Legion of Shadow (118 page)

Your eyes meet and recognition dawns.

‘Fetch!’

The hooded man mumbles another curse, then throws his arms up towards the ceiling. Black light flickers around his body.

‘He’s teleporting!’ you cry, starting forward into the room.

‘No!’ shouts Lansbury. ‘Do not go near it!’

901

It is Caeleb. The cavalier’s armour is raked with black scars, his shield battered and dented. He staggers dizzily through the haze, his inscribed sword dragging through
the dirt behind him. ‘Nevarin,’ he drawls, hobbling closer. ‘I swore to Mathis . . . to the One God . . . that, I’d destroy all shadow spawn this day . . .’

‘Caeleb?’ You shake your head in confusion. ‘What madness is this? I’m not your enemy!’

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 the
strange force closing in around you once again. You try and struggle, but the invisible bonds hold you fast.

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.

‘I’ll find you!’ screams Caeleb. ‘I’ll find you, demon!’

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
.

902

You find yourself back in the paved stone room – opposite you are the stairs that lead back up to the surface. Caeleb and Nyms have already passed beneath the archway in
the west wall, their footfalls echoing back from the passageway beyond. Turn to
909
.

903

‘Really?’ The trader gives a low whistle. ‘Well, what I’ve got here will turn a few heads, even Lord Happy’s over there.’ He nods in
Nyms’ direction. ‘Your friend does have a certain charm though, I’ll give him that.’ With a smirk, Waldo reaches inside the chest and produces three items, which he lays
carefully before you. ‘Now, tell me – how can anyone put a price on these?’ He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. ‘It pains me . . . but, 900 gold crowns? Yes, that’s a fair
price. Risked my life for those little beauties.’

You may purchase any of the following items for 900 gold crowns each:

After you have made your purchases, you can ask to see Waldo’s special deals (turn to
839
) or bid the trader farewell (turn to
789
).

904

The shadowstalker goes for a lunge, but stumbles losing her balance. You note that her breathing is laboured, her movements lacking the sharp focus you would normally associate
with one of her kind.

‘This place does not agree with us, does it?’ you state dourly, feeling the heaviness dragging at your own limbs.

The shadowstalker rights herself, raising her magical blades once again. You see that both are dripping with a thick black poison. ‘On the contrary, I find you considerably more
intolerable, coward!’ With a screeching cry, the stalker springs forward, her poisoned blades cutting deadly arcs of steel:

Special abilities

If you defeat Malaise, turn to
912
. If you are defeated, turn to
862
.

905

The shadow spawn surge forward, presenting a single, black wall of snarling death. You grip your weapons, waiting tensely for the inevitable. Above their horned helms and grisly
standards, you see the last of the mages streaking towards the doom orb that hangs above Talanost. The dark moon of flesh and sinew is firing a torrent of black fire across the city. You can only
assume that it is destroying the last of Ravenwing’s camp and hampering any attempt at reinforcement.

Then the wave of shadow spawn crashes down upon you, drowning you in a mass of filthy bodies and snapping jaws. With a surge of magic, you break free – springing up into the air.
Daarko’s power is nearly spent, but there is just enough, pulsing within your shadow mark, to make a worthy last stand.

Great tentacles of shadow spiral out from the writhing serpents on your arm, smashing into the legion’s ranks and sending bodies flying. A giant looms close, trying to bat you with its
spiked club. You flip over, blasting it with bolts of magic. The giant gives a booming cry, as its smoking body crashes down, sending shadow spawn scampering in all directions.

You hang in the air, your magic surrounding you in a halo of purple light. From here, you are able to take in the battlefield. At the far side of the square, amidst the blackened craters
inflicted by the airstrike, the dark general sits astride their armoured mount. The warrior has sighted you, levelling their bow to fire a stream of enchanted arrows in your direction. Your shield
blocks the deadly projectiles, their magic fizzing and sparking harmlessly on impact. But you know that your barrier will not hold for long.

To your right, a knot of Ravenwing’s forces are battling the shadow spawn. Even though they are outnumbered ten to one, they are managing to push back the enemy forces. Behind them, you
see more warriors hurrying into the square – Ravenwing and Caeleb amongst them. Suddenly, a jagged boulder smashes down amongst their ranks, throwing up dust and sending them hurrying for
cover. The missile came from the edge of the square, where an ogre-like monster is swinging a huge ball and chain in an angered frenzy, smashing up buildings and sending broken masonry toppling
towards the knights.

Ravenwing and Caeleb emerge from the dust, attempting to close in on its position, but they are headed off by a group of shadow spawn. The ogre gives a deafening roar as it lumbers towards the
fight, its heavy iron-shod boots crushing the stone beneath its feet.

906

With the help of your allies, you are able to bring down the gigantic bone angel. While Lansbury administers healing to a wounded Caeleb, you search the rotted pile of flesh and
bone. You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:

When you have made your decision, turn to
841
.

907

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 Mathis lying on his side. The inquisitor looks badly wounded. Possibly fatal. Caeleb kneels at his side, his ear pressed close to the warrior’s
fevered ramblings. Ravenwing stumbles past, helping to support an exhausted Lansbury. You notice that Nyms is not with her. The grizzled warrior glances your way, shaking his head sadly.

‘Nevarin!’ Caeleb trudges through the rubble towards you. The cavalier’s armour is raked with black scars, his shield battered and dented. ‘It’s over for your
kind,’ he sneers, hobbling closer. ‘I swore to Mathis . . . to the One God . . . that I’d destroy all shadow spawn this day . . .’

‘Caeleb?’ You shake your head in confusion. ‘What madness is this? I’m not your enemy.’

He raises his inscribed sword. ‘Mathis told me everything . . .’

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 Caeleb. ‘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
.

908

You are back in the tomb of Valentine D’Azzuro. While you recover from your ordeal, you recount your strange travels to Lansbury, Nyms and Caeleb. The latter is inspecting
an antique sword as he listens to your story.

‘What was this talisman he was so interested in?’ he asks, turning the sword over to scrutinise the hilt.

You shrug your shoulders, before taking another gulp from Nym’s water skin.

‘It matters not,’ states Lansbury stiffly. ‘Whatever that creature is, it is no concern of ours.’

‘He was a man,’ you add, lowering the skin. ‘Once.’

‘He reeked of old magic. Old magic gone bad.’

You hand the skin back to Nyms before pushing yourself back to your feet. ‘Avian trusted him, like he trusts me.’