The Eye of Winter's Fury (87 page)

Desnar brings his staff up and under your guard, the antlers grappling your legs and throwing you up into the air. As you crash down onto your back the ice splinters beneath you, and then you are falling – hitting the chill waters with a thunderous splash.

For several panicked moments, you lose all sense of direction. The light refracts through the mantle of the lake, turning the waters into a sparkling, blinding assault. Desperately you kick in the direction you believe will lead you to the surface, your head slamming against a hard wall of ice. You swing your weapons, hoping to break through, but the water makes your movements sluggish, taking the strength out of your blows.

I cannot drown
, you remind yourself. But the knowledge is cold comfort as you beat and claw at the ice, finding no way through. Your panic only intensifies – the thought of being trapped in this blinding, ice cold prison fills you with terror.

Then you see a shadow blotting out the light. Something hits the
ice, cracking it. The water vibrates with the pounding blows. Another crack, then the ice is spilling away. A hand reaches down, knotted with muscle, settling around your arm and yanking you upwards. You grapple onto the edge of the ice, levering yourself the rest of the way.

You lie dripping on the surface of the lake, eyes tightly closed against the painful light. A shadow looms across you once again. You look up to see Desnar, his staff held tight in both hands, ready to bring it down in a fatal strike.

‘I yield!’ You cough, heaving a torrent of frigid water onto the ice. ‘I yield.’

Desnar nods, looking satisfied. ‘Halstek mine,’ he states, as if the matter is now concluded. He turns and heads back across the ice, evidently not caring if you stay or follow. Shakily, you find your feet and start after the Skard, your mind picturing Sura’s disappointment when she learns of the outcome. Turn to
578
.

614

The first mile is a chaotic scramble as racers desperately attempt to pull ahead whilst defending themselves from their opponents. There are explosions and screams. The broken wreckage of a sled spirals past, one of its razor-edged runners missing your head by scant inches.

You veer away from the crowd, avoiding the bottlenecks where the sleds have become bunched together, spikes and armour sparking as they meet. You are about to take an early lead –when a crevasse streaks out of nowhere, cutting across your path.

Your dog-team react instinctively, pulling your sled into a tight turn. The crevasse sweeps round to your left as you knife through the snow to reach safer ground. That’s when you experience the teeth-jarring thump as another racer slams into you.

‘Time to take a dip, rookie!’

You look round to see a fellow racer pulling alongside – a mast of stretched seal-skin giving his sled added momentum. With a triumphant howl he slams into you once again, forcing your sled nearer to the crevasse. As you skirt along its edge, you catch a worrying glimpse of the cold dark waters waiting for you below.

You will need to take a challenge test using your
toughness
attribute:

If you are successful, turn to
248
. Otherwise, turn to
198
.

615

Leaping over the severed tentacles, you plunge your weapons into Caul’s chest. The trapper gives a monstrous screech, his face twisted into a mask of painful torment, then he vanishes – leaving you staring dumbfounded at the empty space.

‘I WAS THE ONE WHO LED YOU HERE, MORTAL. THESE ARE BUT MY SLAVES. MY GHOSTS.’
The voice thunders all around you, shaking the very walls of the cavern.
‘THEY WERE WEAK. USELESS TO ME. BUT YOU! WITH YOUR MAGIC I WILL TRULY BE REBORN. FAFNIR WILL LIVE AGAIN!’

There is a terrible ripping sound. Ice rains down from above, forcing you to cover your head from the deluge. When you are finally able to look up again, you see that the drake is clambering down the far wall, its huge talons tearing into the ice.

You contemplate running, your eyes scanning back to the tunnel that Caul made with his dagger. But the reptilian monster is already rushing across the ice towards you, its twin heads dripping with a foul, black ichor. There is no escape – it is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Frost fire : At the end of each combat round, you must take 2 damage from each surviving opponent, ignoring armour . (If you have the insulated ability, this damage is reduced to 1 per opponent.)

If you manage to defeat this ancient terror, turn to
680
.

616

You raise your hand, sending a torrent of magic into the venom-dripping branches. Their dry bark withers and snaps under your assault, dropping the warrior to the ground. He lies, huddled and shivering, his lacerated body still steaming from the poison.

You kneel at his side, pulling the matted blond hair away from his face. ‘Skoll?’

The half-giant’s eyes snap open with a sudden fierceness. You manage to lurch away just in time as his wide hands grapple for you.

‘I came to save you,’ you state quickly, keeping a wary distance from the disorientated warrior. ‘I am not your enemy.’

The warrior struggles to his knees, the scoured marks under his eyes weeping venomous tears. ‘A hundred years,’ he rumbles. ‘A hundred years of pain.’ He clenches his fists, cording the thick veins along his arms. ‘You are not a Skard.’

Without pause, he pushes himself to his feet. You back away, taking in his full height – almost seven feet tall, his imposing body ridged by slabs of hard muscle. ‘Vindsvall . . .’ His eyes narrow as if suddenly remembering some long forgotten purpose. ‘The shield . . . Fimbulwinter. I must return her. The Ska-inuin need me.’

If Leif is with you, turn to
772
. Otherwise, turn to
400
.

617

The three of you advance cautiously through the deep snow, bound to one another by a length of rope. Skoll leads the way, carefully testing the ground with his spear for any hidden crevasses. At last, after several hours of hiking, the ground becomes firmer underfoot, gradually turning from rock to ice as you near the intimidating wall of the North Face.

