Legion of Shadow (114 page)

Then, the forest is gone – the carpet shooting out into a huge, circular chamber dominated by a grey sphere of fatty tissue.

‘That’s it!’ shouts Avian ‘Prepare yourself! The brain will try and defend . . .’

Suddenly, a wave of sizzling magic rumbles out across the chamber. It hits like a wall, slamming into the carpet and sending it spinning over through the air. You fall backwards, screaming out
in agony as a thousand unseen needles lance into your body. With a whimpering cry, you crash down on the spongy floor of the cave, tears streaming from your eyes. ‘Pain,’ you gasp.
‘I’d almost forgotten . . .’

Frantically you look around for Avian. The mage is sprawled several metres away, the tattered remains of his carpet strewn across the ground. He is still breathing, but looks to be unconscious.
You struggle to your feet, hurrying to his side as another wave of energy tears through the cave. You draw on your reserves of magic, summoning a temporary shield to absorb the blast.

As the energy dissipates, you lower your shield and hurry forward, using the momentary reprieve to press your own attack against the gargantuan brain of the doom orb:

Special abilities

If you manage to destroy the cerebral cortex, restore any lowered attributes and then turn to
826
.

878

As you hurtle into the room, you glimpse a stone tomb at its centre – and its carved lid, pushed to one side. A black-robed body goes flying through the air, to crack
against the nearest wall. Your attention swings back to the centre of the room, where a broad-shouldered man dressed in a glowing white shroud is stalking towards another necromancer. They are
cowering in fear, fumbling for the dagger at their waist.

‘Squire! Squire!’ bellows the man in the shroud. ‘Where is my squire?’ He looks around angrily, then starts back towards the mage.

Before the necromancer can free their weapon or cast a spell, the man has grabbed them around the throat. He lifts them up off the ground with ease.

‘One God punish thee!’ With a growl of anger, the man hurls the body across the room. You wince when your hear the mage’s bones shatter on impact.

Nyms gives you a sideways glance. ‘OK, this is new . . .’

The man fixes his attention on your group, his brow furrowed.

‘Squire! Bring me my broadsword.’ He looks around distractedly. ‘There are shadow spawn here and I must defend my home. Squire!’

‘They have raised another Tor Knight,’ hisses Caeleb. ‘He still thinks he is in the past . . .’

Around the room are a series of alcoves, surrounded by shimmering white runes. Within each alcove there is a weapon or a piece of armour. The man throws out his hand, his fingertips curling.
There is a flash of magic from the nearest alcove and suddenly the sword, that was once resting within it, flies out and lands in his outstretched palm.

‘If you need something doing,’ he growls, ‘do it yourself!’ The knight raises his sword and charges towards you. ‘For Valeron! For glory!’

You must now fight this crazed undead knight:

Special abilities

If you manage to defeat the mighty warrior, turn to
916
. If you are defeated, turn to
862
.

879

‘Oh, this one likes to party.’

Nyms frowns down at you as you stumble towards the rise.

The fury, the blood lust has abated – leaving you fatigued and exhausted. Your weapons are heavy in your hands; feet dragging through the thick black ash. Above you, columns of grey light
break through the heavy storm cloud. The light is piercing – almost painful after the gloom of the crypt.

Most of all, you feel pain. From every inch of your body.

The dagger still protrudes from your thigh, where blood soaks through your clothing. Your shoulders throb and your lower back stings, but those pains are nothing to the burning coming from your
arm. The shadow mark smoulders as if on fire, sending curling smoke drifting up into the chill air.

Nyms moves to help you, but the robed woman at his side stops him. It is Lansbury – Redguard’s medic.

‘One God protect us.’

She hurries to meet you, just as your knees buckle and you drop to the ground, emitting a grunt of agony.

‘What possessed you to leave the camp?’ asks Lansbury, looking you over with a concerned expression.

You don’t have the strength to answer.

The elderly healer puts a hand to your thigh, fingers settling around the hilt of the dagger. ‘Now, this is likely to hurt,’ she says, with a hint of regret. ‘But I’m
afraid . . . under the circumstances . . .’

You scream with pain as hot fire races up your spine, forcing you to kick and jerk. Then there is a different heat . . . soothing, comforting. You open your eyes to see Lansbury’s healing
energies closing up the wound. The heat washes across your body, numbing the other points of pain.

‘Just the tonic,’ grins Nyms, folding his arms.

You return the smile, flexing your shoulders. ‘Good as new.’

Lansbury gives a weary sigh. ‘You should not have been out here alone. It isn’t safe.’

‘You want to keep me on a leash, huh?’ you add dryly.

Lansbury scowls. ‘Don’t answer back to your elders. Especially when they just saved your life.’ She stands abruptly, brushing the dust from her skirts.

Nyms steps forward and offers out his hand. ‘I don’t think this one needed much saving, Lans. It’s the enemy I feel sorry for.’

You grab his wrist, using the support to spring back onto your feet.

‘So, what did you find?’ asks Lansbury, looking back the way you came. ‘Anything that will actually help our efforts here?’ The medic’s disdain is evident in her
tone.

‘I found a crypt. More a labyrinth than anything else, crawling with necros and ghouls. They’re raising the dead.’

Nyms snorts. ‘Tell us something we don’t know.’