The Heart of Fire (34 page)

At last, after a gruelling battle, the demon lies dead – its whirring saws finally coming to a silent rest. Searching through the debris you find one of the following rewards:

You also find a collection of nuts and bolts, glowing with some residue of magic. (If you wish to take the
nuts and bolts
make a note of these on your hero sheet, they don’t take up
backpack space.) When you have updated your sheet, turn to
412
.

220

The captain chews thoughtfully on his roll of tobacco. ‘I expected the goblins to have holed up here; that’s what they normally do.’

Vas, the shaven-headed warrior, returns to the group. ‘Snow’s making it difficult but I found goblin tracks coming down from the mountains. An equal number of tracks are headed away
south. They didn’t stay here; must have moved on.’ The woman thrusts her knives back into her belt. ‘We gonna follow ’em? I didn’t come all this way just to eyeball
the scenery.’

The captain is silent for a moment, peering at the mountains through the thickening snow. ‘We go north.’

There are gasps of surprise from the party. Surl voices what everyone is thinking. ‘But the gobboes went south . . .’ he says.

The captain leans forward, spitting a stream of juice into the muddy snow. ‘They were in a hurry, fleeing from something – perhaps just a raiding party. Either way, our problem lies
in that direction.’ He lifts his burly arm, pointing a finger towards the grey mountains. ‘I ain’t running after a few goblins. There’s gotta be more of ’em up there.
You want to stop a flood, you go straight to the source.’

The captain trudges off through the camp. Surl and Vas exchange looks, then grudgingly fall into step behind him, leaving the rest of you to bring up the rear. Turn to
183
.

221

You spot the three farmers that had tried to rob you, sitting along one of the benches at the far end of the taproom. At first your eyes had passed over them, assuming they
were just a group of gaudily-dressed nobles from some far flung city. But then you recognised the two boys; it is surely them, resplendent in tailored clothing, surrounded by a veritable feast of
suckling pig and spiced potatoes. The boys are tucking into their food with gusto, whilst sharing jokes with some pilgrims on the next table. The father is supping his ale, his eyes fixed on a
scabbarded sword resting on the table top.

‘Well, your fortunes have certainly changed,’ you smile, walking over to the table and gesturing to the succulent array of food.

The boys smile up at you, mouths full. The father stands, awkwardly rearranging his ill-fitting doublet. ‘Me good friend, a pleasure to see yer.’ He grins, sporting a gold tooth.
‘Turns out me youngest was a better gambler than I thought. Please, will yer join us and share our food?’ He gestures to the bench opposite.

You hesitate, reminded of your recent battle at the farmstead. Reaching into your pack, you lift out the locket that you found on Dagona’s body.

The father gasps, his eyes widening. The two boys stop their eating as their attention shifts to the glittering chain and the broken-heart locket. ‘Is that . . . Mother’s?’
asks the youngest, forcing his words around a mouthful of food.

‘She is at rest,’ you add gravely, handing the chain over to the father.

He takes it, his hands trembling as he lifts it up to his teary eyes. ‘This . . . this is hers, yes.’ He touches a similar chain that hangs around his neck, where you see the other
half of the locket glittering in the lantern light. ‘It is good to know that she won’t suffer no more. Thank you.’ (Remove
Dagona’s locket
from your hero sheet.)

The man reaches for the scabbarded sword. ‘I bought this . . . with half a mind to return to that cursed farm and do what . . .’ He stops, shaking his head. ‘I were a fool. I
have not your courage. Take it. The blade is yours and good riddance to it.’

You may now take the following special reward:

If you wish to decline the farmer’s kind offer, he offers you 30 gold crowns instead. After sharing food and conversation with the family, you take your leave and head back towards the
bar. Turn to
172
.

222

You are able to prise open the lid, revealing the gooey white paste held inside. (If you wish to take the
extra-sticky glue
simply make a note of it on your hero sheet,
it doesn’t take up backpack space.)

As you pocket your item, you notice that the portal is starting to fade. Not wishing to become trapped in the attic, you push through the remaining junk and step into the white light. Turn to
440
.

223

Both travellers speak at the same time.

‘Nothing,’ snaps the man darkly.

‘Supplies,’ says the woman, talking over him. She flinches, realising her error. ‘Sorry,’ she says bashfully.

You glance at the wooden crates, piled up in the back of the wagon. Most are plain, but you notice a couple carry the stamp of a white rose. The mark seems familiar – then you remember the
crates that you saw being unloaded in the prince’s courtyard in Carvel. ‘The white rose,’ you comment, nodding to the crates. ‘That’s the symbol of the cardinals from
the White Abbey.’

The man shifts uneasily. ‘I had you down as a traveller, not a scholar. Perhaps you best move on now – stick to the travelling part, not the nosing around part, eh?’

224

The herbalist’s cottage is not difficult to find. It is lies on the edge of the village, a little way from the other buildings. The garden outside is overgrown with
weeds, the building itself a burnt-out ruin. Clearly, when the villagers discovered that Rorus Satch was a vampire, they didn’t hesitate to put his home to the flame.

You doubt you will find anything in the house, but the garden might still have some herbs growing in it. If you have the
Handy Herbalist’s Spotter’s Guide
then turn to
351
. Otherwise, you realise that your paltry knowledge of herbs is not going to be enough to identify what you need. Frustrated, you turn your attention back to the
village. You may now investigate the wishing well (turn to
13
) or search the reverend’s home (turn to
210
).