‘Are we meant to go around this?’ you ask, squinting up at the summit thousands of metres above you. Up close you realise that the entire edifice is leaning forward, its upmost tip curling over like a breaking wave. The ice walls are sheer, offering little purchase for a climber. Reaching the summit appears nigh on impossible.

Skoll shakes his head. ‘Going around – that would take many days.’

Anise is sat on her pack, already exhausted from the long march. ‘I can’t climb,’ she gasps despondently. ‘Please, I can’t.’

‘We don’t have to,’ replies Skoll. He points to a symbol etched into a nearby boulder. ‘There is a passage through. Dangerous. But it is the only way.’

As you continue to scan the great ice barrier, you notice a winged shape wheeling in circles overhead. At first you assume it is a bird, but the wings are too large – the body hinting at more human-like dimensions.

‘Is that Habrok?’ you enquire doubtfully, shielding your eyes from the glare of the surrounding ice.

Skoll follows your gaze. ‘I sent him south to gather my people. He would not come here . . .’

The shape continues to wheel above you, the sunlight catching on the claws of its feet, the spines that protrude from its broad, scaly shoulders. Then realisation dawns.

‘It’s the demon!’ you cry, remembering back to the Wiccans’ ambush and the strange creature that saved your life. ‘He told me to run – back when I was attacked, before I came to Bitter Keep.’

Anise puts a hand to her sword. ‘Does that make him a friend or foe?’

You frown. ‘I don’t know. I just remember what he said – something about the fates setting me on this path.’

‘The fates?’ Skoll raises an eyebrow. ‘He may know of the weaver.’

You raise a hand, igniting it with magic to form a glowing beacon. You then proceed to wave it back and forth, hoping to grab the demon’s attention.

It is difficult to tell if you have been spotted; the creature has started to gain height, its silvery-white wings blurring as they beat faster. Gradually the demon grows smaller and smaller, until he is lost to the shadows beneath the curling summit.

Skoll gives a dismissive snort. ‘Come – we must keep moving.’

He helps Anise to her feet then takes up her pack, shouldering its weight along with his own. Together they head up the slope, following the direction marked on the boulder. You hold back for a moment, pensively watching the skies – wondering what has brought
the demon this far north. You reach for Nanuk, questing for answers. None are forthcoming.

Grudgingly, you snuff out the beacon. ‘Friend or foe,’ you mutter. ‘Pray it is not the latter, demon.’ Tugging down your hood, you turn and head after your companions.

You may now turn to
551
to begin the Act 2 green quest,
Angels and demons
.

618

Talia turns to leave, then pauses. ‘Okay, okay, you won me over.’ She reaches for one of her swords, tugging it free from the scabbard. ‘You know, I wouldn’t normally part with my favourite toy, but for you, sweet pea, it’s all yours.’ Talia offers out the weapon, its transparent blade still glowing with magic. ‘Venetia glass. Holds a note better than I do – I can teach you, if you’d like.’

You may now take the following item:

Dusky sonnet

(main hand: glass sword)

+1 speed +2 brawn

Ability: sure edge, bleed

You may also learn the bard career. The bard has the following special abilities:

Good vibrations (co):
Turn your swords into vibrating blades of death. This doubles the
brawn
modifier of any glass swords you have equipped, for one combat round only. This ability can only be used once per combat.

Deadly dance (sp):
Goad your opponent with a series of dodges and feints. This automatically lowers their
speed
by 2 for one combat round, but raises their
brawn
/
magic
by 1 for the remainder of the combat. This ability can be used twice in the same combat, but each time it is used your opponent’s
brawn
/
magic
is increased.

When you have made your decision Talia blows you a kiss and then departs, leaving you alone in the secret laboratory. Turn to
747
.

619

You skid down the sandy slope, magic flashing from your weapons. Below you, Nanuk and the wolf are rolling amidst a dark cloud of dust, the thick air affording only momentary glimpses of teeth, fur and thrashing limbs.

Your bolt of magic takes the wolf in the chest, sending it scampering away with a howl. Nanuk swings round, his anger readily apparent. His mind pushes against your own, insisting you return to the others.

You note his wounds – the bite marks along his torso, the skin and fur hanging from his throat. The great bear’s breathing is laboured. He may have weight and strength on his side but the wolf is an agile opponent, using speed to whittle down his opponent’s stamina.

‘We fight together, Nanuk,’ you insist. ‘Old friend.’

Nanuk snorts, but you sense his grateful acceptance.

The wolf has dropped back onto its haunches, its head raised to the whirling crimson skies. Then he issues another howl – a mourner’s wail. Within seconds, you hear the padding of feet. You turn to see a pack of dark shadows streaming towards you; wolves with bodies fashioned from mist and darkness, their eyes burning with fire.

‘Wolves,’ you remark grimly, putting your back to Nanuk’s. ‘Why does it always have to be wolves?’

Nanuk gives a bellowing roar in answer, his massive paws swiping through the air, trying to keep the wolves at bay. The pack closes in, forming a circle around you, heads low to the ground, drool spilling over their cruel fangs. Your eyes scan back to the spirit wolf. A name forms in your mind:
Sleet
. You meet his gaze – a single yellow eye.

He snarls.

You bare your teeth, issuing your own animal-like growl. Then you both spring at one another, a bestial rage fuelling your strikes. It is time to fight: