Legion of Shadow (112 page)

863

Suddenly, a bright flash of light draws your attention skywards. From out of the smog, you see white shapes swooping down over the ruined city, their vapour trails blazing
bright like comets. Beneath them, a series of explosions swell out across the square, cutting a vicious swathe through the tightly-packed ranks of shadow spawn.

‘The airborne regulars!’ You punch the air as the mages hurtle past on their flying carpets.

Then, at the far side of the square, you hear the resonating blast of a horn. From your vantage point, it is difficult to see through the thronging masses, but it looks like a battalion of
Ravenwing’s militia have made it across the city. You catch the glimmer of polished armour and a fluttering standard, proudly displaying the black raven. Aid has finally arrived. Turn to
884
.

864

Quest: Waking the dead

‘Remind me again why we’re here?’

Nyms is huddled in his cloak, the cold rain dripping from the peaked brim of his hood. In the valley below, lies a vast necropolis – its crumbling buildings veiled by a ghostly mist.

Next to you, Caeleb gives a heavy sigh. ‘I’m going on a hunch, nothing more. We’ve seen what Zul can do. His necros are raising the dead.’

‘And you want us to do the same?’ Nyms blows out his cheeks, rubbing his gloved hands together nervously. ‘We’ve done some crazy things together, my friend, but this one
. . .’

Caeleb points to a large domed structure, looming tall and ominous amidst the swirling fog. ‘That is Arthurian’s tomb. He was a great warrior; the leader of the Tor Knights. It was
his sacrifice that helped win the shadow war.’

‘The last charge,’ Nyms snorts. ‘Always sounded like a suicide mission to me. A hundred knights against an army of thousands. No wonder they were cut to pieces.’

Caeleb brushes the wet hair from his eyes. ‘They knew they would not survive, Nyms. But their sacrifice bought time – time for crucial reinforcements to arrive from Talanost. Without
their sacrifice, the king’s army would have been overrun.’

‘Hmm, history does have a way of over-glorifying the past.’

Lansbury leans forward, scrutinising the tombs and ruins in the valley below. ‘Let’s concentrate on the facts. Zul is using necromancy to raise the Tor Knights – turning them
against us. It is only a matter of time before his mages desecrate these tombs.’ The elderly medic turns to Nyms. ‘We cannot allow them to do this.’

‘And the horn?’ Nyms folds his arms stubbornly. ‘I’m not risking my life for some fireside fable.’

Caeleb tugs his visor down. ‘It’s not a fable. Arthurian swore an oath with his last dying breath, that he would return to Valeron in its time of greatest need.’

‘Oh really? And who was around to hear those grand words?’ Nyms puts a hand to his ear, grinning. ‘According to your famous legend, all the knights were wiped out – to
the very last man.’

Caeleb shakes his head. ‘You should read more, Nyms. It was Jorvic Moore, the Tor Knight’s standard bearer. He was mortally wounded . . . the medics couldn’t save him, but he
managed to return to the camp with Arthurian’s horn – the one he used in battle a hundred times to sound his charge.’

Nyms rolls his eyes. ‘And if we find this horn, he’ll come along and help us battle Zul. That is what you’re saying, right?’

Caeleb takes up his shield, its surface slick with rainwater. ‘It comes down to faith, Nyms. I believe it’s worth a try – at least.’

‘And that’s good enough for me,’ you interject impatiently.

Beneath your clothing, you can feel the shadow mark burning . . . eager for battle.

Nyms nods, glancing up at the broiling, storm-heavy sky. ‘OK, you win. But really . . . couldn’t we have picked a better day for this?’

Caeleb draws his sword and starts down into the valley. Within seconds the plated warrior has vanished – swallowed up by the thick banks of white fog. Drawing your own weapons, you follow
the knight’s tracks through the sludgy black ash. Turn to
833
.

865

Searching Daarko’s remains, you find a leather pouch containing 100 gold crowns. You may also help yourself to one of the following special rewards:

When you have made your decision, turn to
811
.

866

You race from the mansion, struggling to keep your balance as the ground shifts and trembles beneath your feet. The booming sound has not abated, each thunderous bellow hinting
at something impossibly large – and powerful – now loose in the city.

Stumbling through a series of rubble-filled halls, you finally make it out into the courtyard. . .

. . .to discover that day has turned to night.

