The Heart of Fire (117 page)

You may return to the rune forge anytime between quests, to craft new items (make a note of this entry number on your hero sheet). You can craft as many items as you wish, providing you have the
correct reagents.

Virgil folds his arms, shaking his head. ‘I’ll have no part of this. Rune crafting is dangerous, evil.’ He averts his gaze, staring out across the shimmering lake of fire.
‘But if it stops Cernos . . . sometimes the means justifies the end.’

With this quest now complete, you can return to the
map
to continue your adventure.

756

Banks of mist roll across paved stones and grinning statues. You have discovered a set of ruins and you suspect they might be Lamuri. As you step warily past the outer
buildings, you feel a tingling sensation along your spine. You stop, sensing that you are not alone . . .

A clatter of stones.

You spin around, but catch nothing save a subtle ripple in the curtain of mist, disturbed by someone’s passing. Then you hear another clink of stone followed by a sharp, hooting cry.
Answering calls suddenly rise up all around you, fast becoming a din of wailing screams and chattering noise. You frantically reach for your weapons, wondering what manner of creature lurks in
these ruins. Turn to
769
.

757

Hidden beneath a blanket is a loose stone slab. Lifting it up, you reveal a secret hollow filled with items. If you wish, you may take any/all of the following:

If you want to return the favour and leave some of your own backpack items in the hollow, simply make a note of the items you wish to leave. You will no longer have access to these (remove the
items from your backpack), but keep a record of what you choose to leave behind.

After replacing the stone, you leave the shelter and continue your journey. Turn to
689
.

758

‘You want work?’ The hunter slaps you on the shoulder, then points past the walls of the compound. ‘Then my advice is, get out there – the
jungle’s full of it. Bring me some trophies and then we’ll talk, eh?’ He glances down at your weapons and armour, nodding with admiration. ‘I daresay you could take on some
of the bigger game. I’m probably too old and long in the tooth to tackle those now, but there’s something about you . . .’ His eyes narrow, as he glimpses the dark scales
glistening at your neck. You quickly tug up your collar, looking away innocently. ‘Well, whatever you are,’ he continues guardedly, ‘ain’t no concern of mine. I’ll
trade your trophies for gold and treasure, good as any man.’

If you have all three trophies –
Gheira’s paw
,
Anansi’s eye
and
Kaala’s fang
– turn to
439
. If you have the
quetzal egg
, turn to
628
. Otherwise, you may continue exploring the camp (turn to
744
) or leave and return to the quest
map
.

759

You place the jaguar tablet into the hole. There is a sharp click as it slots into place – and for a second you believe you have made the correct choice. However, when
the stepped pyramid starts to collapse back into the stone pedestal, leaving just a flat surface behind, you realise it was the wrong decision. Despite several attempts to prise open the pedestal
it remains tightly closed, guarding its secrets.

If you haven’t already, you can search the main chamber (turn to
508
) or leave and continue your journey (turn to
563
).

760

By following the markers you find yourself entering a sunlit clearing, carpeted with wildflowers. Clouds of butterflies swirl amongst the foliage, their gossamer wings catching
the light streaming through the clouds. For the first time on this journey, you feel at ease – there is no sense of danger here.

At the far side of the clearing is a wedge-shaped promontory. It rises steeply, almost like a staircase, to end on a crumbling platform of stone. Another symbol is carved next to the slope
– enticing you to its summit, where a white marble pedestal sparkles in the sunlight.

As you step onto the rock you feel a shock course through your body, followed by a smarting pain in your chest. You take another step – and stagger, suddenly feeling nauseous. Gritting
your teeth, you slog further up the slope, each footfall bringing fresh waves of agony to your body. Eventually, you can take it no more. You drop to your knees, aware of the sulphurous smoke
drifting up out of your clothes.

Then you see a vision – a woman’s face, framed with soft curls of white hair. Despite her homely appearance, there is a stern anger to her cold blue eyes. ‘Go back,
demon!’ she hisses. ‘This is a holy place.’

‘No!’ you spit angrily, clawing forwards on your hands and knees. ‘I am not a demon!’

The vision wavers and then recedes, leaving you a clear view of the pedestal. You drag yourself towards it, crying out as some invisible force beats at your body, lancing hot fire from your
scars. At last, whimpering, you grab hold of the pedestal, noticing a plaque affixed to its side. The inscription reads: ‘Walk in the light. And faith will heal you.’

Using the pedestal for support you pull yourself up off the ground, slumping forward over its round top-stone. A circle of inscriptions swim into view, surrounding a shallow hollow filled with
rocks and pebbles.

‘I am not a demon.’ You scowl angrily, beating your fists against the holy inscriptions. ‘I walk in the light of the One God!’

Suddenly clear water starts to gurgle out from between the rocks in the hollow, bubbling up to fill the basin. The inscribed runes flash and then begin to glow with a soft white light.

Will you:

761

Amongst the remains of the drake, you find one of the following special rewards:

When you have made your decision, turn to
551
if you still need to choose rewards, or
844
to continue.

762

The bridge ends in a rectangular doorway, cut into the face of one of the dwarven structures. Its black-iron doors have been torn from their bases and beaten into the rubble,
leaving the portal wide open. Beyond it, a curved passageway sweeps away into the dark city.

Cernos has almost reached the doorway when he draws to a halt, having heard your footfalls ringing against the stone. He swings around with an angry snarl, the glowing orb of fire held out
before him. Its brilliance is almost blinding, masking the demon behind a shimmering barrier.

