Legion of Shadow (108 page)

Nyms blows out his cheeks. ‘I think I preferred it when I was just hitting things. Can we do that again, please?’ Spinning his blades, he follows Caeleb out of the chamber.

You take the crucifix, turning it over in your palm. You notice that the key-piece is missing. ‘Do you believe me?’ you ask Lansbury, lifting your eyes to meet her stare.

‘Time will tell,’ she says, gesturing towards the exit. ‘Now, after you . . .’

Nodding, you place the crucifix in your pocket before leaving the room. Turn to
902
.

839

‘Yes, my special deals. Well let’s take a look . . .’ He reaches inside the chest and produces three items, which he lays out on the ash-covered ground.
‘For you, 450 gold crowns. I can’t say fairer than that.’

You may purchase any of the following items for 450 gold crowns each:

After you have made your decision, you can ask to see Waldo’s rare items (turn to
903
) or bid the trader farewell (turn to
789
).

840

Arthurian nods, his gaze falling on the magic anomaly that blocks the exit. ‘A wizard gave me the plans for this tomb. He was one of those responsible for building
it.’ He steps warily towards the mould-encrusted growth. ‘The rope I used was severed. I’ve been trapped in this room for days, weeks . . .’ He stops a short distance from
the creature. ‘I cannot defeat this thing. It keeps me prisoner. I have died many times . . .’ His body shudders, as if reliving painful memories. ‘I cannot die. Not by my own
hand, not by this creature . . . not by starvation . . .’

You pull back your sleeve, aware that your shadow mark is pulsing with a purple glow, filling you with its familiar craving.

Confidently, you stride up to the anomaly. With a snarl, you lunge forward, driving your arm into its saggy flesh. The anomaly gives a shriek of pain, its body blistering as it begins to
unravel, forming thin shreds of green magic. You throw back your head, breathing in the power of the magic as it pours into your mark.

You stumble back, gasping – aware that your whole body is now glowing with a soft purple radiance.

‘What are you?’ scowls Arthurian, shrinking away. ‘You are not the work of the One God.’

A flicker of amusement turns the corners of your mouth. ‘My companions and I are here to save you. Trust me, the world is not safe from the Legion of Shadow. They are not
defeated!’

You step through the entranceway, the glow from your body illuminating the chamber beyond. There is the scuff of boots as Arthurian moves to join you. ‘What are we here for?’ you
demand, warily scanning the chamber. In the wall opposite, a set of stairs lead back to the surface.

To your right is an archway – the one that Caeleb had originally suggested you take.

‘There is a talisman here,’ states Arthurian, his fingers tracing the silver crucifix that rests against his chest. ‘If I destroy it then the curse will be lifted.’

‘And you will die,’ you add, looking intently into his eyes. ‘Why would you trade your life for that?’

Arthurian glowers with anger. ‘I am a warrior, the first knight of the realm. I have led thousands in battle. I found the golden chalice, I fought in the crusades against the heathen lords
of Mordland. I am the king’s son, heir to the throne of Valeron! I have proven myself – I was not born to this!’ He beats a fist against his chest. ‘This is a
lie!’

You take a step back, startled by the vehemence of his words. Despite the man’s ragged appearance, you see a fierce strength in his steel-grey eyes . . . Arthurian’s spirit, trapped
in the body of a Nevarin.

‘I know something of what it is like,’ you state grimly, ‘to find yourself in a body that does not feel your own.’

Arthurian turns away, heading for the side passage. ‘You know nothing of what it is like, shadow spawn.’

For a moment, you remain behind, lost in your own troubled thoughts. It is only when you see a flash of light down the passageway, and hear a raised cry of alarm, that you draw your weapons and
hurry after your companion. Turn to
804
.

841

You join Nyms at the foot of the stairs, leading up to the building. The swordsman has skilfully despatched the necromancers – but is now confronted by a new obstacle. The
pillars either side of the entranceway are glowing with a purple light, casting a flickering barrier across the doorway.

‘Perhaps the front door wasn’t the best choice after all,’ says Nyms, warily approaching the magic wall. ‘The necros did it. Any ideas?’

Lansbury shoulders past you, her staff raised. ‘They have tried to reweave the magic that once protected this place. It is weak . . .’ The tip of her staff glows briefly as she
utters a simple arcane command. A second later and the barrier has disappeared, the light of the runes dimming and then winking out entirely. ‘Amateurs,’ sniffs the medic.

