The Heart of Fire (87 page)

If you manage to defeat Zephyr, turn to
562
. If you are defeated, you may return to
510
to choose a different foe to
battle.

574

Clambering to your feet you discover that you are standing on the outskirts of a set of ruins, shrouded in a pale mist. After dusting yourself down, you decide to enter and
explore them further. Turn to
459
.

575

The frog proves a frustrating opponent, effortlessly avoiding the majority of your attacks. But each lucky wound you manage to inflict saps away at its agility, weakening your
opponent and slowing it down. Finally the frog starts to back away, limping towards the waterfall. Weakened by loss of blood, the frog misses its footing and slips – giving you the opening
you need to step in and deliver the final blow.

Searching the creature’s remains, you find one of the following rewards:

Stepping past the body, you clamber up the slippery rocks and pass underneath the waterfall. As you suspected, there is a cave here – a treasure trove of objects, all tangled up in nets of
vine. There are also a number of skeletons caught up in the netting, both animal and human, and a golden crown sparkling on one of the rocks.

You may now take one of the following as an additional reward:

Searching the remains of the other unfortunate adventurers, you find 50 gold crowns and a crumpled map. It looks to have been torn in two, the half you are holding showing a secret trail through
the jungle. A name has been scrawled at the bottom, followed by a date:
Frobisher. 4.11.1362
. Without the other half, it makes little sense to you. (You may take
Frobisher’s map
if you wish – simply make a note of it on your hero sheet. If you also have
Coronado’s map
, turn to
606
.)

Finding little else of interest in the cave, you leave and continue your journey. Return to the quest
map
.

576

You offer to join the hunting party. The Sheva leader scowls, ready to object – but Black Patch intervenes. ‘Bright claw think like them,’ explains the
younger tigris. ‘Skin knows skin, like we know tigris.’

The other members of the party rumble their displeasure, but the leader appears to be considering his companion’s words. He finally gives a swift nod, ignoring the answering snarls of
dissent as he leads the way into the trees.

As if to prove some point, the tigris set a punishing pace, running on all fours to cover the ground quickly. You struggle to keep up, forced to clamber and hack through the undergrowth while
they bound agilely over it. At last you catch up with them at the edge of a rocky escarpment. Black Patch has climbed up onto a nearby tree, balancing on a growth of liana to get a better view.

Dropping onto your stomach, you slide forward to join the others. Through the misty dawn, you see a fort-like compound occupying the valley below. Each of its wooden walls ends in a fortified
lookout tower, manned by guards. Inside the compound itself you spy several huts, a tent and some cages filled with large and ferocious-looking beasts. The main gates to the compound are open, as a
series of carts clatter out onto a cleared track that cuts into the forest. On the back of each cart are a crowd of smaller cages, containing captured tigris. You spot members of the Sheva and
Khana pack, as well as other tigris with less familiar markings.

You can feel the tension and rage from your companions. The leader starts to rise, his claws extended. If he had his way, he would charge in right now . . . but Black Patch advises caution.
‘Look,’ he snarls, pointing to the carts. ‘Skins go with cages.’

Sure enough, a line of hunters are marching alongside the carts, armed with blades, pistols and crossbows. You count over a dozen – leaving only a skeleton crew back at the compound,
including an eight-foot giant and a burly, black-bearded hunter bristling with weapons. The latter is barking orders, gesturing impatiently at the slow-moving procession.

‘We strike their wood den,’ growls the Sheva leader, baring his teeth. ‘Attack when they weak. Take off head of pack. Then rest fall.’

‘But our kin,’ ventures Black Patch nervously. ‘We must free them, then we strike with many claws. Or we lose them to skin lands. We not see again.’

The leader scowls. ‘That is not our way. Those that fall we leave. They are lost to us.’

‘But they are claws!’ implores Black Patch. ‘They would fight with us!’

You glance at the leader. He is scratching at the earth, torn with indecision. ‘What say you, bright claw?’ he grunts, his eyes remaining fixed on the compound. ‘How should
Sheva win this day?’

577

The carcass of the creature bobs to the surface of the pool. Then it begins to shimmer and fragment into bright shards of blue light. There is a flash from the totem as Boom
Mamba raises it above his head, absorbing the light into its glowing runes.

‘We got the power of Boogaloo!’ declares Boom Mamba, hopping up and down with glee. ‘You do good! Mortzilla will be quaking in fear.’

(By defeating the water spirit, the shaman’s staff has gained the
Boogie’s booster
ability. Make a note of this on your hero sheet.)

