The Eye of Winter's Fury (45 page)

298

The alpha male lies at your feet, its body broken and torn as if savaged by some wild animal. The rest of the wolves scamper into the trees, leaving you alone at the centre of the blood-spattered clearing.

You may now choose one of the following rewards:

When you have made your decision and updated your hero sheet, turn to
338
.

299

It takes a while to catch the woman’s attention amidst the clamouring crowd of customers. When she finally hurries over to you, she appears flustered and impatient. ‘Come on then, what’s your poison?’ she asks brusquely, reaching for an empty tankard. ‘Though by the looks of it, you swallowed some already.’

If you have the word
Bowfinch
on your hero sheet, turn to
74
. Otherwise, you decline the drink and turn back to the taproom. Return to
80
.

300

All of a sudden, the Skard is staggering away from the cart, grunting in pain. He drops the wand, its bright glow fading to black. At first you cannot see the cause of the warrior’s distress, then you glimpse a bright flash of steel from beside one of the wheels. The Skard gives an angered cry, then tumbles back into the dirt, gripping his bloody leg.

He doesn’t see the scrawny boy crawling back into the shadows – but you do.

Mitch!
You realise the young recruit must have hidden under the cart when the Skards attacked. His intervention may have just saved the day.

Drawing your weapons, you charge out of hiding towards the injured Skard. As you do so, you hear a woman’s battle cry and the clatter of plate armour. Henna comes bounding over the rocks to your left, her two-handed sword raised high above her head. Together, you may stand a chance against this powerful Northman. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Hopping mad : Igluk has been wounded by Mitch’s dagger. The Skard automatically loses 1 health at the end of each combat round, ignoring armour .
	Watch my back : Henna adds 2 to your damage score for the duration of this combat.

If you manage to defeat this ferocious warrior, turn to
233
. If you lose the combat, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet. You may then attempt the combat again or return to the map.

301

A set of weather-worn stairs wind around the edge of the tower, bringing you to a rusted iron door. You contemplate knocking, but decide in the end to simply push it open. Once inside the tower, you are surprised to find yourself stepping into an opulent library, its marble floor lined with wooden tables, each one lit by a solitary candle. The walls are high, with several tiers of shelving all groaning under the weight of books, stone tablets and scroll cases. Wheeled ladders rest at intervals around the room, allowing access to the higher shelves.

As you pass along the rows of tables, you realise that the room is impossibly large – too big to fit inside the confines of the tower. Clearly, some magic is at work.

At the end of the library, past a rune-etched archway, you see Segg – the crimson-robed mage – seated in front of an iron brazier. Shadows dance and wheel around the walls of the side-chamber, cast by the bright glow of the flames.

302

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:

Spirit call (co + pa):
Instead of rolling for a damage score after winning a round, you can summon a bear spirit to fight by your side. The bear spirit causes 2 damage at the end of each combat round to one nominated opponent. This ability can only be used once per combat.

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

303

You drag yourself out of the slime, your clothes and armour steaming from its deadly toxins. (You must lose one attribute point from an equipped item.) After taking a moment to recover from your ordeal, you press on into the tunnel. Turn to
468
.

304

You throw open the door to the cabin, startling Sylvie who is serving up eggs and sausage onto a plate. She drops what she is doing, hurrying around the table. ‘Hel’s tears, what’s got into you, boy? Are you all right?’

‘Inquisitor!’ you manage to gasp, struggling to catch your breath. ‘One of the bandits . . . the ones that ambushed me on the road. He’s still alive – he’s after me.’

Sylvie’s face becomes a scowl of anger. ‘I knew it! Harbouring a thief – I should have known this would bring me ill luck.’

‘Wait!’ You look around frantically, your mind racing with fear. ‘Is there nowhere to hide – anywhere we can go?’

‘Not we. You! You’re going far away from here!’ The woman ushers you to the door. ‘I can’t have the inquisition sniffing into my affairs. My charms, my magic – they’ll have me for a heretic. Be gone, thief!’

Before you can argue, you find yourself back outside the cabin. The door slams closed behind you, followed by the sound of bolts being dragged into place.

You scan the nearby hills, your gaze halting on the menacing
silhouette of the inquisitor, lurching towards you like one of the demons from your nightmares. With no other option, you hurry away from the cabin, making for the tangled confines of the forest. Turn to
244
.

305

You squeeze your toes over the edge of the rock, feeling the chill wind from below gust around you. With arms stretched to your sides you give Caul a last cursory glance, offering a nod of encouragement – then you launch yourself into space.

You have no fear of death – after all, you are already dead, your body just a cold vessel for your trapped soul. Nevertheless, as you go tumbling past the roaring waters, you feel a sudden fear take hold. Below you there is only darkness, with no sign of its end.

