The Kingdoms of Terror

The Kingdoms of Terror by Joe Dever

Book: The Kingdoms of Terror by Joe Dever Read Free Book Online
Authors: Joe Dever
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, lone wolf, Magnamund
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war and death are unfamiliar visitors,’ says Cyrilus, puffing nonchalantly on a long-stemmed clay pipe. ‘Alas, nowadays, such peace is rare.’
    The highway passes the ruins of a monastery and then descends steeply towards some log huts, clustered in a semicircle at the approach to a stone bridge. A tall gate, flanked by two mighty towers of stone, commands the access to the bridge.
    ‘The Denka Gate,’ says Cyrilus. ‘The toll is 3 Gold Crowns to cross the bridge, unless, of course, the gatekeeper is your brother.’ He gives a sly wink and smiles. ‘This may take a while — I haven't seen my brother Esmond for over a month, and he is bound to want to hear all the latest gossip from Quarlen before he lets us cross.’
    Cyrilus points out two of the log huts where wooden signs, carved in the shapes of an ale tankard and a loaf of bread, hang above the doors. ‘The best ale and bread in all of Lyris. Mention my name and you'll be treated like a king.’
    You are feeling hungry and thirsty after your long ride, and the prospect of free refreshment is very tempting.
    If you wish to enter the ale hut, turn to 185 .
    If you wish to enter the bread hut, turn to 287 .
    If you decide to stay with Cyrilus and approach the Denka Gate, turn to 89 .

138
    No sooner have the doors of the inn slammed shut than you find yourself face to face with the city watch patrol. Every night, as a matter of routine, they wait for the drunks and rejects from the Inn of the Crossed Swords to be thrown onto the street. The burly guards grab you by the shoulders and attempt to strip you of your belongings before bundling you into a waiting cart. Instinctively, you fight to break free, but the guards take this as a threat. They unsheathe their swords and attack. You cannot evade combat and must fight the city watch to the death.
    Varetta City Watch: COMBAT SKILL  18    ENDURANCE  35
    If you win the combat, turn to 34 .

144
    The dormitory is a long, narrow, low-ceilinged hall at the rear of the tavern, full of snoring mercenaries and the smell of stale sweat. You pick a straw mattress next to a window, braving the cold draught whipping through its shattered pane; at least this carries away the foul air.
    In the middle of the night you are woken by a bright light. A shooting star of sun-like brilliance arcs over the city, shedding a rainbow of colour over the drab dormitory. You watch as the star slowly disappears before settling down once more to your much needed rest. It seems as if you have only just closed your eyes when the loud and loathsome clang of the dormitory bell fills your ears.

    ‘All awake! All awake! A new day dawns, my fine brave lads!’ The voice of the tavern-keeper is echoed by the groans of a hundred bleary-eyed soldiers, as they drag themselves coughing and wheezing from their beds.
    You dress, gather your equipment, and collect your horse from the stable. However, it is not until you are studying the route to Brass Street that you discover that an item is missing from your Backpack; it was stolen during the night. Erase one Backpack Item of your choice from your Action Chart before setting off for Brass Street.
    Turn to 300 .

150
    Your horse is hit and mortally wounded. It stumbles, and in the shrieking press of horses and men, you are barged aside and thrown over the stone parapet of the bridge. You hit the water head-first and are swept away by the powerful current of the River Quarl.
    Turn to 306 .

154
    The man grasps the woman by the wrist and uncovers the arm cradled around her baby. Clasped between her fingers is a hat pin with which she pricks the baby's skin to make it cry.
    ‘You'll be beggin' in the streets yourself before dawn if you be taken in b'likes of her,’ he says.
    The woman pulls free from his grasp, curses, and disappears among the scruffy crowd of mercenaries wandering the street.
    ‘Who d'you serve?’ asks the man, his brutal face framed by a closely cropped red beard, ‘or d'you come in

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