The Heart of Fire (63 page)

Remember, Nelson will only stay with you for
one
encounter. If you wish to use his services again, you must hire him for 40 gold crowns. When you have made your decision, you may explore
the rest of the camp (turn to
744
), or return to the quest
map
to continue your journey.

414

You charge forwards, your heightened reflexes helping you to dodge the barrage of flying debris. However, finding your opponent is proving to be more difficult. Your weapons
repeatedly slash through empty air, a ghostly snigger always audible a second later from a different area of the chamber. The poltergeist is fast-moving and impossible to hit. You will have to
resort to some other method of defeating it.

If you have the
Book of Binding
, you can try and use its powers to trap the spirit (turn to
266
). If you wish to use your cloak (and risk damaging this item),
you could use it to try and cover the poltergeist, in order to see it better (turn to
147
) – or you could simply make a dash for the exit (turn to
29
).

415

‘Then kneel before me,’ the old man rasps. ‘And keep your hands steady. I am weary, as is my patience.’ You quickly follow his instruction, kneeling
beside the cushions and offering out your hands. The man fumbles at his side, producing a short metal rod from a pouch at his belt. He lifts it up before his pale sunken eyes, his lips twitching
into a thin smile. ‘Now, this will hurt . . .’

As the rod touches your flesh, you feel a hot searing pain punching through your body. It forces you to jerk backwards with an anguished cry. ‘Hold still!’ The abbot maintains a
tight grasp on your wrist, his grip unnaturally strong for such a frail man. ‘Suffering is part of faith.’

He continues to drag the rod across your skin, etching lines of holy script into the sizzling, blistered flesh. You can only watch, teeth gritted against the pain, as your hands are slowly
covered by a bright white light. Turn to
502
.

416

You find yourself in a small dank room, its walls and ceiling dripping with rust-coloured water. It has the appearance of a cell, with a barred window in the far wall and a
pallet bed set underneath it. The mattress has been slashed to pieces, sawdust and cloth covering the floor. You also spot tufts of fur amongst the sodden debris.

A creature is shuffling back and forth across the room, head hung low. As your boot scrapes against the wet stone, the creature looks up suddenly. It is a bear – or some peculiar imitation
of one – with a pointed black muzzle, round fluffy ears and buttons for eyes. It walks perfectly upright, its proportions almost human.

‘My heart. Did you bring me my heart?’ rasps the creature, its words burdened with pain and sorrow. It shifts around, revealing the gaping cavity in its chest. The fur has been torn
or shredded apart, sawdust stuffing hanging loosely from the wound. ‘He promised me a heart,’ the bear moans sadly, shuffling towards you. ‘All I ever wanted was a
heart.’

If you have the
heart-shaped box
or
Dagona’s locket
, turn to
387
. Otherwise, turn to
434
.

417

The centre of the door is carved to resemble a needle and thread, surrounded by a circle of nine stars. From somewhere in the distance you hear the faint echo of a
child’s laughter, followed by a woman’s lingering scream. Worried that your companions are in danger you push open the door, keen to continue your search.

The room beyond is a high-vaulted chamber. White light pours in shafts through narrow arched windows, falling on a sumptuous array of fabrics, hanging from wooden frames. To one side of the room
there is a large table, covered with scraps of cloth and what you assume are patterns, drawn out on parchment. Opposite is a row of shelves, with various pots and urns jumbled on them. A plain
wooden door in the east wall stands slightly ajar, leading through into another passageway.

The child’s laughter rings out once again. You turn on the spot, trying to discern its direction. ‘Play my games!’ titters the voice. ‘Paper, scissors, stone! Paper,
scissors, stone!’

418

You lie in the mud, paralysed by fear and pain, as the demon prepares to end your life. For a fleeting second, you remember a vision from your time at Durnhollow: a black
mountain erupting with fire. You, lying on your back amidst the flames and ashes while a demon stands over you, a huge runed blade gripped in its scaled hands.

You blink past the image, stiffening in horror as you realise that Cernos is that very same demon. But in this grim reality, there is no sword . . . only a fist full of dark fire.

A gunshot tears through the night. The demon flinches, staggering back slightly. Another gunshot follows, this one clearly connecting with something vital. The demon snarls in pain, whipping
around to face its unseen tormentor. Gritting your teeth, you try and lift your head, struggling to gain a view of the battle.

‘You are weak, Cernos,’ cries a man’s voice, edged like cold steel.

Swallowing back your nausea, you glimpse a man in a long grey coat and a broad-brimmed hat. He is striding purposefully towards the demon, unloading bullet after bullet into its scaled chest.
With a final heart-stopping roar, the demon launches itself into the air, its huge wings beating a grey-black blur. The gunman fires another salvo, watching as the creature soars away into the
night.

Wood and stone crunch beneath the stranger’s boots as he holsters his pistols and walks casually towards you. When the man’s shadowed face finally swings into view, you catch the
glimmer of gold teeth, flashing in the moonlight. Then your strength gives out – and you let yourself fall back into the mud, and the cold, painful dark. Turn to
494
.

419

Once inside the temple, you find that the debilitating presence has lifted. You can only assume that it was some spell or enchantment worked into the causeway, to turn back
unwanted visitors.

Warily, you draw your weapons and advance slowly down the black-stone passage. It soon opens out into a vaulted chamber, its runed stonework illuminated by a huge shard of crystal hanging from
the ceiling. The tip of the crystal points to a raised dais, where an upright sarcophagus breaks through the pale light. Concentric circles of runes radiate out from its base, carpeting the tiled
floor in pulsing sigils of dark magic.

You catch the rustle of cloth and a serpentine hiss. As your eyes grow accustomed to the crystal’s radiance, you see something moving within the confines of the sarcophagus.

‘You did well to make it this far,’ rasps a gravelly voice. A squat figure steps out from the stone coffin. The light makes it hard to pick out features, but you get the impression
of a short deformed human, huddled in a cloak. A hood is pulled low over their face, its trim decorated with a band of shifting runes. ‘Not even the great Allam could walk the causeway of
Duerdoun.’

‘Who are you?’ you demand, trying to maintain a confident tone despite the sickening fear gripping your stomach.

‘The custodian,’ spits the voice. ‘The sworn defender of the key. I lost it once – but never again!’

‘You mean the relic?’ you ask uncertainly. Then realisation dawns. ‘Wait! You were the one who broke into the church vault – the one who cursed the bishop and the
thief!’

You glimpse jagged sharp teeth, leering from the darkness. ‘I had an errand – one of great import. The inquisitors took it before I could return. It matters not, they have already
paid the price.’

‘Why is this relic so important?’ you persist. ‘What does it do?’

The figure throws back its arms, revealing scaled hands twisted and misshapen into claws. ‘These matters are not of your concern, youngling. You will soon join the other witless thieves
who tried to steal my charge – who now serve
me
in eternal damnation!’

There is a flash of dark light, then the figure is gone. Behind you, there is a sudden rush of wind. Something slams into your back, blowing you forwards into the chamber. As you land in a roll,
the runes on the floor suddenly spit and hiss, their dark glow turning to a bright blood red. You rise just in time to see the squat figure running at you, a sword gripped in one hand and a
talon-like wand in the other. From beneath the cowl, two serpent-like eyes glitter with malice.

You must now fight this deadly adversary:

Special abilities

If you are able to defeat this deadly foe, turn to
493
.

420

The three ancestral spirits whirl around the shattered weapon, remaking it anew. If you are a warrior, turn to
461
. If you are a rogue, turn to
526
. If you are a mage, turn to
514
.