The Darke Crusade (15 page)
You pull your cloak close about your shoulders and draw upon your camouflage skills to keep you hidden as you follow the two Drakkarim towards the town gates. Their sergeant berates them; then he orders them to assist with a new influx of Lencians, just arrived. They are all so preoccupied with their duties that they fail to see you stride confidently through the open gates and into the town. Once safely inside, you head towards a dark, deserted alleyway which is sandwiched between a stables and an armoury. From here you observe the compound with a growing anger and pity for those trapped inside. Stirred by their plight, you vow to do what you can to help these starving men. Patiently you watch and wait for the patrols to pass; then you scurry towards the compound fence, eager to make contact with the Lencians.
After several minutes spent surveying the gloomy chasm, you note two promising features. One is situated fifty feet or so directly above your head. At first it merely looks like a narrow ledge of rock with a grey semicircular shadow poised above it, but when you look closely, you see that it is the mouth of a passageway.
The second feature lies far below you. It is a large, brick-lined tunnel situated at the eastern edge of the chasm floor, through which the waters of the dark river flow away. This, too, may offer a way out of this subterranean prison.
If you wish to attempt to climb the chasm wall and enter the passageway above,
turn to 224
.
If you wish to attempt to descend to the floor of the chasm and escape via the river tunnel,
turn to 193
.
Desperately you hack and stab at the ice but it simply will not break. Reluctantly you abandon the attempt, sheathe your weapon, arid run back towards the jagged hole. You have no choice now but to enter the water. Prarg will soon be beyond help if you delay much longer.
You take a deep breath and launch yourself feet-first into the icy lake. At first, as the dark water closes over your head, your senses are numbed by the intense cold. Then your Magnakai skill of Nexus protects your body and the terrible chill gives way to a warm, tingling sensation.
Using your infravision, you detect Prarg by the warmth radiating from his body. He is caught upon a jagged ridge of ice and, as you take hold of his tunic and try to pull him free, suddenly you feel unable to move. Something has taken hold of your legs!
If you possess Magi-magic,
turn to 110
.
If you do not,
turn to 326
.
Within the hour the final preparations for your airborne voyage to Lencia are completed, and Lord Floras and you are piped aboard the
Skyrider
by Bo'sun Nolrim and his cheerful crew of dwarves. You exchange a few reminiscences with each of the jovial crewmen and cannot help but smile when they tell you how proud they feel to have been given the chance to serve you once more.
Nolrim takes the helm and you sense a vibration run down the length of the deck as he coaxes the craft's powerful engine to life. Lord Floras joins you at the prow and together you wave a farewell to Rimoah and your fellow Kai as, steadily, the
Skyrider
ascends into the crisp, wintry sky. Then, with a sudden surge of power, the keel clears the battlements of the Tower of the Sun and swiftly the monastery and its inhabitants recede into the distance.
You and your companion are escorted to a warm cabin at the bow which has been prepared especially for your passage. It is well stocked with provisions and, spread out across a grand oak table, you find several maps of Northern Magnamund. Aided by Lord Floras, you study these maps and use them to chart your course to the Lencian city-port of Vadera. Bo'sun Nolrim is informed of your chosen route and, as he sets about implementing your course, you settle back to enjoy what will be a long voyage. By your calculations, it will take thirty hours for the
Skyrider
to reach its destination.
During your voyage, Lord Floras recounts the dramatic events which have taken place in the Western Tentarias since the demise of the Darklords. Prior to their fall, the Drakkarim nations had for many centuries kept the Lencians at bay. Countless crusades had been undertaken to recapture their former lands but all had ended in costly defeat for the House of Sarnac. Then, two years ago, the tide finally turned when the King launched an invasion across the Gulf of Lencia into the lands of Zaldir and Nyras. The boldness of his strategy and the unpreparedness of his enemies combined to win for him many victories in the early months of the war. Much of Zaldir and all of southern Nyras were taken and held by his conquering knights, and now the lines of battle are drawn diagonally across the centre of Nyras, from Lake Lenag in the north to the marshland fortress of Lozonzee in the east. However, King Sarnac cannot lay claim to total victory in the south, for the cities of Shpyder and Darke have defied all his attempts at capture. Their Drakkarim garrisons have steadfastly held on to these important strongholds and, although they have been surrounded and besieged for more than a year, still they refuse to surrender.
‘At present, the war is focused around the towns of Hokidat and Konozod,’ says Lord Floras, tracing a circle around their location on the map with the tip of his index finger. ‘Many battles have been fought here but victory has, as yet, eluded us. Now, with the onset of a cruel winter, our advance has ground to a halt. Maintaining the sieges at Shpyder and Darke has drained us of troops and resources that would have been put to better use in the north. To compensate for this shortage, the King has employed many companies of foreign mercenaries to reinforce his armies in the field, but their services are expensive and the campaign has already proved costly, both in revenue and lives. The King is hard-pressed to pay for their continued loyalty and already several regiments have deserted. If Magnaarn were to complete his quest and strike now, whilst our battle lines are weakened, his counterattack could push us all the way back to the sea.’
Lord Floras' report is sobering, yet it serves to strengthen your determination to thwart Magnaarn's quest. Later, shortly before nightfall, you leave the cabin and go up to the stern deck for a breath of fresh air. In quiet solitude you see the great expanse of the Slovarian Plain passing by more than a mile beneath the craft and, as you watch, you lose yourself in thoughts of what may await your arrival in Lencia. The night sky is clear and laced with twinkling stars. As you return to the cabin to sleep, you draw comfort from the thought that the weather and the stars have seen fit to help speed your night passage to Vadera.
