Read The Eye of Winter's Fury for Free Online Page B

happened,’ you reply. ‘I only remember . . . dreaming.’
    ‘Well, you’re awake now,’ nods Lord Everard. ‘And whatever your malady . . .’ He pauses, his eyes taking in the grey pallor of your flesh, ‘I will believe it is the One God’s work and not the hand of another that brings you back to us.’
    Return to 291 to ask another question, or turn to 98 to end the conversation.
    10
    ‘Don’t even think of coming any closer,’ growls the sniper. ‘Keep yer distance, or my next shot will take that head clean off yer shoulders.’
    Skoll takes hold of his axe, cursing in Skard.
    You grab him quickly, before he leads the attack. ‘No. It’s not worth it, my friend. They have powder weapons – I’ve seen what they can do, and unless you desire this,’ you flick a finger towards your ravaged face, ‘I would heed his warning.’
    Skoll grunts, but lowers his axe. ‘The coward’s way. I am a Drokke – a warrior!’
    ‘And better to live as one than die as one,’ you add dryly. ‘Come. We have more pressing business.’
    Not wishing to risk the lives of your companions, you return to your transport and leave the island. (Return to the quest map to continue your adventure.)
    11
    Prologue quest: Call of the wild
    Morning finds you stumbling wearily through the dense forest, its trees still dripping with last night’s rainfall. You’ve had no sleep, relying instead on the potency of the dragon leaf to ease your aches and pains and give fresh vigour to your tired limbs.
    The night was a miserable one, spent huddled beneath an overhang of rock, the hard wind battering you with rain. There was no hope of making a fire, not that you’d have known the first thing aboutmaking one, so instead you shivered and shook, the cold settling deep into your bones.
    It was the longest night you can ever remember. Too fearful of sleep, you chewed on the dragon leaf, its taste both a comfort and a reminder of home. Your thoughts wandered often to the events on the road, the cuts on your neck and face still stinging from the Martyr’s attack. She was a holy priest. A follower of the One God. And yet she had tried to kill you – a prince of Valeron.
    Then there was the demon. A creature of the underworld; a being of pure evil. He had saved your life, and allowed you to escape. His rumbling voice still rings in your ears – The fates have put you on this path .
    When dawn’s light finally arrived, pushing its way through the leaden clouds, you were still bereft of answers. Instead, the only certainty was that you were on your own, with no one else to protect you. Until now, the forest has proved safe, but you can’t help but recall the fireside banter over the previous evenings, the guards sharing chilling stories of the giant wolves that are said to hunt these parts. And the trolls, and the goblins and the . . .
    You stop yourself, trying to stifle your fears and focus on the more immediate problem of finding a way home. Above the treetops, the sky is little more than a slate-grey expanse of cloud, diffusing the sun’s light and giving no clue to its position. The only landmark you have is the dark smudge of rock in the distance. You assume that must be north and instinct tells you that heading in that direction will only take you into danger. Instead, you strike out towards what you think must be east, keeping to the left of the ridge and hoping that eventually you might find some settlement or sign of civilisation.
    East is the way back home.
    This choice has led you to a series of steep hills, covered in scraggly bush and silver-barked trees. Stopping to draw breath, you decide to take stock of your meagre possessions. You have enough dragon leaf to last another week. That, at least, is a positive. The sword at your hip is useless, however – an inscribed blade known as Duran’s Heart, whose holy enchantments burn at your touch. Wearing gloves or wrapping cloth around the grip have proven equally