Legion of Shadow (111 page)

You look up, struggling to focus. ‘I don’t feel good, if that’s what you mean.’

The medic nods. ‘Yes, your mark is strong in demon magic. I wonder what it is truly capable of . . . should your memory return.’

You wince as a hot pain shoots up your arm. You stagger into the wall, putting out a hand to regain your balance. ‘Sometimes I am grateful that I do not remember.’

After several hundred metres, the passageway widens, ending in a tall pair of gilded doors. They already stand open, revealing a bright chamber beyond. With effort, you draw your weapons,
preparing yourself for whatever danger might lurk in this new section of the tomb. Turn to
799
.

858

Ravenwing’s men pursue the routed shadow spawn, slashing and blasting at their fleeing enemy. The battle is won. But at what cost? You look around at the men that have
remained behind – not only the wounded and the dead, but those who have simply hung back from exhaustion. Many have a haunted look about them, their bodies blackened by soot and grime. You
can’t imagine what devastation awaits beyond the walls of the city – where the doom orb’s magic was turned against the camp. The men’s expressions tell you enough.

Across the rubble-strewn square, you see Ravenwing supporting Lansbury, as he guides her to the shelter of a building. She looks exhausted from her efforts, her shoulders sagging, head hung low.
You notice that Nyms is not with her.

‘Nevarin!’ Mathis is trudging through the rubble towards you. The inquisitor’s armour is raked with black scars, his hair plastered to his head by blood and sweat. ‘We
have unfinished business, you and I.’

‘Mathis? You frown, taking a step backwards. ‘You are not yourself . . .’

He raises his warhammer. ‘Oh I am perfectly myself, demon!’

Suddenly, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. A man is standing on the edge of a rooftop, his scarlet coat billowing in the wind. He raises his hand and suddenly you feel an
invisible force closing in around you, pinning your arms and legs tightly together.

Then the man is moving, running through the air as quickly and deftly as if it was solid ground. And like a dog on leash, you find yourself being dragged after him, floating in a magical
prison.

‘More demons!’ screams Mathis. ‘Don’t think you can escape!’

You are pulled across a broad plaza, its fountains and pathways now charred and cratered, towards an officious-looking building clinging to a rise of grey rock. You try and discern its purpose
– but the invisible bonds shift, spinning you around. Then something hard strikes you across the head, plunging you into darkness. Turn to
928
.

859

A winding staircase leads you down into a high-ceilinged chamber. Torches flicker in sconces along the walls, illuminating a row of statues that stand solemn guard along either
side of the room. These life-like sculptures appear to be Tor Knights, clad in full-body plate. Swords and shields rest at their side.

Turning back to the entranceway, you see the barrier of magical light fade. Lansbury steps between the once-glowing pillars. ‘Amateurs,’ she mutters with disdain. ‘Thinking
they could keep me out!’ Nyms and Caeleb follow her into the room.

‘Took your time,’ you grin, folding your arms and assuming a mocking pose.

Lansbury playfully slaps your arm as she continues past. ‘We’re not through this yet. I suggest you stay on your guard.’

As she marches away, Nyms offers you an apologetic smile. ‘If it makes you feel any better, she never laughs at my jokes either.’

Pushing back your rain-soaked hood, you follow your three companions down the hall, towards a large stone door set in the far wall. It stands slightly ajar, leading through to a set of
stairs.

‘The necros did a good job of breaking and entering,’ sighs Caeleb, eyeing up the stone door. You note that its entire surface is covered in spiralling runes and detailed, intricate
script work. ‘These doors were warded.’

‘Yes, and they are over a thousand years old,’ states Lansbury matter-of-factly. ‘A child could have broken through these defences. It is nothing to be admired.’ The
medic hikes up her robes and starts down the stairs.

‘See what I mean?’ grins Nyms. ‘No fun at all.’

He starts after Lansbury, with yourself and Caeleb bringing up the rear. Turn to
926
.

860

You join Lansbury, who is still studying the cart with a thoughtful expression.

‘What do you think? Those runes . . . did they tell you anything?’

The medic gives a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know. They are not of this world, if that is what you mean.’ She traces a finger along a length of wood, forcing the sigils to glimmer
briefly in the dull half-light. ‘While not the same, I would say they share a common origin with . . . this.’ She reaches out and takes hold of your arm, tugging back the sleeve to
reveal your branded skin.

