the following:
Snakebite shake
Gourd of healing
Elixir of invisibility
(1 use)
(1 use)
(1 use)
(backpack)
(backpack)
(backpack)
Use any time
Use any time
Special Ability: vanish
in combat to remove
in combat to restore
one venom effect
6 health
from your hero
You close the bag with a sigh of resignation. ‘I don’t have a choice in this, do I?’
‘No,’ replies the witchfinder firmly. ‘But remember this – Cernos is weak. The dwarven runes that were branded into his irons will have drained him of much of his power. He’ll have gone to ground, regaining his strength, waiting for his moment – and that gives you a chance.’ He offers out his hand. ‘May the One God protect you.’
You ignore his gesture, pushing yourself off the bed and back onto unsteady feet. You wait for the pain and nausea to subside before fixing him with a determined stare. ‘So, when do I get started?’ (Turn to 773 to begin Act 2 of your adventure.)
434
The bear lifts one of its big padded paws and points it at your chest. ‘The toymaker promised me a heart. If you won’t give it to me, then I’m going to take yours!’ With a fearsome roar the creature lunges forward, claws looking to rip out your heart. It is time to fight:
Special abilities
Piercing claws: The bear’s attacks ignore your armour.
Bleed: After Cuddles makes a successful attack that causes health damage, you must take a further point of damage at the end of each combat round.
If you manage to defeat this heartless teddy bear, turn to 105.
435
‘Sweet child,’ echoes a woman’s voice, soft and seductive. ‘Your memories were . . . most nourishing . . .’ You spin around, to see a black hooded figure swathed in shadow.
‘Who are you?’ you demand angrily, squinting in the murky half-light.
The woman pulls back her hood to reveal a hideous, monstrous face. The flesh is white and scaly, like a fish, swollen outwards to form a wide, sucker-like mouth. ‘I have fed on your mind, prophet,’ whispers the voice in your head. ‘Now I will feed on your flesh!’ If you have the word scars on your hero sheet, turn to 673. Otherwise, turn to 572.
436
You hurry through the portal. For a second you experience a lurching, dizzying sensation, like falling, then you find yourself stumbling forwards into a narrow stone passageway. The air is cold and musty, a stark contrast to the blazing heat of the courtyard. Sadly, there is no sign of your companions – you can only assume that the doors they chose must have taken them to different parts of the tower. And as for Anse . . . you hope that the paladin was able to escape from the fiery demon before it was too late.
Behind you is a smooth wall of black stone. With no other choice but forward, you warily advance along the passageway. As you progress, you become aware of a constant rumbling sound reverberating through the rock. Every so often there is a thunderous clunk, like something suddenly locking into place. Then the rumbling starts again. You wonder if it might be the tower itself, moving and rearranging itself in some strange fashion. It is a thought that brings little comfort.
After several hundred metres you come to a junction. Ahead, the passage ends in an archway, beyond which you can see a room bathed in firelight. To your right, a smaller side passage leads to a plain wooden door.
Will you:
Investigate the room? — 422
Try the wooden door? — 123
437
‘You born yesterday, fool?’ the dark-skinned hunter scowls. ‘Tigris are worth good bounty back in the capital. Skin, bones – they’ll take it all. And better alive.’
The weasel quickly wipes the wet hair from his eyes, circling you warily. ‘We don’t wanna lose her, so get on yer way. That babe is worth more than anything you could dream of – and as for her, might skin the spiteful beast, make her pay good for this.’ He pats his leg where a bandana scarf has been used to poorly bind a wound. ‘I ain’t going back to the buckmaster empty-handed, so you either move or I swear I’ll blow yer outta the way.’
Will you:
Attack the men? — 521
Offer to help them? — 570
438
A well-timed blow sends Andos tumbling backwards, giving you a chance to turn your attention to the spell books. Within moments, they have been reduced to shredded ribbons.
‘No!’ Andos crawls towards them, trying to catch their remains as they are lifted up on the breeze. You stand over him, your weapons raised.
‘Leave him be, Xenos! You are defeated!’
The boy’s body suddenly goes into spasm, a white foam drooling from the corners of his mouth. Then he drops to the ground, twitching and pale. You kneel by his side, putting a hand to his shoulder.
‘Andos? Can you hear me?’
Suddenly, he lurches forward, coughing and spluttering.
‘What happened to me?’ he gasps, wiping spittle and sand from his chin. ‘You beat me up!’
‘No, I freed you, Andos.’ You lift up the torn cover of one of the books. ‘There was some demon or spirit inside you – they were using you to get to these.’
