The Eye of Winter's Fury (49 page)

A flurry of sparks lift from the page, startling you. With a gasp, you drop the book to the floor, stepping away from it in fear. ‘What . . . what did I do?’

Segg cracks a smile. ‘Proved to me you have what it takes, Arran.’ He folds his arms, the jewels on his sleeves catching the firelight. ‘You have a natural talent for magic, boy – I’m surprised no-one has ever told you that before.’

(If you have the word
envoy
on your hero sheet, you may turn to
255
.)

329

You hand over the ten gold crowns (deduct this amount from your hero sheet). ‘Good, good!’ The man pulls a stub of charcoal from his belt and steps up to the board. ‘So, what name are yer going for? Something flashy . . . something that sounds like, well, like a crazy ice sled racer!’

You pull a frown, then a name comes to you; one the other children always used to tease you with around court. ‘Ghost,’ you reply. ‘Call me ghost.’

The man gives an impressed snort. ‘Hmm, I like it.’ He adds the name to the bottom of the list. ‘Now, just visit me before each race, so I can check you in. Oh, I almost forgot . . .’ He darts into his cabin, emerging a few seconds later with a cracked sheet of leather. ‘These are the rules. Take a gander.’

You snatch the leather from his hand, already seeing that it is blank and unmarked. You turn it over a couple of times, then look back at the man. He is chuckling to himself, his grin almost splitting the sides of his narrow face.

‘There are no rules,’ you sigh, delivering the punch line.

‘Oh, you better believe it,’ he sniggers. ‘Don’t think for a second these people want to see a fair fight – and don’t think the other racers are gonna care either. No rules. So, watch yourself – and give a good show.’

(Record the keyword
rookie
on your hero sheet.) To begin round one of the tournament, turn to
189
. If you would prefer to race at a later time, then turn to
106
to continue your exploration of the compound.

330

You scrabble to your feet, sobbing from the pain. The inquisitor needs your help, and you are not about to leave him behind to die, despite his betrayal. You draw your weapon and charge the nearest wolf, its back exposed as it arches over the warrior’s body, head rolling back and forth, tearing into flesh and bone.

Your weapon does likewise, beating and stabbing at the beast, until it breaks its hold. The wolf springs round, lips peeling back from bloodied fangs. You swing again, your actions led by panic rather than bravery, hitting it squarely on the nose. The wolf flinches away, then races back into the forest.

Its companion does likewise, a length of bloody cloth clenched between its teeth.

You stand over the inquisitor, trying not to look at the extent of his wounds, knowing that the man is surely done for. No holy magic or healing is likely to save him.

Hort looks up at you, squinting in the half-light. He holds up a crimson-stained hand. You take it, helping him back to his feet. The warrior staggers against the nearest tree, his tunic hanging in ribbons from his broad chest.

Then you hear it. A rumbling growl – a sound so deep it sets your bones to shaking. Hort nods to something over your shoulder. Slowly, you turn, hands gripped to your weapon, to see a pair of amber eyes staring back at you from the snarled thicket. They are set within an immense pool of darkness. The sharp stench of blood is joined by something fouler, reeking of death.

The giant wolf takes a step forward, breath misting and steaming from its enormous muzzle. It pauses, watching you both. Waiting.

‘Go,’ whispers Hort, raising his gore-soaked dagger. ‘It’s the pack leader. I’ll do what I can. Go.’

You turn, meeting his gaze. Before you can answer, he shakes his head.

‘Don’t think me a hero,’ he scowls. ‘But you’ve taught me enough this day. Now run.’

If you have the keyword
blade
on your hero sheet, turn to
319
. Otherwise, turn to
231
.

331

You sever the last of the devilish roots, dodging aside as the monster’s body drops to the ground with a rattling din. Amongst its skeletal remains, you spy a number of enchanted items. If you wish, you may now take one of the following:

When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
509
.

332

‘Jerico,’ sighs the woman, following your gaze. ‘When the rest of our team didn’t return, we went looking for them. There was a fresh fall of snow; we didn’t see the crevasse until it was too late. Jerico fell in – but we managed to save him. He has broken ribs; there might be bleeding on the inside. Without a medic . . .’

‘Have you not tried to get aid?’ You look from Reah to her male companion, who is still regarding you with a sullen, suspicious glare. ‘Are you waiting for a rescue team? The sea is frozen, winter is coming . . .’

‘Don’t we know it,’ snaps the man. ‘We took shelter in a cave nearby but it became unsafe. Better to take our chances here. We sent our youngest south, he still had strength. He took most of what we had left – struck a course for Bitter Keep. We thought they would come for us. But nothing . . .’

You shake your head. ‘Bitter Keep is no more. Your friend – I have seen no sign.’

Reah puts a gloved mitt to your arm. ‘Please, we cannot leave here until we find out what happened to the others. They went into the caves – we won’t know peace otherwise.’

333

You clamber up onto a dusty plateau, where columns of rock cut a ragged outline against the sky. Their careful arrangement gives the impression of something man-made, perhaps the remains of a temple or a once-grand amphitheatre.

You pass between the high pillars, listening to the singing and cawing from the hundreds of nests perched precariously on the scarred stone. Much of the ground is crusted with droppings, the wind carrying its stink to your nostrils. There are also broken shells and feathers, and some brown straggly weeds, miraculously clinging to life in this barren place.

‘No . . . not come here.’

The voice is faint, barely a whisper. For a moment, you wonder if you imagined it. Then you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. A brief blur of white, the patter of feet. When you try and follow it, you are left staring at empty corridors of rock, a few white petrel feathers gusting through the air.

‘No, not the eyrie.’

Another flurry of footsteps. You hurry around the nearest pillar, again finding no-one.

‘My place. This is mine.’

‘Who are you?’ You spin angrily, tired of the game.

Squatted on a rock is a man – at least you think it is a man. His clothes are covered in hundreds of feathers, stitched into the fur. Long strips of leather hang down across his bowed legs, dressed again with feathers to give the appearance of wings.

He makes a clicking sound at the back of his throat, head twitching. ‘Eyrie for the birds,’ he rasps, his words thin and strained, like someone for whom language has become foreign. ‘Not for stinking carrion.’

You spread your palms, backing away. ‘I’m just passing through,’ you reply guardedly.

The man’s age seems indeterminate – his face a mask of grime and sweat, the wild hair caked in mud. ‘This the birdman’s home,’ he huffs, flicking his head back. ‘Protect the nest. The eggs. The birds.’

He scoops up a rock, flinging it in your direction. You dodge it easily, leaving it to shatter against the wall behind you. When you look back, the birdman has gone. Suddenly, you hear the scuff of footsteps to your left. You swing round just in time to catch the birdman as he bounds into you, a pair of clawed knives gripped tightly in his fists. You must now fight:

	Special abilities
	Spitting feathers : If you win a combat round, roll a die. If the result is or less, the birdman swipes you with his feathered wings, knocking you back. This prevents you from rolling for damage. The combat round ends and a new one starts. If the result is or more, you can roll for damage as normal.

If you manage to cull this crazy ex-convict, turn to
421
. If you lose the combat, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet. You may then attempt the combat again or return to the map.

334

Congratulations! You have obtained a bottle of
Bowfinch ’55
(simply make a note of this item on your hero sheet, it does not take up backpack space. You can also remove the keyword
Bowfinch
from your hero sheet. Remember to deduct 100 gold crowns.)

Make a note of paragraph number
190
. When you wish to return to Gurt and hand over this rare item (to continue the red quest,
The Hall of Vindsvall
) turn to
190
at any time.

You may now remain in the taproom (turn to
80
) or leave (turn to
659
).

335

The guard displays his hand to you. The guard has the following stones:

In the centre of the table is a black velvet bag, containing the remaining stones that have yet to enter play. It is the guard’s turn to discard one of the stones in his hand and take a replacement from the bag. ‘What shall I do?’ he asks worriedly, scratching his balding pate.