If you are a warrior, turn to
569
. If you are a mage, turn to
458
. If you are a rogue, turn to
325
.

578

You pass through a curtain of beads into a small, stuffy room lined with shelves. As you head towards the counter, you glance at some of the peculiar items on display – a
jar containing pickled eels, a monkey-skull candle-holder, a snake-skin umbrella, a necklace of curled fingernails . . .

Behind the counter, a tall skinny woman is arranging flowers in an old boot. Her black hair rises up off her narrow brow in a mountainous peak, decorated with beads and shells and scraps of
netting. It gives her the appearance of something that was just hauled in on the last fishing boat.

‘Ooh, what we got here? You don’t look the usual sort,’ she smiles, fluttering her long, glittery eyelashes. ‘Got a serious air about you, you have. Like someone who
means business.’ She puts her flowers to one side, brushing her hands against her black silk gown. ‘So, to business then. I’m Yootha Finsbottom – think of me as your
personal shopper. You won’t leave here empty-handed or disappointed. That’s my rules.’

Your eyes stray to the collection of jars and bottles on the shelves behind her, as well as a wooden trunk wrapped in iron chains. ‘If you’re going jungle-side then I have a few
little Yootha specials to keep you safe and sound. Or if it’s a souvenir you’re after, then may I suggest a genuine Lamuri artefact? Rare and collectible. I’ll cut you a good deal
on those. No-one says Yootha isn’t fair.’

579

Boss monster: Cernos the demon

The canyon narrows, angling steeply into a tunnel of dark rock. At its end, two carved faces glare at you with flat, expressionless eyes. Dwarves, you assume, from the cropped
beards and flabby jowls. The crowns on their brows curve upwards, forming a high archway cut into the side of the great volcano.

You stride into the chamber beyond – a vast alien hall, its vaulted ceiling glittering with veins of silver. For a brief moment, your steps falter as you struggle to take in the
craftsmanship of your surroundings. There are no lines or fractures, no customary marks from a stonecutter’s tools – the walls are as smooth as glass, reflecting the sparkling light and
magnifying it a hundred-fold.

‘Cernos!’ Your footfalls echo as you march towards the demon. He is facing an immense door, its surface covered in a dazzling array of runes. The demon has put aside his iron casket
– and now fumbles with something at the centre of the door. He stops when he hears you approach, his head cocked to one side.

‘You are a tiresome nuisance,’ he growls. ‘How many lives do you have, prophet?’

He turns to face you, his crimson eyes glittering balefully in the torchlight. ‘I gave you a gift, not a punishment.’

You break into a run, weapons flying into your hands. ‘Then consider this a return, Cernos!’

The demon gives an incredulous laugh. ‘Oh, so now you think yourself my equal?’

He springs forward, moving with a speed that belies his colossal frame. You crash together, snarling like dogs, trading blows in a frenzied blur that would leave any onlooker dizzy. For several
seconds you have the upper hand, your weapons hammering against the demon’s scales. Then a burst of pain flares in your chest. A claw has swept in under your guard, taking you in the ribs and
lifting you off your feet. You roll and tumble, coming up hard against the rock wall. The demon moves in quickly, giving you little chance to recover. With a crack of his wings, he leaps into the
air, drawing his hooves together, ready to slam them down . . .

You see your death, played out in slow motion – the ribcage shattering in an explosion of bone; fragments lancing through your heart and lungs – your life extinguished in a
blood-spattered instant. Then the vision is gone. Time shifts back to the present. You whirl aside, dodging the deathblow . . . The demon’s hooves smash harmlessly into the ground.

‘Too slow, Cernos!’ You scramble back to your feet, weapons raised. ‘I see the future, remember?’

The demon swings around, his half-burnt face creased with fury. ‘Tell me then, fool – do you not see
my
destiny? I am Barahar’s heir! Ragnarok will be mine!’ He
throws up his arms, the air bending and shifting around his scaled fists. ‘All will serve me in damnation!’

A tremble runs through the stone, shaking the walls and rattling your teeth. Then dark magic streaks across the room, gouging great chunks out of the ground. The fragments of rock hurtle towards
the demon, folding themselves around his arms to form a brutal set of gauntlets.

‘Tell me – what future do you see now, prophet?’ Cernos spreads his wings, their vastness obliterating the light. Then he surges forward once again, his rock-encrusted knuckles
splintering into razor-sharp spines. It is time to fight: