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.’
Turn to 8 .
143
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.
Turn to 11 .
144
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 .
145
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.
Turn to 106 .
148
As your slain enemies keel over backwards and splash into the mire, you spin around to see your companion grappling with a Ciquali in a desperate hand-to-hand combat. Prarg has lost his sword and the fight is going badly for him. The creature is by far the largest of the attacking pack and much of its muscular body is protected by armour, crudely fashioned from human bones. Anxious to help
‘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.’
Turn to 8 .
143
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.
Turn to 11 .
144
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 .
145
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.
Turn to 106 .
148
As your slain enemies keel over backwards and splash into the mire, you spin around to see your companion grappling with a Ciquali in a desperate hand-to-hand combat. Prarg has lost his sword and the fight is going badly for him. The creature is by far the largest of the attacking pack and much of its muscular body is protected by armour, crudely fashioned from human bones. Anxious to help
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