The Heart of Fire

by Michael J. Ward

  ‘What’s going on?’ you ask hesitantly, fearing the man has gone completely insane.

  He grimaces, still torn by some inner conflict. ‘I am . . . Lorcan,’ he manages to gasp. ‘Yes, Lorcan.’ He repeats it louder, as if by uttering the name it will keep his inner demons at bay. ‘And we’re here to kill a monster.’

  ‘Cernos?’ you ask, your eyebrows lifted with interest.

  ‘No.’ The man gestures impatiently to the corridor of rock. ‘Not Cernos. A drake.’

  You scowl peevishly. ‘Then I don’t have time for this.’

  Lorcan mirrors your irritation. ‘Listen. Unless you’re going to sprout a pair of wings, the valley ahead is the only way to reach Tartarus. And it’s guarded by an ancient evil from the time of the dwarves. Cernos is already ahead of you, but my wards will slow him down.’

  You open your mouth to protest, but the retort dies swiftly. ‘I suppose I have no choice . . .’

  ‘We always have a choice,’ he replies, a sudden mischief lighting his eyes. ‘Come, let us do this quickly. Follow me.’ He turns and starts away, pulling his cloak tight around his shoulders. As you watch him depart you notice a golden staff strapped to his back, glimmering with magic.

  ‘And if I choose not to follow?’ you state obstinately, holding your ground.

  There is no response. The man – Lorcan – has already disappeared into the mist, his footfalls echoing back from the valley walls. Of course, you glower to yourself, he already knows I will follow – as he knew I would be here, trekking through the lava fields. Resigned to your fate, you hurry after the scribe, determined to drag more answers from him – by any means necessary. Turn to 662.

  530

  Next, you must decide what type of paper you wish to use. One set has been made with a light-coloured wood that sparkles with spots of silver. The other set has a bitter smell, the paper infused with flecks of dark crimson. If you wish to choose the silver wood paper, turn to 856. If you would prefer to use the blood leaf paper, turn to 719.

  531

  You have discovered rare Lamuri treasures that have been locked away for thousands of years! You may now choose up to two of the following rewards:

  High priest’s sceptre

  Gilded chasuble

  Fyre fiend

  (left hand: staff)

  (chest)

  (ring)

  +2 speed +2 magic

  +2 speed +2 magic

  +1 armour

  Ability: resolve

  Ability: channel

  Ability: fire shield

  You also find a bronze coffer, containing 100 gold crowns. Having looted the vault you return to the main chamber, where you take the sloping ledge up to the open doorway. Turn to 595.

  532

  A black body flies out from the undergrowth, slamming into the weasel and sending him screaming into the jungle. You hear a savage roar and the sickening sound of claws rending through flesh. You stagger back, as does the dark-skinned hunter, both of you drawn out of your own private battle by this new threat.

  A male tigris bounds back into the clearing, powerful legs driving it into the other hunter. They crash together, going down into the watery mud. A knife flashes, slashing into the beast’s side – but the creature shows no pain, its claws and jaws delivering a decisive end to the fight.

  The head snaps up, golden eyes glaring at you. Three scars run down the tiger man’s face, revealing pale flesh between the orange, rain-soaked fur. For a moment, you are caught between running and fighting – but neither choice seems to offer an appealing outcome. Instead, you lower your weapons in submission.

  The tigris straightens to his full height, over eight feet tall, and steps towards you. ‘You help Shara Khana,’ he growls in an abrupt tone. ‘You friend of pack.’ He retracts his claws, beating a paw against his chest three times.

  The foliage to your right rustles as it is pushed aside – and the female tigris reappears, the baby still clutched protectively in her arms. Her fanged mouth curls into a shy smile.

  ‘Skin good,’ growls the male, staring at you intently. ‘You join us – come to pack den.’