The boy sits up, his ginger hair matted with dust. ‘Bloomin’ ’eck, that’ll teach me. I’ve felt odd for days – all started when I borrowed Runtis’ eye piece. I used it to read some of them inscriptions, on a rock at the other side of the isle. Then I got the headaches and . . .’ He plucks one of the charred papers out of the air, studying its strange runes with a puzzled expression. ‘I suppose I owes you an apology. Never meant for all this to happen.’
‘Do you still have the eye piece?’ you ask with interest. ‘Perhaps I can safeguard it.’
‘Yeah, yeah – take it, I don’t want it!’ The boy reaches into the pocket of his breeches and pulls out a golden-rimmed monocle. He stuffs it into your hand before clambering to his feet.
‘I better get back before old misery-guts sees I’m gone.’ After casting a frightened glance around the clearing, he scarpers into the forest.
You sit down to examine the monocle. If yo
u are a mage, turn to 622. Otherwise, after much head-scratching, you accept that its power is beyond your understanding. Thankfully, Yootha at the trading post is willing to offer you 100 gold crowns to take it off your hands. When you have made your decision, return to the quest map to continue your journey.
439
You unwrap the grisly trophies and hold them out for the hunter. Bill picks up the jaguar paw, turning it over to inspect the long yellowed claws. ‘The mighty Gheira, eh?’ He shakes his head in bewilderment. ‘And you’ve got more?’ He looks down at the spider’s eye and the snake fang. ‘Anansi and Kaala. Never thought I’d see the day. Here, come with me.’
The hunter leads you into his hut, where a number of trunks and baskets are piled up next to a hammock. He takes a key from his pocket and moves over to the nearest of the trunks. ‘I’m a man of my word. And I promised you gold and treasure. So, let’s see what we got . . .’
If you are a rogue, turn to 499. If you are a warrior, turn to 421. If you are a mage, turn to 369.
440
You emerge in a small room with a square pedestal at its centre. Resting on it is a gold staff and a roll of parchment. As you step towards it, you hear a child’s laughter coming from above. ‘Time to play my favourite game!’
Glancing up, you see the boy is now standing on a balcony. He is raised up on tiptoe in order to see over the railing.
‘Paper, scissors, stone!’ he calls excitedly.
A sudden tremor causes the tower to shake, its foundations groaning as if in pain. The boy’s grin is suddenly replaced by a petulant frown. ‘No, not yet! I want to play!’
There is another quake, more extreme this time, shaking flakes of mortar loose from the walls. With a shriek the boy turns and hurries away, disappearing from sight.
With no other choice, you quickly examine the objects on the podium. Unfurling the scroll, you see that it contains a simple message: Use the staff and follow my rules. Create your warriors, with the following tools:
Soldiers:
Materials:
Metal
nuts and bolts, enchanted iron, can of oil
Paper
parchment, magic ink, extra-sticky glue
Rock
stonecutter’s tools, diamonds, extra-sticky glue
You pick up the staff, seeing that it has a number of glyphs carved into its length. When you pass your hand over these, they flicker with magic. You reread the message, realising that the boy wants you to create a set of magical soldiers using certain materials. If you have the relevant materials to create a soldier, then you can craft it – watching with surprise as the staff brings your silent automaton to life. Make a note of the warriors that you are able to make (you must also remove the relevant materials from your hero sheet).
When your work is done, turn to 427.
441
By drinking the saint’s blessing, you may also remove your hex. This will give you access to all of your abilities once again. However, if you are carrying the glaive of souls this weapon will automatically shatter and you will no longer be able to use it. Turn to 374.
442
First there is confusion. Then chaos. Through the rain and smoke you see brown shapes hurtling across the hills, moving with unnatural speed. There is the crunch of bones and the flash of magic as they collide with the Wiccans. One warrior goes flying past you, smashing into the side of the wagon. A smoking hole has been punched straight through their rusted armour. You glimpse a bald-headed man in brown robes go blurring past, his glowing fists smashing into another warrior and sending them flying backwards, as if they had been hit by the force of a hammer.
‘Just in time,’ grins Ventus. The monk springs into the air, his body twisting around to deliver a kick to the Wiccan giant. Conall staggers back, swiping at the air with his axes. But he is too slow – the monk has already slipped behind him, delivering a flurry of punches that lift the giant off his feet. With a roar he crashes down onto his stomach, rolling to parry the next incoming attack.
Meanwhile, Bea has sped forward, charging the rogue with the pointed teeth. He ducks and darts, moving gracefully around her strikes, his glowing daggers seeking to reach past her guard.
Another explosion sends clots of earth showering into the sky.
The Wiccans are already falling back as the monks spill through their ranks like a fast-moving river, their glowing limbs spinning and twisting in an endless blur of light. The feathered woman strides towards you, her expression as cold and bleak as the moorland. ‘Tell me prophet, do you see how this will end?’
