The Eye of Winter's Fury (34 page)

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Authors: Michael J. Ward

Tags: #Sci Fi & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Fiction & Literature

BOOK: The Eye of Winter's Fury
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You feel them pressing against you, needling into your skin. It starts as a slight discomfort, quickly becoming something more severe, a pounding pain in your head, an aching in your muscles. You
are about to turn and leave when something hits you hard between the shoulders.

You spin round angrily, following the bounce and thud of an object off to your right. When your eyes catch up with it, you see an apple rolling in the dirt.

Smug laughter rings down from the rafters.

Lifting your gaze, you see Rook seated on a wooden beam, his legs swinging back and forth. He shines another apple on his sleeve, watching you from beneath his dark hood. ‘If that had been a knife, you’d be dead.’

‘I think you’re a little late for that.’ You put your hands to your weapons, surprised at how sluggish your movements feel; the pain in your limbs has grown sharper and more insistent.

Rook pushes off from the beam, his black cloak swirling back from his shoulders as he drops into the chapel, landing with a graceful flourish. He straightens, pushing back his cloak to take a bite of his apple. He grins, stepping around you as he eats, watching with playful eyes. ‘You made two mistakes. The second you made here, when you gave me an easy target.’

‘And the first?’ You glower, feeling your anger rise.

‘By coming here in the first place.’ He takes another bite of the apple, then tosses the core over his shoulder.

‘Shouldn’t you show more respect?’

Rook moves his hands to his left breast, unfastening the clasp of his cloak. ‘I could say the same of you, corpse-walker. How does it feel, having those holy words crawl underneath your skin? They don’t like you, do they? It is in their nature to repel those who are impure.’

‘Is this your lesson?’

‘One of them.’ Rook lets his cloak drop from his shoulders. Underneath, his grey jerkin is sleeveless, his slender arms bunched with hard muscle. Somehow, two daggers have found their way into his hands. You see another five or six protruding from his waistband. ‘Don’t let your enemy choose the fight. Here, in this place, you are weaker. I have the advantage.’

He circles you again, the candlelight making an oily rainbow of his greased-back hair. ‘I fought with your brother Malden. He was a man you could follow, willingly. Without question.’

You picture your eldest brother for a moment – the brave hero who
everyone looked up to. Even when he was a cripple, lounging in your father’s throne, a wine cup in hand, words slurred and confused, he still had everybody’s ear.

‘War did him no favours,’ you reply curtly.

Rook bends close, voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I’m not going to teach you to be like him.’ He leans back, squaring his shoulders.

‘You want me to be an assassin, is that it?’ You look him up and down with derision.

‘Draw your weapons.’

You do so, gladly – despite the pain racking your body.

‘I’ve seen you train,’ says Rook, spinning his daggers. ‘I know your mind is sharp. But your body is what holds you back. You haven’t learnt to move with grace – to feel the dance.’ He darts in close, looking to strike, then spins away, an effortless leap taking him onto one of the pews. ‘Don’t follow me with your eyes, fool. Follow me with your steel – your strides. Come on!’

He springs from the pew, his heel catching you in the chest. The blow sends you stumbling back, swiping at his shadow, cutting through dusty air. ‘Dance!’ You feel a boot against the back of your knee. It throws you off balance, dropping you to the ground. That’s when the anger really hits – erupting inside you, pushing away the throbbing pain. You whirl to face him, a rumbling growl echoing around the chamber. By instinct you raise your weapons, deflecting the knife intended for your shoulder. A second whistles past your ear.

‘Better!’ Rook pulls another knife from his belt, flipping it between his hands. ‘Come on then, corpse-walker. Let’s see what you got.’ It is time to fight:

 
Speed
Brawn
Armour
Health
 Rook
4
2
2
35
 
Special abilities
Rook’s talons
: At the start of each combat round, take a speed challenge to avoid Rook’s throwing knives. If the result is 10 or more, you have passed and take no damage. If the result is 9 or less, you have been hit and must lose 4
health
.

If you are able to defeat Rook, then turn to
412
. Otherwise, you may repeat the combat or choose a different trainer (return to
369
to make your choice.)

212

You place the ‘four of hearts’ on the discard pile and pick a new stone from the bag. You have gained the ‘three of crowns’.

You have the following stones:

The monk decides to play his hand. Turn to
718
.

213

Quickly, you select the tile and push it into the square-shaped hole. The moment it settles into place, the glyphs give a pulse of greenish light, then the stone starts to move. You back away in surprise, watching in bewilderment as the top half of the slab revolves and pivots aside, revealing a secret cavity carved into the lower section.