‘Nice work, Lans.’ Nyms nudges you and gestures towards the open doorway. ‘After you . . .’

With a grin, you ready your weapons and enter the building: the tomb of the great hero, Arthurian. Turn to
848
.

842

You enter a vast high-domed chamber. At the centre of the room is a stepped dais, leading up to a stone tomb. The lid has been smashed open, its shattered stonework lying in
jagged pieces around the base of the dais.

‘Oh, this doesn’t look good,’ mutters Nyms, his swords spinning nervously in his hands.

Hovering above the open tomb is a man in rune-plate armour. He hangs suspended in the air, teeth gritted with determination as he struggles against a magical assault.

‘Arthurian!’ you gasp.

Stood around the undead warrior are four black-robed necromancers. They are chanting arcane words as black streams of magic arc from their fingers, slamming against Arthurian and surrounding him
in a whirling frenzy of dark light.

Suddenly, you feel a sharp tingling from your shadow mark.

Something is wrong . . . Quickly you throw yourself aside, as spears of ice rip through the air, shattering against the wall behind you.

‘Interlopers!’

You turn to see a female mage striding towards you, her blue gown coated with rime frost.

‘Well, well . . . a Nevarin and a cavalier. How quaint.’

‘Witch!’ Caeleb springs forward, sword raised to strike. The mage makes no move to dodge his attack. Instead she narrows her wintry-blue eyes, watching as the air shimmers and
crackles before her. There is a bright flash followed by a rush of cold air. When you are able to focus again, you see that Caeleb is now encased in ice – frozen in mid-step.

‘No!’ Lansbury summons white flames to her hand and hurls them at the icelock. The blast of magic breaks against an unseen shield, fizzing and sparking as it disperses in the chill
air.

‘Is that all you’ve got?’ she hoots with delight.

You look to Nyms, who nods – then the two of you rush forwards, throwing your weapons and magic against the icelock’s shield:

Special abilities

If you defeat Sammain, turn to
869
. (Special achievement: If you defeat Sammain without lowering her
armour
, then turn to
874
.) If you are defeated, turn to
862
.

843

Searching Daarko’s remains, you find a leather pouch containing 100 gold crowns. You may also help yourself to one of the following special rewards:

When you have made your decision, turn to
811
.

844

The air quickly becomes hot and stifling; the tingling from your arm intensifying as you descend into the musty tomb. At the foot of the stairs, you find yourself in a large
stone chamber. Most of the ceiling is a crumbling ruin, the dark rock split by thick snaking roots and vines. Dust motes drift lazily through the twilit space, forming a hazy white veil as they
swirl before Lansbury’s pale light.

Nyms starts into the room, but Lansbury puts out her staff to stop him. ‘Wait . . .’ Her attention is focused on the far side of the chamber, where something is moving.

You squint, trying to discern what it is. It appears to be a growth of some description, a mould or lichen, covering an entire side of the room. Parts of its rotted form are rising and falling,
as if beating with some form of sentient life.

‘Now, let’s assume that isn’t friendly,’ says Nyms, grimacing with revulsion.

‘It’s a magic anomaly,’ whispers Lansbury, glancing at her staff as its light begins to flicker. ‘We should stay well away from it. Learn from those who were less
fortunate . . .’ She nods to the paved floor of the chamber, where you notice several fleshy mounds smeared across the stone, punctuated by splintered shards of bone.

‘We don’t have to go near it,’ says Caeleb firmly, pointing his sword in the direction of an archway in the west wall. ‘I suggest we move on from here.’

845

(Make a note of the word
companion
on your hero sheet.)

The creatures are strong – but they are slow. Sidestepping yet another sluggish attack, you turn and hurry back towards the shield, leaping and kicking off from its side to back-flip
through the air. The creatures snarl and curse as you sail over their heads, slicing and blasting as you go. Twisting round mid-air, you drop onto the leader’s back, throwing aside your
weapons to rip one of its growths free. Black slime geysers from its ruptured body, as you take the pulsating parasite and wrap it around the decayer’s throat. There is a sickening crunch as
the rotted head snaps free of its body, rolling away into the dust.