The Heart of Fire (8 page)

As you make your way through the crowds, you suddenly start to feel faint. Someone knocks into you, sending you into a dizzying spin. There is an angry curse as you stagger into another
pedestrian, who pushes you away, forcing you to lose your footing. You topple backwards onto . . .

Thorns.

You cry out in pain as their sharp points rip through your clothing. All around you, thick branches snake through the dark as if alive. A forest – pressing in on all sides, making you
its prisoner. You struggle to free yourself as the barbed tendrils slash and cut at your flesh, but you are powerless; trapped. Then you see a beacon of light glowing through the wall of thorns; a
pale radiance that beckons to you. With eyes fixed solely on the light, you find yourself floating towards it, the thorns parting for you like a curtain. The light is everywhere now, pushing back
the infernal forest and guiding you to safety . . .

You awake to find yourself lying spread-eagled on your back. A crowd of people have gathered, muttering and gossiping to one another. One woman, with long blond hair and trinkets about her neck,
is kneeling beside you. She offers you her water skin, which you take in trembling hands, greedily gulping down its contents.

‘What happened?’ you ask hoarsely, handing back the skin. ‘I don’t remember . . .’

‘I think you had a dizzy spell,’ she smiles. ‘I saw you collapse; no one else seemed that concerned about helping.’ The woman nods to the nearby crowd, who are already
starting to disperse.

Taking her hand, you stumble back to your feet. ‘Perhaps it’s the altitude,’ she grins, flicking a stray hair from her eyes. ‘Take it easy, okay?’

You thank the woman, watching as she heads back into the bustling throng, a sword swinging on each hip. Still shaken by your peculiar vision, it is some minutes before you are able to regain
your composure. Write the word
calling
on your hero sheet, then turn to
31
.

18

‘That would be a pretty picture, wouldn’t it?’ The woman chortles. ‘No, I think I’d remember a set of golden gnashers, sweetie. Though –
come to think of it – we did have one witchfinder in, only two days past. He was asking questions about that Blight Haven, down south.’

You frown, urging her to say more.

‘He didn’t look well, pale and shifty, like all his kind . . . and didn’t stay long. Not welcome here.’ Her hand strays to a crucifix hanging about her neck. ‘I
told him to stay well away from that village. It’s cursed – haunted. Really, someone should’ve done something about it long ago, cleanse it or whatever those inquisitors
do.’ She releases a heavy sigh. ‘Humph, let’s not talk of such things. Spoils the mood, dearie.’

Return to
52
to ask the bar woman another question.

19

Quest: Curse of Crow Rock

The narrow street lurches dizzily from side to side, forcing you to cling to the nearest wall. You feel sick; every inch of your body burning as if on fire. Sweat stings your
eyes, your head pulsing with pain. The guards thought you were just another drunk, thrown out onto the streets at closing time. But a passing pilgrim had taken pity on you, giving you directions to
the local apothecary.

Letting go of the wall, you stagger onwards up the street. You focus on the lanterns hanging either side of a wooden door – its surface daubed with the symbol of a bottle.

A carriage rattles past, pulled by a team of horses. Their clattering hooves are loud as thunder in your ears. You cover them with your hands, stumbling dazedly towards the door. Several times
you lose your footing and fall painfully to your knees. But you manage to drag yourself up, determined to find a cure for your malady.

Elysium. You know that your body is craving more.

You raise a trembling hand and knock on the door. There is a painful wait while you hug your cramping stomach, teeth grinding noisily together.

From inside you hear muttering, then a catch being released. The door creaks open far enough to reveal a woman’s face. She is elderly, with tousled grey hair spilling out of a white
bonnet. A small pair of spectacles rest on the end of her nose. After taking one look at you, she opens the door wide and gestures for you to enter.

The room is small and filled with various bottles and pots. Before you can speak, the woman is already moving towards a side room. ‘What is it?’ she asks hurriedly. ‘I doubt I
can help you.’

‘Elysium,’ you croak, closing your eyes as the room tips wildly.

The healer freezes mid-step, glancing back at you with a frown.

‘It’s a long story,’ you wheeze, forcing back another wave of nausea. ‘Please, I need your help . . .’

‘Indeed.’ The woman gestures for you to follow. ‘My name is Anna. This way, please.’

You follow her into a dimly lit room, cut from the grey rock of Carvel’s hillside. A pallet bed rests against one wall, where a male patient lies on sweat-soaked sheets. He squirms in a
feverish delirium.

The rest of the room is dominated by a wooden table, covered in more bottles and containers. A curtain divides this room from another area, where you glimpse a stack of crates piled high to the
ceiling. Each one has the symbol of a rose stamped on the side.

Anna is already selecting various bottles from her collection. ‘Elysium is very rare and very expensive. Did you expect me to just have some lying around?’

You rest your back against the wall, clutching your arms to stop them shaking. ‘I had no other choice.’

The woman adds a series of fine powders to a trestle bowl. ‘I don’t need to ask how you came in contact with such a devilish concoction.’ After crushing another ingredient with
a mortar she mixes the parts together, before pouring them into a bottle and adding a green-tinged liquid.

‘You know, these ingredients aren’t cheap.’ Anna shakes the bottle, watching as the contents dissolve. ‘One of these powders alone is five hundred gold crowns.’

