Read Online The Heart of Fire by Michael J. Ward - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael J. Ward
Tags: Fantasy
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’imself the reincarnation of Judah.’ His eyes dart from side to side, then he leans over the table, stroking the band of charms around his neck. ‘I tells you the
truth, my friend. These charms are made from the finest of materials, none of that charlatan nonsense. Here, tell no one this . . .’ He drops his voice to a whisper. ‘I got it on honest
word that these here bones are saint’s bones, from out on the moors. You want a piece of the saints, right, to bring you good luck, yes?’
You view the unsavoury collection of charms and relics, noting the different-sized bones used in their construction. It seems unlikely that any of these bones could possibly have belonged to a
saint. ‘Isn’t that
goblin
?’ you ask, pointing to a short, stubby finger bone. ‘And that one looks like a troll . . .’
The trader gives a heavy sigh. ‘Yeah, I sees yer a smart one. Look, I’ve had ta diversify; times are ’ard, right? But might be some work in it for yer, if you fancy a bit of
bone collectin’?’
Will you:
Examine the items on sale? — 59
Ask about the ‘bone collectin’? — 70
Return to lower town? — 36
42
Quest: The light and the dark
(Note: You must have completed the blue quest
Behind the mask
before you can start this quest.)
You leave the settlement of Raven’s Rest, striking south along the well-worn track that will take you out of the moors and into the lands beyond – the grassland plains known as the
Saskat Prairies. It is time to move on – something you have always been good at, aware that your strange powers can often draw the wrong kind of attention. The last few weeks have taught you
that your gift, your ability to glimpse the future, has been changed somehow by your exposure to the Elysium. It has made you faster and more agile in combat, a second sight that always keeps you
out of harm’s way. As for the other visions, they come and go, but are always the same – a vast forest of thorns and some presence beckoning you from its darkest depths.
A light rain begins to spatter off your cloak as you make your way through the bleak hills. You will not be sorry to trade this wet and wintry northland for the warmer climes to the south.
Lowering your head to the chill wind you pick up the pace, hoping to reach a settlement or inn before nightfall.
You slow when you hear voices ahead. Through the blanket of drizzle you see a covered wagon lying askew across the water-logged track. Your hands immediately go to your weapons, your quick eyes
flitting between the three visible travellers: an elderly-looking man sat hunched on a boulder by the roadside, and a man and a woman talking by the wagon. All three are dressed in mud-splashed
coats and hats; possibly pilgrims or trinket sellers.
The woman has already spotted you, her hands dropping to the long swords resting against her hips. Curtains of blond hair tumble out from beneath her wide-brimmed hat, framing a pale face
dominated by piercing blue eyes. The man next to her appears to be weaponless, but the cuffs of his coat are long and wide, covering his hands. He stiffens, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
You nod your head in greeting, approaching cautiously. It is the woman who drops her guard first, her face splitting into a wide beaming smile. ‘Well, lookee here. If it isn’t my
woozy fainting friend.’
For a moment you frown, trying to place her. Then you remember – the woman who came to your aid when you first had your strange vision in Carvel. ‘You’re a long way from
town,’ you state, noticing that the man is still tensed, his posture emanating distrust.
He scowls. ‘Someone else you courted with that tongue of yours?’ he says, aiming his statement at the woman. She gives him a hurt expression, before lowering her eyes.
‘The priest will come good,’ she says. ‘He wanted to help.’
You notice that the elderly man by the roadside has not looked up or shown any interest in the
truth, my friend. These charms are made from the finest of materials, none of that charlatan nonsense. Here, tell no one this . . .’ He drops his voice to a whisper. ‘I got it on honest
word that these here bones are saint’s bones, from out on the moors. You want a piece of the saints, right, to bring you good luck, yes?’
You view the unsavoury collection of charms and relics, noting the different-sized bones used in their construction. It seems unlikely that any of these bones could possibly have belonged to a
saint. ‘Isn’t that
goblin
?’ you ask, pointing to a short, stubby finger bone. ‘And that one looks like a troll . . .’
The trader gives a heavy sigh. ‘Yeah, I sees yer a smart one. Look, I’ve had ta diversify; times are ’ard, right? But might be some work in it for yer, if you fancy a bit of
bone collectin’?’
Will you:
Examine the items on sale? — 59
Ask about the ‘bone collectin’? — 70
Return to lower town? — 36
42
Quest: The light and the dark
(Note: You must have completed the blue quest
Behind the mask
before you can start this quest.)
You leave the settlement of Raven’s Rest, striking south along the well-worn track that will take you out of the moors and into the lands beyond – the grassland plains known as the
Saskat Prairies. It is time to move on – something you have always been good at, aware that your strange powers can often draw the wrong kind of attention. The last few weeks have taught you
that your gift, your ability to glimpse the future, has been changed somehow by your exposure to the Elysium. It has made you faster and more agile in combat, a second sight that always keeps you
out of harm’s way. As for the other visions, they come and go, but are always the same – a vast forest of thorns and some presence beckoning you from its darkest depths.
A light rain begins to spatter off your cloak as you make your way through the bleak hills. You will not be sorry to trade this wet and wintry northland for the warmer climes to the south.
Lowering your head to the chill wind you pick up the pace, hoping to reach a settlement or inn before nightfall.
You slow when you hear voices ahead. Through the blanket of drizzle you see a covered wagon lying askew across the water-logged track. Your hands immediately go to your weapons, your quick eyes
flitting between the three visible travellers: an elderly-looking man sat hunched on a boulder by the roadside, and a man and a woman talking by the wagon. All three are dressed in mud-splashed
coats and hats; possibly pilgrims or trinket sellers.
The woman has already spotted you, her hands dropping to the long swords resting against her hips. Curtains of blond hair tumble out from beneath her wide-brimmed hat, framing a pale face
dominated by piercing blue eyes. The man next to her appears to be weaponless, but the cuffs of his coat are long and wide, covering his hands. He stiffens, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
You nod your head in greeting, approaching cautiously. It is the woman who drops her guard first, her face splitting into a wide beaming smile. ‘Well, lookee here. If it isn’t my
woozy fainting friend.’
For a moment you frown, trying to place her. Then you remember – the woman who came to your aid when you first had your strange vision in Carvel. ‘You’re a long way from
town,’ you state, noticing that the man is still tensed, his posture emanating distrust.
He scowls. ‘Someone else you courted with that tongue of yours?’ he says, aiming his statement at the woman. She gives him a hurt expression, before lowering her eyes.
‘The priest will come good,’ she says. ‘He wanted to help.’
You notice that the elderly man by the roadside has not looked up or shown any interest in the
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