Legion of Shadow (116 page)

‘The mage said it would be here!’ he growls, his head snapping round to focus on the next area of his search. He moves over to a silver casket and lifts it out of a sea of coins.
Opening it up, he gives a maddened peel of laughter.

‘Yes! Yes!’ he casts the casket aside, raising his left fist to reveal an onyx necklace . Hanging on the end of it is a round pendant, its glassy centre swirling with black smoke.
‘The witch’s charm!’

‘Wait!’

Before you can stop him, Arthurian throws back his arm and brings the pendant down hard against the nearest wall. It shatters, sending black smoke spiralling up into the air.

Arthurian gives a gasp, stumbling backwards. ‘Yes. Yes . . .’

His eyes grow wide, his mouth gagging open, gulping for breath. You move quickly to his side, catching him as he falls.

The body goes into spasm, gripped by a series of abrupt seizures. Then the warrior’s eyes close and he is still, the body becoming limp in your arms.

‘Arthurian?’ Gently, you lay him down, aware that the warrior is no longer breathing. ‘So, you finally got your wish,’ you mutter sadly.

Your attention is caught by the silver crucifix resting against the grime-stained jerkin. You go to take it, when suddenly there is a flash of movement; Arthurian’s hand snaps around your
wrist, gripping it tightly.

As you wrestle to free yourself, you realise that the man’s body is alive once again . . . the chest is rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths; the lips part to give a low moan.

Then the eyes flick open.

Instead of Arthurian’s steely gaze, you are met by dark pits of hatred.

‘No!’ You break the man’s powerful grip, stumbling back into a clinking mound of gold and silver.

The stranger springs agilely to his feet, his right arm bursting into purple flames. ‘What is this?’ He stares at you intently, his brow creasing with a sudden confusion.
‘Nevarin? Are you the one who brought me back here?’ He draws the jewelled dagger from his belt. ‘What foolishness is this?’

You realise that this must be the shadowstalker who tricked Arthurian; the one who stole his body and led his faithful knights to their deaths against the shadow legion.

‘Yes,’ you growl, your own shadow mark flaring with anger. ‘Though I intend to send you back to the demon pit that spawned you!’:

Special abilities

If you defeat this sinister foe, turn to
892
. If you are defeated, turn to
796
.

887

Searching the general’s armour, you find a leather pouch containing 150 gold crowns. You may also help yourself to one of the following special rewards:

When you have made your decision, turn to
824
.

888

As you land the killing blow, you step away from the robber, leaving him to fall to his knees on the muddy ground. His dagger drops from his hand, his pale fingers going to a
cord around his throat.

‘Judah protect me.’ A flash of lightning picks out the silver crucifix he is now clutching between bloody fingers. When he looks up at you, he is smiling. ‘Did I pass the test?
Did I prove my faith?’

Then, with a cry of anguish, his body begins to unravel, spinning into black coils of shadow that rise up before you in a whirling column.

Your eyes widen in shock. ‘It . . . can’t be!’

The robber was a Nevarin, just like yourself. There is a sharp tingling from your shadow mark. You tug back your sleeve to reveal the diamond-bodied serpents branded into your skin.

As you look back at the writhing mass of magic, you feel the familiar desire welling up inside of you – the overwhelming need to absorb the magic into your mark.

889

‘Did they send you? Are you here to finish what you started?’ The robber hisses like a cornered serpent, making a tentative lunge for you with the knife. You dodge
away, watching him intently.

‘Finish what?’ you ask, frowning.

‘Oh, games – yes, your kind like games.’ The robber taps the side of his head with the hilt of his dagger. ‘Get inside my head . . . head, yes!’

‘I’m not here to play games.’ You raise your hands as a sign of submission. ‘I am here to help you. Perhaps that is why I was brought here – to this place.’
You speak slowly, emphasising each word in the hope that you can calm this crazed vagabond.

‘Help?’ he sneers. ‘Why would you help me?’

You glance around at the dark chamber. ‘I sense you are trapped here . . . or perhaps you are looking for something that you can’t find. Am I right?’

The robber steps back, looking momentarily disarmed. ‘I just want what was mine.’ You notice him tug his coat over his chest, trying to obscure a silver chain. Dangling on the end of
it is a crucifix.

‘And I’ll help you, I promise.’

‘Promises?’ The robber snickers. ‘It is already too late for me! I will not play these games!’ He takes the dagger he is holding and, with a cry of defiant rage, he
plunges the blade into his chest.

‘No!’ You rush forward, grabbing the robber by the lapels of his dirty coat. Blood flecks his lips as he looks up at you between his matted hair. ‘I cannot die,’ he
rasps. ‘I cannot die. What harm can you do to me?’

He laughs, crimson spit bubbling down his dirt-stained chin. ‘You cannot harm me, demon!’ Then, with a cry of anguish, his body begins to unravel, spinning into dark coils of
shadow.

Your eyes widen in shock. ‘No! It can’t be!’

The robber is a Nevarin, just like yourself. There is a sharp tingling from your shadow mark. You tug back your sleeve to reveal the diamond-bodied serpents branded into your skin.

As you look back to the writhing mass of magic, you feel the familiar desire welling up inside of you – the overwhelming need to absorb the magic into your mark.

890

‘I understand,’ nods Avian. ‘Then take this. I suspect you will have need of it.’ He reaches into his robes and pulls out a metal globe. ‘Something
I made myself.’ He tosses it to you.

‘What is it?’ you ask, snatching it out of the air. Turning it over in your hands, you discover that the globe’s surface is perfectly smooth, without marking or decoration.

‘It will project a shield around you, for a limited time,’ explains the mage. ‘Use it wisely.’

‘Thank you.’ You clasp Avian’s hand.

The mage regards you gravely, as if troubled by something. ‘You will travel to dark places, Nevarin. Of that I am sure.’ He glances up at the doom orb, its magic glittering against
the darkening sky. ‘The time has come . . .’ He sighs, his gaze shifting back to you. ‘I think you have fulfilled your apprenticeship, don’t you?’

He raises his hands – and suddenly bright light flares around the edges of the carpet. A second later and the mage is speeding away, to join the rest of the airborne regulars gathering at
the far side of the square.

You glance down at the globe, and at your own wearied expression reflected in its metallic surface. Indeed, you have come a long way since you first walked across the drawbridge at Avian’s
castle, presenting the mage with your letter of recommendation. ‘Dark places . . .’ Pocketing Avian’s gift, you turn your attention back to the square. Turn to
905
.

891

You smash apart the golem’s body, sending battered sheets of twisted metal careening across the room. Finally, you drive your magic into the beast’s head, ripping
apart the delicate array of cogs and wheels. With a wheezing low-pitched whirr, the automaton crashes to the ground in a pile of smoking body parts.

You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:

When you have made your decision, turn to
805
.

892

Your final blow hurls the Nevarin back against the wall, where he explodes into a swirling mass of shadow magic. Eagerly, you raise your mark and absorb his dark essence,
revelling in the fiendish power that is now yours.