You balk. ‘I . . . I can’t pay you . . . I . . .’ Feebly, you try and locate your money pouch, hands grappling at your belt.

The woman watches and shakes her head.

‘Enough. I knew you would not have the funds. So you can do me a favour instead, agreed?’ She raises the bottle, which now contains a bubbling pale-green potion. ‘This is not
Elysium. But it is the next best thing. It will relieve your symptoms – your addiction. This potion is your true freedom.’

‘I’ll do whatever you ask,’ you croak, reaching out for it. ‘Please . . .’

Anna hands you the potion and watches intently while you drink its contents. The liquid tastes like sour apples with a hint of cinnamon. Once you have emptied the bottle, you feel your
temperature starting to subside. The room has stopped spinning.

‘Good,’ smiles Anna, taking the bottle from you. ‘Now, you’re going to repay me by helping this man.’ She nods to the patient, who is tossing and turning, gripped
in a fevered nightmare.

‘You couldn’t cure him?’ you ask, surprised.

‘I need something first.’ Her eyes wander to an object lying on the table. It looks like a charred and blackened piece of wood.

20

With the goblin defeated, you search its body. You find 10 gold crowns and may take any/all of the following items:

You wonder what a goblin would be doing in such a village. Perhaps it came here to loot or seek shelter, but somehow it became infected by the zombie curse. It is a thought
that sends a shiver up your spine. Will you suffer the same fate? Grimly, you turn away from the body and head back onto the landing. The light is still flickering from the room below, so you
decide to investigate. Turn to
55
.

21

‘He was King Gerard’s youngest son – born a weak and sickly child.’ Lazlo gives a sigh, lowering his gaze. ‘He was an embarrassment, to his father
and to his twin brothers. Around court he was nicknamed the goose. A pale boy of timid nature – he hadn’t much hope.’

The man’s eyes rise to meet your own. ‘Then he started to have dreams. Visions. As you can imagine, they embarrassed his father even more. Gerard was a great king, much loved by his
men. He was an army man and his coffers were near empty from warring with the east. He was starting to lose the support of his court – a series of defeats to Mordland and there was talk
of,’ Lazlo flicks his wrist, producing a sliver of steel from the sleeve of his shirt, ‘ . . . replacement.’ He spins the blade in the palm of his hand. ‘He was desperate
– and
in desperate times, what else can you do?’ The blade stops spinning, its tip pointed in your direction. ‘You call a crusade. He convinced the church that Allam was a holy
prophet and sent him west with an army. Kill two birds with one stone – remove an embarrassment from court and take more land for the crown. For Gerard, it was the perfect
solution.’

‘How could you know this?’ you ask, sounding sceptical. ‘Allam is revered. Pilgrims flock to Carvel because of him. He was sanctified by the church.’

Lazlo gives a nonchalant shrug. ‘That’s just my opinion.’ He slips the blade back into his sleeve. ‘The outcome, I think you will agree, benefited the king and the church
more than it did poor Allam.’

22

The tinker, a young woman in a grease-stained shirt and breeches, looks up from polishing a set of greaves. She smiles at you cheerfully. ‘Good day, traveller. Might I
interest you in one of my special deals?’ The tinker turns and gestures to a rack of weapons and armour. ‘Faith can only go so far in protecting us from the evils of this world. Oft
times I prefer a good blade and some chain between me and my enemy. What d’you say?’

You peruse the items on offer, noting that many of them, despite the obvious ‘spit and polish’, have certainly seen better days. However, a few notable bargains catch your eye. The
following are available for 100 gold crowns each:

After viewing the items, you turn back to the bustling streets of lower town. Turn to
36
.

23

The blacksmith swings the mighty hammer as if it weighed no more than a roll of parchment. However, despite its obvious strength the creature is slow-witted and clumsy, the
cramped room making it hard to benefit from the range of its weapon. Using the close quarters to your advantage, you step around the demon’s ungainly attacks, hacking and blasting at the
scaly body. At last, dripping with sweat from the intense heat, you finally fell the monster, bringing its mighty hammer crashing to the ground.

You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:

You may also take the sheet of
enchanted iron
that the forger had been working on. (Simply make a note of this on your hero sheet, it does not take up backpack space).
Keen to leave this sweltering heat behind, you are grateful to discover another portal tucked away inside an arched alcove. Without delay, you step through it – wondering what will await you
on the other side. Turn to
46
.

24

Dawn finds you out on the moors, frost still crisp on the ground as you trudge across the undulating hills. Joss sets a brisk pace, her bow slung over her shoulder, quiver
resting at her hip. You can’t help but marvel at her single-minded devotion – to have waited nearly a lifetime for the return of the tower, dutifully keeping her husband’s memory
alive when all hope must have been lost. With the tower’s sudden reappearance, you can understand her urgency as she pushes through the coarse brush, barely stopping to draw breath.

Behind her is the paladin, Anse. He is now wearing a white surcoat over a padded blue jerkin. His silver crucifix hangs across his back, his other weapons bristling from the numerous belts and
wraps about his body.

And rattling along at your side is Polk. The rugged warrior is struggling to keep up, huffing and puffing through his beard. A crossbow is cradled in his arms, loaded and ready for action.
‘Are we there yet?’ he gasps for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘I swear, when this is over I’m retiring . . .’