The Eye of Winter's Fury (40 page)

You glance back, realising that she is controlling the daggers – they sweep round, like an angry swarm of bees, and start back towards your position. As they near you realise that they are actually leaves, but hardened into deadly-sharp points. You throw yourself aside as they hurtle across the ledge, several thudding deep into the bark of the tree. Another wail rends the air. You draw your weapons, spinning to face the devilish creature as she dives towards you, fingers grasping for your throat. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Blade storm : At the end of each combat round, you must automatically take 4 damage, ignoring armour , from the whirling leaf blades. Once the blades are reduced to zero health , this ability no longer applies.
	Natural order : The leaf blades are immune to bleed and venom .

Once Willow is defeated, the leaf blades are also automatically defeated (if they still have
health
). If you manage to overcome this winged fiend, turn to
235
.

272

You have emerged in a large, rectangular chamber, its walls, floor and ceiling covered in thick growths of fungus. As you step away from the hole, you hear an unsettling creak beneath your feet. Looking down, you see that the floorboards have become warped and rotted. You wonder if they will still be capable of supporting your weight. To your right, an open doorway leads through to a narrow corridor.

‘Careful,’ whispers Anise.

You take another step into the room, wincing as the wood groans and cracks. Then another, distributing your weight as best you can. Anise carefully shadows you, her pool of torchlight slowly filling the room.

A sudden rush of movement alerts you to danger.

You swing round, eyes following a dark shape as it drops from the ceiling.

‘It’s a riftwing!’ Anise shrieks, ducking behind your back. ‘Watch out!’

The creature resembles a cross between a goblin and a bat, with black leathery wings and peaked furry ears. From beneath its flayed nostrils, you see two rows of needle-like teeth steadily opening wider.

With a hiss, the monster lunges for you. Reacting on instinct, you manage to catch one of its spindly wrists, stopping its taloned fingers just shy of your throat. The other limb ends in a scarred stump, battering uselessly against your chest. As the two of you stagger back against the wall, you notice one of its wings is hanging loose from its back, the membrane torn. The creature must have been in a previous fight, which has left it injured and weak. It is time to fight:

If you manage to defeat this winged fiend turn to
217
. 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.

273

The alpha male lies at your feet, its body broken and torn as if savaged by some wild animal. The rest of the wolves scamper into the trees, leaving you alone at the centre of the blood-spattered clearing.

You may now choose one of the following rewards:

When you have made your decision and updated your hero sheet, turn to
338
.

274

(Note: You must have completed the orange quest
The bitter end
before you can access this location. If you have visited this location before, turn to
374
.)

You brush the flakes of snow from the map and study it again. The symbol shows a wolf’s head, or at least an admirable attempt at one, designed to match the stamp on the back of the leather hide.
The White Wolf Trading Company.
Once again, your eyes scan the featureless banks of snow that stretch as far as the eye can see. There has been no real landmark to navigate by for several days – instead you have been guessing your orientation from the position of the sun, when it deigns to show itself through the swirling whiteness. You could be miles off course, left wandering this howling wasteland until your frost-bitten body finally decides to give up. A small part of you no longer cares.

Keep moving. Just keep moving.

It feels as if that has been your mantra since the attack on the road.
But everywhere fate has led you, only chaos and upset have followed. You hope that this time will be different. Perhaps some friendly company and news from home is all the tonic you need to boost your flagging spirits.

It is darkening towards evening when you finally see the lights. At first you wonder if it is merely a mirage. Your eyes have become crusted with snow and ice, your surroundings fogged by the wind-swept snow. It is easy to imagine shapes and colours, to see things that aren’t there. You blink, rubbing a hand across your face, then stare once again. Lights just ahead – only a few hundred metres away. A rise of hills must have previously obscured them from view. You quicken your pace, dragging your numb limbs through the thick drifts of newly fallen snow, wanting nothing more than to escape the wind, the snow, the ice . . . to have something solid underfoot at last.

The light comes from a pair of oil lamps, hanging outside a low-slung building fashioned from what looks like sheets of metal. As you step closer, you realise it is more of a bunker than a building, its rusted iron walls extending back into a rocky hillside.

You knock on the front door, which displays a white wolf daubed in paint. There is no answer from inside – and yet you can see light framing the edges of the door. With a shrug of your shoulders, you push it open and step in. A bell chime tinkles as the door opens inwards, revealing a large metal room, the walls and ceiling covered in brown blotches of rust.

A white line has been painted a few feet back from the opposite wall. After stamping the snow from your boots you cautiously start to cross the room, pushing your hood back from your face. ‘Hello? Anyone home?’

You hear a distant banging, some angry muttering. Suddenly two metal panels flip open at chest height, and the nozzle of a musket is pushed out of each.

‘Whatya want?’ growls a man’s voice from behind the wall.

You find yourself judging the height of the person, your eyes coming to rest on a small glass-covered peep-hole. An eye is pressed against it, distorted into a huge staring orb.

‘I only came to—’ You take a step forward.

‘Back up! Don’t cross the line!’ The voice snaps. There is a rattling clink from somewhere to your left. You glance sideways, spotting the
crossbow that is now hanging down from the ceiling by a complex set of pulleys and strings. To your discomfort, the weapon is pointed straight at you.

With hands raised, you step back behind the line. ‘Are you open for trade, supplies?’

‘Might be,’ grunts the voice. ‘You gotta permit? Ain’t seen the likes of you before – got the height for a Skard, but yer speak too proper. I’m Jackson, clerk of the White Wolf Trading Company. Now, don’t you be trying any funny business now – you can see I taken all the necessary precautions.’ As if to underline the point, you hear another rattle and a thud, this time to your right. Another crossbow has dropped down from the ceiling, its bolt trained at your head.

(If you have the keyword
hunted
on your hero sheet, turn to
92
.)

275

After an hour of trekking eastwards you finally spy a cave opening, little more than a narrow cleft in the side of the glacier. A strong musty odour of decay seeps from within – you feel Nanuk’s uneasiness, his pacing back and forth.

‘What is it?’ you whisper to yourself, drawing your weapons.

Nanuk responds with a reverberating growl, his mind pushing into yours, his strength cording your muscles. You have never known him to react in such a way.

Cautiously, you advance into the tunnel. There is spoor on the ground: droppings and claw marks. Some animal must have made its home here. A few metres in the tunnel becomes a wider cave, the ice giving way to black rock. You notice veins of magic glowing beneath its surface, just like the shard that Reah showed you.

The stink comes from the corpses. Human and animal. And the decaying creature that is shuffling at the back of the cave – a polar bear, or something that may have once passed for one. Its white fur is matted with pus, weeping from the sores and lesions that cover its body. As the animal turns its muzzle, sniffing at the air, you see that is obviously blind – the pupils of its eyes have whitened to a milky haze.

The bear senses you, lifting its head to emit an ear-shattering roar. Then the savage giant bounds towards you, its huge claws ripping through the ice. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Blind rage : At the end of the fourth combat round, the bear will go into a berserk rage. This lowers its speed by 1 but raises its brawn by 3 for the remainder of the combat.
	Disease : Once you have taken health damage from Doomta’s damage score, you must lose a further 2 health at the end of each combat round, ignoring armour .