  You look back to the female, wondering if this is some kind of trap – but she nods her head, smiling fondly. ‘You saved our lives,’ she says, glancing down at her baby. ‘Come. Meet with Shara Khana. We give thanks.’

  You meet the male’s brilliant gaze and give an answering gesture, beating your chest three times. He grins with approval, then strides over to join the mother. ‘We move before blood scent brings other predators.’ Turn to 559.

  533

  As soon as you deliver the killing blow the phantom scene dissolves, leaving the way clear for you to continue. You stumble dizzily towards the next pathway, bent double by the throbbing pain stabbing between your shoulder blades. Virgil appears at your side, shouting something – a warning, or perhaps encouragement. The words seem distant . . . distorted.

  He grabs your arm, half-carrying, half-pulling you along the winding pathway. The floor and walls are now shaking, plumes of dust raining down from above.

  ‘Do you see the top?’ you gasp, struggling to focus.

  All of a sudden, Virgil shoves you aside. You go staggering on all fours, aware that you have reached another platform. There is a croaking roar, accompanied by the rattle and clink of chains. You look up to see a giant lizardman towering above you, strings of drool hanging from its fanged teeth.

  The creature swings back its thick, bulging arms, letting a pair of chains, attached to each wrist, snake through the air. For a second, the distended links hover above its head, then the lizardman brings them down with a ferocious force. You roll aside, leaving one to whip across the ground, sending cracks branching through the stone. The other catches Virgil across the shoulder, hurling him back against the wall. Dazed, he slumps to the ground, blood seeping from his re-opened head wound.

  The lizardman comes at you again, in a blur of teeth, scales and scything chains. Unless you defeat it quickly, the dark demon will catch up with you, plunging everything into darkness. It is time to fight:

  Special abilities

  Whirling chains: At the end of each combat round you must automatically take 4 damage, ignoring armour.

  Ghost of a victory: You cannot use cutpurse or pillage to gain gold/items from this combat.

  If you manage to defeat Fengz, keep a record of your health and remaining abilities, and turn to 712. If you are defeated (or reach the end of your twentieth combat round), then the wind demon has outrun you. Restore your health and return to 630 if you wish to tackle the challenge again.

  534

  All that remains of Umbra is a pile of rumpled clothing and a scatter of jewellery, all reeking of dark magic. You also spot the skeleton of an adventurer, propped up against one of the columns. The mildewed white robes and cross-shaped pendant suggest they had once been a priest.

  You find a pouch containing 15 gold crowns and one of the following rewards:

  Seal of shadows

  Umbra’s cowl

  Black pearl rosary

  (ring)

  (head)

  (necklace)

  +1 magic +1 armour

  +1 speed +1 magic

  +1 magic

  Ability: veil

  Ability: trickster

  Ability: Cistene’s chattels set

  (requirement: acolyte)

  When you have made your decision, you return to the courtyard. Turn to 510.

  535

  To climb up to the ledge you will need to take a challenge test, using speed or brawn (whichever is your highest attribute):

  speed/brawn

  Rock climb

  16

  If you succeed, then turn to 501. Otherwise, after several attempts and more than a few scratches and scrapes, you decide to leave and catch up with the others. Turn to 513.

  536

  Using your chosen reagents you craft a cruel black-bladed knife, its barbed length crackling with
dark energies. If you wish, you may now lay claim to:

  Mortis, shard of doom

  (left hand: dagger)

  +2 speed +5 brawn

  Ability: bleed, lightning

  (requirement: warrior/rogue)

  If you wish to craft another item, turn to 755. Otherwise, return to the map to continue your adventure.

  537

  You avert your eyes from the serpent’s hypnotic gaze, concentrating your attacks on its white-scaled body. After a tiring fight the snake finally gives a hissing gasp, then slumps back into the crystal waters, its crimson blood slowly spreading out across the glittering pool.

  If you are a rogue, turn to 473. If you are a warrior or a mage, turn to 383.