225

A short tunnel leads you through into a circular rock basin, open to the sky. The floor is littered with half-chewed bones and ragged scraps of cloth. Ahead of you, on a stone
ledge, lounges an immense leonine creature. It is at least ten metres long from head to tail, its powerful white-skinned body rippling with muscle.

The manticore.

It is just like the stories you were told as a child: a savage predator with the body of a lion and the wings of an eagle. The beast’s tail is scaled, tapering back into a barbed tip that
drips with a deadly venom.

Your heart sinks when you see it, knowing that you could never defeat such a beast. From the skeletons lying around you, it seems many others have tried – and failed.

The beast is watching you through heavy-lidded eyes.

‘Did you have a plan?’ whispers Benin, his voice shaking. ‘I assume you’re an accomplished hunter, come to gain another trophy?’

You are about to answer, when the beast rises onto its forelegs, its immense wings snapping back from its broad shoulders. After giving a long yawn, displaying the largest set of canines you
have ever seen, it shakes its shaggy mane from side-to-side, its neck bones clicking.

Then it speaks.

‘Why are you here?’ it asks, in a deep and sonorous voice – magnified a hundred-fold from the high stone walls.

Your shocked expressions draw a smile from the beast. ‘I see you had been expecting a fight, not a conversation.’ Its barbed tail flicks lazily from side-to-side. ‘Sometimes, I
do like to approach matters in a more . . . civilised way. Now speak – or a fight is what you’ll get!’

Benin steps forward, bowing awkwardly. ‘The . . . the bishop of Carvel has been the victim of a . . . a sinister attack,’ he stammers. ‘I know how to break the spell, but I
need . . .’ He pauses, nervously licking his lips. ‘I need your blood to break the curse.’

It takes a moment for the priest’s words to sink in.

‘You as well?’ you frown. ‘I should have guessed . . .’

‘What!’ Benin exclaims in surprise. ‘You’re not a hunter?’

‘I need the blood. I made a promise to someone.’

‘To who?’ he demands, his face suddenly flushed with anger. ‘It’s the thief, isn’t it? The one who stole the relic!’

‘Wait, I don’t know . . .’ you implore.

‘The bishop is dying!’ Benin shakes a clenched fist. ‘He needs this cure.’

‘And I’m helping a man who was attacked in
your
church,’ you snap, losing your patience. ‘A charm was used on him – and I need the blood or he will
die.’

Laughter booms from the canyon walls. ‘And do I have a say in this matter?’ asks the manticore, flexing one of its enormous paws.

Its words bring you both up short.

‘Then speak, great one,’ says Benin, bowing once again.

‘I know who made the charm,’ snarls the manticore, ‘and they are stronger than anything I have previously encountered.’ The creature turns to display its left flank,
where a jagged wound cuts across its white flesh. ‘They took my blood for a ritual and I was powerless to stop them.’ The beast settles back onto the stone ledge. ‘But you two do
not have such power, so I will offer you a choice instead.’ The creature’s mouth twists into a cruel smile. ‘Decide who is most worthy to take a single drop of my blood –
and you will have it.’

You are about to protest, when Benin spins to face you. ‘I must have it!’ he demands. ‘The bishop must live!’

226

‘Ah, excuse me clumsiness,’ says the bearded man. ‘Not used to the confines of civilisation. I prefer more . . . open spaces, if you know what I mean.’
He quickly adjusts his balance as someone else nudges past him, nearly upsetting his mugs once again. ‘Ugh, would yer look at me. Could shoot a marsh rat at a thousand paces, but here I am
struggling to hold a few cups of beer.’

You try and move past – only to find the burly man in your way again, his eyes fondly appraising your gear.

‘Say, would you be looking for some work?’ he asks hopefully. ‘It’d help me out of a real pickle. Here, follow me – we got a private booth away from the
crowd.’ He raises a mug, gesturing towards the far wall where a tattered velvet curtain is drawn across an alcove.

227

Desperately, you scrabble up the side of the building, putting your foot on the nearest windowsill and then jumping onto the sloping slate tiles above the door. A zombie makes
a grab for you, screeching at the top of its lungs. You kick it away, watching as the body tumbles back into the crowd of snarling villagers. Then, after finding your balance on the sloping roof,
you grab the edge of an upper-storey window and pull yourself up. To your relief you see that the window is slightly ajar. Gritting your teeth, you haul yourself up the rest of the way, wrenching
your body through the opening.

You land in a heap on the dusty floor of a bedroom. It is dark and cold, your breath gasping out frosty clouds in the gloom. The deafening screams and shouts of the undead still ring in your
ears. From below you hear banging – fists hitting against stone and wood. They are trying to break in.

You scramble to your feet and hurry through the door opposite. It leads on to a landing, with another room across from you and a set of stairs leading down to the ground floor. You notice a
glimmer of light spilling into the hall. It is coming from one of the rooms below you.

228

You have defeated all three of the golems. The portal flashes into being and a chest appears, waddling forward on a series of spider-like legs. It trundles over to you then
lowers to the ground, flipping open its lid to allow you to view the treasures inside.

You find 20 gold crowns and may help yourself to one of the following rewards: