The Heart of Fire

by Michael J. Ward

  Grabbing one of the metal bars, you hurl it like a spear. The dull end bounces uselessly off the golem’s thick plated armour, leaving little more than a shallow dent. But it has served its purpose – gaining the golem’s attention. The contraption turns to face you, its grilled mouthpiece belching a furious cloud of steam. It is time to fight:

  Special abilities

  Chaotic current: Each time your damage score/damage dice causes health damage to Sparkacus, your hero must take 4 damage in return, ignoring armour. If you have the insulate ability, you can ignore this damage.

  Body of metal: The automaton is immune to bleed, disease, piercing and venom.

  If you manage to defeat this hulking contraption, turn to 883.

  856

  After brushing ink over the bronze plates, you lower them onto the paper. When you lift up the cross-piece, you are pleased to see that the parchment is now marked with your chosen sigils. Your book is almost complete; all that remains is to bind the loose pages. If you wish to choose a binding of black iron, turn to 845. If you would prefer to choose a binding of drake scales, turn to 539.

  857

  ‘Not my choice, not mine,’ the spirit blusters. ‘I was bound here by the dwarves – dragged from the shroud to obey their commands. But when the rune was broken, I managed to escape. Now I just want to go home. I deserve that, don’t I?’

  ‘Demons deserve only one thing,’ growls Virgil. ‘And that is death.’

  Will you:

  Agree to help the spirit? — 879

  Allow Virgil to end its life? — 851

  Leave and continue your journey? — 875

  858

  You may leave via the south exit, where the echoing rumble can still be heard (turn to 854), or take the east passage (turn to 839).

  859

  The dwarf gives an impatient sigh, then starts gesturing frantically at the stacked shelves.

  ‘Look! Look at it! Isn’t it obvious? This is my section, mine, but they’re missing – I can’t risk it, I can’t go and get them. The librarian . . . and the creature. The big creature. Oh, what am I to do?’

  He resumes his agitated pacing.

  ‘We could go get them,’ you state hopefully, giving Virgil a sideways glance. The witchfinder rolls his eyes and looks away. ‘What exactly are you looking for?’

  ‘The shame. The shame.’ The dwarf drifts over to the opposite wall, looking despondently at an empty space in the row of books. ‘Pondicut’s Beneficiary Substitutionary Perambulations, volume fifty-seven! It’s missing! Gone! And here . . .’ He gestures to another space, then scratches furiously at his beard. ‘Impractical Lyrical Alchemical Diologies, book thirty-seven, part six. Irreplaceable. The only copy! Master will be furious!’ The dwarf continues to reel off a list of books as he floats down the aisle way.

  Virgil clucks his tongue in annoyance. ‘Okay, we get the picture – I think we need to clear the library of its . . . resident wildlife.’ He gives you a wearisome look. ‘Then this ghostly servant can finish his task.’ He strides past the ghost, tipping his hat.

  The ghost doesn’t acknowledge him, too busy rambling through another list of titles with far too many consonants. ‘ . . . Episkeletal Supracostal Dichotomies of a Curmudgeon. Gone! It’s a fright!’ (Make a note of the keyword spooks on your hero sheet.) Turn to 866.

  860

  You manage to snatch one of the thief ’s pouches, ripping it free from its cord. (You have regained your stolen backpack item as well as 50 gold crowns.) As you tumble into a dive, you make a grab for the thief ’s legs. There is another popping sound . . .

  You crash down onto your stomach with a pained cry. Looking up, you see no sign of the imp. It has simply vanished.

  Then you hear a peal of laughter, coming from behind you.

  You twist around, to see the thief hurrying back down the passage. Cursing with frustration, you push off in pursuit once more. Turn to 675.

  861

  You awaken to dust. It billows everywhere, throwing a hazy veil over your bleak surroundings. A grim silence hangs as heavily, with only the occasional skitter of rocks to unsettle it.

