The Heart of Fire (61 page)

You and an ally are both healed for 8
health
and your opponent takes 1 die of damage, ignoring
armour
.

You can only use
ley line infusion
once per combat, and you cannot alter the outcome of your die rolls.

When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
476
.

404

Benin strides over to the creature. He makes a quick inspection of the body before turning away in revulsion.

‘Ooh, what is it?’ asks Bea, her voice shrill in the echoing chamber.

‘A dwarf I think,’ replies Ventus, wrinkling his nose. ‘And I suspect he was guarding that . . .’ The monk crosses the room to a large stone casket, set within a circle
of runes. They still pulse with a faint glow, but at a gesture from the monk they crackle and spark, and then fade to nothing. ‘This is what Allam was seeking.’ He raises a glowing fist
into the air. With a roar, he brings it down hard, shattering the stone lid. ‘Agh, no!’ Ventus suddenly staggers backwards, covering his face.

‘A curse!’ cries Bea, cowering behind her raised arms.

You can feel it from where you are standing. A fierce heat washing through the chamber. But whereas the others seem to be driven back by its intensity, you find yourself unmoved. Instead, you
cautiously advance, much to the surprise of Benin.

‘Stay back!’ he cries in warning. ‘The magic . . . it will burn you!’

You are already standing over the casket, looking down at a hammer-shaped object resting on a bed of glowing coals. Somehow you can feel the heat prickling against your skin, but there is no
pain. You reach into the casket and take hold of the hammer, your hands settling around the grip. You smell burning flesh as your skin comes into contact with the super-heated metal, but it feels
distant – like you are looking down at someone else’s body, not your own. You lift the relic, admiring the intricately carved head-piece.

Suddenly, the panels that encase the head of the relic snap open and a bright white light pours forth, filling the room with dazzling radiance. You lift the object above your head, holding it
aloft like a torch, as its light blazes like the heart of a sun.

‘By Judah, it’s the light of the divine!’ gasps Bea, bowing her head with reverence.

Benin seems less sure, squinting as he struggles to focus on the glowing centrepiece. ‘It’s powerful . . . very powerful,’ he remarks. ‘Allam believed it was the key to
the forest.’

Ventus removes his cloak, gesturing for you to wrap the relic within its folds. ‘Then the forest is our next destination,’ he asserts. ‘At last, we will finish what Allam
started all those years before. Let the One God guide us on the true path.’ (Congratulations, you have retrieved the relic from Duerdoun. Return to the quest
map
to continue your
journey.)

405

You shift position, putting your weight behind the wheel to turn it in the opposite direction. As it revolves, screeching and squealing and setting your teeth on edge, you see
that the previous portal has now faded away. There is a repeated series of rumbles followed by a booming thump. Then a different portal appears, this time against the west wall.

406

Without a second thought, Damaris strides over to the first restraint and brings her staff down hard, shattering it to pieces.

‘Stop!’ Conall looks back over his shoulder, his eyes bulging beneath his protruding brow. ‘The demon is a trickster! Its words are lies!’ He spins on his heel, stalking
towards her.

‘Wait!’ You hurry to head off the warrior, positioning yourself between the two feuding Wiccans. ‘Damaris, wait – there has to be another way?’ you plead.

The witch ignores your protests, continuing to smash through the remaining restraints.

‘You betray me for a demon!’ Conall lifts his runed axes, preparing to strike you out of the way. ‘This is the end of us! The end of you, witch!’ Turn to
393
.

407

Your choice was a bad one. The rock monster smashes your soldier to pieces, stomping over the battered remains as it continues to advance. (Remove your soldier from your hero
sheet. Then return to
427
to fight this monster yourself.)

408

Legendary monster: The fisher king

The high walls of the gorge amplify the roar of the nearby waterfall, plunging down from out of the mist to crash amongst the boulders and churning, white-frothed water. After
hours of trekking in the wretched jungle heat, you are grateful to have found this oasis of life. You throw aside your pack and drop to your knees, cupping your hands in the chill waters and
gulping it down as if each swallow could be your last.

After taking your fill, you find yourself studying your reflection. The face staring back is as thin and haggard as when you first fled Durnhollow. You lean closer, pulling away your collar to
view the dark patch of blue-black scales. Every day, every hour, there seems to be more of them – spreading over your body like a disease.

You quickly sink your hands into the water, scattering the reflection as you draw more water to your lips.

It is then that you hear the sound . . .

Since trekking through the jungle, you have become accustomed to the noise – the croaking frogs, the hoarse, jabbering shrieks of the monkeys, the incessant buzz of the midges and flies.
But occasionally a sound will stand out from the rest, competing for attention.

This is one of them. A breathy, rasping noise that suddenly rises in pitch, becoming a series of clacking, rattling wails. You look back up the river, to where it widens into a pool. There,
squatting on one of the rocky islands, is a frog-like humanoid. The sunlight catches on its glistening, rainbow-oiled skin and the rusted prongs of the trident clutched in its spindly hands. The
creature looks agitated, its throat bulging as it continues to emit a chorus of guttural caws.

You edge away from the water, slowly lifting your pack onto your shoulder. Your plan is to turn and make a run for it, back into the jungle. But you hesitate – your gift of prophecy
flashing through the images of your death like pictures in a flipbook.

Suddenly the creature gives a single, gargling cry, then launches forward on its bowed legs. You drop your pack and fumble for your weapons as the frog descends on you with a startling speed.
One of its legs catches you in the chest, sending you tumbling backwards. You fall into a roll, dodging the trident as it slams down with force, striking sparks from the stone. Then you are back on
your feet, trying to gain distance.

The frog leaps again, a spear of red shooting out from its mouth. Before you can register what is happening you are being dragged across the rocks, your body entangled in a long, sticky tongue.
You try and sever it, but a sudden jerk throws you forward, your feet flailing out from under you. In desperation, you swipe at the creature’s legs, bright blood fountaining from a wound. The
frog hops away, its tongue snapping back into its mouth.

Seizing your chance, you rush forward to press your attack – but the frog somersaults over your hasty swing, hopping to a nearby boulder then back to its island. With another gargling
screech it spins to face you, beckoning you to follow. It is time to fight:

Special abilities