The Eye of Winter's Fury (27 page)

You decide it would be foolish not to take a closer look. Scrambling down the boulders, you hurry across the intervening moorland to reach the opposite ridge. As you pass around its moss-covered rocks, your heart leaps with joy when you see a log cabin nestled at the bottom of the slope. It looks homely enough, with vegetables arranged neatly in a garden, firelight flickering between the window shutters, wisps of cooking smoke rising from its chimney.

Without hesitation you hasten towards it, your stomach rumbling at the thought of warm, cooked food and proper shelter. You pay little mind to who the cabin might belong to – or whether they would be willing to share their home.
I’m a prince
, you remind yourself.
They have to offer me succour. It’s the king’s law.

As you near, you see the front door is decorated with a thorny-looking wreath – some charm, perhaps, to ward away danger. You knock, but there is no answer. After knocking again, you reach for the handle of the door. You pause, wondering if it is right to enter a stranger’s home uninvited. A brief tug confirms that the door is unlocked.

162

The very air seems to vibrate as a cold shadow stretches across the courtyard. It is accompanied by a rumbling thunder clap – drowning the cries of the bewildered onlookers. Your eyes are drawn upwards, to the immense black cloud of falling rubble. Segg’s tower. In horror,
you realise the whole building is collapsing, its peaked steeple spinning through the debris, flames licking around its edges.

There is chaos as soldiers and monsters run for cover. You make for the main hall, hoping the doorway will provide some safe haven, but a sudden tremor causes you to stumble and fall. One of the ember wilds streaks past you, arrows and weapons protruding from its body. Bright blood spatters across the stone . . . sizzling and smoking.

‘No!’ You struggle to your feet, looking around for support. ‘Stop it! Stop it before . . .’

The creature hurls itself against the wall . . . and explodes. The resulting blast wave blows you backwards, through dust and smoke and screaming bodies. Turn to
320
.

163

Your weapons slice through the moth’s wings as if they were paper, dragging the creature to the ground. Once prone, the moth has no defence against your attacks, its bright dust pumping into the air in a last desperate effort to blind you. It is too little, too late.

You step away from the remains of the insect, noticing that its dust is now sticking to your clothes, sparkling like glitter. You have now gained:

Spectral dust

(special)

Use on a cloak, gloves, boots or chest item

to add the special ability
deceive

Anise retrieves her torch, the blue flames hissing and sparking as they catch the dust still whirling through the air. ‘My people call them death lights. They bring ill-luck to those who see them.’

‘No kidding. I figured that out when the thing tried to eat me.’ You stoop down next to the body of the moth, studying one of its broken wings. The thin membrane still pulses with a silver light, forming some kind of runic pattern or map. If you wish you may take the
moth wing
(simply make a note of it on your hero sheet, it does not take up backpack space).

When you re-enter the chamber, you are surprised to see the door to your left creaking open of its own accord. From the room beyond you hear a man’s voice, raised in anger. ‘No! I will not serve you, Zabarach! I will not!’ There is a cry of pain, then the sound of metal scraping across stone. You share a look with Anise, before tentatively edging towards the next room. Turn to
548
.

164

‘Good, good,’ grins the thief. He opens out his patched-cloth bag, tilting its contents towards you while his eyes rove shiftily from side-to-side. Rummaging through the proffered items, you discover a tattered dirt-stained book, a makeshift knife fashioned from a chunk of granite, and a bundle of shimmering grey cloth. ‘Only twenty gold apiece,’ says the man, shaking the bag. ‘Hurry up or we gets in trouble, yes?’

You may purchase any of the following for 20 gold crowns each:

To continue chatting to the thief, return to
288
. To explore the rest of the compound under your own steam, turn to
106
.

165

‘You assume I know something, then?’ Sylvie flips an egg, leaning back as the fat spits in the pan. ‘All I know is what Randal told me or I’ve managed to deduce from my studies. There’s an old Skard word, Norr. It means crossing, the state between waking and sleeping. Some minds are able to dwell there, to walk that place as a spirit body.’

‘Norr?’ You frown, trying to recall ever having heard the word.