  Tentatively, you push yourself to your feet, surprised that you feel no pain, save for a dull ache from your ribs and shoulders. It appears the demon blood has healed you once again.

  As you stagger through the fog you glimpse bright rivers of lava, lapping between the islands of debris. The strange tower must have crashed down into the lake or on one of the many rock shelves jutting from the cavern wall.

  The going is slow and treacherous, the precarious mounds of rock constantly shifting beneath your weight. With patience, you manage to reach the top of one of the higher peaks, affording you a better view of the mist-shrouded wasteland. If you have the keyword blood debt on your hero sheet, turn to 837. Otherwise, turn to 855.

  862

  You scoop up a rock and charge the monk. For a split second Ventus’ eyes widen in surprise, then his familiar scowl returns. He swipes his fists through the air, cutting white trails of light towards your chest. The blow would have hit you, and possibly ended your life there and then, but a blast of black magic slams into his side, blowing him back into the opposite wall.

  As his smoking body slides to the ground, he fixes you with a contemptuous glare. ‘Foolish cur . . . it’s the witch . . .’

  Suddenly, your surroundings start to blur, sweeping into ribbons of ochre light. You hear a woman’s laughter – cold and shrill – reverberating all around you. Then you lurch forwards, as if pushed by some invisible hand, to find yourself standing in a ruined building. A female tigris lies sprawled at your feet, blood pooling around her broken body. It is Scowler. Turn to 435.

  863

  After brushing ink over the bronze plates, you lower them onto the paper. When you lift up the cross-piece, you are pleased to see that the parchment is now marked with your chosen sigils. Your book is almost complete; all that remains is to bind the loose pages. If you wish to choose a binding of black iron, turn to 826. If you would prefer to choose a binding of drake scales, turn to 816.

  864

  A crackling bolt of magic streaks overhead, smashing into Cernos and blowing him backwards. A second barrage sends him sprawling over the side of the balcony, his tattered wings flapping uselessly as his body drops from view. There is the briefest echo of a scream, then silence.

  It takes a moment for you to gather your wits, so suddenly has your fortune changed. You roll onto your stomach – even this simple action eliciting a grunt of pain. Your wounds have already healed, but Cernos’ magic has left knives of agony, stabbing through your chest and shoulders.

  But the pain is quickly forgotten when you look upon your would-be rescuer.

  A ragged, tattered shape stumbles towards you. It is drenched in blood and gore, looking more demon than man. The figure cradles an arm against its chest. It ends in a stump, bandaged with rags of cloth.

  ‘Virgil . . .?’

  Magic still courses over the fingers of his remaining hand. You have never seen him call on his witchfinder’s power before. Such an act, coupled with the dark menace of his hollowed expression, suggest that he is no longer himself.

  You rise cautiously. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms that Cernos has gone – consumed by the magma lake. The ground gives another shudder, the lava splashing noisily against the rocks below.

  ‘All is lost . . .’ Virgil staggers towards the blade, its runes pulsing with demonic light. ‘So many . . . evils . . .’

  Too late, you realise his intentions. ‘No, Virgil!’ You start forward to head him off, but a bolt of magic flares from his hand, punching into your stomach and lifting you off your feet. You would have gone flying over the balcony, following Cernos into the fiery maelstrom, if not for your quick reflexes. You grab a finger of rock, claws squealing across the stone as they find purchase, halting you at the very edge of the precipice. Before you can recover, Virgil has grabbed the blade, its barbed hil
t sinking into his scarred hand. ‘No . . . Virgil! Don’t do this!’

  The witchfinder raises the blade, his bloodied face lit by its crimson runes. His gold teeth flash in a bitter smile. ‘I was weak . . . too weak . . . but now I know what I must sacrifice!’

  Magic ripples along the blade, coursing up his arm and across his chest. You hear the crackle of heat, accompanied by the sickening stench of burnt flesh. Then the ground lurches violently, throwing you back against the finger of rock. As you right yourself, you look back to Virgil . . . and give a gasp of horror when you see a demon staring back at you. Night-black scales coat the broad, muscular body, reflecting the flames that now lick along the edge of the blade. The walls ring with laughter. Deep. Resonating.

