The Eye of Winter's Fury (41 page)

If you manage to defeat this corrupted predator, turn to
3
.

276

Tired and miserable, you decide to tell the truth. The woman listens to your story in silence, her expression unchanging. As you draw to its end, choosing to omit the part about the strange demon, a hint of irritation creeps into your voice. Why doesn’t this woman show any concern or alarm? She didn’t flinch when you described the bloody massacre on the road or the very fact that you are a crown prince of the realm.

Your words falter to silence, waiting expectantly for a response.

The women regards you for a moment longer, then gives a dismissive snort. ‘I’ve heard some tall tales in my time, boy . . .’

‘It’s true,’ you implore, feeling your anger surge once again. ‘Would I have this if I was just some . . . some commoner?’ You lift the
scabbard at your side, showing her its jewels and the holy inscriptions on the hilt. ‘This is Duran’s Heart. A named blade, given to me on my thirteenth birthday.’

The woman takes a step closer, but her eyes linger on your face rather than the blade. ‘You could have stolen it.’

Her accusation startles you. ‘I’m no thief! You can have the sword – I can’t even touch the cursed thing.’

The woman’s frown returns. ‘Is this true?’

Too late, you realise what you have done, blurting out your secret with no mind to the consequences. To confess such a thing is almost tantamount to treason.

‘I can only touch the scabbard,’ you reply honestly, seeing no reason to spin a lie now you’ve gone this far. ‘Since I was given it, the inscriptions have always . . .’ You struggle for the words.

‘Rejected you?’ the woman supplies thoughtfully.

You nod, trying to gauge her reaction. This secret is one you have only shared once before, with your nursemaid Molly. And you doubt she’ll be telling anyone now.

‘You’re no witchfinder, then,’ the woman appears to visibly relax. ‘Perhaps there is some truth in what you say after all.’ (Make a note of the word
prince
on your hero sheet, then turn to
249
.)

277

The bearded warrior is tearing at a hunk of meat. He stops eating as you approach, his mouth hanging open with half-chewed food.

‘Thought you might want these.’ You place the gauntlets on the table, then await his response.

Ran finally closes his mouth, chewing and swallowing his food. After wiping his fingers on his jerkin, he lifts up one of the gauntlets to inspect it. He nods, his smile widening. ‘Where did you find ’em?’

‘It’s a long story,’ you reply, glancing warily at the other soldiers. ‘Maybe best not to ask too many questions.’

‘The thief?’

‘Has learnt their lesson.’

Ran leans back, fumbling for something by his waist. After much grunting, he drops a small leather pouch onto the table. ‘That’s some
of me earnings and a little keepsake. Take it. Least I can do.’

You pick up the pouch, opening it up to find it filled with gold. You also spot a plain copper ring amongst the glittering coins. ‘No, you keep this . . .’

Ran puts out his hands, shaking his head. ‘Won’t hear another word. I like to reward honesty – trust me, not much of that around ’ere. Me, I’m just content with a full belly and a pillow for me head. Now shoot, before I change my mind.’

You have gained 50 gold crowns and the following item:

Constant copper

(ring)
+1 brawn +1 magic

Ability: watchful

After thanking the soldier, you leave the hall and return to the courtyard. Remove the keyword
gains
from your hero sheet, then turn to
113
.

278

You find yourself in a small, cobwebbed chamber lit by an eerie green orb of light. It slowly circles the room, illuminating shabby-looking shelves and cupboards and piles of wooden boxes and trunks. The air is thick with dust and the stale stench of decay.

A quick search reveals that this space is some kind of store-room. As well as mildewed books and some chipped stone tablets covered in runes, you also find various arcane objects – wands, staffs and charms – and a few musty items of clothing, which you assume must be enchanted in some way. Clearly, Segg must have collected these over the course of his lifetime; perhaps some were pilfered from the dark creatures that have assailed this keep.