Looking up, you see the cause of this dramatic change – a gargantuan orb-like creature hangs suspended above Talanost. You stagger, almost falling to your knees, as you struggle to take in
its enormity. The orb is a moon-sized mass of bloated grey flesh, its underside swelling into a vast number of tubular protrusions. From each one, black smoke pumps out into the darkening skies,
enveloping the city in a veil of smog.

‘How did we miss that?’ croaks Nyms, unable to tear his eyes away from the horror.

There is another thunderous boom from above, coming from the creature itself. Magic crackles over its body, coating it in a glimmering meshwork of light.

‘Judah, protect us!’ Mathis strides down the mansion stairs, his fists gripping his warhammer ‘Avian, speak to me. What is that thing?’

The mage stands in the doorway, his eyes wide with astonishment. ‘A doom orb. The most dangerous of the legion’s creations.’

‘Did that machine summon it here?’ you ask confused.

Avian struggles to order his thoughts. ‘I . . . I think so . . . I believe the machine was keeping it anchored . . . in the shroud.’ His gaze shifts to Mathis. ‘Destroying the
machine would have severed the link, pulling it back to our world. We should not have interfered!’

Before the inquisitor can reply, there is a deafening roar from above. The creature’s tubes begin to swell, their sides flickering with spectral light – then, like a giant bellows,
they deflate, expelling a huge blast of black fire from their gigantic apertures. The column of flame slams down in an area outside the city walls, sending up a vast cloud of ash and debris.

The resulting tremor forces you all to hug the ground.

‘That must have been the camp,’ chokes Lansbury. ‘Ravenwing’s forces . . .’

You catch her panicked expression. Then the world explodes in white light. You find yourself flying through the air, jagged rocks and broken masonry spiralling past you. Then you crash down on
something hard, bones snapping and breaking beneath you. Before you can register the pain, your shadow mark flares into life, knitting your shattered body back together again.

As you stagger to your feet, you see a figure running towards you through the smoke. One of Ravenwing’s guards. He looks frantic, as if he is being chased by something. A bright light
flashes behind him, then he topples to the ground, his sword skittering away. You see that the back of his armour has been blown away, an arrow shaft protruding from his exposed back.

You hurry down the street, your magic slowly filling you with renewed strength. From somewhere up ahead, you can hear the clamour of battle – steel ringing on steel, and the wail of some
bestial creature. The ground trembles as more explosions rip across the crumbling wasteland. You can’t detect their source, but clearly they are not the work of the monstrous orb, whose
attention seems focused on the camp beyond the city walls.

Your shadow mark flashes once again, feeding off your adrenaline and Daarko’s absorbed magic. The world begins to blur as you race forward at impossible speed, your footfalls punching
holes into the street. Ahead, you sight a ruined hall, one side reduced to a jagged slope of rubble. With a cry of exertion, you throw your body forwards, kicking off from a nearby wall to grab a
splintered beam. You swing underneath it, somersaulting high into the air – the force of your momentum taking you spinning over the ravaged side of the hall, to alight on its roof.

Below you stretches Talanost’s famous market square.

Once it might have been a joyous sight – a gaudy collision of colour and noise, of eager shoppers bustling down makeshift aisles, to the accompaniment of minstrels and the hawking cries of
merchants. But today. . .

Today it is teeming with shadow spawn. Turn to
885
.

867

You take a hasty swipe at the stranger, who skitters back on his heels, dodging your blow with ease. It appears there may be more to this vagabond than meets the eye.

‘I’m still sharp,’ he cackles, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. ‘This is another test. You try my faith!’ (Turn to
816
.)

868

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

These pitiful creatures are no match for your power. Overcome by a dark frenzy, you throw aside your weapons and launch yourself at the nearest scarron. Catching it around the tail, you spin
around, dragging the creature with you, then proceed to use it as a club to pummel the rest of its nightmarish brood into a foul-smelling pulp. Once your grim work is done, you swing back your arms
and then hurl your makeshift weapon into the advancing ranks of shadow spawn. ‘And good riddance,’ you scowl, flicking the goo from your hands.

Congratulations! With the scarrons defeated, you may now help yourself to one of the following special rewards:

When you have made your decision, turn to
927
.

869

The icelock is defeated, her final scream accompanied by the ringing clink of ice on stone as Caeleb’s magical prison is shattered.

You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards: