Legion of Shadow (103 page)

‘Lansbury!’ snaps the inquisitor. ‘Your thoughts please.’

The medic quickly releases your hand and moves forward. ‘Yes, Inquisitor Mathis. Hmm, I’d say, these are not unusual.’ She taps one of the tube-like tentacles with the end of
her staff. ‘A distortion of druidic practice. They’re anchoring this thing to ley lines, tapping into deep magic.’ She looks up at the ceiling of the cavern, bathed in the golden
glow from the machine. ‘This whole place is acting as a fount of power – but for what?’

Mathis raises his warhammer, its inscribed headpiece crackling with lightning. ‘I have heard enough. Any fool can see this is the work of demons. It is a thing of evil – and must be
destroyed!’

‘No!’ Avian tries to intercede, but the inquisitor shrugs him aside, bringing his weapon down hard onto the machine. There is a deafening boom as the orb shatters, dispelling its
magic out into the cave. The force of the blast blows you backwards, slamming you into the far wall. The golden light winks out and then there is darkness.

The cavern begins to shake, dislodging rock and dust from its ceiling.

‘What’s happening?’ cries a voice – one of the guardsmen.

Suddenly, a cold blue light flashes into being, glimmering around Avian’s outstretched palms. The mage is still standing, although blood from a cut streams down one side of his face.

‘A good question,’ snarls Mathis, pushing himself up from the rubble. He turns to the machine, which is now a twisted carcass of metal and flesh. ‘At least this abomination is
dead.’

From somewhere above, you hear a noise – loud and powerful enough to loosen more rocks from the ceiling. ‘We have to get out of here,’ you shout, helping Lansbury to her feet.
‘Or we’ll be buried alive!’ Lansbury stoops to pick up her staff, then follows you towards the stairs. Ravenwing’s guards are already scrambling to get out of the cave,
jostling each other in their haste to escape.

‘You fool, Mathis!’ barks Avian, his voice echoing in the chamber. ‘We needed to study it – to understand why it was being guarded. I fear this was a grave mistake . .
.’ Turn to
866
.

812

With a shriek of anguish, the angel flickers and is gone. Wearily, you drop to your knees, exhausted from the energy-sapping encounter.

‘I thought the angels would be on our side,’ you pant.

When you look up, you see that Arthurian is watching you with interest. He looks about to say something, but catches himself. Instead, he turns to face the doorway at the other side of the
room.

‘Yes. We are close. Come, the place I seek is just past the next chamber.’

Stumbling to your feet, you cast a last wary glance at the shattered circle of magic, before following him through the doorway. Turn to
787
.

813

(Make a note of the word
rival
on your hero sheet.)

Overcome by a dark frenzy, you throw aside your weapons and turn to the statue. Black fire blazes in your hands as you grab the stone and rip it free from the plinth. As the remaining ghasts
scramble towards you, hissing with rage, you swing the statue like a giant club, smashing their screaming bodies across the square.

The weight and momentum of your swing spins you around, throwing you face-to-face with the final ghast. Its lips pull back to emit a piercing shriek, blasting you with its noxious breath.
Balking in disgust, you kick the creature away, then bring the remains of the crumbling statue down on top of it, smashing it to pieces. ‘
Now
you’re history,’ you grimace,
kicking away the statue’s goo-stained head.

Congratulations! The ghasts have been defeated. You may help yourself to one of the following rewards:

When you have made your decision, turn to
863
.

814

The newly-absorbed magic twists beneath your skin, winding its way past muscle and sinew. When it reaches your heart, you feel its icy coils tighten . . . extinguishing the
warmth and light of the dryad queen’s enchantment. In its place there is now something darker – something borne of that same magic, but corrupted somehow to serve a more wicked
purpose.

If you choose to accept this new power, the shadow ranger has the following abilities:

Once you have made your decision, turn to
834
.

815

‘Yes, my special deals. Well let’s take a look . . .’ he reaches inside the chest and produces three items, which he lays out on the ash-covered ground.
‘For you, 450 gold crowns. I can’t say fairer than that.’

You may purchase any of the following items for 450 gold crowns each:

After you have made your decision, you can ask to see Waldo’s rare items (turn to
803
) or bid the trader farewell (turn to
789
)

816

The robber rushes forward, looking to stab you in the chest. You lean to the side, shouldering into him as he oversteps his lunge. The man stumbles away, his wildly-tilting
lantern casting whirling ribbons of light around the chamber.

‘You can’t kill me,’ he snarls, righting his balance. ‘I can’t die.’

‘Me neither,’ you add dryly. You turn your arm, to allow him a glimpse of your shadow mark.

The man gasps, drawing back. ‘No, no it can’t be. You mock me! You mock me!’

With a shriek he charges once again, his jewelled dagger flashing in the lantern light. You must now fight:

Special abilities

If you defeat the tomb robber, turn to
888
. If you are defeated, turn to
796
.

817

Legendary monster: Gorgis Iron-mane

The crypt has become your hunting ground. Stepping over the bodies of the black-robed necromancers, you plunge onwards – the cold fire from your shadow mark illuminating
the narrow, claustrophobic passageways. Ahead you can hear chanting, echoing from the dark.

More of Zul’s followers.

Your hands clench around your weapons, sending magic sparking along the runes that writhe and twist along your arm. Your senses are heightened, your body pulses with shadow energy. All fear has
gone – replaced now by a hungry, insatiable need to find more victims.

You are not disappointed.

As the next chamber opens up, you see seven necromancers gathered in a tight circle around an open tomb. Black magic pours from their fingers into the exposed body of a knight, seeking to put
life back into its rust-spattered armour.

Then your attention shifts.

From the edge of the room, four black figures detach themselves from the shadows and start towards you. They appear to be assassins, their faces hidden behind black masks. There is the ring of
steel as curved blades are drawn, catching the eerie purple light flickering along your branded flesh.

The nearest assassin slows, as if uncertain. You glance down at the shadow mark and then look up smiling.

‘You wonder if I am a friend or a foe?’ you nod wryly.

The four masked assassins share a sideways glance.

‘Or perhaps it is fear that stays your attack?’

You raise your weapons, the cold fury of the mark coursing through your body, thumping in your ears, crying out for release . . .

‘And so you should fear me!’

You spring forward, meeting the leader head on. Your weapons clash, teeth gritted, as you both strain against each other’s murderous intent. You can hear his ragged breathing from behind
the polished mask . . . then you are moving, twisting and turning in a dreadful dance.

Steel sparks.

Magic crackles.

There are cries and screams – a body flies back through the air, crumpling to the ground. You jerk backwards, as a poisoned blade slices the air next to your face. Leaning to the side, you
meet the next attack with the guard of your weapon. Then your magic flares once again, your weapons sweeping around in a deadly arc.

It is over in seconds. The assassins’ smoking bodies lie around you, broken and lifeless.

The chanting stops and a heavy silence settles over the chamber.

As one, the necromancers turn to face you.

‘Betrayer! The legion will not be stopped!’

Your eyes settle on the speaker – possibly the leader. His hand is already pulling a dagger from his belt. The others form up around him, readying spells.