You shake your head, taking a step back. ‘I’m no prophet.’
‘Liar!’ she snaps. ‘What have the visions told you? Tell me!’
You continue to protest. ‘I have seen nothing! Nothing that makes any sense . . .’
Suddenly, there is a clatter of wheels on the track. You both turn to see a cart rattling towards you. Several riders are galloping ahead of it. Their leader is a young man in white robes, his hands gripping a pale staff. You recognise him instantly.
‘Benin!’
If you have the word hallowed or prevail on your hero sheet, turn to 193. Otherwise, turn to 45.
443
Quest: City of the damned
Your weapons blur, cutting a bright latticework of magic as they cleave through bone and sinew. The groans of the undead ring in your ears, their ancient sword blades clattering off your armour. The mob is endless, but you have no fear – only an impatient anger, driving you onwards with unyielding fury.
The demon is here and nothing will stand in your way.
A sword whips down, cutting through your clothing and hitting the hard scales beneath. They are like diamond now, turning the blade and wrenching it from the undead’s grasp. For a moment you glare into his face, your battle-crazed eyes holding each other’s stare. Then you bring your weapons down, smashing through the mouldered bones – aware that this is not a warrior you face, but a craftsman, the cloth of his tunic decorated with geometric designs. What magic, what curse, would drive him and his people to become such monsters?
You break from the throng of bodies, your powerful blows severing spines and slicing through bone. Since passing the perimeter walls the undead have assailed you every step of the way, swarming like ants from the ruined buildings – but, as always, they are slow and uncoordinated, most left trailing behind as you maintain a fast pace, determined to catch up with . . .
A flash. Clawed hands smash through pottery. Stones are hurled against a wall, shattering into jagged fragments. The shadow of a demon wavers in the half-light.
You stagger, caught off guard by the staccato images. Blind, you blunder into the path of an armoured champion, his tarnished breastplate sagging off his rotten body. Clutched in his hands is a bronze broadsword, which he brings around in a mighty blow.
Magic blasts against a door, breaking it from its frame. Dust plumes from the ceiling, obscuring the passage beyond.
You parry the blow, metal clanging against metal. The force sends a painful jolt through your body, throwing you sideways. A hand grasps you around the throat, nails digging into the scaled skin.
A throne room. The mosaic tiles are broken – shattered. A statue of a woman. Beautiful and delicate. ‘Nephele,’ cries a voice. Guttural. Hoarse. The claws strike the statue, severing the head clean from its shoulders.
You blink, trying to clear your head – struggling to focus on the battle. The champion has his sword raised, ready to bring it down. More hands are grappling at you, trying to drag you back into their midst . . .
‘Where is it?’ Eyes rove back and forth. ‘The key! Where did they put it?’
The sword comes down, the warrior emitting a hoarse gasp, bones scraping and creaking with the effort.
A balcony, high above the ruined city. ‘Foolish dwarves! They can’t keep me from my birth right.’ A pause. ‘What? Get out of my head, prophet! You should not have come here. You are not fit to carry my
blood!’
A fresh wave of anger surges through your body, sparking something deep inside – something bestial and savage. You wrestle free, twisting away as the sword comes down. It all seems to happen in slow motion, as if time has become distorted. Everything sharpens into focus – the dust motes dancing through the air, the bristly hairs on the arms of the undead warrior, the sun glinting off his dented helm. Then time speeds up, rushing in once again, as you smash your weapons straight through his armour, punching through to the other side.
Then you are running, feet gliding over the white sand of the courtyard – sand that must have been hauled here from some distant beach. You leap into the air, alighting on a curved wall, then leap again, to land amongst the tangled undergrowth of an enclosed garden. The wailing cries of the undead continue to echo across the ruined city – their scrabbling hands at the wall testament to their frustrated efforts to reach you. Turn to 568.
444
The portal reappears, releasing another creature into the chamber. Your eyes follow as it tumbles across the ground, its body looking like a crumpled mass of parchment. The instant it rolls to a halt the odd creation springs into the air, unfolding itself into a paper-thin warrior. Instead of hands, it has curved paper scythes, looking as wickedly sharp as any knife. You must now fight:
Special abilities
Body of paper: Papyrus is immune to bleed.
If you have one of the following and wish to use it, turn to the relevant entry number: metal soldier (turn to 6), paper soldier (turn to 128), rock soldier (turn to 173). Otherwise, you must fight this opponent yourself. If you win, you must continue with the health that you have remaining (turn to 208). If you are defeated, turn to 464.
The Heart of Fire Page 35