The Heart of Fire (52 page)

The only way to get to the gems is to remove the stone slab. You can either push it away using
brawn
or blast it to pieces using your
magic
. Take a challenge test:

If you are successful, turn to
112
. If you fail, turn to
153
.

349

Three glass pots catch your attention, filled with different fabric dyes. A label has been glued to the side of each one, written in a child’s hand. If you wish, you may
choose one of the dyes and use it on a
head
,
chest
,
cloak
,
feet
or
gloves
item that you are wearing:

You may now examine the cloth scraps on the table (turn to
51
) or leave the room via the half-open door (turn to
391
).

350

Amongst the putrid mould and clumps of animal hair, you spy a number of interesting items. Some appear to be from previous adventurers, whilst others look worryingly part of
the strange spirit that once inhabited this festering place. As well as a pouch containing 20 gold crowns, you also find one of the following rewards:

When you have made your decision, you return to the courtyard. Turn to
510
.

351

Using the
Handy Herbalist’s Spotter’s Guide
you are able to recognise some of the rarer herbs and plants that might help you in making a cure. You pick these
and stuff them into your backpack. Record the word
gatherer
on your hero sheet. You may now investigate the wishing well (turn to
13
) or search the
reverend’s home (turn to
210
).

352

Warily, you step between the guards, who both shoot you a mean glare from beneath their leather helms. You offer a thin smile by way of greeting, trying not to choke on the
odour of ale and sweat emanating from their dirt-stained armour.

‘Behave yerself or yer’ll see the point of ma blade,’ mutters one, his scowl revealing black-stained teeth.

‘A point well made.’ You smile thinly, glancing down at the man’s rusty sword.

Ignoring his bemused frown, you push on the door and enter the shop. Inside, you find a dark, dingy room, devoid of furnishings save for a row of hunting trophies along one wall and a bear-skin
rug spread across the slatted floor. Behind a counter, a grizzled man slouches in a high-backed chair, idly picking at his teeth with a dagger. His matted black hair and tangled beard give him a
wild appearance, perfectly in keeping with his choice of decor.

353

‘Impressive, very impressive,’ grins the demon, who has watched the entire fight with a bemused indifference. ‘But futile all the same.’

Ventus stalks towards the dais, his fists still bunched into balls of crackling light. ‘Explain yourself, demon spawn. Why are you a prisoner here?’

The creature twists to face him, wings flaring out from its spiked shoulders. ‘My crimes are endless. As is your ignorance. Clearly you know nothing of whom you address.’

Bea is crouched by Benin’s side, tears tracking down her dusty cheeks. ‘You are a monster!’ she screams in anger. ‘Do not trade words with it, Vent! Do not listen to
it!’

Ventus continues to study the creature. ‘You are a demon prince.’

‘I am Cernos,’ nods the demon. ‘I have been a prisoner here for thousands of your mortal years. I have served my time and now I desire freedom.’ Its crimson eyes flick to
you, its horned brow creasing together. ‘Grant it or you will die here.’

Ventus snorts, raising his fists. ‘I don’t see how you can stop us, demon.’ His gaze moves to the runed manacles that bind the creature’s wrists and ankles.

‘Oh, it won’t be me, brother of the light.’ The demon lifts its eyes to stare past you. A familiar sound reaches your ears – of snapping, cracking wood. You turn slowly,
a cold dread prickling your skin.

‘No! It can’t be!’ Bea cries in desperation. ‘That’s impossible!’

The vines and branches are weaving themselves back together again, knitting the gaping wounds in the giant’s body. With a deep, rumbling roar, the beast levers itself back onto its feet,
towering above you in all its menacing glory.

‘Your weapons cannot defeat Orgorath,’ hisses Cernos. ‘You either free me – or die.’

354

With the stone guardians defeated, you advance on the black temple. It is an imposing structure of spine-like towers, arched windows and high columns. The mist has receded, but
in its place is a presence – thick and palpable. It pushes against you like an invisible hand, forcing you to grit to your teeth as you struggle onwards, your will matched against that of
some unseen foe.

Murlic is the first to stumble, falling to his knees. ‘I can’t . . .’ he mutters weakly.

You notice Conall staggering as if blind, his fists batting away at some invisible foe. Damaris has also stalled, gripping her staff with white-knuckled hands. You go to her aid but she puts out
a hand to stop you. ‘No . . . continue . . . if you can . . .’ she gasps, struggling to draw breath.

Alone, you clamber up the stairs of the temple, crawling the rest of the way to finally reach its dark, imposing doorway. Turn to
419
.

355

Across the other side of the cave is a deep fissure, cutting through the rock. As you approach, you see that it is edged with a thick black soot. You wonder if the goblins had
created this, using the explosives. Perhaps they had intended to dig deeper into the mountain, looking for treasures. Instead they released a plague of bugs.

Ducking your head, you pass through the fissure into another vast cavern. The walls and floor are slick with a gooey slime. At the far side, glittering in the green glow from the rock crystals,
is a gigantic ant. Unlike the others, this one is female. Black scales cover her segmented body, rising along her spine to form a black crown on her head.

‘The queen . . .’ you gasp.

From the back of the creature’s black carapace a silken tube spits out a steady stream of eggs, which gather in an ever-increasing pile against the cave wall.

Hundreds of eggs.

You realise that this must be the source of the bug threat. However, as you gaze upon the queen’s thick armour and monstrous, blade-like arms, you wonder if you have the power to defeat
such a foe. Turn to
307
.

356

‘An interesting offer,’ replies Sir Bastian, nodding with approval. ‘If you are willing to agree to my terms then you have yourself a deal.’

‘Terms?’ you ask in disbelief, trying to ignore the sniggers coming from the farrier.

‘Well, there’s my repair costs,’ sniffs the knight. ‘For my armour. Not to mention feed for Wilma here. Oh, and I want first choice of any treasures that come our way. A
fair deal, don’t you think?’

You find yourself struggling for words, mouth agape.

‘Indeed, I see the honour renders you speechless! To share in my adventures – to have the bards sing of Sir Bastian and his faithful squire. Forty gold crowns up front.’ He
extends his hand, beaming a broad smile. ‘For a legend such as myself, it’s an outright steal!’

‘Yer can say that again,’ smirks the farrier, tapping home another nail. He looks up from his work, frowning when he sees that you are actually contemplating the offer.
‘Blimey, there’s one born every minute,’ he sighs, shaking his head.

If you wish to hire Sir Bastian then the knight will provide you with the following for 40 gold crowns: