The Eye of Winter's Fury (23 page)

‘One God protect us.’ Everard lifts the horn to his lips, blowing a
single brazen note. You follow his gaze to the shadow crawling over the remnants of the keep wall. Its size is difficult to comprehend, dwarfing everything – blotting out the sky as it rears up then smashes down, tearing through the walls’ foundations like they were paper. Your first impression is that of a beetle, with a shiny chitinous shell and thin splayed legs. But then you realise this is a much darker creation. The head is a gaping hole, a tunnel lined with hundreds of circles of teeth. And above the mouth a bony crown sweeps back, the spiked ridges flickering with magic.

‘Hold fast!’ Everard blows another note on the horn. ‘Believe in the light. Have faith!’

You watch in horrified amazement as the beast’s armoured plates shift apart, like the dark petals of a flower opening to the sun. From between the exposed cavities black fleshy pillars emerge, each one bulging as if seeking to expunge something inside. Then, as one, the spiracles launch an oily black substance into the air. It falls like rain, landing indiscriminately – a hot acid that burns through armour, stone, flesh.

‘Rally men! Hold fast!’ Everard fights to control his bucking horse, a glob of acid sizzling through his helm. He tugs it free, casting the melted metal away. ‘Form up. We can take it down!’

The frightened soldiers are holding back, cowering beneath their shields as the acid spatters around them. Henna shifts beside you, taking the grip of her blade in both hands. Then she starts forward alone. You hear her uttering the words of a prayer, her sword blossoming with white light.

You look again for Anise, but she is gone – perhaps taking cover amongst the rubble. The ranks of monsters are thinning now, melting into the ruins. It strikes you as odd that they are not pursuing the battle. There seems a sudden urgency to their flight, as if they have a sense of forewarning, a knowledge that something bad is about to happen.

Or perhaps they know their demon will finish the work that they have started.

Turning back, you see Henna still advancing across the emptying courtyard, dwarfed by the monstrous immensity that towers before her. Her courage moves something inside you.

Gritting your teeth, you hurry forward, falling into step beside the
young knight. She glances your way, offering a tight smile. An unspoken thank you.

‘My prince.’ You turn to see Everard following on foot, with the rest of the soldiers fanning out beside him. You see Rook and trainer Orrec amongst their ranks. Everard bows his head. ‘We stand together.’

As you near the giant monster, you notice its crown of spines start to glow brighter. A moment later and your head is pounding with a blinding agony, like hot knives being driven into your skull. The line of soldiers wavers, a tirade of grunts and curses coming from beneath their helms.

‘Fight it!’ hisses Everard to his men, frowning against the pain. ‘It’s trying to weaken us!’

Henna raises her glowing sword, then charges forward with a defiant cry. You follow her lead, your own magic forming a shimmering halo around you. It is time to fight:

	Special abilities
	Nip ’n’ tuck : If Gargax’s legs are reduced to zero health , the head and thorax speed are reduced to 3 for the remainder of the combat. If the thorax is destroyed, the acid rain ability no longer applies. If the crown is destroyed, you no longer suffer from mind fumble .
	Acid rain : At the end of each combat round, you must take 2 damage, ignoring armour .
	Mind fumble : You cannot play any speed or combat abilities while you are inflicted with mind fumble .

If you have any tar barrels recorded on your hero sheet, you can use them at the end of a combat round. Each tar barrel causes 1 damage to all opponents, ignoring
armour
. You can use up to four barrels per combat round. (Remember to remove any used tar barrels from your hero sheet.)

If you manage to defeat this demon of the underworld, turn to
445
.

142

It takes half an hour to load the last of the barrels onto the cart. Once the task is complete, you step back, muscles aching from the hard labour.

‘All in and ready to go,’ says Kirk, wiping his brow. ‘We did good today.’

The team managed to fill
12 barrels of tar
. (Make a note of this on your hero sheet then turn to
315
.)

143

Branch and bark scatter across the chamber as you chop through the last of the saplings to reach the elusive Ratatosk. With every step, the dark magic pouring out of the splintered remains fills you with a newfound vigour. You have gained the following special ability:

Shadow thorns (dm):
Summon barbed roots to rip and tear at your opponents. This causes 1 die of damage to each opponent (roll once and apply the same damage to each).
Shadow thorns
can only be used once per combat.

Ratatosk tries to scamper past you, but his many wounds have taken their toll. Your foot catches him in the side, sending the rodent tumbling back against the wall. Before he can recover, your weapons cross at his throat.

‘Spare me,’ he snorts breathlessly. ‘You have power . . . to defeat . . . the witch. I see it, rata-rata-tosk.’

‘Why should I spare vermin like you?’ Your weapons press deeper, cutting into the skin. Ratatosk flinches, his eyes shifting nervously from side to side.

‘I help you,’ he rasps. ‘I know secret ways. I show you, like I showed her . . . trust me.’

‘You’re asking me to trust you, after what you’ve done?’

The squirrel licks its teeth with a pale tongue. ‘I only do what I have to,’ he grins weakly. ‘Nature teaches us . . . to adapt and survive, rata-rata-tosk.’

144

The guard removes the one of hearts from his hand and places it face down on the discard pile. He reaches into the pouch and takes another stone at random. He has now gained the two of stars:

The guard rubs his chin thoughtfully. ‘Hmm, just a fool’s pair,’ he whispers out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Let’s hope it is enough to win.’ Turn to
570
.

145

‘Ah, my plants.’ Sylvie rolls her eyes, giving a whimsical sigh. ‘I don’t know where I’d be without them. So much to learn, so much to discover.’ She walks over to the window, where a purple-flowering plant is growing among thorny shrubs. ‘Plants are like teachers. Take this one, for instance. The death rattle.’ Her fingers caress the purple, bell-shaped flowers.

‘Death rattle,’ you echo in surprise. ‘Odd name for a flower.’

‘It’s actually a parasite,’ she replies. ‘It gains its nutrients from other plants. It takes what it needs, and then it kills them.’ Her fingers drift to the barbed shrub that surrounds the flowers. ‘But not the dwarf thistle. The thistle has spines that offer protection, keeps predators away. So the death rattle lets it live, to benefit from its natural defences, leeching only what it needs to keep them both alive. The two co-exist as one.’

Sylvie looks back at you, the firelight dancing in her eyes. ‘But you’re right, everything comes to an end eventually. The death rattle,
by its very nature, is the more aggressive of the two. It can’t help itself. And when it finally oversteps its bounds . . .’

‘It kills the thistle.’ You finish her sentence, glancing back at the bright shock of purple blossom growing amongst the dark thorns. It is hard to imagine something so beautiful being so deadly. Sylvie nods and returns to the table.

‘You should take a greater interest in the world around you, boy. Nature tells us a story, teaches us valuable lessons. That’s why I dedicated my life to its study.’

Return to
191
to ask another question, or turn to
207
to end the conversation.

146

The man steps forward, lowering his eyes. ‘We are not fighters – we are explorers. Our best men and women went into those caves. We all knew the danger – the risk they were taking. But I know Blair, our leader – he would have taken every precaution.’ He lifts his gaze, the hollows beneath his eyes giving him a ghoulish visage. ‘Please, will you go look for them?’

You regard the pair, taking in their haggard features, the blue-tinged lips, the glassy and staring eyes. Like ghosts. You doubt they have eaten properly for weeks, and from the look of their meagre supplies the outlook is bleak. But there is still something in their eyes, a spark of hope, perhaps – a stubborn reluctance to give up on their companions. Maybe that is all that is keeping them alive.

‘Yes,’ you find yourself saying, before you have even thought it through. ‘I’ll see if I can find your team – bring them back.’ You offer out your hand. The man takes it quickly into his frost-bitten fingers, his grip surprisingly firm.

‘I am Diggory,’ he grins, displaying rotted stumps for teeth. ‘Please, bring us peace.’

You nod awkwardly, then look to Reah.

The woman is silent. She bows her head and walks to stand outside the tent. Then she starts to hum a song. A slow, sorrowful tune that seems to rise and sigh with the wind. You don’t catch the words, but the rhythm is familiar – you can picture a mourner at your mother’s
funeral, their black veil rustling in the wind. They were singing. A song of loss and farewell.

After giving the man a last reassuring nod you start into the canyon, wondering what you will encounter in these mysterious caves. Turn to
361
.