The Eye of Winter's Fury (107 page)

‘Titan blood . . .’ You step around the slab of ice, taking a closer look at the creature. It is humanoid in appearance, but instead of flesh and bone there are simply chunks of glowing rock, sculptured and fitted together like some bewildering jigsaw. The legs and arms are bound by black-iron chains, sunk deep into the ice. Runes flicker along their length – their power still evident. You assume the creature was bound here to leech it of its blood. You look back along its body. The creature appears lifeless, its spirit fled. The face has been chiselled to look almost human, its eyes staring vacantly up at the ceiling.

As your gaze moves across the cavern, you catch a flash of colour in the ice wall ahead. Curious, you walk over to investigate, noting other shapes held within the ice. As you get closer, you feel a sudden dread knotting your stomach; Nanuk’s presence shifts and tugs at you, bringing a nervous growl rumbling into your throat.

A body is suspended inside the ice. A woman in furs and leather. The stitched badge on her clothing reads:
Reah.

You put a hand to the ice, brushing away the loose flecks. The face staring back at you is the same explorer you met in the canyon, her eyes vacant and lifeless like those carved into the stone creature. You scan the wall as you back away, your gaze flicking from one body to another – maybe a hundred or more, all trapped within the ice. There are human bodies and other creatures – goblins, trolls, giants, even dwarves. You see Jerico, the man that was wounded in the tent. Diggory, the man who asked you to come here – to rescue his team. You remember the haunting desperation in his voice, the words now given new and sinister meaning.

Please, give us peace.

‘What is this place?’ you gasp.

You note Caul is standing next to one of the bodies, his mouth moving but struggling to find words. ‘I . . . it can’t be . . .’

‘Did you know them?’ You hurry to his side, squinting at the body
held inside the ice. It is a man, broad of shoulder, clad in tanned furs. His blond hair is plastered across much of his face, but there is no mistaking who it is – a perfect mirror image.

Caul is frozen in the ice.

You look back at the man standing next to you – his own expression one of horrified bewilderment. ‘I’m dead,’ he whispers. ‘I’m dead.’

You step away, hands tightening around your weapons. ‘If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel.’

Caul turns to you, his pale face still slack with shock. ‘I didn’t . . . I don’t remember . . . I must have . . . I died here . . . I died . . .
I DIED
.’ His voice deepens, becoming something different, alien. His lips pull back from his teeth, his expression taking on a menacing ferocity. ‘
I WAS BETRAYED. ME! FAFNIR! THEY TOOK MY BLOOD, MY BODY . . . BUT THEY WILL NEVER HAVE MY SOUL!
’

Flakes of ice shower down from above. Your eyes are drawn to the ceiling, where a black shape is moving across the ice – a gigantic scaled beast, its two reptilian heads displaying a worrying assortment of jagged fangs.

Along the ridges of its back, some growth has taken root: a monstrous parasite of corpulent flesh, its many weeping sores oozing long, pale tentacles. Some are hooked into the ice, trailing to the bodies that hang suspended there. Others are flowing down, like streamers, their ends snapping with tiny black teeth.

The monstrous drake opens its twin mouths and emits a bellowing screech, one that is also echoed by Caul as he lunges forward with his spear. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Hunter’s guile : If Caul rolls a double for his attack speed, he automatically wins the round, even if your result was higher. You cannot use reroll abilities to alter this outcome.
	Fafnir’s embrace : The tentacles are trying to latch onto you and drain your life force. At the end of each combat round roll a die. If the result is or less, the tentacles have latched onto you. This immediately lowers your brawn and magic by 1 each time. If the result is or more, you have managed to avoid them, suffering no penalty. (If the tentacles are reduced to zero health , this ability no longer applies. However, you cannot restore your lowered attributes until the end of the combat)

If you defeat your devious opponents, restore any lowered attributes then turn to
615
.

738

You follow, quite literally, in Desnar’s footsteps – shadowing his trail by placing your feet in the depressions he has already made. The Skard sets a tireless pace, maintaining a constant speed and presenting you with only a distant black smudge against the endless white expanse.

As the morning lengthens, sunlight breaks through an opening in the clouds, bathing the landscape in a sparkling sheen. To your sensitive eyes, its incessant glare is a constant pain. You tug your hood down as far as it will go, concentrating on the immediate line of footprints that lead you further into the wastes.

