Legion of Shadow (104 page)
There is a quiet calmness to their movements, almost an overconfidence. They have strength in numbers, yes. But they should never underestimate a Nevarin.
Magic is thrown towards you – sizzling through the air – but you are already moving, dizzyingly fast, leaving their futile barrage to smash harmlessly into the stone flagstones. Then
you are cutting, slicing, burning, stabbing . . . you have lost yourself to whatever nightmarish fury lies in that branded mark, that part of yourself that connects you to a past now long
forgotten.
There are snarls from the dark.
As the last necromancer falls before you, your eyes settle on the archway at the far side of the chamber. Ragged shapes are now pouring out of the darkness – running on all fours like
hounds. You glimpse knife-like claws and shaggy, black manes of fur.
Ghouls.
The baying creatures surge towards you, snapping and biting. You somersault over the first wave of attackers, landing agilely behind them. Surrounded on all sides by the undead host, you fall
into a spin of whirling steel and magic . . . your movements flowing from one form to the next.
Bodies press against your own, the air humming with snapping jaws and clawing talons. Steadily, you force them back, your weapons sweeping into a familiar rhythm – rising and falling,
blocking and parrying.
Within minutes you stand alone. Your arms are slick with ghoul blood . . . and maybe some of your own. You look down to see a knife sticking out of your thigh. You wonder how it got there . . .
and why it doesn’t cause you pain.
Then a rumbling growl snaps you back to attention.
From beneath the archway, a gigantic ghoul is shuffling towards you. Its mane is thick and grey, spreading out across its massive shoulders and tightly-knotted arms.
Your eyes meet and in that quiet moment something is shared.
Then the beast’s face twists into a snarl. You answer in kind, emitting an animal-like roar. Then you pounce:
Special abilities
Fatigue: You are exhausted from your previous battles. You must reduce your
brawn
and
magic
by 2
in this combat.
Piercing: This powerful creature’s claws ignore your
armour.
Iron-mane: The ghoul’s hide is covered in a thick mantle of ironlike hair. You cannot use
piercing
or
impale
in this combat.
If you manage to defeat this savage foe, turn to
297
.
818
As you approach the anomaly, your shadow mark starts to burn. You tug back your clothing to expose the branded serpents. Their purple runes are pulsing with their own dark life,
mirroring the rhythmic beating coming from the strange growth.
‘Do not go near it!’ cries Lansbury. ‘It will kill you!’
You glance over your shoulder. ‘It doesn’t look that dangerous . . .’
Suddenly, you hear a sickening series of squelches. The growth has started to move, its long tendrils of rotted fungus ripping themselves free from the crumbling stone.
‘Oh, that’s not good,’ cries Nyms. ‘That’s really not good.’
From the creature’s mould-encrusted centre, a noxious steam escapes into the air, reeking of death and decay.
You raise your arm, covering your face from the eye-watering stench. As you do so, an agonising wail fills the room. In horror, you realise it is coming from the anomaly. It is trying to draw
away from you, its bloated fungal body seeking to drag itself across the stone wall.
You glance over at your arm and the shadow mark that is burning with an intense heat, sending dark smoke curling up into the earthen chamber. Your eyes flick back to the anomaly. A sudden
hunger, a longing for its power, overwhelms your senses. You take a step forward, arm outstretched, to try and absorb the magic.
The air ripples as some invisible force grips the anomaly and attempts to drag it towards your mark. In a desperate effort to defend itself, the anomaly sends thrashing tentacles whipping out
through the air, seeking to knock you away:
Special abilities
Absorption: You cannot harm this magical foe. If you win a combat round, roll one die. If you roll a
or greater then the anomaly’s
magic
is reduced by 4. Once the anomaly’s
magic
is reduced to zero then it has
been successfully absorbed into the shadow mark.
Concentration: You cannot use potions or special abilities in this combat.
If you defeat the magic anomaly, turn to
922
. If you are defeated, turn to
862
.
819
‘It was an experiment,’ nods the mage. ‘And we were the chosen. The black guard.’ He lifts his head proudly, his eyes focusing on something distant, some
other place and time. ‘We were the first through the gate. We led the legion – a thousand to our name.’ He blinks, his fingers caressing the scar on his cheek. ‘Daarko built
the machine. A genius. A master maker. Better at building than destroying. Always in that tower – the high, high, high tower.’
‘So, the elves didn’t create it?’ you ask, surprised.
‘It was built from what we found. The salvaged odds and ends from the elves, yes. From the first invasion.’ He purses his lips, looking thoughtful. ‘It could have worked.
Zul’s plan. But the mage shield. It blocked us. Wouldn’t bring us here in time. Wouldn’t let us back from the shroud . . .’
‘Why not use the shadow gate?’ you shrug.
Lorcan sneers. ‘Are you not listening to me? We were the first – the first to go to the shroud.’ He waves a hand in an arc through the air. ‘We didn’t even know it
was possible. To exist there. The elves . . . the elves did it, dragging their pyramids, their cities through it. Through. . . through. . . but not
existing
there. Not like us.’ He
pauses for a moment, letting the echo of his words reverberate throughout the chamber. Then he continues. ‘The man who speaks. He told me it would fail. That the machine would be broken.
Daarko would have waited . . . waited until the city was quiet. Dark of night. Then we would come. But it was broken. Broken.’ He heaves a sigh. ‘I must go back . . . I must.’
Return to
928
to ask Lorcan another question, or turn to
939
to attack this deranged mage.