  ‘With Ragnarok, I will free this world . . . free it from the shackles of pain and torment.’ A single, crimson eye burns menacingly from the shadows. Golden fangs glitter a cruel smile. ‘By fire, I will purge all sin and corruption. I will cleanse these lands. In the name of Ragnarok!’

  ‘No!’ You surge forward, your weapons spinning into your hands. ‘Not this day, demon!’

  It is time to fight:

  Special abilities

  Damned souls: At the start of the third combat round, Ragnarok will release three damned souls from its blade. These souls each inflict 2 damage, ignoring armour, at the end of each combat round.

  Dark judgement: If Virgil rolls a double for his attack speed (before or after a re-roll) and the damned souls are in play, each soul is healed for 6 health. This ability cannot take the damned souls above their starting health of 40.

  Harvest soul: If Virgil wins a round and inflicts health damage, Ragnarok will heal him for the same amount of damage (after armour has been taken into account). This ability cannot take Virgil above his starting health of 120.

  In this combat you roll against Virgil’s speed. If you win a combat round, you can choose to apply your damage to Virgil or a damned soul (if they are in play – see Damned souls ability). Once Virgil is reduced to 10 health or less, the combat is automatically won and any remaining souls are also defeated.

  If you manage to survive this demonic onslaught, turn to 503.

  865

  ‘Its origins are unknown,’ says Avian, his brow furrowing. ‘Some say it is an imprisoned demon, others that it is a dark fragment from the very core of our world. Whatever it is, when its powers are bolstered it is capable of destruction on a scale we have not seen this age.’

  ‘Ragnarok.’ Virgil flicks a pistol into his hand and proceeds to pour a vial of powder into its casing. ‘A Skard word. Means destroyer of worlds.’

  Avian nods. ‘Barahar was able to level entire cities with its might – and worse, those slain by the blade become damned to follow the blade-wielder and fight for their cause. Barahar’s dark crusade took him south, out of Skardland and across the western regions of Valeron. By the time he reached the jungles of Terral he had an army of thousands, bound to serve his will.’

  ‘The Lamuri . . .’ You grimace, thinking back to the vision that you saw in the throne room of the ruined city. ‘He razed their cities, their temples . . . then he came here. Why?’

  Avian lifts his gaze to the dwarven city, suspended above the lakes of magma. ‘I doubt there was a method to such madness. Barahar wanted to destroy – unmake this world and bring it to ruin. The dwarves just happened to be the next obstacle in his way.’ Avian scratches at his stub of beard. ‘Arrogance was his downfall, but I fear, when the dwarves broke the sword and shattered its power, the souls imprisoned by the blade were finally released. . .’ You follow Avian’s gaze to the shapes writhing and squirming across the walls of the city. ‘Now they are tortured spirits, that will never know rest.’

  Return to 590 to ask another question, or turn to 766 to continue your journey.

  866

  You enter what appears to be a reading room, with a dozen stone tables arranged on various levels. Each table is lit by a central cluster of crystals, glimmering with a pale-blue luminescence.

  There are two corridors leading from the room, one to the east and one to the south. Both are lined with shelves, stacked full of tablets, scroll cases and books. The aisle to the south is partially blocked by rubble. A distant rumbling can be heard coming from that direction, rising and falling in undulating waves.

  The north wall of the chamber is dominated by a door of blue crystal. As you approach it, you suddenly get the uneasy feeling that you are being followed. You glance down at the ground, noticing an unexplained shadow edging closer to your own. It can’t be Virgil, who is several steps ahead . . .

  You spin around, giving a cry of alarm when you catch a thief with their hands in your backpack!