  538

  There is a brief moment of calm as you stand motionless, muscles tensed, eyes fixed on the wave of shrieking creatures that are sweeping towards you. Avian continues to advance, arms outstretched to either side, blades glowing in his fists. Against this hellish backdrop he cuts a gallant figure, his embroidered cloak snapping back from his broad shoulders, runed armour glowing with arcane power. A light of hope amidst the darkness . . .

  Then the moment is gone, and chaos descends. The furies break around you, biting and snapping, raking the air with their clawed feet. Avian is lost from sight – and yet the relentless thud of bodies crashing down around you is a sure indicator that his blades are making fast work of this grotesque flock. You follow his example, stabbing and blasting through the maelstrom, relying on sheer instinct to guide your blows. It is time to fight:

  Special abilities

  Endless assault: At the end of each combat round, roll a die. On a or result, more furies join the battle, raising their health by 4. This can take them above their starting value of 100. Once the furies have been reduced to zero health this ability no longer applies.

  Fury of the swarm: At the end of each combat round you must take 2 damage, ignoring armour, from the furies’ raking talons.

  If you manage to overcome this nightmarish swarm, turn to 790.

  539

  Congratulations! You have created the following item:

  Self-published grimoire

  (left hand: spell book)

  +2 speed +3 magic

  Ability: surge

  If you wish to create a different spell book, you can start the process again (turn to 850). Otherwise, you may now leave the chamber and continue your journey. Turn to 866.

  540

  You turn away from the thief, not wishing to view his final, pain-wracked moments. Instead, you focus on the book that Quito was so keen to claim. Its pages are covered in hundreds of intricate symbols and pictures, each one a breath-taking work of art. This is a rare and priceless Lamuri treasure.

  If you wish, you may now take:

  Book of Enigma

  (backpack)

  An ancient Lamuri

  spell book

  Once you have made your decision, you leave the chamber and resume your journey. Turn to 731.

  541

  You grab the vial and twist open the stopper. Virgil watches you with a gold-toothed grin. ‘I knew you’d make the smart decision. Now drink up.’

  In a single motion, you tip back the contents. The sour milky taste makes you want to gag, but you force yourself to swallow.

  It takes a few seconds for the euphoria to hit. When it does you feel like liquid fire has been shot through your body. It rips along your veins, blazing beneath every pore of skin, twisting your stomach with its coils of flame. The empty vial drops from your nerveless fingers. You hear it smash, somewhere in the distance . . . You struggle for breath. Smoke clogs your lungs, stifling you, suffocating you.

  Then you are falling. You are dimly aware of arms reaching out to catch you, but you pass straight through them like a wisp of smoke, falling, falling, burning . . .

  You are being dragged across stone, blood streaking through the dust. Thump, thump as your limbs bounce at your side. There is a voice, weak and strained, begging for mercy. It is not your own. Someone else. The dark shape of the demon drags you through the cave, glittering with crystals. In the distance, you hear a howling . . . a whispering. Voices. Ragnarok.

  A giant sword, black and cut with runes, has been driven into the skeleton of some malign beast. There is blood . . . everywhere. You can smell it, an acrid iron smell. A circle of crimson marks the ground – beating with life with each tortured scream.

  The screams of a man, spread-eagled across the face of a black obelisk. Its scoured channels are awash with blood and the glint of magic. Avian Dale. The witchfinder’s companion . . . His screams become louder, as he bucks and twists to free himself.

  A black door. Four runes. A charred claw is moving across them, muttering, wondering which one to choose, which one is safe. It opts for the crescent-shaped rune – and the door grinds open, revealing a vast chamber.

  Shelves. Fashioned from the rock. You see dusty books and scrolls, and tablets of stone. The air is grey and cold. Something is moving along the aisles. A ghost. Muttering to itself. Lost. It cannot complete its task. Misery and death stalk the shadows . . . nimble hands reach into your pack. An impish laughter and the patter of feet.