You lean forward, excited by what you might find inside. However, instead of gold or some exciting magical treasure, you discover nothing more than a plain-looking rock resting on a square of tanned leather. You reach inside and pick it up, surprised to find that its dark surface is vibrating slightly. Veins of emerald branch through it, glowing softly like the runes carved into the standing stone. If you wish, you may now take:

Stardust

(talisman)

Ability: charm

A nearby cry forces you back to your feet. Quickly, you pocket your find and hurry for the cover of the trees, not wishing to be discovered by the fengle’s companions. Turn to
175
.

214

Your sled is unable to withstand the merciless pounding of the rough terrain. First one of your runners snaps, then the sled itself is flipped over, smashing to pieces against the hard ice.

You have failed to complete the race and are now disqualified from the tournament. Replace the keyword
veteran
with
underdog
. Return to the map to continue your adventure.

215

You learn from Aslev that the einherjar are an ancient order of warriors, sworn to protect the Drokke and the Hall of Vindsvall. Their magic comes from the Dwarves – the ability to carve enchanted horns to channel their spirit into powerful spells and charms.

If you wish, you may now equip the following item:

North wind

(left hand: horn)

+2 speed +2 brawn

Ability: windblast

(requirement: warrior)

The einherjar has the following special abilities:

Sound the charge! (sp + co):
(requires a horn in the left hand) Roll an extra die for your attack speed. If you win the combat round, you may also roll an extra die for your damage score. This ability can only be used once per combat.

Rallying call (co):
(requires a horn in the left hand) Instead of rolling for a damage score you can issue a rallying call. This instantly restores 6
health
and raises your
brawn
by 2 for the next combat round only.

You may now return to the map. When you are ready to re-join Skoll and Anise, select the Boss Monster encounter (the skull icon) to begin the next stage of your journey.

216

You help to unhitch the horse from the cart. It is a strong shire horse, probably used to pulling ploughs before it ended up at the Rift – a detail you suspect Mitch noticed, being a farmer. Using a length of rope from the cart, Mitch fastens one end around the horse and makes a noose with the other. After several failed attempts he manages to lasso the flailing beast, the rope settling across a shoulder and hooking underneath an arm.

‘Got some skill, this kid,’ says Kirk, spectating from a nearby rock. He chews on some dried meat, then tosses it to Lawson. ‘Might just work, this. But keep an arrow ready. If things go berserk . . .’

Lawson chuckles, ignoring Mitch’s angered glare.

‘Come on!’ the boy urges. ‘We can do this.’

The horse takes the strain and begins to heave up the slope. At first the yeti pulls back in resistance, driven by its panicked efforts to free itself – but against the rope and the tar, its strength is soon spent.

Slowly but surely, the tar-covered yeti is dragged onto the shore. Mitch punches the air, grinning like he just won the Capital Games. You back away, wary of what the creature might do.

‘It’s dead,’ says Henna, a hint of irritation in her voice.

‘It certainly ain’t moving,’ says Kirk, pushing himself back up. ‘Stick it with an arrow, Law, just to be sure.’

Mitch steps closer to the beast. ‘Wait, I don’t think . . .’

The arrow leaves the bow and thuds into the shaggy body. There is an almighty roar as the yeti rises up, arms swinging round, black tar showering through the air. You hear an eye-wincing crack. Mitch goes sailing back, his neck twisted at a funny angle. He crashes down amongst a tangle of grass and rock.

Before anyone has a chance to go to his aid the yeti is rearing up, beating its chest with two enormous fists. Then it is charging towards you, its mouth opening wide to reveal a frightening chasm of yellowed fangs. It is time to fight:

 
Speed
Brawn
Armour
Health
Tarred yeti
1
2
1
25
 
Special abilities
Treacle tar
: Each time the yeti wins a combat round and causes health damage to your hero, you must lower your
speed
by 1 for the next combat round only.
Outnumbered
: Your companions add 2 to your damage score for the duration of this combat.

If you manage to overpower this ferocious monster, turn to
350
. 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.

217

You back away from the creature’s remains, a hot sensation burning along your limbs. Where the creature’s claws have dug into your flesh you see that the skin has become angry and red, as if infected by something.

‘Rift rot,’ says Anise grimly. ‘That can be nasty.’

You already feel your limbs weakening, a wave of sickness making you feel dizzy. ‘Can it be cured?’ you rasp, rubbing at the swellings.

‘You’ll need healing,’ she says. ‘And I doubt we’ll find any of that around here.’

