The Heart of Fire (9 page)

You have stopped dead in your tracks, letting Polk trudge on for several paces before he looks around, confused. ‘It seems we have arrived,’ you reply, pointing ahead. Polk puts a
hand over his eyes, squinting over the next rise.

‘Well, would yer look at that.’

The tower is a monolith of black stone, cracked with veins of spitting fire. Its pointed spires stab through the clouds, looking like a giant hand of shadow grasping for the sun. In some parts,
sections of the tower have crumbled away – but, rather than fall loosely to the ground, they hang suspended in the air, captured as if in a painting.

‘I guess it didn’t look like that when last you saw it?’ ventures Polk, glancing sideways at Joss. The woman is speechless, gazing upon the black tower with fear and
apprehension.

‘I have to find my husband,’ she breathes at last, starting down into the valley.

Silently, the rest of you follow, wondering what horrors you will find inside this malign-looking tower. Turn to
190
.

25

As your magical blade slashes through the misty apparition, you see it recoil – the lightning flickering more angrily than before. Armed with the knowledge that this
creature can feel pain, you continue to hack away at its whirling form, sending ribbons of mist spiralling away into the gloom. Soon the elemental is no more, the wind that created it dying down to
an ineffectual breeze.

Keeping your weapon drawn you continue into the barrows, eyeing your surroundings warily. After several minutes, you see a series of oval hills looming out of the fog; burial mounds where the
traveller insisted you would find ancient weapons and treasure. To your left, you notice one of the mounds has a ring of candles placed on top of it; their tiny flames flicker in the wind. To your
right, you can see an opening in the side of one of the hills. It looks like it was once covered by a boulder, which has now been pushed aside.

26

‘This is actually for you.’ Anna hands you the casket. ‘It’s Jolando’s and he asked me to give it to you, as a thank-you for saving his
life.’

The casket is plain, with no decoration or mark. It feels heavy in your hands. Opening it up, you find a black-bladed dagger inside, with a small leather pouch and an envelope tucked alongside
it. If you wish you may now take:

The pouch contains 15 gold crowns; the envelope contains an iron key. You turn it over in your hand, looking for any clue as to its use.

‘It’s the key to Jolando’s safe house,’ says Anna. ‘He will leave town for a while, until the troubles have died down. His safe house is now yours. I can give you
directions.’ (Make a note of the entry number 49. Anytime you are in Carvel and wish to visit the safe house, turn to that entry number.)

27

Malak’s face lengthens into a scowl. ‘The shroud is a place of demons and spirits – where the raw elements rule over all. It is the centre of everything, the
meeting place of worlds.’

‘And the old magic comes from this place?’ you ask frowning.

Malak clicks his tongue. ‘Yes, you fool. The dwarves were the first to commune with the spirits, binding their power into runes. Over time, they learned that they could summon more
sentient spirits; those who would gift them greater powers.’

Malak raises his hands, summoning crackling flames to his fingertips. ‘We have to learn control. If we don’t, we can lose ourselves to the magic and then . . .’ He snaps them
closed, extinguishing the flames. ‘Only with control can we understand true power. Not like those Wiccan fools who dabble freely in the darker magics; magics that will turn them all into
gibbering demon spawn.’

28

Damaris turns to face you. Taking your hand, she places it on one of the dark runes glimmering against her robes. ‘Do you feel it?’

The rune tingles against your skin, pulsating with a powerful energy. ‘The dwarves used runes,’ you nod, appraising the other sigils that adorn her clothing. ‘A way of binding
spirits from the shroud to do their bidding.’

Damaris smiles. ‘You know something of the art then. Yes, we are able to reach into the shroud, the ghost world, and commune with the spirits there. The minor spirits are easily bound. The
demons, however . . . Well, they can prove more . . . wilful.’

If you have the word
duty
on your hero sheet, turn to
253
. Otherwise return to
126
to ask Damaris another question.

29

You doubt you stand much of a chance against an opponent you can’t even see. Instead you turn and run, splashing through the murky water towards the door. All around you
various missiles are being flung through the air but miraculously, apart from some minor cuts and bruises, you manage to reach the door unharmed. You are even more grateful to discover that the
door is unlocked. You push it open, the grimy water gushing around your legs as it spills out into the corridor beyond. There is a series of angry bangs and thuds coming from behind you. Quickly,
you attempt to push the door closed, struggling against the force of the rushing water. It finally closes with a metallic clink, leaving the poltergeist to vent its fury alone on the other
side.

After brushing the grime and dirt from your clothes, you take a moment to study your surroundings. The corridor is fashioned from black stone, smooth and without decoration. To your left, it
continues for several metres before ending in a set of worn stairs leading up to a decorative wooden door. To your right there is an open metal grill, beyond which you can see a set of rusted
stairs spiralling down towards the sound of buzzing, hammering machinery.

30

A sudden jealous craving comes over you as you gaze upon the finely-jewelled sword. You take an angry step forward, demanding that the old man hand over his possessions.

‘Ah, very good,’ he snorts. ‘The manners of a Wiccan and the smell of one, to boot. You know, you do look very threatening. Apart from your hands, which are shaking like
leaves.’

You glance down, aware that that the man has a point – your whole body is trembling from exhaustion and the bitter cold. The man watches you with a thin smile. ‘I suppose the test of
good manners is to be patient with bad ones. Let’s see. The sword is not my property, so I suppose you would not be stealing from
me.
Although its owner might take offence.’

He picks up the scabbarded sword and tosses it towards you. It slides across the wet ground to settle at your feet. If you wish you may now take:

‘Presumably you want gold as well.’ His attention shifts to his pack. ‘But I’m afraid we don’t have a need for it on these . . . little ventures.’

‘You said
we
,’ you enquire suspiciously. ‘You have a companion. Where did they—’

Suddenly you hear a bellowing roar coming from somewhere deep inside the rock. It is followed by someone’s cry and a loud ground-trembling boom. The man smiles at your startled reaction
then shrugs his shoulders, continuing.

‘Are you planning on leaving now or do you want my clothes as well? This coat was tailored in Venetia; the lining is Lakrosa silk from across the Dune Sea.’

You ignore his banter, fixing your gaze on the dark rock. ‘What was that noise?’ you ask worriedly.

‘What was what?’ asks the gentleman, leaning over the cooking pot and taking a sniff of its contents. ‘Ah, yes. The stew is ready. Would you like some tea? I brewed some
earlier. Silver Grey, the finest.’

There is another monstrous roar, dislodging stone and dust from the rock walls. The man moves around the fire and settles down on a blanket, acting as if nothing untoward is happening.
‘You can join me if you like,’ he says, raising a cup of steaming tea to his lips. ‘No sense in parting company when there is a good meal to share.’

31

The cobbled lane bends back on itself as it winds crookedly up the face of the grey rock. Exposed to the elements, a fierce wind sweeps in from the rolling highlands to batter
the awnings and signs hanging outside the buildings. These, you notice, have been cut into the rock itself, their interiors lit by flickering lantern light.

Most of the buildings appear to be hostels or homes, but there are also a few stores. One catches your eye; an apothecary, with an image of a potion bottle painted on its wooden door.

32

You find yourself stumbling forward into a dusty attic, its sloping ceiling forcing you to stoop. Thankfully the tremors have now subsided, but their aftermath is still evident
to see – boxes of junk have been thrown around and upended, spilling their contents across the floor. Of the child there is no sign, although you notice another glowing doorway at the other
side of the attic.

33

Quest: Bullets over Blight Haven

You hurry across the barren moors, a chill wind at your back. With night fast approaching and the black clouds promising a storm, you are desperate not to spend another
freezing night without adequate shelter. From the ridge you had spied a village, nestled at the foot of the valley. There had been none of the usual signs of life: no smoke from chimneys or
flickering lights at windows. Nevertheless it had been a lucky find, offering a welcome alternative to a bed of hard ground and a damp cloak for warmth.

As you near the village, you pass through a copse of dark gnarly trees. A weather-beaten length of parchment has been nailed to one of the trunks. You immediately walk over, grabbing its edge to
stop it flapping in the wind. The paper carries the seal of the king, a crown and a crook, marking it as an official document of the realm. The neat-flowing script has been inscribed in holy runes,
making it impervious to the elements. The message reads:

Blight Haven

On Mindas Day, Beltaine, in the year 1385 of the Ascendant The Holy Protectors, King Leonidas and Lord and Lady Justice hereby decree that the village formerly known as
Andor’s Haven is fated for termination and cleansing. Any person found on said land will be considered a trespasser and punished in accordance with The Seventh Holy Writ.

Cold rain starts to fall, spattering off the rocks and leaves. A distant crack of thunder sends a nearby crow to flight, cawing and screeching as it hurries away between the spidery branches.
The storm is coming – and it makes your decision an easy one.

You rip the paper from its nail and toss it away into the mud. Fixing your gaze on the village, you continue down the wooded slope into the valley. No king’s document is going to stop you
from finding food and warmth this night. Turn to
100
.