  Then you are falling once again. The mountainside spins, blurring into an infinite blackness. An immense fireball streaks past. It explodes against the ground, spattering the hills with pools of magma. Another blast of flame. You are rolling and tumbling through hot ash. Cernos strides towards you, the hellish sword held tight in his fist. You look upon his face, one eye burning bright.

  Flicker.

  Virgil’s face. One eye burning bright. The other patched with gemstones.

  Flicker.

  Cernos. His lips curl back, revealing gold teeth.

  Flicker. Flicker.

  The faces change, so fast that one becomes transposed on the other.

  ‘My journey is complete!’ the demon/Virgil snarls. ‘Ragnarok is remade!’

  Then all of a sudden you are jolted forward, your chest heaving and gasping. Everything is blurred, swimming in a haze. You can dimly make out Virgil – his eyepatch glittering with gemstones. He grips you tightly, shaking you. ‘You’re back! You’re back! It’s all right.’ He leans away while you cough and splutter.

  ‘What did you see?’ he asks intently. ‘Tell me what you saw.’

  You take a moment to recover yourself, then recount what you remember. Little of it makes sense, especially the image of Virgil as a demon. You decide to omit that part, no longer sure if you can trust your companion.

  When you finally describe Avian, imprisoned on the black obelisk, the witchfinder clenches his jaw. ‘We won’t let that happen. Come.’ He holds out a hand to help you up. You stare at it woozily, your head still clouded with Elysium. Noting your hesitation, Virgil flashes you an apologetic grin. ‘No more Elysium. I swear.’

  You take his hand, pulling yourself to your feet. When he finally lets go you stagger uncertainly, your vision blurred. ‘I fear the damage may already be done . . .’

  For the remainder of this act, you must now suffer the following penalty:

  Elysium soaked (pa): Every time you use a modifier ability in combat, you must roll a die. On a result the ability fails. You cannot try to use the ability again until the next combat round. If the result is to then you can use the ability as normal.

  Once you have updated your hero sheet, return to the quest map to continue your adventure.

  542

  ‘Others distrust you,’ states White Cloak, shifting closer. ‘But they forget Shonac was a skin like you. He was a Lamuri prince. Exiled from his kin. One day he lassoed the last of the great tigers, Quan Mait. He beat it with his club until Mait share its secrets. Then Shonac kill tiger to take its pelt – make Shonac as strong as the mighty Quan Mait.’

  ‘So, Shonac was the first of your people,’ you nod. ‘What else do you know of the Lamuri?’

  White Cloak wrinkles her nose. ‘They all dead – yet
some still walk like they have breath. Their rock dens stink of bad magic. We stay away from Lamuri. Stay in trees where it safer.’

  Will you:

  Ask about the name, Shara Sheva? — 566

  Join the scouting party? — 576

  543

  With an ear-piercing shriek the princess’s body rises up into flickering motes of light, leaving her crystal armour to topple to the ground. The motes swirl together, forming a woman’s face – serene and beautiful. It is Nephele as you remember her, the princess of the Lamuri.

  ‘You freed me . . . death has freed me . . ..’

  Then the smile turns to a bitter scowl. The eyes become hard, merciless. ‘Destroy Cernos! You must stop him from taking the sword!’

  Her sudden anger surprises you. ‘He was your lover. You defied your father for him . . .’

  ‘He is not my Cernos. Barahar remade him – filled his heart with fire, not love. It burns only with vengeance. You must stop him!’

  The face shimmers and then fades.

  Virgil kneels beside the empty armour. ‘I told you, never reason with a demon. . .’ He lifts up a runed gauntlet, the glowing crystals still pulsing with magic. ‘Witches, doubly so.’ He tosses you the gauntlet. ‘This magic is tainted, but I doubt that will worry the likes of you.’

  If you are a warrior, turn to 818. If you are a rogue, turn to 723. If you are a mage, turn to 787.