The Heart of Fire (31 page)

Inside a pocket, you also find 20 gold crowns. Remove the word
Joseph
from your hero sheet. After dusting yourself off, you contemplate your next move. You may talk to the knight and
farrier (turn to
177
), visit the equipment store (turn to
352
), return to the inn (turn to
64
) or leave
Raven’s Rest (return to the
map
).

195

You push open the door. It takes a few minutes for your eyes to accustom to the darkness. It looks as though the room was once used as a nursery. There is a wooden cot pushed
up into one corner and a small bed beside it. A number of dolls and toys lie scattered across the floor.

You are about to leave and return to the landing, when your eyes catch on something lurking in the shadows: a child, small and hunched over, dressed in a leather vest and breeches. Its head is
resting against the wall, its arms hanging limp at its side. You can faintly hear a sad, wet-sounding moan coming from its direction.

196

The twisted vines pull back, revealing a diamond-shaped dais of black stone. Four large iron rings have been hammered to its four points.
From each, a thick chain trails
through the fog to a set of manacles, that imprison a giant, hulking creature.

At first its body is obscured by wings, stretched taut to reveal the corded black veins that snake through the ridged membrane. Then, with a crack, the wings fold back and the creature shifts
around, drawing astonished gasps from your companions.

It is a demon.

As it rises to its full height you find yourself teetering back, awestruck by its dark and fearsome majesty. It stands over eight feet tall, its broad shoulders covered in spiked plates of
hardened skin. The rest of its body is scaled, the serrated edges rippling in the light, its chest heaving with deep, rumbling breaths. Two curved horns, over a metre in length, jut out from its
temples, framing a pair of crimson eyes burning with a cruel arrogance.

‘Was I not what you expected?’ booms the demon, its commanding tone resonating through your very bones. ‘Perhaps you had prayed for an angel.’ The creature displays a
curve of sharp teeth as it lazily flaps its wings. ‘I led you here, prophet. Now you will free me. I have waited such a very long time. . .’

Before you have a chance to respond, you hear the sound of roots and limbs snapping behind you. One of your companions cries out a warning. You spin around to see the pathway closing, the thorn
branches twisting and wrapping together into a solid wall.

‘What’s happening?’ You glance back at the dais, wondering if this is some trick or spell of the demon’s doing. He merely watches with a mocking smile.

Another cry from your companions. The thorns have started to rise up into the air, clumps of wet earth falling away from their writhing forms. In horror, you watch as the trees start to mould
themselves into a single creature, a mockery of a human, with trunk-like legs and long, trailing arms. Within seconds the land to either side of you is reduced to a barren, featureless marsh
– the trees having drawn themselves up into the dark skies to become a barbed colossus.

‘Free me,’ hisses the demon, shaking the manacles snapped tight around its wrists. ‘You cannot defeat it. Orgorath is an ancient spirit, in thrall to the dwarves who made me
their prisoner. You need me to defeat it!’

The forest monster throws back its head and lets loose a bloodcurdling scream. Then it lumbers forward, its vine-like arms twisting into gigantic fists.

If you have the word
Wiccan
on your hero sheet, turn to
268
. Otherwise, turn to
237
.

197

Benin folds his arms, casting a critical eye over your trappings. ‘I sense a powerful magic about you, but it is not focused, it lacks discipline. That will leave you
open to . . . bad influences.’ He pauses, his face twisted with indecision. ‘Hmm, I suppose I could correct that failing – show you how to unlock your inner kha. Yes . . . perhaps
then, you could truly serve the One God.’

198

You match your enemy’s speed, expertly dodging the bug’s attacks and responding with your own. For the onlookers, the battle must be a frenzied blur – but for
you, it is a dance, your heightened awareness alerting you to each of the creature’s attacks a moment before they happen.

At last you sever the ant’s head, sending it spinning away in a spray of slimy ichor. The rest of the body shakes and convulses, then topples over, leaving its spindly legs to twitch
feebly in the air. You may now take one of the following items:

‘How’d you do that?’ asks Surl, his eyes wide with amazement. ‘I’ve not seen anyone move like that.’

You shrug your shoulders, unsure how to respond. Since your body was introduced to the Elysium in the inquisitors’ dungeons, your powers appear to have taken on a new form; your gift of
prophecy becoming something more immediate and instinctive.

‘I don’t care what tricks you got hiding up yer sleeves,’ growls the captain. ‘We work as a team. And this team is moving. Now!’