‘Don’t you ever give up?’ he rasps, breathing hard. ‘I tire of this.’

The first blast from Avian’s staff blows the demon off his feet. The second drives him back to the ground as he struggles to rise. ‘The dwarves gave you mercy,’ spits Avian,
striding forward with a purposeful air. ‘They imprisoned you, Cernos – that was your punishment. To consider your crimes. To learn from your mistakes. To repent!’

The demon raises his horned head. ‘Two thousand years . . . that is a long time, mage.’ A nasty grin creeps across his blackened features. ‘Time enough to plot my
revenge.’

‘Revenge against whom?’ snaps the mage. ‘You are no Barahar. Tell me – who has wronged you so unjustly? What evil would drive you to seek a demon sword as your
ally?’

Cernos lifts his arm – and the white orb answers for him. It blazes forth, intense as the sun’s rays, pummelling through the stone. The sound is terrifying, like the earth itself
quaking in its death throes. Your stomach gives a sickening lurch as everything drops away to nothingness . . .

You are falling through stone and dust, the maelstrom stinging and nicking at your skin. Below you, the magma lake spins out of the haze. You are hurtling towards it – already huge chunks
of rock are pounding into its molten surface, throwing up ember showers. The heat is tangible. It batters against your body as surely as any rock, stealing your breath and baking your flesh
raw.

Smoke is everywhere.

For a second, your vision clouds. The copper-red of the lake smears to a solid grey. You are back in the stone cell at Durnhollow. Its stench fills your nostrils – the reek of filth and
sweat, and the rusted iron digging into your flesh. The bald-headed librarian scratches his quill across the parchment, grinning like an eager child. For days, weeks, months, he has diligently
recorded everything that has come from your lips; each word taken down as if it was of the greatest import. Prophecies, he calls them. You wonder if this fate – this terrible end – was
one of those you spoke of, preserved for all eternity in neat lines of spidery writing. . .

A sudden jolt brings you back to consciousness. You are surprised to find yourself hanging in mid-air, the momentum taken out of your fall. You expect to see a rope or cord. But there is nothing
. . .

Then you are swung sideways by the same invisible force. Before you can fathom what has happened you are falling once again, towards an island of black rock rising up out of the mist. Powerless
to stop yourself, you slam down at speed, the impact drawing a pained cry from your scorched lungs. Next to you, there is a similar grunt as a body thuds down onto the rock, rolling and tumbling in
a blur of flapping coat tails. Virgil.

The witchfinder comes to a halt, lying on his back, only inches from the glowing magma. Its cracked surface belches a hissing torrent of steam, forcing him to instinctively shirk away. The
movement elicits another groan of pain. He puts a hand to his grey scalp, finding a deep gash above his one good eye. ‘Close shave . . .’ He winces groggily.

‘Close for both of us.’ You clamber to your feet, your eyes fixed on the billowing thunder cloud above your head. There is no immediate sign of Avian or the demon, save for the
flashes of magic and angry explosions visible through the writhing smoke.

Virgil staggers as he stands, his gaunt face as white as the dust on his clothing. ‘We have to get back,’ he gasps, squinting through the smoke.

Your gaze wanders along the bridge, its black span looming two hundred metres or more above you. The nearest supports, which might be climbed, are an equal distance away, surrounded by the
ever-shifting sea of magma. ‘I don’t see how—’

Another burst of light draws your attention skywards. A man’s cry echoes around the cavern, followed by a deafening rumble as more of the bridge is wrested free from its foundations. A
fresh shower of rock falls towards the lake.

Virgil clenches his fists. ‘Avian’s still up there. We’ve got to do something!’

Your eyes continue to scan the bridge. ‘It’s impossible . . .’

Forget me! Find the sword! Find Ragnarok!

The words are nothing more than a whisper in your ear, but they carry with a firm and commanding tone.

Virgil’s startled reaction suggests that he has heard it also. ‘Avian . . .?’

Find the sword! Go!

Virgil’s eyes suddenly widen. He crosses to the other side of the bobbing island. ‘A good omen.’ You follow his gaze to the thinning dust cloud, and the dark object buffeted
back and forth on its whirling currents. A grey, broad-brimmed hat. Virgil is smiling to himself as he watches it drift towards the magma lake – flipping and bouncing onto an island of rock,
only a few feet from your own. The witchfinder hops the gap and snatches up his hat. He pushes out the dents as he inspects it for damage. Apart from some singed edges, it looks relatively intact.
He places it back on his head.

‘We’ve been shown the way. Look.’

You join Virgil on the floating island, discovering that it forms part of a chain leading across to the other side of the molten lake. There, through the haze, you can dimly make out an opening
at the foot of one of the dwarven walls.

Virgil runs a check of his weapons, then glances your way. His expression hardens with a frown. ‘By the divines, your wounds . . .’ You stare at him confused, then look down at your
body. Where there had been flesh, reddened by the heat, there are now scales. They have spread to cover your entire body – you can even feel them beneath your leggings, prickling along your
thighs and calves. You touch your face, feeling cold, hard demon-skin beneath your fingers.

Gingerly, you meet the witchfinder’s gaze, aware of the blood trickling down his face and congealing with the dirt and dust. Your own wounds, your own aches and pains, have gone.

You have now gained the following bonus:

Demon blood (pa)
: You may permanently increase your
health
by 10. (Hexed heroes may now use up to ten abilities in combat.)