The Heart of Fire (107 page)

You hear the sound of feet crunching through the sand, then two women, equally old and frail-looking, emerge from the trees. They are both cackling with delight.

‘What is this?’ you ask in bewilderment, looking from one woman to the next. ‘Are you survivors?’ You nod towards the wreckage. ‘Was your ship attacked?’

The first woman fumbles in her ragged dress, then pulls out a pulpy white object. She rests it on the palm of her hand, turning it to face you. In horror you realise it is a giant eyeball, with
goo-covered tendons still hanging from its back. ‘Oh, I sees it! Lovely! Tasty!’ giggles the crone, moving the eye up and down.

‘Yes, fine strong bones!’ gasps the tallest of her companions – adorned in skulls and other grisly artefacts. ‘Been a while, dear sisters; travellers not as dependable as
the sailors.’

The third tugs a comb from her tangled grey hair. You grimace with revulsion when you see it is made from human finger bones. ‘Oh, I do miss my sailors,’ she croons, stroking the
ghoulish comb. ‘Since you lost your singing voice, Ceana, I suppose we must take what we can.’

‘Blame me,’ hisses the first, turning her magic eye to view her companions. ‘You took my teeth, Muireal. And my eyes!’

‘I made the maps, didn’t I?’ pouts Muireal, fanning herself with the comb. ‘Without them we wouldn’t get a morsel.’

‘Shut it, dearies!’ snarls the one with the skulls. ‘This one’s getting jumpy – and we ain’t getting any younger!’

Before you have a chance to flee, the three women spring at you, hissing and snarling like starved animals. You must fight:

Special abilities

At the beginning of each combat round, choose the siren that you wish to fight, rolling against their attack speed. If you win the combat, you must direct your damage against
your chosen siren (unless you have an ability that can strike more than one opponent, such as
cleave
). If you lose the combat, the chosen siren strikes back as a single opponent, rolling for
a damage score as normal.

If you manage to silence the siren sisters, turn to
657
.

691

The ghostly servant appears in the doorway, clapping his hands together in glee. ‘
At last, Pondicut’s Beneficiary Substitutionary Perambulations!
’ He
floats above the cluttered sea of books, heading straight for a black-leather bound tome. After tugging it loose and tucking it underneath his spectral arm, he floats over to another book, singing
its title with euphoric delight.

By defeating the wyrm you have helped the ghost to retrieve some of his missing books. (Make a note of the key word
clean up
on your hero sheet.) You leave the spectral servant to
continue his blissful book hunt, heading out of the archway and continuing south. Turn to
842
.

692

The pipes branch and interlace, forming a convoluted network of conduits stretching the full height of the rock wall. They appear to be carrying super-heated air from a duct in
the ground to a similar pipe attached to the forge bellows. On various sections of the piping, wheels have been attached to the couplings to allow the pipes to be turned, altering or cutting off
the flow of air.

‘These help to heat the forge,’ says Virgil, wiping the sweat and grime from his brow. ‘Anything we can do to lower the temperature will make it harder for those demons to
heal.’

Will you:

693

You sever the creature’s wings, dropping it to the ground. As the drecko scrabbles in vain to defend itself, you step in quickly and deliver a killing blow.

You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:

The tigris have seen off the rest of the drecko. Only one of their pack was lost in the fight – the unfortunate male who was carried away in the first attack. The tigris honour their lost
comrade with a brief silence, heads bowed and paws clenched at their sides. Then their leader, Grey-hair, beats his chest three times. There are answering gestures from the rest of the pack, before
they resume their march – expressions hard and resolute. Turn to
702
.

694

‘Good! Follow me!’ The witchfinder drags you with him, through the twisted cell door and out into the passageway. ‘The Wiccans will provide all the
distraction we need.’

‘But where are we going?’ you ask, stepping around the rubble that chokes the tight corridor.

‘We’re getting out of here,’ snaps Virgil impatiently. ‘Come, this way.’ He deviates down a side-passage, his magical blade lighting the way through the murky
gloom. Turn to
478
.

695

You duck your head and pass through the opening. As your eyes quickly adjust to the gloom, you find yourself in a cobwebbed cave. Carved into the far wall is a low rock shelf
and, above it, several alcoves – a couple of which contain bone trinkets. At first you suspect this might be a shrine to some forgotten spirit or god, but on closer examination of the shelf
you see names carved into the stone. Some are unreadable but a few seem more recent –
Frobisher, Coronado, Finsbottom
. . . This cave is clearly a traveller’s shelter, the rock
shelf acting as a raised bed. You are also reminded of the custom whereby the last traveller always leaves a gift for the next visitor to find – a way of providing aid to fellow
adventurers.

Will you:

696

You walk over to the bars, being careful not to get too close to the humming runes carved into the black iron. Peering past them you can see a small rectangular store room,
stacked high with stone tablets. There is also a podium, fashioned from a complex weave of red and black granite, cradling a carved idol.

Sadly, there is no obvious mechanism or means to raise the barrier. Virgil pats you on the shoulder, sensing your obvious frustration. ‘Some things are best left alone. . .’ He
touches one of the bars with the tip of a blade, eliciting an angry flicker of magic from the runes.

Admitting defeat, you give the room a last covetous glare, before following Virgil back to the main aisle. You continue to head east, until you reach another large chamber. Turn to
842
.

697

As a special reward for freeing all of the tigris, you may now choose one of the following items:

Once you have made your decision, turn to
669
.

698

A well-aimed strike punctures one of Cernos’ wings. The follow-up blow takes the demon across the chest, hurling him back against the runed door. He scrabbles to find his
feet, looking battle-weary for the first time. Black blood seeps between his charred scales.