The Eye of Winter's Fury (8 page)

Terrordactyl scales

(special)

Use on a cloak, gloves, boots or chest item

to increase its
armour
by 1

When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
492
.

30

The darkness gives way to light, and the shrieks of the damned. You hit the ground running, your short panicked breaths thundering loudly in your ears. All around you is swirling mist, edged with a shifting green radiance. Shapes waver in and out of focus, some distant, others near, but all indistinct through the foggy dreamscape.

You know you have only moments to hide, to find some place that you can cower in until your body awakens from the nightmare. Sometimes it can feel like minutes, other times hours or even days. The ground underfoot is cold and hard – the blackened soil cracking beneath your feet. Ahead you see a formation of stone, perhaps a building. Its edges shimmer, like a reflection on water. You make for it, your strides lengthening with renewed hope. Shelter, safety . . .

Above you, the clouds boil with fury. A vast seething mass of smoke and lightning. Black droplets of rain hiss down from the scoured sky, poisoned water steaming against the parched sand. It brings no life, only death – like the cold wind reeking of tombs and things turned bad.

I have to wake . . . I have to wake up . . .

You half-glimpse the black shape seconds before it slams into you, its chill touch like a blast of winter air. Then come the claws, sinking deep into your flesh, lancing through your very soul. There is no blood, no wound – instead they leave you with an angry pain like a thousand needles burning in your skull.

‘No!’ You roar in defiance, spinning over and flailing out with your fists. The shadow reels back, its ghostly features shifting into a mockery of a face. Claws reach for you again, but you are already back on your feet, running – suddenly aware of the cloak pulling against your shoulders, hide-boots crunching through the sand. It is the first time
you have come into the dream with your clothes and possessions – or at least shadows of them that feel almost real.

My weapon!
Frantically you pull it free from your belt, taking small comfort in the knowledge that, for once, you can fight back.

The stone formation looms out of the mist, a statue of some twisted monster, its many eyes staring sightlessly across the forsaken landscape. There is a narrow fracture at its base, wide enough to wriggle into and hide, but there is no time – the wraith trails after you, hissing and wailing through the dark rain.

With no alternative, you turn to face your fear, raising your weapon to defend yourself. ‘You won’t take me, demon,’ you scream. ‘I’m done running from you!’

It is time to fight:

If you manage to overcome this shadowy nemesis, turn to
84
.

31

Anise clings to the paladin, relying on him to half-guide and half-carry her through the swirling dust storm. Since leaving the mountain, neither companion has complained nor questioned the mission; both have set their will to the task, doing all that you ask of them. But with the water and food running low you can see Anise’s spirit diminishing by the day, her body growing weaker. The paladin seems unaffected by either fatigue or hunger; you assume it is his magic – the glowing script that has been carved into his skin must be somehow nourishing him, keeping him strong. You watch jealously as his strong arms support Anise. He almost looks the hero.

Just like in the storybooks.

‘No!’

You jerk round, to see Skoll standing atop the ridge. The burly warrior stumbles back from the buffeting gale, shielding his eyes as he stares ahead at something you cannot see.

Keep it together.
You force your numb limbs to action, stumbling and
crawling over the last of the rocky scree, the wind growing stronger the higher you climb. Turn to
228
.

32

Frustration leads to anger. You can feel Nanuk stirring within you, his impatience becoming your impatience, his desire to end the fight becoming your vented fury. Orrec dances and dodges around you, seemingly unencumbered by his heavy armour. His goading only makes it worse, a haze descending before your vision, your father’s voice echoing in your ears.

You’ve let me down again, Arran. Such a waste. Sometimes I wonder if I fathered you at all.

Ignoring Orrec’s instruction, you fall back on brute strength, letting Nanuk’s spirit flow into you, dragging a guttural roar from your lips.

It isn’t until you are standing over the downed warrior, your weapons at his throat, that you come to your senses. Orrec is looking up at you – no trace of mockery or disappointment in his expression. Only respect. And a little fear.

‘Where did you learn that?’ He struggles up onto his elbows, wincing with discomfort.

‘A book, I think.’ You brush the dust from your shoulders, stepping away to let the warrior stand. ‘Did I pass?’

Orrec finds his feet, his armour clinking as it settles around his massive frame. ‘No one has ever put me in the dirt before. I’d call that a pass, soldier. Welcome to the honoured ranks.’

