The Eye of Winter's Fury (91 page)

Nanuk is bounding forward before you can stop him.

You move to follow, but immediately feel a jolt as the bear pushes you away; trying to send you back to the waking world. You struggle to resist, failing to understand the reason for his rejection.

‘We fight together,’ you protest, trying to throw up walls to block his energy.

There is a pull on your shoulder. A voice.

Wake up. Don’t sleep.

Angrily, you shrug it off. The bear and the wolf are circling each other, hissing and snarling. You want to stay, to fight beside Nanuk’s side. But another tug forces your surroundings to blur.

Wake up!

‘I’m not going back!’ You snarl with rage, spinning round to find the source of the voice. It seems familiar, but that was another life – surely. There is only the Norr, the here and now. ‘I have to stay,’ you blare at the darkness. ‘I don’t want to come back!’

You are thrown into spasm, legs kicking into the dirt. A hand is gripping your shoulder. You knock it away, rolling awkwardly onto your side, knees tucked to your chest as you continue to shake and convulse.

‘We cannot sleep here, Bearclaw. The Norr is too close. Much danger.’

Skoll is knelt beside you, looking for all the world like a corpse himself. Bedraggled hair hangs across his pale, pinched face. Stubble has turned to an uneven beard, scraggly and patched with grey. His eyes are sunken, encircled by dark rings. The scars that criss-cross his body seem all the more vivid in the blue torchlight.

Skoll stands and moves away, leaving you to beat and kick at the ground, gouging great holes out of the crumbling red stone. ‘A wolf,’ you hiss, trying to spit the words past clenched teeth. ‘There was a wolf.’

Skoll looks back at you, eyes widened. ‘Fenrir?’

‘No.’ You crawl onto all fours, taking a moment to let the last of the shivers pass. ‘Something else. But I sense it is of this place. The mountain.’

Skoll shakes his head. ‘I told you, do not go to the Norr. We are shaman. We cannot sleep here.’ He gives a ragged sigh, his shoulders slumping. It is evident there is nothing more he would rather do.

‘Come. I have something to show you.’ Skoll moves to the far wall, his torch throwing light across an intricate carving. Just one of the hundreds that litter the caves and halls. ‘What do you make of this?’

You struggle to your feet and start to hobble over. Looking down, you realise your left leg is dragging. Furiously you push magic into the joints, teasing it around the muscles, reconnecting the nerves. Grimacing, you flex your toes, then put the leg straight, feeling it take your weight. ‘Each time it gets harder,’ you grumble, taking a tentative stride. ‘I fear I will not last much longer.’

Skoll is still staring at the carving.

You join him, your eyes searching the shapes and lines, looking for meaning. ‘Nine worlds,’ you whisper, passing a finger over the nine orbs lined in a circle. ‘And this, I don’t know.’ At the centre of the circle is a symbol, almost rune-like – two crescent moons joined by a crossbar.

‘Balance,’ says Skoll. ‘It’s the rune for balance.’

You nod. ‘And the flame?’ You point to the symbol drawn beneath the rune, evidently indicating a fire of some sort.

‘The forge.’ Skoll raises his torch higher, illuminating the peak above and the curling flames that reach to the ceiling. ‘The Titan forge, where we must remake the shield. It is above us, at the top of the mountain.’

Your eyes drift to Anise, curled in a tight ball beneath a fur blanket, head resting on her rolled-up cloak. Her breathing is shallow, her features grey. No food or water for days.

‘We have to leave her.’

Skoll’s words startle you. For a moment you fail to find words. ‘We . . . we can’t,’ you splutter, half in shock and half in desperation.

‘The girl slows us down.’ Skoll speaks firmly, holding your stare.

‘We can’t . . .’

‘It is the only way. ’

‘No, Skoll! That’s the Skard way. To leave the weak behind. Throw them aside. I won’t have it. Anise is one of us.’

‘She was a Skard. She will understand.’ There is a savage look to his eyes, no doubt fuelled by weariness and hunger. The last days have been hard, forcing him to draw on every last ounce of strength. He has muscle and endurance. Anise only has you.

You kneel by her side, pulling up the blanket and tucking it beneath her chin. A smile crosses her ashen lips as your fingers brush against her cheek. So soft.

‘I was having a nice dream,’ she whispers. Her eyelids flutter for a moment. ‘We were in the kitchens . . . Segg was being all grumpy. Old Segg. You were helping me bottle the . . . wine. Do you . . . remember . . . ?’

‘Yes, yes I do.’ You stroke a lock of hair, watching it curl around your finger.

‘You’re a . . . good man,’ she sighs. ‘You were . . . kind to me.’

You choke on your reply, unable to speak past the pain.

‘We have to move.’ Skoll is almost pleading in his insistence. ‘This place is not safe, Bearclaw.’

You snap round in fury. ‘Do not call me that! My name is Arran. Prince Arran!’

Skoll takes his turn to startle at your words. His hand moves to the heft of his axe, hanging from his belt. You read his action, calling magic to your fists.