You snatch your arm away defensively. ‘A shadow mark?’

Lansbury shrugs. ‘Some of the symbols on this cart follow a similar form, although I sense their purpose is different. I would say these runes have more to do with travel and safe passage,
than . . .’ she glances down at your arm, ‘. . . murder.’

You tug back your sleeve, shamed and angered. ‘I can’t change the past.’

The medic holds up her hands, nodding. ‘I know. I know. Forgive me, I’m sorry.’

You give her a hard look before shifting your attention back to the trader. ‘And what of him? Is he a spy or not? If these are shadow runes, that makes him the enemy.’

‘Oh, hardly.’ Lansbury leans over the side of the cart and pulls out an old cooking pot. Holding it to her face, she peers at you through one of its many rusted holes. ‘I
don’t think we need to be frightened of old pots just yet, do you?’

861

With a burst of magic, you propel yourself forward, aiming straight for the legion’s general. As your shield sputters and dies, one of the arrows slams into your chest,
sending you spinning back through the air. You land roughly, tumbling and sliding through the dust to finally lie in a smoking heap at the base of one of the craters.

The ground trembles as the general’s mount advances. It is a huge, grey-scaled beast, its horned face sloping back to form a spiked crest. Along its flanks, black plates of steel are
bolted into its flesh, oozing dark blood and rust.

Frantically, you scramble to your feet, tugging the arrow from your chest. You feel no pain, no discomfort, only an icy tingling as your shadow mark closes up the wound, flooding you with fresh
energy.

‘Nevarin!’ The general reins in the armoured beast, its splayed feet skidding in the thick ash. ‘You . . . you fight against us?’ The muffled voice is that of a young
woman’s – surprise evident in her tone.

You brush the dirt and dust from your clothes. ‘What ever gave you that impression,’ you sneer, drawing your weapons.

‘Humph! So be it!’ The general barks a word of command. The beast gives an answering roar as it lowers its head and starts to charge, looking to run you through with its horns:

Special abilities

If you manage to bring down the general’s mount, then you must continue with the
health
that you have remaining. Turn to
809
. If you are
defeated, then you may return to an earlier point. Restore your
health
, then turn to
905
.

862

Your eyes flutter open, the rain-drenched hills of the bone fields swaying before your blurred vision. Ahead of you, an indistinct shape moves quickly across the uneven terrain.
As colours and detail swim into focus, you discern flowing robes and a bright staff of light.

You try and speak but the words clog at the back of your throat, producing little more than a guttural croak. The ground sways once again.

‘They’re awake,’ mutters a voice close to your ear.

You are dropped to the earth, landing in the sodden ash. As you struggle for breath, you look up to see Caeleb standing over you, sweat and dirt staining his face. ‘You aren’t so
light to carry, now get up.’

Nyms paces into view, looking around warily. ‘We need to keep moving. Can you walk?’ He glances your way, a grimace etched deep into his pale, narrow face.

‘Get up!’ snaps Caeleb, kicking ash in your direction. ‘You have already slowed us down!’

In the distance you hear the shriek of some infernal creature.

‘What happened?’ you rasp, aware of a throbbing pain coming from your arm.

‘Good question,’ says Nyms, nervously tapping the pommels of his swords. ‘We thought you were dead and then . . .’ He shrugs his shoulders.

‘Demon magic!’ Caeleb scowls, turning away.

‘But the tomb . . . our mission.’ You push yourself back onto your feet, swaying slightly as you try and regain your balance.

‘Zul’s forces overwhelmed us,’ states Lansbury, looking back to survey the dark skies. ‘We were lucky to escape – but now they have scouts looking for us. We must
hurry.’

Another deafening shriek dashes the uneasy silence. You take a tentative step forward, relieved to find that your strength is slowly starting to return. ‘I’ll be fine. Lead the
way.’

Lansbury nods, before starting down into a narrow ravine. You follow, slipping on the loose stones and bones that carpet the ground. As you catch sight of a skull, grinning back at you from a
mound of ash, you find yourself pondering your strange immortality. Return to the
Act 3 map
to continue your adventure.