You have been infected with the following disease:

Rift rot (pa):
In future combats, you must lose 1
health
at the end of each combat round for the duration of the combat. Rift rot can only be removed by drinking a health potion or using an item/ability that restores
health
. Once removed, you will no longer suffer its effects in combat.

Nursing your wounds, you cross the room into the adjoining passageway – more determined than ever to escape this cursed tower. Turn to
379
.

218

‘Ryker was the prison warden, that’s how this place got its name. Then the prisoners broke out, took it over. Once the dust settled and they finally stopped beatin’ on each other, they chose a leader. They called him Ryker, just like the warden. It’s a title now more than a name. Think there’ve been two, three Rykers in all.’

‘And he’s inside the prison?’ You gesture to the pinnacle of rock rising up into the sky. Through the snow and haze, you can dimly make out tiny flickers of light.

‘Ah, the prison,’ the thief rubs his hands together nervously. ‘A dung heap of bad ones; yer think this is the worst of it, think again. Aye, we be thankin’ the maker, they keep themselves to themselves. You always knows a Ryker man by the red band around their arm. No-one messes with them folk, not even the whalers.’

To continue chatting to the thief, return to
288
. To explore the rest of the compound, turn to
106
.

219

‘A traveller, you say.’ The woman appears unconvinced. ‘And tell me, why would you be travelling these parts? For the scenery?’ She raises her eyebrows.

‘Not a traveller, a merchant,’ you correct quickly. ‘But I was set upon by bandits, back on the road. I was the only one to get away and . . .’

‘The only one? Who were you travelling with?’

You wince, cursing your slip up. ‘I met some others. We thought we’d travel together, for safety.’

‘Didn’t do you much good now, did it?’ The woman huffs, then she nods to your sword. ‘Tell me, did you steal that sword or were you taught to use it? A fine blade for a boy like you.’

You glance down at the holy sword, Duran’s Heart – the named blade that was gifted to you for your thirteenth birthday. ‘I . . . it . . . I found it, yes. On one of the men who attacked us.’

‘A holy blade. And does that belong to the man also?’

Her eyes shift to the dried blood coating your sleeve. You look away, avoiding her glare. ‘He was . . . one of the bandits,’ you stutter, knowing the lie is written all over your face.

The woman shakes her head with a frown of disappointment. ‘You are a fool to think I’d believe your story. You are but a child. A thief, no doubt. One who got caught out, and now plans to rob me blind.’ She reaches into her basket and pulls out a knife. ‘Are you good with that blade, son? You had better be . . .’

‘No wait!’ You raise your hands imploringly. ‘I’m no thief. You can have the sword – I can’t even touch the cursed thing.’

The woman takes a step back. ‘Is this true?’ she gasps.

Too late, you realise what you have done, blurting out your secret with no mind to the consequences. To confess such a thing is almost tantamount to treason. ‘I can only touch the scabbard,’ you reply honestly, seeing no point in spinning out another lie now you’ve gone this far. ‘The inscriptions . . . if I put even a hand to them, they . . .’ You struggle for the words.

‘Reject you?’ the woman supplies thoughtfully.

You nod, trying to gauge her reaction. This secret is one you have only shared once before, with your nursemaid Molly. And you doubt she’ll be telling anyone now.

‘You’re no witchfinder, then,’ the woman appears to visibly relax. ‘Perhaps there is some truth in what you say after all.’ (Make a note of the word
pauper
on your hero sheet, then turn to
249
.)

220

After several hundred metres, the floor of the shaft falls away into a slope of broken ice. Water pours out of several depressions in the wall, forming bright rivulets as they thread their way between the smoothed slabs.

You drop onto the slope, your feet immediately skidding on the wet ice. Flung onto your back, you slide down the water-scoured chute, landing in a tumble of limbs at the foot of the rubble. After brushing the wet ice from your clothes, you examine your new surroundings. Turn to
397
.

221

You hoist the sack onto your shoulders, hoping that Everard will appreciate the return of his missing equipment. As the sun starts to dip towards the horizon, you leave the canyon and head back to the keep. (Make a note of the keyword
trader
on your hero sheet.) You may now return to the map to continue your adventure.

222

A morning haze still smokes across the ice as the tournament racers take their positions outside the prison walls. Beneath your sled’s runners the sheet is thin and fractured, creaking and snapping constantly as if it might give way at any moment. Only a few feet below the ice, you can see the ocean water rushing past in a trailing flurry of bubbles – promising a swift end to those unlucky enough to fall through.

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