Then you hear a deafening screech from the adjoining chamber – a bird-like cawing, followed by the slap and squelch of something being dragged and hit against the stone.

Anger is quickly forgotten. Skoll takes up his axe and hurries into the passage. You draw your weapons and follow. Turn to
246
.

639

Hal flips open the lid of a small box, revealing a number of vials and gourds carefully packed between wads of cloth. ‘I can spare a few of these. Fofty shinies each.’ He glances at your face, pulling a grimace. ‘Although, for some of you, might be a little late in the day for tonics.’

You may purchase any number of the following for 40 gold crowns each:

You may now ask to view Hal’s weapons (turn to
728
), inspect his treasures (turn to
674
), trade your own items (turn to
95
) or leave and return to the quest map.

640

Flames and smoke start to obscure your vision. Frantically you struggle to maintain your speed, seeking to stay ahead of the dragon’s breath. The circle of daylight grows larger, its bright light competing with the flames and smoke – then you are finally free of the tunnel, hurtling away from the island as fast you can. Behind you an entire section of the hive explodes outwards in a fiery tumult, raining fragments of charred rock across the gulf.

Unfortunately, you don’t have enough momentum to outrun the blast. Caught in a cloud of debris and fire, you suffer significant damage. (You must lower your transport’s
toughness
and
stability
by 4.) Turn to
729
.

641

Sam produces a pair of picks and sets to work on the lock. Within seconds, the storage locker is open. After Sam has taken his cut of the treasure, you are left with 50 gold crowns. (Remove the
locker
from your hero sheet.) If you have the
hunters’ chest
and wish Sam to open it, turn to
8
. Otherwise, you continue your journey. Turn to
563
.

642

Your hands move across the console, activating the runes and throwing the orb’s magic against your advancing opponents. They stumble through the onslaught, their enchanted stonework blasted and pummelled by the energies channelled against them. As the surviving statues near your location, you vault over the balcony and charge into the fray, using your own weapons to finish off their crumbling forms.

Amongst the smoking rubble, you discover glowing fragments of stone imbued by the magics that have been unleashed. If you wish, you may now take one of the following special rewards:

When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
737
.

643

The rush of cold is sudden and fierce, punching through your chest, freezing your heart and stealing your very last breath. It fills you, numbs you, a coldness so intense that it burns the stone beneath your feet, cracking it to frozen splinters.

If you wish, you may now learn the revenant career. The revenant has the following special abilities:

Creeping cold (co + pa):
Instead of rolling for a damage score, you can cast
creeping cold
on one opponent. This does 1 damage at the end of every combat round. For each
result you roll for any subsequent damage scores,
creeping cold
increases its damage by 1. This ability can only be used once.

Malefic runes (mo):
For each opponent you defeat (reduced to zero
health
), you may raise your
magic
score by 1 for the remainder of the combat.

When you have made your decision, turn to
677
.

644

The ruins are deserted and Hal’s peculiar balloon is nowhere to be found. You can only assume that the explorer was able to repair his ship and has now headed back south – away from the destruction and the chaos. As you huddle deeper into your cloak, braced against the wind and the constant barrage of dust, you can’t help but feel a pang of home-sickness, wishing you were on board that ship, headed home at last. (Return to the quest map to continue your adventure.)

645

Desnar raises his staff and gives a barking cry of victory. ‘Taulu nost weak et vall. Desnar herat gost hastnet!’

His own warriors break into smiles and laughter – a few echoing his words. The rest of the gathering remain reverently silent. All eyes turn to Sura.

‘The ancestors have spoken,’ proclaims the old woman. She frowns at you, her disappointment evident. ‘Desnar, son of Grendel Innervek – you have been chosen to lead us.’ The old woman offers out the end of her staff. Desnar unhooks the bear necklace and places it over his head. You can’t help but glower jealousy at the band of claws and teeth – the necklace that Taulu had entrusted you with. Part of you wants to rip it free and take it for yourself. Nanuk’s anger is palpable, prickling like thorns in your mind.

But then you hear the Skards’ chanting. Each and every person in
the crowd – man, woman and child – has put a hand to their breast, speaking some vow or mantra in unison. There is hope written on their faces. And trust. You realise these people need a figurehead; someone to lead them. Perhaps Desnar will deliver the strength and courage that they need to see out this cruel winter.

The young boy steps forward, peeling back the hide bag he is carrying. You see that it is filled with treasures. Desnar puts his hand into the bag, helping himself to a golden talisman. His eyes meet your own, his lips curling into a conceited grin as he fastens the trinket to his chest.

‘No southlander will ever lead the bear,’ he snaps coldly. ‘Nanuk made mistake in choosing you. Weakling.’

You go to draw your weapons, but a hand settles quickly on your shoulder, gripping it tight, urging restraint. It is Sura.

‘No,’ she whispers. ‘The choice is made. And it cannot be undone. You are no longer protected by vela styker. Turn against one, you turn against all.’ Turn to
721
.

646

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: