The Eye of Winter's Fury (95 page)

If you manage to defeat this devilish trickster, turn to
774
. If you are defeated, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet, then turn to
621
.

667

Raising your hands you trace the circular patterns with your fingers, connecting the lines and whorls with the magic that now flows through you. The runes start to flicker and then glow, illuminating a trail to the centre circle, where blue-black energies crackle above the podium. For a brief moment you glimpse some creature trapped within the bright maelstrom – a spinning tornado of dust and rock, with two crimson jewels for eyes – then it is gone. The energy sparks out and the runes dim.

When you walk over to the podium you discover that the elemental is now trapped inside the orb, filling it with a powerful magic. (Congratulations! You have now created a
tremor orb
. If you wish to take this, simply make a note of it on your hero sheet, it does not take up backpack space.) Turn to
684
.

668

You are pitched forward, flailing through a shower of ash to slam into a cracked stone pillar. The pain is relished, like an old companion. A reminder that you have left your dead body behind.

You draw your weapons, your body twisting round to scan the bleak nightmarish landscape of the Norr.

A circle of stones mark the edge of a mountain pinnacle. Beyond them there is nothing but cloud, streaking past at a vertiginous speed, a single crimson sun caught on their currents. It blurs overhead, speeding through a repeated arc, its garish light casting blood-soaked shadows across the carved circle.

So, this is where it ends . . .

A growl rumbles from the shifting darkness. The bear edges into view, circling warily. You sense his confusion. His questioning.

Your eyes lock with his own, glistening amber and then red in the flickering light. You try and speak but the words choke you. A pain presses against your chest, weighing heavy on your heart.

Love. Regret.

‘You gave me life . . . old friend.’

Dirt crunches beneath your boot-heels as you follow the bear, the two of you moving inexorably around the circle like the hands of a clock.

The bear lowers his head, snuffling at the ground, emitting a regretful whine.

‘You know it has to end this way. You know what’s at stake.’

Every word pulls at your soul, cutting like razors. ‘It’s the only way, Nanuk. I need your magic. My body is gone, broken. It is time, old friend.’

Silence, save for the whistling of the wind filling your nostrils with its death.

The bear stops. You stop. Both stand rigid, facing one another.

‘I’m sorry. Please understand—’

Snarling.

The bear launches itself forward; an explosion of fur and teeth, and claws that are suddenly a blur, leaving glimmering trails in their wake. All regret, all pain is gone in those few seconds – your mind snaps taut, as does your body, weapons spinning and blocking the bear’s frenzied assault. A last battle together, a last glorious moment to be shared, remembered . . . It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Basic instinct : Nanuk rolls two dice to determine his damage score.
	Spirit link : At the end of each round, roll a die. If the result is or less, you must lose 4 health and Nanuk gains 4 health . (Note: this cannot take Nanuk past his starting health of 80.)

If you manage to defeat the ancestor spirit, turn to
51
.

669

Every thread a life. Every thread a hope.
The woman’s pale eyes flick across the coruscating cords of light.
The twining. The pattern of all existence. The course of fate.

You pull an incredulous frown as you look down at the thread you are balanced upon, trying to imagine how this thin web-like strand could possibly represent a life. You follow it as it sweeps underneath you, spiralling around past other strands, intersecting, knotting together, twisting into thicker cords as several flow together.

This was once order. A destiny assigned to every being. Gabriel wove the plan, the great work. I only spin the thread, but he would decide its destiny, the length of life and day of death. Destiny could not be changed.

The woman scratches at her head again, leaving ugly welts where her nails have broken the raw skin.
Only discord now. Only discord. Do you not hear it? The weave should play a symphony. It should all meet the plan. But now. It grates, it bores, it tears at me.
She closes her eyes, nails raking back and forth as if trying to prise her very head open.
All her fault. All her fault!

(Return to
713
to ask another question or turn to
760
to end the conversation.)

670

(If you have already entered the tournament, turn to
341
. If you have the keyword
underdog
on your hero sheet, turn to
192
.)

‘Ah good, good!’ The man beckons you over. ‘You’ll need a sled and the entry fee, ten gold crowns, then I can register you and make it all official-like.’

‘What’s the prize?’ you ask, scanning the list of names on the chart. You note there are already twenty-nine other racers signed up for the competition.

‘Best prize ever,’ grins the man, his ratty face leaning closer. ‘The money’s all well and good, three hundred gold ones, but that don’t outshine the Winter Diamond. Bigger than my hand, it is – and perfectly flawless too. So they say, ’cos I never actually seen it. But Ryker’s got it under close wraps up in that fortress of ’is. Only way you’re gonna swag the prize is by winning the races.’

If you have a sled and 10 gold crowns, you may enter the tournament (turn to
329
.) Otherwise, turn to
106
to explore the rest of the compound.

671

You raise the captain’s conch to your lips and sound a single, trumpeting call. The air above you starts to shimmer and distort, rippling outwards in undulating waves. They spin and swirl, moving around a single pinpoint of light. The brightness steadily widens, drawing itself back into a long tunnel, growing larger, spinning faster and faster – until there is a sudden spray of dazzling light as the corpse ship rolls out of the portal, magic breaking like surf around its dark prow.

The
Naglfar
rocks to a halt by the cliff side.

A ghostly crew member appears at the rail, hailing you with a cry. Then a rope ladder is flung over the side, slapping against the twisted nails and knots of hair that form the substance of the vessel’s body.

‘If the mountain won’t come to us, we’ll go to the mountain,’ you grin, gesturing to the ladder.

Skoll looks at you incredulously, then he explodes into laughter. ‘Of course! We will sail, Bearclaw. We will sail!’ Bolstered by this change of fortune, he grabs hold of the ladder and climbs it with speed. Anise is less enthusiastic, eyeing the corpse ship with dread.

You hold out your hand. ‘All aboard,’ you smile.

‘It’s a thing of death,’ she says, glaring at you sharply.

‘As am I,’ you reply. You gesture again, taking her reluctant hand and helping her onto the ladder. Once on deck, you see that Skoll has already taken the wheel of the ship. He is looking up at the unfurled masts, already filling with wind.

‘Do you know how to sail her?’ he calls to you. ‘These are strange tides we must navigate, for sure.’

You close your eyes, reaching out with your magic. The ship has a presence, a dark pit of chill emptiness where the souls of the drowned sailors scream in torment. You push your magic into that pit, filling it with power – driving life into the hungry vessel, just as you would one of your own dead limbs. The deck rocks beneath you, the stays snapping tight as a ghostly wind, directed by your own magic, packs into the dark sails.

With a creaking groan the ship starts to lurch forward, gaining speed as it banks round towards the rift. You open your eyes, your pale gaze fixing on the mountain.

‘How fast can it go?’ shouts Skoll eagerly.

‘Let’s find out.’ Your mind directs the surging currents of magic, blasting them into the sails. Within seconds the ship is tearing across the desolate plain, accelerating so fast that the crew are now clinging to the rigging and the rails. Then the ground drops away and you are flying out across a dark nothingness, your magic managing to keep the ship airborne.

As captain of the
Naglfar
, you have now gained the following special ability:

Nail gun (co):
Instead of rolling for a damage score, you can use the nail gun. This inflicts 2 damage dice to a single opponent, ignoring
armour
. It also reduces their
armour
score by 2 for the remainder of the combat. You can only use the
nail gun
once per combat.

You may use this ability, in addition to your own hero abilities, for the duration of this quest. When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
224
.

672

As you retrace your steps you see a swarm of dark shapes hurtling towards you along the passageway. They have the appearance of floating pulpy brains, their undersides trailing a number of thin pale tentacles.

Caul skids to a halt, his spear-point held out before him. ‘Those are the things that attacked me,’ he growls. ‘Watch them, their armour is strong – and their tentacles will shred you, given half the chance.’

You note each creature has a shell-like carapace curving back over their bulbous bodies. Black scales glitter in the glow of your weapons and the ghoulish lightning that flickers between the four brains. As one they sweep in, tentacles lifted to reveal hundreds of tiny serrated claws. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Hive mind : At the end of each combat round, you must take 1 damage from each surviving opponent, ignoring armour .
	Stalker’s spear : Caul adds 2 to your damage score for the duration of this combat.