Aware that you might be discovered at any time, you hurry your search for something useful. Three items catch your eye: a book of spells, written onto sheets of flayed human skin; a pair of black boots frosted with ice; and a stone tablet, its pock-mocked surface crawling with dark runes of death and necromancy.

You may now choose up to two of the following items:

When you have made your choice, you quickly pull on the book levers to flip the wall and return to the main library. From here, you may enter Segg’s quarters and speak with the mage (turn to
328
) or return to the courtyard (turn to
113
).

279

‘Oh, they’re prospectors,’ explains the thief. He lifts his chin, scanning the tops of the tents. ‘Ryker’s clever, been using them to check out the rifts and tunnels, check what’s safe before he sends his men in. Look, over there.’ He tugs on your arm and points to a pair of elegantly-dressed gentlemen with scented pomanders held to their noses. Behind them, hovering at shoulder height, are two globes of yellow magic.

‘Miners used to have canaries with ’em. If there’s danger, bad air and stuff, then the canaries would keel over and die. That’s how the mages got their name. Ryker gets ’em to scout out the caves; they send in those yellow things, like eyeballs; they see what’s going on, then somehow what they see gets sent back to the mages.’ He taps the side of his head, rolling his eyes. ‘Crazy magic, eh?’

You glance back at the white sheets tethered to the wall. ‘Interesting, but what’s that got to do with the sled races?’

The man whistles through his black teeth. ‘Think we gonna watch out there in the cold?’ He shakes his head. ‘The canaries follow the racers, then we sees the pictures – just like a moving painting, right there.’ He points to the stretched sheets. ‘Like we said, Ryker’s calling it big sheet entertainment. Wouldn’t want to miss any of the action now, would we?’

To continue chatting to the thief, return to
288
. To explore the rest of the compound. Turn to
106
.

280

With the dogs defeated and their pack mates struggling in the mire, you are free to cross to the other side unhindered. You pause at the mouth of the cave, looking back towards the shore. One of the Skard hunters is hurrying towards the first of the stones, an axe in one hand and a knife in the other. Of his companions, there is no obvious sign. Turn to
344
.

281

Ignoring the strange ghost, you take the unlit lamp (make a note of the word
lamp
on your hero sheet) and then continue into the next passageway. Turn to
385
.

282

Without speaking you head for the door, not wishing to remain here a moment longer. But Sylvie’s voice brings you up short, you pause on the threshold.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says.

‘You should not have done what you did.’ You glance back over your shoulder, your eyes narrowed with anger. ‘You don’t know what it’s like.’

‘No, you’re right, I don’t.’ Sylvie steps away from the sizzling breakfast, her face etched with concern. ‘Randal had the gift also. And the moment I saw you, I just knew.’

‘How? How did you—?’

‘I sensed the magic within you. But not like a mage – not one who chooses to use it, takes it and moulds it to their will. No, with you it’s different. It is like the magic is just a natural part of you. As it was with Randal.’

Anger turns to surprise. ‘Do you know what these . . . these dreams are? Why me?’

‘All I know is what Randal told me or I’ve managed to deduce from my studies. There’s an old Skard word, Norr. It means crossing, the state between waking and sleeping. Some minds are able to dwell there, to walk that place as a spirit body.’

‘Norr?’ You frown, trying to recall ever having heard the word.

‘It’s the thin line, the meeting place between our world and the shroud – the realm of magic.’

You feel the cold in your stomach twist into knots of fear. ‘The shroud.’ You have always been forbidden to mention such a thing. To the Church it is a blasphemous evil, a hell where demons and other malign spirits dwell. ‘I . . . I never knew. No one ever told me. They can’t have known.’

‘It’s a rare affliction, boy.’ Sylvie meets your troubled gaze. ‘I’m sorry.’

You close your eyes to stop the room from spinning, still giddy from the dream. ‘This can’t be happening to me . . .’ Instinctively you reach for your pouch, relieved to find it is still attached to your belt. You have enough dragon leaf to keep the dreams away, for a while at least . . .

