Legion of Shadow by Michael J. Ward

pushing your way through the blighted corn, no longer sure what direction you are headed in. Whichever way you turn, the mist is there – swirling around you like a cruel
tormentor. Perhaps it is just your imagination, but you are convinced that you can see shapes moving through the insubstantial haze. Each time you try and focus on one, they are gone –
drifting away like ghosts on the rolling currents.
    As you head deeper into the mist, you stumble across a large, cross-shaped pole sticking out of the ground. It is frosted with ice, sparkling in the eerie white luminescence. For a moment, you
ponder what the pole was used for. Then you realise . . .
    Something is moving towards you through the field, making a bee-line for your position. As the sound of snapping corn gets louder, you ready yourself for battle. From out of the mist lurches a
creature of nightmare . . . a man made entirely of straw, his ragged clothes coated in ice. With an inhuman howl, the creature raises its hands, revealing a deadly set of splintered claws. You must
now fight the scarecrow:

    If you defeat the scarecrow, turn to 204 .

140
    You join a dirt track, which takes you up into the cloud-tipped mountains. As you scale the edge of a ridge, you get your first glimpse of Avian’s castle. The impressive
structure stands grand and regal on a plateau of rock, its white-stone walls and blue spires gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. It is a startling, breath-taking view – and one that you wish
the young knight from the academy had lived to see. His letter of introduction is now clutched firmly in your hands.
    At your approach, the hinges of the drawbridge give a noisy squeal, then slowly the wooden platform begins to lower itself across the moat. Eventually, with a dull echoing boom, the bridge comes
to rest across the murky waters. You cross to the gatehouse, where a man is waiting for you beside an open portcullis.
    ‘Well, well. I am glad the troll didn’t cause you too many problems,’ he smiles. You see that he is a tall man, broad-shouldered and muscular. His age is indeterminate –
the grey of his hair at odds with the youthfulness of his face. Clad in regal-looking robes and a feathered cloak, the man is as striking and imposing as his castle.
    ‘I am Avian Dale,’ he says. ‘And you are?’
    Will you:
    Hand over the letter of introduction? — 102
    Tell Avian the truth? — 196
    Say you are a traveller, looking for lodgings? — 188
    141
    Under pressure to escape the ravenous undead, you rush forwards and put your hand to the door. The moment you touch it, you are thrown backwards, as if a mighty wind had
suddenly lifted you off your feet. With your arms flailing at your sides, you find yourself careering into the advancing ghouls. For a moment, the ghouls are caught off guard as you slam onto the
stone floor between them. Then they pounce, jabbering and howling with glee.
    You manage to dodge out of the way of their deadly claws, furiously kicking and punching at their filthy, dirt-covered bodies. At last, you are able to scramble to your feet and draw your
weapon.
    The ghouls circle around you, slavering and hissing.
    Will you:
    Fight the ghouls where you stand? — 59
    Fight the ghouls by the door? — 157
    142
    The village is eerily quiet as you hurry along its winding lanes; nearly everyone is out in the woods, seeking vengeance against the witch. In the distance you can see smoke and
flames rising into the clear night sky. You guess it is the witch’s cabin, which has been torched by the angry mob.
    Only one man remains in the village. The Speaker waits patiently on the hall steps, rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation. As you stride towards him, the witch’s phial held
tightly in your fist, he looks up in surprise.
    ‘What is this?’ he scowls. ‘I want the witch’s head! Where is it?’
    ‘I don’t have her head,’ you say defiantly. ‘But I do have this.’ You remove the stopper from the