Congratulations – you have learned the path of the warrior. You may now permanently increase your
health
by 15 (to 45). You have also gained the following special ability:

Upper hand (dm):
You automatically win the next combat round (without needing to roll for attack speed).
Upper hand
can only be used once per combat.

When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
290
.

33

You pick your way past the two rusted doors, torn from their hinges. Beyond is a small chamber, once used as a guard room. Three skeletons sit propped in chairs behind a counter, wearing the rotted remains of prison officer uniforms. Their grinning skulls are made eerie by the flickering flames of a naked fire burning its way through refuse dumped in a brazier.

You enter a narrow corridor, bordered on both sides by cells. As your eyes grow accustomed to the gloom, you realise some things are best left to the shadows: crude messages scrawled in filth over the walls; swarms of rats nibbling at decayed remains; prisoners shuffling back and forth, like sleepwalkers lost in a waking dream.

In the distance, a chill scream.

Faces start to appear, leering at you from cells, skin black with dirt, hair greasy and tangled. But you pay them no mind, trying to project a confident air as you advance along the corridor.

‘I smells treasure,’ croaks a voice to your right.

You risk a glance into the large open cell, its stone floor littered with ragged animal hides and skulls. An elderly man is sat cross-legged on a soiled straw mattress, his lank grey hair hanging like cobwebs over his ghoulish-white face. ‘I’m Sam Scurvy,’ he slurps, licking at his toothless gums. ‘Best thief in Valeron.’

34

At the top of the hill you discover a round platform of grey stone, bordered by an outer circle of pillars carved with angular runes. At the centre of the platform stands a single slab of rock, its polished surface decorated with similar markings. A small creature is crouched next to them, studying the glyphs with a keen interest. On hearing your
approach it gives a yelp of fright, spinning to face you. Your response is one of equal surprise.

The creature is less than a metre tall, its body thin and gangly like a child’s. The head is abnormally large, its bald pate tapering forward into a snout-like nose. From its appearance and size, you suspect it is a fengle – a sub-species of goblin. At least your nights spent poring over bestiaries haven’t proved a total waste of time. From what you recall, they are normally cowardly creatures, scavengers for the most part. Perhaps this one might let you go . . .

You raise your hands in a show of submission and start to back away. The fengle’s eyes dart to your sword, its yellow eyes widening at the sight of the fist-sized diamond set into the pommel. It licks its lips greedily, long fingers groping towards the rock dagger tucked into its belt.

Before you have a chance to react, the creature rushes towards you, its bare feet splashing through the muddy puddles. Gripped by panic, you try to run but the creature is too fast for you, barrelling into your side and taking you both tumbling to the ground. Luckily, you manage to untangle yourself from its flailing limbs, twisting aside in the nick of time to avoid the thrust of the dagger. When it tries to stab you again, you catch the creature’s wrist in your hands, looking to turn the blade away from yourself and back against your assailant. It is time to fight:

If you manage to defeat the Fengle, remember to restore your
health
then turn to
73
.

35

It will take you seven turns to climb to the top of the tree (Five turns if you have
ice hooks
.). In each turn Ratatosk throws an acorn, aiming for the hungry mouths below you. You must take a challenge test for each acorn (note: if Leif is with you, he will aid you in destroying the acorns – add 2 to your dice result for each challenge.):

If you are successful you have managed to smash the acorn, stopping it from feeding the growth. If you fail, the acorn lands in one of the growth’s mouths, making the plant grow even larger. Repeat until one of the following occurs:

If you miss three acorns in total, turn to
159
. If you reach the top of the tree (after seven/five turns), turn to
597
.

36

Skoll leads the charge, an axe in one hand, magic lighting the other – chopping and blasting through the bodies that block his way. Behind him Anise hollers a defiant cry, swinging her sword to sever heads from bodies, clipping limbs and frozen weapons, leaving a trail of ice and writhing corpses in her wake.

And then there is Maune. A glowing beacon of holiness. The heat from his scripted body sears through the statues’ ice armour, exposing their decayed flesh to his brutal strikes. Each movement of his blade, each cut and thrust, leaves another corpse burning, consumed by white flame. Turn to
761
.

37

As you close with the wolf, you notice a series of deep cuts around the beast’s throat and torso. Evidently the inquisitor made good use of your sword, weakening your savage opponent and buying you a valuable advantage in the coming battle. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Pack leader : The alpha rerolls all results, accepting the result of the reroll.
	Wounded : At the end of each combat round, the alpha must lose 1 health from the wounds that it has already suffered.
	If you manage to defeat this powerful predator, turn to 298 .