The Eye of Winter's Fury (37 page)

‘Was good sailing with yer, Cap’n,’ he grins crookedly.

You pat the conch. ‘We will still have need of the ship. Listen for my call.’

The sailor salutes you. ‘You’re our captain now. One of us.’

You glance past his shoulder at the other crewmen, all dutifully watching you with an earnest trust. Their faith in you is almost
touching – filling you with an odd sense of pride. Nodding farewell to the assembled crew, you turn and follow the others into the mountain. (Return to the map to continue your journey.)

239

‘It’s something I dabble in from time to time,’ Sylvie shrugs. ‘Just taking what nature provides and enhancing it.’

‘Enhancing it?’ You lean forward with interest. ‘Do you mean magic?’

Sylvie gives your comment a dismissive wave. ‘Bah, if you want to name it so. A few petty runes, a simple incantation or two. I’m not entirely sure my work always has the desired effect, but the charms prove popular to passing tinkers who then sell them onto the towns and villages. In return I get the delicacies I wouldn’t otherwise see. Spices, pastries, honeycomb. I do have something of a sweet tooth, I’m afraid.’

Return to
191
to ask another question, or turn to
207
to end the conversation.

240

For besting Desnar and becoming leader of the bear tribe, your bond with Nanuk’s spirit has strengthened. You have also gained the following special ability:

Pain barrier (mo):
Heal yourself for the total passive damage inflicted to a single opponent in the current combat round. (For example, if an opponent was inflicted with
bleed
and
disease
, you would be able to heal 3
health
– 1+2). This ability can only be used once per combat.

When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
721
.

241

The guard removes the two of moons from his hand and places it face down on the discard pile. He reaches into the pouch and takes another stone at random. He has now gained the four of stars:

Next, the hooded ghost discards a stone from his own hand and takes another from the bag. A cold, cackling laughter comes from the shadows of his cowl as he studies his new hand.

‘What should I do now?’ whispers the guard. ‘I have a fool’s pair. It might win me the game.’

242

Time spent investigating the disturbance means that some of the barrels have not been filled. Once the cart has been loaded up, you count eight filled barrels out of the original twelve.

‘Could have been better,’ grumbles Kirk, wiping his brow. ‘But no matter, some is better than none, eh?’

The team only managed to fill
8 barrels of tar
. (Make a note of this on your hero sheet then turn to
315
.)

243

As you are about to start up the slope, you spot a glimmer of something from the corner of your eye. Ducking down to avoid being seen,
you crawl over to the edge of the cave where rubble covers much of the wall. Half-buried beneath the rock fall is the skeleton of some humanoid creature. You carefully pull away a few of the stones, to reveal their hand – clasped around a large green gemstone.

Evidently, the goblin scavengers must have missed this rare treasure. If you wish to take the
flawless emerald
simply make a note of it on your hero sheet, it doesn’t take up backpack space.

The goblins remain focused on their leader, who is grunting and cursing as he struggles to reach whatever object has caught his eye. You decide to leave them to it – hurrying up the slope and into the tunnel. Turn to
2
.

244

You push through the trees, purposefully steering yourself away from the wider trail into the denser woodland. Within minutes you have lost all sense of direction, your way impeded by the thick undergrowth and clawing limbs of the forest. You doubt the wounded inquisitor could find you in these tangled wilds, but your fear urges you onwards, deeper and deeper into the thicket.

You don’t see your attacker until it is too late – a furred body springs agilely from out of the trees, locking onto your back and dragging you to the ground.

You try and swat the creature away, feeling claws dig through your jerkin, lancing you with pain. A muzzle swings into view, fangs flecked with hot spittle.

A wolf. Somehow, you manage to find your feet, despite the weight of the animal. With a cry of exertion, you hurl yourself back against the nearest tree, ramming your attacker. The beast gives a yelping growl, but its claws only dig deeper, its hold on you tightening.

You fall to the forest floor, the wolf dragging you down, its jaws now worrying at your cloak, trying to lock onto something solid. Then a bright arrow of light cuts through the air, exploding next to you in a blinding flash. Suddenly, the weight is gone; a high-pitched whine rends the air.

You turn to see the wolf bolting into the undergrowth, half-running and half-loping – one side of its body a smoking ruin. But the
relief of your sudden rescue is short-lived. Painfully you twist back to look upon the inquisitor, his raised fist still glowing with bright magic.

‘Should have left you to the wolves,’ he scowls. ‘But I’ll finish this myself.’

You glimpse shadows at the corners of your vision, flitting between the trees. A trick of the light, perhaps – or just a product of your pain and fear. You ignore them, your attention remaining fixed on the inquisitor. ‘Who gave the order – was it Cardinal Rile?’ You spit out the name accusingly. ‘Did he ask you to do this – to lead us out here, to kill Tarlow and the others?’

‘A perfect plan,’ nods the inquisitor, tugging the dagger from his belt. ‘We weren’t expecting the Wiccan, but that’s all for the better. I’ll make this look like their work, not ours.’ He advances towards you, boots crunching through the sudden silence.

You struggle to your knees, the movement making you dizzy with pain. ‘The inquisition . . . you call yourself holy – protectors of the weak!’ You force back a wave of nausea, half-choking on the bitter bile. ‘I thought . . . you stood for goodness – for purity. And here you are, wanting to kill a prince! Call me a coward, then – a craven. What does that make you, oath breaker?’

Something in your words halts the warrior. His brow furrows, making a V of his punctured scar. ‘The Church still stands for good,’ he mutters. ‘I must do what I was ordered.’

‘Please, you don’t have to—’

The warrior lunges, looking to grab you with his free hand. Too late, his eyes shift sideways – to the wolves, darting past the trees. Two of them, bigger than the last, spring on top of him in a blur of fur and teeth. Desperately, the warrior twists and spins, trying to stop them gaining leverage, but their heavy bodies are already latched tight to his, dragging him down to the forest floor.

245

You place the ‘one of crowns’ on the discard pile and pick a new stone from the bag. You have gained the ‘three of crowns’.

You have the following stones:

The monk takes his turn with an almost wearisome air, tossing the stone that he picked back onto the discard pile. You wonder if he’s already got a winning hand or is simply bluffing. It is now your move.

246

You can smell blood and carrion before you even enter the chamber. A giant eagle is ripping at a corpse with its talons, pulling stringy lengths of meat away in its sharp beak. The creature bristles with surprise as you enter, its head flicking back, tilting quickly from side to side.

It stands its ground, wings flapping golden feathers through the air as it emits a guttural series of screeches and hacking squeals. A clear warning.

Skoll’s eyes are wide, moving from the mangled corpse to the bird and back again. The rumbling from his stomach betrays the course of his thoughts – you wonder if it is the bird or the meaty corpse that holds the most appeal.

Then you notice the saddle and harness, piled in the corner. And next to them, a backpack.

You glance around cautiously, reminding yourself of the layout of the chamber. It is small, more of a natural cave than the carved,
angular halls that comprise most of the mountain. An opening to the east leads out onto a short ledge, then the empty blackness of the rift. The chill, cold wind blasts at you from the dark, filling your ears with its keening cry.

At the opposite end of the chamber, behind the eagle, is a slope of rock angling around the edge of the cave to a doorway above. It is there you see the light, shining white and solid around a shadowed figure.

‘What is it, Gwen? Found something to feast on at last?’

The figure strides confidently into the chamber. A short man, his build muscular and hard. A white cloak hangs off his broad shoulders, flapping around black boots spattered with mud. He stops when he sees you.

‘Gwen, you’ve got yourself a pair of admirers.’

‘Who are you?’ rumbles Skoll, his hunger making him short on manners.

The man resumes his descent of the slope, his eyes darting between you and the Skard. The light hangs like an aura around him. It isn’t until he gets closer that you realise it is coming from his skin: hundreds of jagged lines glowing across his face and shaven scalp – and the flesh exposed between his gloves and the sleeves of his ermine jacket. The light gives off an angry heat, one you find both oppressive and daunting . . .

Just like the sword my father gave me
, you remind yourself.
Holy magic.

‘You’re a paladin.’ The word is spat like poison from your lips.

The man puts a hand to the hilt of his scabbarded sword. ‘Yes.’

His cold, grey eyes are the mirror of the eagle’s, now standing silent and watchful as it ruffles its feathers. ‘My name is Maune – and I am a paladin of the seventh circle. You speak of my calling as you might an enemy; someone who has caused you ill. I am only your enemy if you give me reason to be.’ He gives Skoll a sharp look. ‘I am a holy man. A devout servant of the One God.’

Skoll is fingering his axe. You can tell he is weighing up his options. Food and water dominate his thoughts, not sharing pleasantries. You shift your attention to the man’s pile of belongings. A number of canteens are strapped to the outside of his pack. No doubt he also has food stashed inside.

247

Wishing to avoid a confrontation with the hunter, you hurry deeper into the cave. The opposite tunnel forms a twisting pathway, at times only wide enough for you to squeeze through sideways. After much pushing and scraping, you find yourself stumbling into a tight circular chamber, small enough to touch both walls from its centre. You have reached a dead end – but the shaft is less than twenty metres high, and at its summit you can see daylight, filtering between a mesh-like structure. Against the brightness of the sky, it is difficult to tell what is causing it.

Back along the tunnel you hear grunting and the scuff of boots. The hunter is still after you.