Out of the original party, only yourself, Surl and Vas remain. Thankfully, you reach the other side of the cave with no further encounters. In the facing wall, a jagged hole leads through into
another rough-hewn tunnel. Turn to
164
.

199

The Pilgrim’s Road continues through the fenlands, taking you through dense thickets of mould-covered trees and over rickety bridges, to finally bring you to a clump of
tumbledown buildings. They seem squat and ugly things, perched crookedly at the edges of the dirt track, their sloping roofs dripping with curtains of weed and fungus. If it wasn’t for the
bustling signs of life – solemn-clothed travellers for the most part – you would assume this place was a forgotten ghost town, left to rot away amidst the murk and gloom.

To your left is the only building of note in this ramshackle settlement, a coaching inn, which has evidently been extended over time to become a sprawling jumble of outbuildings and stables. The
inn appears to be full to bursting point, and from the open doors of the main taproom you can hear an endless crescendo of boisterous laughter and song.

Across to your right, two armed men stand on sullen guard outside an equipment store. The sign above the door reads
Edgar’s Essentials
– with a pair of deer antlers hanging
lopsidedly over the faded lettering.

Further along the street, a farrier is shoeing a grey warhorse, while its rider – a tall man dressed in polished silver armour – holds onto the beast’s reins to keep it steady.
The knight catches your eye and nods his head in greeting.

200

A dark body is flung out of the ruptured hole, soaring high overhead with a hollering cry. You glimpse a tattered cloak and black clothing then it is gone, turning and twisting
through the thick clouds of snow. The old man is on his feet in seconds, snatching a brand from the fire and hurrying out of the shelter. You follow, picking your way past the fallen boulders that
now pockmark the snow-covered ground.

A few metres from the bluff, a gnarled rowan tree grows from the side of a rocky hummock. A man is now dangling from its branches like a yuletide decoration, his long cloak snagged on the thorny
limbs.

‘My lord!’ The old man raises his brand, its flames guttering in the wind. ‘What happened, sir?’

There is a loud rip, then suddenly the black figure is dropping, tumbling and bumping his way through the lower branches to finally land in a heap in the snow. He grunts, rubbing his side.

‘Extreme sports?’ you enquire once again.

The man in black looks up. You see that he is wearing a mask over half of his face, the nose piece giving him the appearance of a bird. He smoothes back his wet blond hair with a gloved
hand.

‘That could have gone better,’ he grimaces. ‘Jeeves, I do believe we have a problem.’ He looks up at the old man, holding out an arm for assistance. He groans as he finds
his feet, the tattered cloak parting to reveal the hilts of several knives.

‘Indeed we do, sir.’ Jeeves clucks his tongue, dusting the grey dirt and bark from the man’s shoulders. ‘This is the fifth costume in as many days. I’ll have to get
more cloth—’

The masked man waves him away. ‘We’ve got bigger problems than my wardrobe, Jeeves.’

At that moment, the howling wind is joined by a bone-chilling shriek. It is coming from the bluff behind you. Spinning around, you gasp in horror at the monstrous creation that is now perched on
the rock. At first, you mistake it for some devilish bird – its immense wings rising like dark sails from its shoulders. But this is no bird. Its body is humanoid, with thick arms and bowed
legs. The head forms a sleek crest, fronted by red glowing eyes and a wide maw filled with fanged teeth.

‘It’s bigger than I expected,’ states Jeeves, still sounding oddly detached from the situation. ‘Not your usual margoyle is it, sir?’

The masked man gives an impatient sigh. ‘No, Jeeves, not your usual margoyle.’

The beast takes to the air with another deafening screech, its giant form moving with a startling speed. Half-blinded by snow, you raise your weapons, ready to defend yourself. Then you see a
cascade of glimmering steel flash past your shoulder. Knives. They strike harmlessly against the creature’s stony skin as it sweeps in to attack. The man in black races forward to head it
off, his hands moving in a blur as they send more knives flickering towards it. The beast bats them away with its wings, then swings one of its clawed fists in the warrior’s direction. He
tries to twist aside, but is struck by the full force of the blow and is sent tumbling backwards into the snow.

The beast turns to face you, its diamond-sharp fangs gnashing together. Up close, you can see the blood-red veins that crisscross its grey skin, pulsing with a demonic magic. Jeeves has already
scurried away, to tend to his companion. You are now alone and must fight:

Special abilities