Across the table, the hooded ghost waits for your move in deathly silence.

336

The very air seems to vibrate as a cold shadow stretches across the rooftop. You turn, just in time to see the last of the drakelings rushing in, its entire body aflame. Segg gives an anguished cry, throwing up his arms. Then the immense beast smashes into the side of the tower.

You are thrown through a thunderous whirlwind of dust, free-falling as the spiked rooftop pitches after you, tearing through the smoke-smeared skies. You hear screams from below, the sound of rocks pummelling the earth. A reptilian body sweeps past you, its tail smacking into your chest and knocking you into a dizzying spin. You put out your arms, trying desperately to halt your fall. Turn to
320
.

337

Legendary monster: Sasquatch

It appears you weren’t the only one to gate-crash the party. Another guest goes flying overhead, cutting the air with a deafening squeal. A violin follows – then some plates and a goblet. A freshly-roasted pig brings up the rear. From the pavilion tent, the screaming intensifies as people struggle to beat their way out, wigs and bonnets askew in the mad scramble to escape.

Five minutes earlier, you had been drawn to the clearing by the sound of music and merriment. Inside the tent a table had been laid for dinner, groaning under the weight of the fruit and meats served up out of the vast array of picnic hampers. The guests, a gaudy array of Valeron nobles, laughed and gossiped in refined comfort, picking daintily at their tiny servings, whilst occasionally clapping the efforts of the string quartet.

You had watched from the tree-line, wary of the dogs lying next to the sledges – and the armed guardsmen patrolling the perimeter. It may have been an ill-advised decision to hold a party in the middle of a wild forest, but clearly the nobles hadn’t come completely unprepared.

That is, until the hunting team arrived back. Running out of the trees, screaming at the top of their lungs. One of their number was stumbling, blood soaking through his breeches. Another was casting wild glances past his shoulder.

Then the yeti came, kicking up a great flurry of snow, a nine-foot giant of shaggy brown hair. Its huge fists scooped up the stragglers with ease, tossing them over its broad shoulders as if they were little more than twigs. They broke in a similar fashion too, bones cracking noisily as they rolled and tumbled through the treetops.

The musicians finally heard the screaming. Their melody ended in a screech of strings.

It has been pandemonium ever since.

Party-goers are now hurrying towards one of the sledges, elbowing and shunting each other to secure a space. In their panic, they don’t see the beast until it is too late. The yeti snatches up the entire craft, dogs and all, then with a single twist of its huge shoulders hurls the
sledge back into the forest. Jingling harnesses accompany the whimpering howls of the surprised hounds.

The other dog-teams are wise enough to break for the trees, chased by the guests desperate to catch a ride. They never make it, as the yeti drags the entire tent off its supports, swinging the canvas round like a giant club, cracking through bodies and smashing the sledges to smithereens. A few of the guardsmen who haven’t already lost their resolve and fled attempt to encircle the beast – but they can’t get close enough to draw blood. The yeti picks them up in its leathery paws, then tosses them away like a toddler mad with its toys.

You can understand the beast’s rage. Blood seeps from a puncture wound in the yeti’s left shoulder. Beneath its ribcage you can see the broken shaft of a spear. The brash hunters thought they could best this mighty creature – perhaps take its valuable pelt as a trophy. Out here, in the frozen wilds, there are no second chances.

You draw your weapons and step into the clearing, prepared now to finish the job – and put this beast out of its painful misery. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Swat back : If you lose a combat round, roll a die. On a or result, the Sasquatch attacks as normal. If the result is or more, its mighty paws swat you backwards. This immediately inflicts 2 dice of damage, ignoring armour . It also sets up a ground smash (see below).
	Ground smash : If the Sasquatch uses swat back , you must immediately take a speed challenge to dodge its follow-up attack. If the result is 14 or less, you are hit and must take a further 1 dice of damage, ignoring armour . If the result is 15 or more, you dodge the attack.