‘It’s the thin line, the meeting place between our world and the shroud – the realm of magic.’

You feel the cold in your stomach intensify. ‘The shroud.’ You have always been forbidden from mentioning such a thing. To the Church it is a blasphemous evil, a hell where demons and other malign spirits dwell. ‘I . . . I never knew. No one ever told me. They can’t have known.’

‘It’s a rare affliction, boy.’ Sylvie meets your troubled gaze. ‘I’m sorry.’

You close your eyes to stop the room from spinning, still giddy from the dream. ‘This can’t be happening to me . . .’ Instinctively you reach for your pouch, relieved to find it is still attached to your belt. You have enough dragon leaf to keep the dreams away, for a while at least . . .

‘That won’t help you.’ Sylvie puts a hand to her hip, the other pointing with her knife. ‘That is the coward’s way. You need to become stronger, boy. The mind is like a muscle. It must be exercised. Avoiding the dreams will only make it worse.’

166

Using the rocks for cover, you wait to ambush the hunter, hoping the element of surprise will help you to defeat the bigger and stronger Skard. After a tense wait, you hear the scuff of boots outside the cave. Then a musty animal stink wafts past you as a shadow edges along the tunnel wall. You grip your weapons tightly, waiting for the hunter to come into full view. His broad shoulders scrape the rock, his hair hanging in a matted, greasy curtain across his face. He doesn’t see you until it is too late. Confined by the tunnel walls, he staggers back, struggling to raise his axe and knife as you launch into him with a flurry of strikes. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Element of surprise : In the first two combat rounds, the hunter’s speed is reduced to zero.

If you manage to best this savage hunter, turn to
317
. If you lose the combat, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet. You may then attempt the combat again or return to the map.

167

The aura of dread around the chest is palpable, the runes growing brighter and more restless as you draw near. Your own distrust is heightened by Nanuk’s agitation – even though your spirit link is weak you can sense the bear huffing and snorting, his teeth bared in warning. Nevertheless, curiosity has got the better of you.

Putting your hands to the lid of the chest, you lift it open. You flinch, having fully expected some sort of magical trap or curse, but the lid creaks back easily enough – leaving you free to lean over and take a look inside.

For a brief instant you feel as though you are teetering on the brink of a vast chasm of darkness – an abyss of midnight black. Then two shadowy hands reach out from the gloomy depths, grab you by the shoulders and pull you into the chest.

You are dragged headfirst along a dark shaft, the walls writhing with hundreds of shadowy hands, all pushing and groping as they guide you deeper and deeper into the dark. Then all of a sudden you are falling, your cries stifled by the thick, oppressive air. You land on a damp, spongy surface – the floor of a murky chamber. Hands continue to stretch and grasp from the black walls, a mournful chorus of wails echoing all around.

You draw your weapons, eyes desperately searching for a way out. The wailing stops and there is silence.

Free me
, whispers a voice. A woman’s. Young and frightened.

You look round frantically for the source. Then your eyes alight
on a monstrous face, pushing itself out of the far wall. A young girl’s, once beautiful, perhaps – but now twisted and distorted into an evil mask of malign hatred. The head continues to stretch towards you, its long neck little more than a few threads of shadow distending behind it.

The mouth widens, revealing a dark maw filled with hundreds of similar faces, all grinning evilly, their teeth filed down to dagger-sharp points. You try and back away but the walls have closed in, the ghostly hands pushing you towards the snapping, hungry faces. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Helping hands : You must reduce your speed by 1 for the duration of this combat. Once the helping hands are defeated, this ability no longer applies.
	Pandora’s pain : At the end of each combat round you must take 2 damage, ignoring armour . Once Pandora is defeated, this ability no longer applies.

You must defeat both Pandora and the helping hands to win the combat. If you manage to defeat this headstrong horror, turn to
284
.

168

(If this is your first time visiting the battlements, turn to
223
. Otherwise, read on.)

On reaching the walkway, you are buffeted by the strong winds gusting in from across the broken wasteland. Lord Everard stands alone at the wall, cloak whipped back from his broad shoulders, his expression pensive.