The Eye of Winter's Fury (12 page)

If you manage to defeat the alpha wolf, turn to
273
.

55

Maune is chuckling to himself. ‘Hal . . . Hal Arbuckle.’

Anise glares at him. ‘You know that lunatic?’

The paladin rises to his feet, hands raised in surrender. ‘Hal, you blind fool, it’s me. Take a shot at this and that black soul of yours is headed straight for damnation.’

There is a heavy moment of silence. Then from the tower you hear a cackle of laughter. Maune turns to you, grinning. ‘I think we’re safe now.’

You follow the paladin into the ruins, where a man is hobbling down a set of worn stairs. He is elderly, dressed in oily leathers and a thick woollen cloak. Grey tangled hair flares wildly around a metal helm, which looks far too small for his head; most probably of goblin-origin – you spot several of their corpses lined against a wall.

The man stumbles towards you, favouring his left leg. The other drags slightly, evidently the result of an old wound. A rifle rests against his shoulder.

Maune moves forward, embracing the old man. ‘Hal, my friend.’ He quickly casts his eyes around the ruins. ‘What happened?’

‘Since you saved us from those trolls?’ The old sniper shakes his head. ‘Bad to worse. We’re grounded now, making some repairs. But hope to be airborne soon.’ He glances past the paladin, eyeing up the rest of you. ‘I don’t want any trouble. If yer here to trade, all well and good. But we ain’t taking on any extra baggage.’

‘Understood,’ replies Maune. His eyes find your own, and you read his underlying warning. ‘No baggage.’

A crunch of boots forces you to turn. A plump woman approaches
from around a wall, a pair of goggles pushed back into her thick russet hair. Her clothes are ragged and weather-worn, their colours faded into an indeterminate shade. One of her hands is bandaged, the other cradles a rifle.

‘Belinda, me wife,’ says Hal.

Despite the woman’s dishevelled appearance, she still manages a warm and friendly smile.

‘And that’s me brother, Darin.’

You look round, to see a short man with straw-yellow hair turning a piece of meat over a fire. He lifts his scarred face, giving only a swift nod in greeting. Behind him, you see a thicker plume of smoke rising out of a great, wooden gondola – one element of a confusing jumble of parts that reminds you of a beached sailing vessel.

‘Oh, that there is
The Free Spirit
,’ grins Hal, noting your confused expression. ‘Me pride and joy.’

The hull is riddled with an odd array of sails and paddles, all seemingly linked by a confusing network of ropes. Spread on the rocks behind them is a vast leather balloon, its arrow-like shape formed from curved steel rods. They poke out of various ripped holes where the balloon has evidently sustained damage. Patches already cover much of its length.

‘Yeah, not so free at the moment,’ sighs Hal. ‘All thanks to those blasted dactyls. Least they make a good supper.’ He lifts his bushy eyebrows, pointing a stubby finger at the meat his brother is cooking.

‘If you have supplies, we could trade,’ says Maune. ‘We’re headed north; we’ll take whatever you can spare. For a fair price, of course.’

Hal rubs the side of his red-veined nose. ‘Well, sure. I got a first aid kit, and a few things I dug up down in those rifts – Dwarven treasures and a few old weapons. I’ll trade ya what yer don’t need, too.’ He gestures to his ruined airship. ‘I’ll use anything right now, to get her back where she belongs. Come.’ Hal leads you into the ruined tower, where a set of sacks and crates have been piled against one of the walls. (Record the keyword
survivors
on your hero sheet.)

56

When you recover you find that you are still inside the laboratory, but Talia has fled. Next to you is a pouch of gold and a hastily scrawled note: ‘Hope I didn’t break your heart, honey.’ You open up the pouch to find 50 gold crowns inside.

After retrieving your weapons, you begin a search of the lab. Turn to
747
.

57

For defeating the rift demon, you may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:

When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
503
.

58

You walk through the vast library, stopping occasionally to study some of the books that are on display. The majority appear to be history books. Only a few seem to pertain to magic, which surprises you considering this is Segg’s library. Perhaps he keeps his magic books elsewhere.

You find yourself drawn to an area of shelving where the books seem older, most of them displaying loose pages or tattered bindings. Perhaps there will be something here of greater value.

If you have the keyword
secrets
on your hero sheet, turn to
359
. Otherwise, your search is once again unsuccessful. You may return to the courtyard (turn to
113
) or visit and speak with Segg (turn to
328
).

59

You clamber down the stepped slope, eventually splashing down into a shallow mud basin at the bottom of the ravine. Hot and thirsty from your descent, you eye the dark pools of water with a sudden keenness. Sagging to your knees you lean over the nearest one, cupping your hands to take a sip of the water. Its smell, however, forces you to recoil. The water is black with dirt, its surface filmed with a frothy layer of slime. Angrily, you push yourself away and continue onwards, taking more dragon leaf from your pouch to stave off your hunger pains.

Once in the forest, you discover there is no obvious trail to follow. Instead you are forced to weave between the tight press of trees and the gnarly, criss-crossing branches. Scratched and bloodied, you are relieved when you finally stumble out into a wide clearing.