As you continue to tumble through the void, you notice a distant light twinkling against the darkness. It quickly grows bigger, fragmenting into a dazzling expanse of radiance, dancing and shimmering in kaleidoscopic patterns.

Water, you realise. An immense pool, its surface rocked by the force of the waterfall crashing down into its centre.

With no means of slowing your descent, you watch as the roiling waters rush up at speed, their foaming waves offering scant warning of the dangers that may lurk beneath.

To survive the fall you will need to take a
speed
challenge:

If you are successful, turn to
345
. If you fail the challenge, turn to
442
.

306

As you are finishing up the last barrel, a clinking of armour alerts you to the returning soldiers. ‘Well, lookee here.’ Kirk runs his eyes across the row of barrels, impressed that you have completed the task. ‘Nice
work, rookies. Now, let’s get these loaded onto the wagon.’

Henna flicks tar from her gloves, her anger made plain. ‘Care to let us in on your little adventure?’ she asks sharply. ‘It’s not standard practice to leave untrained—’

‘Oh relax.’ Kirk cuts her off, putting an edge into his voice. ‘Tar first, talk later.’ Turn to
142
.

307

The camp is only minutes away, so close you are surprised that you missed it. A tribute to the Skards’ skill at concealing their numbers. Past a rise of high-peaked snow berms you come upon a dozen shelters, carved from blocks of hard-packed ice. Against the whiteness of the wastelands, they are almost invisible.

There are no cooking fires to alert unwanted attention. Instead you see chunks of raw meat being handed around a circle of men sitting cross-legged at the centre of the camp. The carcass of an animal lies in the snow nearby, where a woman is cutting slivers of meat and placing them onto the crimson-stained snow.

You smell the sharp tang of blood and the odour of unwashed bodies. Several children are playing at the edge of the camp. Noting your arrival, they go running amongst the shelters whistling and calling. Within seconds you see men and women emerging from their ice homes. The men in the circle look round with interest but continue to eat, pulling at the stringy meat with sharpened teeth. Only one stands at your approach. A tall, lithe-bodied man, his long black hair swept back over his shoulders. He has bright, keen eyes and a look about him that suggests a surly confidence – and guile.

There is a racking sob. A woman staggers towards you, an arm covering her mouth. Feet crunch through the snow as a man pushes past her, his red hair knotted into horn-like bands. You realise they must be Imnek’s parents. The warrior from the lake carefully places the body into the father’s arms. They exchange glances, then the father turns and carries him away; no words are spoken.

Sura stands before the circle of men. She stamps her staff into the ground, then speaks in Skard. You notice the men in the circle shifting to look at you, their eyes locked on the bear necklace.

The black-haired Skard is trembling, his fists clenched at his side. His cool demeanour has dissolved into a look of animal-like rage. You tense, sensing that your meeting may have already turned sour.

Sura puts out a hand, as if willing him to calm. But the Skard is inconsolable. He surges forward, fingers bent like claws. You barely have a chance to raise your hands, summoning magic to your palms, before the agile warrior is upon you – snatching the necklace from around your neck.

Your magic blows him backwards, sending him somersaulting through the air to crash down amongst his men. They are immediately on their feet, axes and spears clattering to attention.

The dark-haired Skard throws back his head, blood coating his teeth. The necklace is gripped tightly to his chest. ‘I am blood of Taulu. I am leader!’

Sura points a gnarled finger at you. ‘This one has an ancestor spirit. I see it in his eyes. You know the ways of our people, Desnar. You must take the test.’

The Skard wipes the blood from his lips, glowering at you with contempt. ‘Vela styker? With a southlander?’ There are angry mutterings from his entourage of warriors.

‘Do you fear losing, Desnar?’ The woman’s eyes gleam bright beneath her furred hood. ‘Taulu gave this one the halstek. He has a right to vela styker.’ She puts out her hand, palm upwards, and gestures to the Skard. ‘Do not test my patience.’

‘Demons take you, witch.’ Desnar shoulders through his men and puts the necklace into her hand. ‘This clan is mine. No one can match me.’

‘Then you have nothing to fear.’ The woman’s bony fingers snap closed around the necklace. ‘Vela styker it is. I suggest you prepare for dawn light.’ She shifts round, a mischievous smile twisting the corners of her mouth. ‘And that goes for you too, southlander. Come with me.’ Turn to
358
.

308

(If you have the keyword
gains
on your hero sheet, turn to
277
.)

‘May I?’ You straddle the bench opposite the soldier, holding out a
hand in friendship. He glares at it distrustfully, taking another gulp from his mug.