The canyon appears from nowhere. The ground banks steeply, then drops away into a steep-sided gorge. Thankfully, there are a number of shelves and ledges meandering down to its base: a huge plain, studded with black rock and scraggly-looking scarlet grass. A large herd of animals are packed closely together, resembling white-furred deer. They are using the thick coarse hair hanging from their necks to brush the snow from the ground, revealing more stumps of grass to chew on.

‘Muttok,’ you grin. These relatively docile animals are highly-prized for their winter pelts – if they can be caught.

Desnar has already reached the canyon floor, creeping towards the herd with a javelin resting against his shoulder. You scramble after him, not wishing to be left behind. However, you have barely started your descent before you hear a barking call ring out across the canyon. Perhaps it was the skittering of loose stones that gave away your position, or a sudden shift in the wind.

At the centre of the herd, one of the animals has raised its head - a
grey-haired muttok with a pair of large barbed antlers branching from its forehead. The beast gives another barking call. The rest of the herd are now looking around, sniffing at the air, eyes wide and startled. Then, as one, they start running, filling the canyon with the thunder of their hooves.

Desnar spins round angrily, his eyes casting daggers. ‘Skoja Pah!’

With a snarl the Skard sprints after the fleeing herd, moving with a startling speed across the uneven ground. You pull a javelin from your holster and follow his lead once again, realising that it will take considerable skill to best this practised hunter and bring down the fleet-footed muttok. Turn to
652
.

739

There is a thunderous roar as the power of the runes assault the giant, coating his body in flickering waves of torturous agony. He stumbles back, wobbles, then teeters forward, dropping to his knees. Spectral claws blossom from your fingertips as you leap onto his back, slashing away like a frenzied animal.

The giant belches a torrent of angry flame, then his life-spark dulls to darkness. He slumps forward into the dust, smoke pluming from around his dented helm. Skoll picks himself up, his skin and clothing caked in dirt and blood. He leans forward to spit out a tooth.

‘That was a good fight, Bearclaw. There will be songs sung of this day.’ He steps forward, settling his hands around a splintered horn on the giant’s helm. With a grunt he rips it free, holding it up. ‘Trophy.’

Nanuk’s bloodthirst has yet to abate. Extending your claws once again, you proceed to cut and slash with a bestial vigour. A few moments later, you have the giant’s spinal column dangling from your hands. You give an answering smile. ‘Trophy.’

If you wish, you may now claim the following item:

Giant’s backbone

(backpack)

Sticks and stones won’t
break
these
bones

If you are a warrior, turn to
206
. If you are a mage, turn to
576
. If you are a rogue, turn to
399
.

740

You look down at the musket barrels and a plan starts to form. If you could somehow block the barrels, then there might be a chance the guns will backfire – taking out Jackson and giving you access to his store.

If you have
seal blubber
on your hero sheet and wish to use it, turn to
723
. Otherwise, you have no means of blocking the gun barrels. You may now continue trading and discussing news (turn to
685
) or return to the quest map to continue your adventure.

741

You join Talia in the secret basement. The woman is already rooting through a pile of papers scattered across a table top. Your own attention is drawn to the cadavers chained to a set of beds. Their skin is hairless and translucent, stretched taut over their skeletal frames.

You lean in close to the nearest of the corpses, wondering what has kept the body from decaying. Suddenly you jerk back as the cadaver’s eyelids flip open. With a hoarse-sounding groan, the creature starts to kick and tug, struggling to free itself.

‘This one’s alive!’ you gasp in revulsion, drawing away from the writhing body.

‘Then put it out of its misery,’ says Talia matter-of-factly.

Your hands move to your weapons – but, with some relief, you see the body has stopped moving and is now lying limp against the bed, its eyes closed once again.

‘What . . . what went on here?’ You glance around at the charts and arcane equipment.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Talia clicks her tongue in annoyance as she moves to another table, pushing away flasks and vials to rummage through more papers. ‘They were test subjects. Mandaleev was working on a virus.’

‘A what?’ Your eyes fall on a row of cages, stacked against one wall. A few are open and empty, others contain dead rats. ‘But you said he was obsessed with creating a superhuman, a mutant?’