The ground is boggy, the stench of rot even stronger here than it was back at the basin. Around the edge of the clearing a ring of giant toadstools is growing out of the mud, their black-pointed caps giving off a sickly yellow smoke. At the centre of the ring, you can see a scattering of bones and some tattered looking belongings. Evidently another traveller came this way and must have fallen foul of something, but you are not sure what. There looks to be a water flask lying in the mud next to some of the bones. The lid is intact – perhaps it might contain some fresh water to drink. Licking your lips, you ponder your next move.

60

Between you and Mount Skringskal lies a vast expanse of floating debris, evidently the result of whatever explosion or tremor ripped apart the land. Some magic, possibly seeping out of the dark rift, holds the rock suspended in space, leaving a cluttered maze of obstacles for you to navigate around.

Cautiously, you drop speed to pass through the first of the rock fields, using the opportunity to gain a feel for the handling and flight of your transport. Just as you are starting to gain confidence, accelerating over the last of the smaller, spinning rocks, you are faced by the first of the giant islands. Passing it would pose no problem, but its barren topside is scattered with black towers, each one flickering with magic. You guess they must be some sort of defence, created by the witch to guard against anyone attempting to reach the mountain.

‘Watch out!’ shouts Skoll.

His warning comes just in time. A bolt of lightning splits the air, crackling outwards from one of the towers. Quickly you dodge aside, managing to avoid the blast – but already you can see other towers powering up their charges.

‘Underneath! Take it underneath!’ Anise points to the ragged base of the island. You notice winged shapes roosting along the many ridges and crevices; hanging from the rock by their claws. A few have sighted your approach, cawing and screeching in alarm.

61

‘You were found north of Whisper Vale, by a trapper from the White Wolf company. He didn’t know who you were, else I’m sure he’d have held you ransom for a better reward.’ The knight draws a tight breath. ‘That was four weeks ago. When you came to us, you were unconscious, feverish. There were wounds – frostbite. You had it bad. We
weren’t sure we could save you.’ He shares a glance with Segg, the crimson-robed man. ‘I don’t know if it was luck or . . .’ He stops to clear his throat. ‘You are still with us, Arran. And in these times, I believe that is a mercy.’

Return to
291
to ask another question, or turn to
98
to end the conversation.

62

As your hand settles around the hilt of the enchanted sword a rush of intense cold races up your arm, forcing you to stiffen. The weapon begins to shift in shape, flickering between a two-pronged staff, a short-bladed dagger and the original long sword. You suspect that this ancient artefact is somehow melding itself to its wielder’s will.

If you wish, you may impose one of the following forms on the weapon (dagger, sword or staff) – and equip this special reward:

You may now try and open the chest, if you haven’t already (turn to
167
), or cross back to the tree and continue onwards (turn to
509
.)

63

You spot two men chatting animatedly nearby. One of them is positioning various mugs, plates and pieces of cutlery on the table top to form a map. Both are well-dressed, in thick padded leathers trimmed with fur. One has a set of goggles pushed back into his red-dyed hair. You guess they are both sled racers.

‘Stay on the ice, here and here,’ says the red-haired racer, moving his finger in a path between two tankards. ‘It’s tempting to take the snow banks, the obvious short cut. But remember, the snow heats the ice – makes it more brittle. Hides the crevasses, too. Stay on the ice.’

‘What about the caves?’ asks his companion, pointing to one of the plates. ‘I’d normally go top level, less room for passing. But the turning’s more difficult. If you get a bottleneck someone’s going bye-bye.’

‘Agreed. With all the tremors we’ve been having lately, I’d skirt the caves – miss them out completely. It’s a longer route, granted, but less risk of getting trapped or shunted into the walls. I’m playing it safe.’

64

‘Oh that thing, it’s nothing,’ replies Harris, squirming uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Something I found in Segg’s private library, that’s all.’

‘Another library?’ you ask, intrigued. You glance around at the hundreds of books on show. ‘Is this not enough for him?’

The boy chews nervously at his bottom lip, clearly deliberating over his answer. You notice his eyes dart several times to the shelves next to the table. You follow his gaze, seeing nothing untoward.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ says Harris, quickly. ‘He’d roast me in an instant if he knew I’d been inside. Secrets are secrets, after all.’

65

You pick up the box, captivated by its level of craftsmanship. The lid has been painstakingly carved from ivory, its details inlaid with fine silver filigree. The design forms a glittering chain of leaves that march around the edges of the lid, framing its stunning centre-piece – a wolf
sculptured in high relief, its head thrown back to howl at the moon.

Excited by what you might find inside, you quickly flip open the lid. Sadly, your hopes of finding treasure are quickly dashed. Its contents are plain and mundane – just some bottles of ink and a black-feathered quill. You doubt you will have much need of such items on your travels, but you recognise that the quill is well-made. Perhaps it will fetch a good price in a local village or town, to help purchase supplies for your journey home. If you wish you may now take the
black feather quill
. (Simply make a note of it on your hero sheet, it does not take up backpack space.)

As your eyes drift back to the bubbling pot of stew, a scrape of boots outside the cabin alerts you to danger. Turn to
102
.

66

You urge Skoll to let the creatures go, preferring to focus your attention on the corpses. It appears that each man was killed by a single puncture wound straight to the heart. You cannot fathom how a group of nine men, all hardy-looking and armed with knives and other blades, were clearly taken unawares and each killed in exactly the same fashion.