Legion of Shadow (18 page)

Special abilities

If you manage to defeat the ghouls, turn to
106
.

139

‘Oh thank you! Thank you!’ says the farmer. He all but pushes you into the swirling, white mist. ‘Good luck,’ he says. ‘And please . . . be
careful!’ You assure him that you will, drawing your weapon as if to underline the point.

As you cross into the swirling banks of mist, the first thing that hits you is the cold. The wispy tendrils of fog are like ice, almost burning your skin with their freezing touch. Within
seconds you are shivering, your breath forming clouds in the chill, damp air.

You press onwards, pushing your way through the blighted corn, no longer sure what direction you are headed in. Whichever way you turn, the mist is there – swirling around you like a cruel
tormentor. Perhaps it is just your imagination, but you are convinced that you can see shapes moving through the insubstantial haze. Each time you try and focus on one, they are gone –
drifting away like ghosts on the rolling currents.

As you head deeper into the mist, you stumble across a large, cross-shaped pole sticking out of the ground. It is frosted with ice, sparkling in the eerie white luminescence. For a moment, you
ponder what the pole was used for. Then you realise . . .

Something is moving towards you through the field, making a bee-line for your position. As the sound of snapping corn gets louder, you ready yourself for battle. From out of the mist lurches a
creature of nightmare . . . a man made entirely of straw, his ragged clothes coated in ice. With an inhuman howl, the creature raises its hands, revealing a deadly set of splintered claws. You must
now fight the scarecrow:

If you defeat the scarecrow, turn to
204
.

140

You join a dirt track, which takes you up into the cloud-tipped mountains. As you scale the edge of a ridge, you get your first glimpse of Avian’s castle. The impressive
structure stands grand and regal on a plateau of rock, its white-stone walls and blue spires gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. It is a startling, breath-taking view – and one that you wish
the young knight from the academy had lived to see. His letter of introduction is now clutched firmly in your hands.

At your approach, the hinges of the drawbridge give a noisy squeal, then slowly the wooden platform begins to lower itself across the moat. Eventually, with a dull echoing boom, the bridge comes
to rest across the murky waters. You cross to the gatehouse, where a man is waiting for you beside an open portcullis.

‘Well, well. I am glad the troll didn’t cause you too many problems,’ he smiles. You see that he is a tall man, broad-shouldered and muscular. His age is indeterminate –
the grey of his hair at odds with the youthfulness of his face. Clad in regal-looking robes and a feathered cloak, the man is as striking and imposing as his castle.

‘I am Avian Dale,’ he says. ‘And you are?’

141

Under pressure to escape the ravenous undead, you rush forwards and put your hand to the door. The moment you touch it, you are thrown backwards, as if a mighty wind had
suddenly lifted you off your feet. With your arms flailing at your sides, you find yourself careering into the advancing ghouls. For a moment, the ghouls are caught off guard as you slam onto the
stone floor between them. Then they pounce, jabbering and howling with glee.

You manage to dodge out of the way of their deadly claws, furiously kicking and punching at their filthy, dirt-covered bodies. At last, you are able to scramble to your feet and draw your
weapon.

The ghouls circle around you, slavering and hissing.

142

The village is eerily quiet as you hurry along its winding lanes; nearly everyone is out in the woods, seeking vengeance against the witch. In the distance you can see smoke and
flames rising into the clear night sky. You guess it is the witch’s cabin, which has been torched by the angry mob.

Only one man remains in the village. The Speaker waits patiently on the hall steps, rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation. As you stride towards him, the witch’s phial held
tightly in your fist, he looks up in surprise.

‘What is this?’ he scowls. ‘I want the witch’s head! Where is it?’

‘I don’t have her head,’ you say defiantly. ‘But I do have this.’ You remove the stopper from the glass phial and throw its contents into the Speaker’s
astonished face. He staggers back, clawing at his skin as it sizzles and burns. You back away, gagging as a sulphurous smoke fills the air.

Then the man’s cries suddenly become a bestial roar as he begins to transform. His body widens, splitting out of the flimsy blue robes to reveal muscular black skin. From his back, two
enormous leathery wings expand outwards, their veins pulsing with a hellish light. Finally, the Speaker removes his hands from his face, to reveal a demonic visage, contorted with rage.

‘See me for how I truly am,’ he snarls. ‘Now, you will pay for your insolence!’

If you have the words
black book
written on your hero sheet, turn to
121
. Otherwise, turn to
217
.

143

You slay the goblin, its lifeless body sinking down into the mire. Exhausted, you pull yourself up onto the bank, your clothes sagging heavily from the mud and water. After
taking a moment to recover, you clamber to your feet and begin your pursuit of the remaining goblin, following its trail through the undergrowth. Turn to
150
.

144

In his haste, the ruffian trips and falls, sprawling onto his stomach. Before he can get back to his feet, you are on top of him, pinning him to the ground. ‘Ger off
me!’ he shrieks. ‘The boss made me do it! The boss! We ain’t had any fresh meat for ages.’

Suddenly, the door to the farmhouse is flung open and a wiry man in a long open coat comes running out, brandishing a sword.

‘Let him go!’ he demands. You barely have chance to draw your weapon before the leader is upon you, his blade whipping through the air in a steel blur.

* Once you have lowered the leader’s
health
to 12 or less, turn to
230
.

145

‘I should go,’ says Martha anxiously. ‘I don’t want to be caught here with . . . that thing.’ She points to the giant turnip. ‘You should
too,’ she adds. ‘The villagers will not be forgiving if they suspect us both of dabbling in witchcraft.’ Martha runs to the door, checks that the coast is clear and then departs
without another word.

Finding yourself alone in the cottage, you wander over to examine the well-stocked shelves in Beatrice’s kitchen. If you wish, you can help yourself to any of the following:

You stuff the herbal mixtures into your backpack, then give Beatrice Fletcher a final nod of farewell. Return to the
map
to start a new quest.

146

You return to the gate without incident. Fetch is waiting for you on the other side, pacing up and down impatiently. He jumps to attention as you approach.

‘At last! At last!’ he hisses, withdrawing the key from his robes and fitting it into the lock. ‘I thought you’d become another addition to the graveyard.’ With a
dull click, the gate is unlocked. You pull it open and pass through, banging it shut behind you.

‘Well?’ asks Fetch, watching you intently from beneath the brim of his hood. ‘Did you get the book?’

147

The spider drops onto its back, its hairy legs trembling and shaking in their death throes. You may now take the following item:

You break through the rest of the webbing and leave the cave. Turn to
208
.

148

Beatrice gives you a shocked glare. ‘Do you realise what will happen to me if Martha wins? I’ll be the laughing stock of the whole village. I’ve never lost
– look!’ She stabs a finger in the direction of her turnips. ‘Look at them. My poor little beauties are suffering in this wretched heat and I’ve done everything –
everything! Martha is using witchcraft to get the better of me. I always knew she was a bad apple. Lost her husband last year and with all those mouths to feed – seven little brats at the
last count – I know she’ll stop at nothing to win that prize. A nice medal it is too, been in the village for generations – and one that she’ll melt down in a second for a
few measly coins, I’m sure!’ She takes a deep breath and then holds out the earthenware pot. ‘I can’t do this myself. If I was caught . . . well, my reputation would be in
tatters. But you – you could do it.’