‘That won’t help you.’ Sylvie puts a hand to her hip, the other pointing with her knife. ‘That is the coward’s way. You need to become stronger, boy. The mind is like a muscle. It must be exercised. Avoiding the dreams will only make it worse.’

283

Guards spill into the room, their torches pushing back the shadows. You raise an arm, shielding yourself from the sudden brightness, struggling to focus. Dark shapes blur past, bodies smelling of sweat and the winter’s cold.

A hooded man shifts into view, his face made sharp by the flickering
torchlight. It is Rook, one of Everard’s soldiers. He is speaking to you, but it takes a moment before the sounds wash in.

‘Speak to me – what happened?’ His tone is clipped, used to getting answers.

You notice some of the guards circling you, weapons drawn. Others are inspecting the bodies. Of the men that surround you, their distrust is evident.

‘Anise?’ The word catches in your throat. You start forward but an arm holds you back.

‘She’s fine,’ says Rook. He moves in front of you, piercing blue eyes flashing beneath his hood. ‘It’s over now. It’s over.’

A blanket is put around your shoulders, its coarseness scratching at your neck and arms.

‘Move aside,’ someone orders. Bodies brush past you again. More words are spoken, gruff and commanding, but you are no longer listening. A white noise roars in your ears – becoming screams, the necromancer’s laughter.

‘This tower is out of bounds!’ A single voice drags you back. You open your eyes to see a flurry of crimson robes sweeping into the room. ‘One God, protect us!’ Segg takes one look at the destruction and then begins gesturing frantically to the guards. ‘Seal this place! Seal it now. We must leave!’

The elderly mage hurries to your side, full of concern. ‘Are you all right? Are you hurt?’

‘It was a dare,’ you reply weakly, too numb to feel anything. ‘To survive the night.’ Your eyes drift to the open doorway – where the first light of dawn is creeping steadily across the stonework.

Record the keyword
fractured
on your hero sheet, then return to the map to continue your adventure.

284

The grasping hands drive you into the creature’s mouth, where the devilish heads snap and bite at your clothing, piercing through to the flesh beneath. Nanuk sends his strength into you, pooling magic into your clawed hands. With a bestial roar, you drive your bolstered spirit energies into the maw of the beast – turning your head away from the
brightness of the blast. Screams fill your ears; a deafening dirge-like crescendo.

Silence. You blink.

You are crouched next to the open chest. The runes have vanished, as has the dark aura. You cautiously peer over the rim, to discover that the interior is now an ordinary chest. Resting inside are two glowing artefacts – one a pale orb, the other a painted figurehead of an angel. If you wish, you may now take any/all of the following:

You may now examine the sword, if you haven’t already (turn to
62
), or cross back to the tree and continue onwards (turn to
509
.)

285

You round a corner, skidding to a halt as you come face to face with a thin, middle-aged man in tattered blue robes. His wide staring eyes peer at you from between long locks of tangled hair. The yellow light buzzes around his head like an angry fly, then winks out in a puff of smoke.

‘No!’ The man shrinks away from you, looking terror-stricken as he cowers up against the wall. The ice in front of him is marked by a line of runes. You sense their magic is weak, their carving looking rushed and ill-planned. Behind the frightened mage is a wall of rock – trapping him in a dead-end.

‘Leave me! Leave me!’ he shrieks. His eyes flick wildly from side to side as Skoll and Anise appear at your shoulder. ‘I am protected! See!’

You lift your hands from your weapons. ‘It’s okay, I’m not here to harm you. What happened?’

‘Harm? What more harm could you do?’ he snaps with derision.

‘You were with the miners?’ asks Anise gently.

The mage stifles a sob. ‘It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it! I’m not to blame!’

‘Then who is?’ snaps Skoll impatiently. His tone puts fear back into the man’s eyes.