Read Online Legion of Shadow by Michael J. Ward - Free Book Online Page B

strangers away . . . and I hear Avian don’t like strangers.’
    Will you:
    Ask if he has heard any rumours? — 245
    Talk about the weather? — 42
    Return your attention to the taproom? — 11
    85
    The clothier offers you a polite smile. ‘Well I can’t just fashion them from thin air, my dear. I need materials to work with. Bring me the following, and I will be
able to create some fine clothing.’
    If you have ragged boots and spindlesilk — 110
    If you have a ragged cloak and spindlesilk — 132
    If you have bat leather and crocodile skin — 114
    Otherwise, you promise to return at a later date — 46
    86
    ‘I am sorry,’ says the elderly man, offering out a hand in greeting. ‘I am Father Grandolt, the village priest. I pray each day for the One God to deliver us
from the terrible curse on our land.’ He walks over to the edge of the well. ‘I fear this is just a part of the ill luck that has befallen us. Perhaps we are being punished for some
sin, some wrongdoing . . .’ He shakes his head, sadly. ‘My son . . . he didn’t deserve this.’
    Will you:
    Agree to help the villagers? — 238
    Ask if there will be a reward? — 8
    87
    Quest: The witch hunt
    As evening falls, you head into the village of Tithebury Cross, eager for some hot food and a bed for the night. However, as you turn into the main square, you find yourself
walking into the middle of an impromptu gathering.
    You squeeze through the tight press of bodies to reach the front of the crowd. A thin, gaunt man wearing blue robes is stood on the steps of the village hall. From the resplendent gold chain
around his neck, you assume he is the local Speaker. He is holding up a sheet of parchment for all to see. You edge forwards to take a closer look. On the parchment, there is a crudely drawn sketch
of a witch. Underneath it, scrawled in red ink, is the single word: GUILTY.
    ‘You don’t need to stand for this anymore,’ intones the Speaker, beating his fist against the parchment. ‘You know – we all know – who is responsible for your
hardships. You don’t have to stand by and watch your crops fail, you wells dry up, your children suffer . . . it is time for you to take matters into your own hands! It is time for
justice!’ A loud cheer goes up from the crowd.
    ‘For the first man, or woman, who brings me the head of the witch, I will award them a purse of gold.’ The Speaker pats the bulging money pouch at his waist. A few oohs and aahs pass
through the gathering.
    ‘But,’ and he suddenly drops his voice. Everyone pushes closer to listen. ‘She is a trickster – a master of the dark arts. She will deceive you with her words, put
thoughts into your head . . . make you doubt. But you must be strong. You must believe. Do you hear me? Do you believe?’ The villagers give another deafening cheer, beating their weapons and
stamping their feet.
    ‘Come with me!’ Someone tugs on your arm, forcing you to turn. It is Father Grandolt, the village priest. He quickly leads you away from the thronging mob.
    ‘I need you to go to the witch,’ he insists. ‘Please, these people are angry. They are looking for someone – anyone – to blame for their hardships. But I need
someone with a clear head, someone who is impartial, to confront the witch. I don’t know if she is guilty or innocent, but she deserves a fair trial at least.’ He stuffs a crumpled
piece of parchment into your hand. ‘That map will lead you to her cottage. Please, go. And let your heart judge her crimes.’
    You thank the priest for putting his trust in you. After studying the map, you hurry out of Tithebury Cross – the cheers and cries of the angry mob echoing in your wake. Turn to 195 .
    88
    After several metres, the passage takes a sharp right turn, opening out into a small, low-ceilinged room. A stone tomb lies at its centre, bearing the effigy of a woman –
her hands held together in prayer. In the far wall there is another archway, leading deeper