One of your scouts hurries to your side and takes hold of your arm, fearful that you have been mortally wounded. You pull away and brusquely you tell him that you are not seriously hurt and that he should watch where he steps in future. Sheepishly he follows as you creep forward through the snow, using the sparse undergrowth to your advantage wherever possible. You move deeper into the copse until you spy where the arrow came from. A small camp is hidden among the trees. It comprises four white canvas tents attended by a dozen lean and hungry-looking human soldiers armed with longbows. A furled battle-flag stands propped against one of the tents and you ask your scout if he recognizes its chequered black-and-white design.
‘They're League-landers of Ilion,’ he whispers. ‘I know that flag well. They're good mercenaries, these men, loyal to the King. We fought alongside them at Hokidat.’
You are anxious about risking another volley of arrows, but when you tell your companion of your fears, he smiles.
‘Don't worry, Sire,’ he says, ‘I know how to make safe contact with them.’
Abandoning the shelter of the bridge, you work your way slowly along the ice-filled ditch to a point directly in front of the south trench. Here you settle to observe the Drakkarim guards who are dutifully keeping watch over this sector. All you can see of them is their brutal faces peering over the rim of their dugout, but, after a while, one by one these faces disappear. Your keen hearing detects the sound of laughter, some clicks, and a few Giak curses, and judging by what you have heard you hazard a guess that the guards are busy gambling with dice.
You decide that now would be the best time to make your move, while the guards are distracted from their duty. Prarg insists that he lead the way; he has crossed here once before and he knows a safe way through. The ground in front of the trench-line looks clear but there are concealed pits out there just waiting to snare the careless or unwary. You nod your agreement and follow in his wake as he crawls a zigzagging route towards the distant trench.
Two minutes later you reach the mound of frost-hardened earth abutting the dugout. Silently you motion to Prarg to get ready to attack, but before he can draw his sword, one of the enemy guards pops his head up to take a cursory glance over the parapet. He is less than an arm's length from you, and his eyes and mouth spring open with sheer terror when he finds himself staring into the face of a Kai Grand Master!
Instinctively you lash out with the edge of your hand, aiming for his right temple, hoping to render him unconscious before he can warn his confederates. But the shock of seeing you makes him reel backwards, and your blow misses by a hair's breadth.
Pick a number from the
Random Number Table
.
If the number you have chosen is 0–2,
turn to 206
.
If it is 3–6,
turn to 337
.
If it is 7–9,
turn to 164
.
You face the portal and shape your mouth in readiness to emit the battle-spell
Power Word
, as taught to you by your trusted friend, Lord Rimoah.
Gloar!
The word slams into the portal's lock like an invisible hammer before reverberating around the walls of this confined chamber. A spider's web of cracks appear in the surface of the portal and, when you place your shoulder to it and push hard, the lock breaks and the door gives way.
Without a rigged sail, the stinking marsh wind propels your boat along the channel at a far slower rate. Gradually you approach the cluster of huts and, as you pass before them, you see eight dwellings, each built of mud-daubed roots and thatched with rotting vegetation. They are empty but they have not been deserted. The shoreline is littered with bones, the remnants of past meals, and nearby is a crude wooden frame on which the skins of a snake and a lizard have been stretched out to dry.
‘It's a Ciquali camp,’ whispers Prarg nervously, his eyes scouring the surrounding waters for the slightest sign of movement. During your travels you have heard tales about the Ciquali, none of which were favourable. They are the bane of the Hellswamp — a breed of vicious amphibians, intelligent and cunning, with a taste for human flesh that makes them especially dangerous.
‘Our luck's good, Lone Wolf,’ says Prarg, as gradually the wind carries you beyond the huts. ‘The camp's empty — they must be away hunting. Truly we're fortunate to have come this way this time.’
As soon as you lose sight of the settlement, you hoist the sail and catch the prevailing wind which propels you northwards along Dakushna's Channel. You are hungry, and unless you possess Grand Huntmastery, you must now eat a Meal or lose 3
ENDURANCE
points.
To continue,
turn to 322
.
There is a loud
bang
and a great grey cloud billows from the muzzle of the musket. It startles the horse, but you swiftly control the animal and urge it forwards, out onto the road. Quickly you make your escape northwards, hidden from the eyes of your pursuing enemy by the acrid cloud of gunpowder smoke.
Your ears are ringing but otherwise you escape unharmed. Prarg however has not been so lucky. His arm and shoulder are bleeding from where he has been grazed by buckshot. You halt as soon as you can, and using your healing skills, you mend his wounds before continuing on your way. The use of your powers reduces your
ENDURANCE
points score by 3.
The mare is strong and sure-footed, and you quickly cover eight miles before you encounter something on the road ahead which makes you halt for a second time.
From here you hurry into the new tunnel in search of a clear route to the surface. Unfortunately, your hopes for a quick escape are soon dashed when you arrive at a ruined staircase. It leads to a landing where you are confronted by the corpse of a Drakkarim guard, slumped beside a mound of rubble which is blocking the stairs to the level above. A quick examination of the dead body reveals that both arms are broken. Injured and trapped here by the falling rocks, it appears that this guard eventually died of thirst.
If you wish to search the body further,
turn to 247
.
If you wish to attempt to clear away the rubble that is blocking the stairs,
turn to 347
.