  The creature stands no taller than your waist, with purple skin, pointed ears and a bristly fuzz of green hair. A number of pouches and bags hang from its leather clothing, all bulging with items. The thief responds with a tittering laughter, then turns and runs – making for the east passage. You notice that one of your backpack items is clutched in the thief ’s hands. (You must choose one backpack item to remove from your hero sheet. Keep a note of its description as it may be returned to you at a later time.)

  Will you:

  Chase after the thief? — 835

  Stay and examine the crystal door? — 809

  Take the south exit? — 854

  867

  Your eyes sweep the length of the cave, passing over mounds of rotting meat and animal skins, to finally rest on the far wall, where flickering candles illuminate a line of cadavers. Some are animal, but most are human, dangling from vine ropes attached to a wooden beam.

  Then a wet squelch drags your attention to a side chamber, where a fresher corpse is laid out on a flat-topped boulder. An old woman in tattered hides is hunched over the body, drawing out the entrails and studying them with cackling glee.

  She spins around, sensing your presence, her gnarly hand snapping forward with lightning speed. You glimpse something whip through the air, clipping the side of your head. Before you have a chance to register what has happened, you see the woman holding a hooked tooth tied to a cord. She plucks something from its end, then lifts up her other hand, revealing a bone doll. Too late – you realise she has one of your hairs and is now wrapping it around the doll. As the witch yanks it tight, you give a gargling cry as pain crushes your ribs, stealing your breath away. She tugs it again, engulfing you in a fresh wave of agony. Angrily you lope forward, your cries turning to a roar of defiance as you seek to end this witch’s dark magic. It is time to fight:

  Special abilities

  Voodoo magic: At the end of each combat round, the witch twists the hair around her voodoo doll. This automatically inflicts 1 die of damage, ignoring armour.

  If you manage to defeat the wicked witch, turn to 765.

  868

  Glancing down one of the aisles you notice a set of iron bars, blocking the doorway to another chamber. Runes have been carved into the black metal, several of which are still glowing with a soft red light.

  Will you:

  Take a closer look? — 696

  Continue on your way? — 842

  869

  You stand over the bloody remains of the three demons. Virgil picks up a piece of tattered cloth and uses it to clean the ichor off his blades. ‘This does not bode well,’ he sighs, glancing down at one of the bodies. ‘Those demons are the result of a blood ritual – a sacrifice.’

  ‘Why does that surprise you? Barahar would surely stoop to such evils.’ You clamber over the rocks and enter the passageway. Your sharp sight adjusts to the darkness, revealing a tight corridor that continues for thirty metres then opens out into another chamber.

  ‘I don’t think it was Barahar,’ says Virgil, hopping over the stones to join you. ‘Blood rituals take time, preparation. Not his style.’

  ‘The dwarves, then?’ You glance back at the witchfinder, frowning. ‘Perhaps that is why they were fighting each other – to stop
the rituals.’

  Virgil shrugs. ‘When your people are dying, your homes under threat, fear is a breeding ground for weakness – and mistrust.’ He lowers one of his swords to the rubble. The bright blade picks out the decapitated head of a stone titan, its mouth hanging open in a silent scream. ‘I don’t think Barahar is to blame for this – some group took it on themselves to try and save Tartarus, and were willing to resort to sacrifice and magic to achieve it.’

  ‘We can’t judge them for what happened here.’ You remember the cursed Lamuri city, crawling with undead.

  ‘I’m a witchfinder,’ states Virgil coldly. ‘It’s my duty to judge.’

  He slips past you, leading the way down the corridor. You follow, eyes roving over the melted carvings along the wall. They would have once shown scholars standing at lecterns, but now the stretched, distorted stone has made them look like tormented spirits, being sucked down into some dark abyss. Their hands reach skywards, begging for absolution.

  You emerge in an octagonal chamber with corridors angling to the north and south. To the north the passage ends in an arched doorway, leading through to a room dominated by a strange-looking machine. To the south the walls are lined with stone shelves, neatly stacked with runed tablets and bound tomes.

  Will you:

  Take the north exit? — 611

  Take the south exit? — 802