The Heart of Fire (64 page)

421

Bill opens a trunk and lifts out a sun-faded jerkin and a pair of muddied boots. ‘Don’t let appearances deceive you,’ he says, noting your look of
disappointment. ‘Both these are enchanted – got me out of a few scrapes.’ He places them down on the hammock, then continues over to the window. ‘If neither of them take
your fancy, then I suppose I could always talk to Nelson, see if he’d be up for parting with his club. I’d wager you have the strength for it.’ He glances back at you, grinning
through his beard. ‘And the lunacy.’

You may now choose one of the following special rewards:

Bill also hands you a purse, containing 100 gold crowns. After making your exchange, you bid the hunter farewell and leave. You may now explore the rest of the camp (turn to
744
) or return to the quest
map
.

422

The cramped room is awash with a feverish red light, emanating from the open forges ranged along the walls. At the centre of the room is a black anvil, where a hulking brute is
beating at a sheet of metal with a giant hammer. It looks like an ogre, but its skin is black and scaled, its crimson eyes glowing as bright as the forge fires.

The creature senses you, looking up from its work with a rumbling growl. Then it lifts the hammer across its broad shoulders and starts to advance. It is time to fight:

Special abilities

If you manage to defeat this monstrous foe, turn to
23
.

423

You awake to find your arms and legs bound in wraps of cloth. Everything is moving, swaying – you are being carried or dragged through a forest. You catch the smell of
pine and the sound of boots sliding on loose stone. You try and turn your head, but the constant swaying makes you feel sick. Closing your eyes, you slip back into tormented dreams, filled with
grasping thorns and dark demons.

When next you wake, you are shivering. The cold must have woken you. Above your head there is a low ceiling of rough-hewn rock, pockmarked with fissures. Struggling to recall what happened, you
push yourself onto your elbows, surprised to see bandages wound tight around your chest.

The rustle of cloth. A scuff of a boot.

You look around to see a girl – around ten years old. She is dressed in filthy-looking rags, her bright eyes narrowed as she glares at you from the shadows.

‘Sanchen,’ she whispers, chewing at the ends of her pony tail.

A quick glance at your surroundings confirms that you are in a small cave – part of some larger underground network. A narrow shaft of light breaks through a cleft in the ceiling,
illuminating your makeshift bed and a table covered with ointments and poultices. As you rise to your feet, the girl gives a squeal and runs off, taking flight down a side tunnel. You hear voices,
then footsteps. A woman appears, ducking to enter the cave. Her blond hair is braided, her simple dress smeared with clay and dirt.

‘You are awake,’ she says, talking slowly and in a thick accent. ‘The spirits favour you.’

‘Where am I?’ you croak, wincing as you try and stand.

The woman moves to your side, offering support. ‘You came with Damaris. You’re the Sanchen. Our guest of honour. If your strength has returned, then you should join us.’

Memories suddenly come flooding back – the fight on the moors, the Wiccan woman with feathers in her hair. You glance down at your bandages, remembering the blast of magic from
Benin’s staff. ‘You . . . you’re a Wiccan?’ you ask, startled.

‘My name is Eva.’ She smiles. ‘Come. Damaris wants to speak with you.’ Turn to
485
.

424

The witchfinder frowns, as if the question has caught him off guard. ‘You mean the female and the warrior?’ He shrugs his shoulders, as if the matter is of no
consequence. ‘They fled the field of battle, both of them – assumed you were dead I think, and with two demons ripping shreds out of each other, I don’t entirely blame
them.’

You shake your head, the full weight of what happened suddenly crashing down around you in a jumble of frightening, confusing memories. ‘They were hoping to find answers – something
to help with their war. They never guessed . . .’ You choke on your words, torn by grief. ‘A demon . . . the forest was a prison. The custodian tried to warn me.’ You meet the
witchfinder’s gaze. ‘What will happen now? To Carvel? To the moorlands?’

Virgil brushes your concern away with a nonchalant snort. ‘The Church and the Wiccans . . . that is not a squabble to be solved by the likes of you or I. Besides, we have greater concerns
now. Their bickering has only served to put the entire world in danger. By opening up the forest, they have released a most terrible evil – one that must be stopped before it is too
late.’

Return to
494
to ask another question, or turn to
433
to continue.

425

The tree house has a low ceiling, which you discover quite quickly when you knock your head several times on its slanting beams. Reminding yourself that this was built for
children, you stoop your shoulders in order to explore the interior. In the middle of the room is a tree-stump table, surrounded by stools and benches. You spot three names carved into the surface
of the table –
Jacob, Joss
and
Adam
. The last name has been crossed out. At the other side of the room is a trunk. You open it up, to find a childlike stash of odds and ends
inside. Most of these are toys, like wooden soldiers or balls and hoops, but you also discover some potions and ointments, which you may take:

With nothing else of interest in the tree house, you climb back down the tree – stepping through the magic portal to continue your journey. Turn to
46
.

426

Damaris scowls, her fists clenching at her side. ‘They came from the east, with their swords and their pride and their infallible faith. They had no care for my people or
the old magic. If we didn’t renounce our ways and worship their false god then they imprisoned us, or put our homes to the torch. Our most sacred sites were destroyed or defiled. Those of us
that didn’t surrender were forced to flee – to become what you see now, stragglers with no place to call home.’ Damaris takes a deep breath, calming her anger. ‘If you poke
a hive for long enough, you’re going to get stung.’ She glares at you defiantly. ‘We intend to be the swarm that brings them to their knees.’

Turn to
126
to ask Damaris another question.

427

A portal flickers into being and from it an immense creature steps out into the chamber. Fashioned from chunks of black rock, the giant has a roughly humanoid appearance, its
stumpy arms ending in boulder-sized fists. With a grating rumble, it stomps towards you, an angry fire burning from its hollow eye sockets. You must now fight:

Special abilities