The Heart of Fire by Michael J. Ward Read Free Book Online

take in trembling hands, greedily gulping down its contents.
    ‘What happened?’ you ask hoarsely, handing back the skin. ‘I don’t remember . . .’
    ‘I think you had a dizzy spell,’ she smiles. ‘I saw you collapse; no one else seemed that concerned about helping.’ The woman nods to the nearby crowd, who are already
starting to disperse.
    Taking her hand, you stumble back to your feet. ‘Perhaps it’s the altitude,’ she grins, flicking a stray hair from her eyes. ‘Take it easy, okay?’
    You thank the woman, watching as she heads back into the bustling throng, a sword swinging on each hip. Still shaken by your peculiar vision, it is some minutes before you are able to regain
your composure. Write the word
calling
on your hero sheet, then turn to 31 .
    18
    ‘That would be a pretty picture, wouldn’t it?’ The woman chortles. ‘No, I think I’d remember a set of golden gnashers, sweetie. Though –
come to think of it – we did have one witchfinder in, only two days past. He was asking questions about that Blight Haven, down south.’
    You frown, urging her to say more.
    ‘He didn’t look well, pale and shifty, like all his kind . . . and didn’t stay long. Not welcome here.’ Her hand strays to a crucifix hanging about her neck. ‘I
told him to stay well away from that village. It’s cursed – haunted. Really, someone should’ve done something about it long ago, cleanse it or whatever those inquisitors
do.’ She releases a heavy sigh. ‘Humph, let’s not talk of such things. Spoils the mood, dearie.’
    Return to 52 to ask the bar woman another question.
    19
    Quest: Curse of Crow Rock
    The narrow street lurches dizzily from side to side, forcing you to cling to the nearest wall. You feel sick; every inch of your body burning as if on fire. Sweat stings your
eyes, your head pulsing with pain. The guards thought you were just another drunk, thrown out onto the streets at closing time. But a passing pilgrim had taken pity on you, giving you directions to
the local apothecary.
    Letting go of the wall, you stagger onwards up the street. You focus on the lanterns hanging either side of a wooden door – its surface daubed with the symbol of a bottle.
    A carriage rattles past, pulled by a team of horses. Their clattering hooves are loud as thunder in your ears. You cover them with your hands, stumbling dazedly towards the door. Several times
you lose your footing and fall painfully to your knees. But you manage to drag yourself up, determined to find a cure for your malady.
    Elysium. You know that your body is craving more.
    You raise a trembling hand and knock on the door. There is a painful wait while you hug your cramping stomach, teeth grinding noisily together.
    From inside you hear muttering, then a catch being released. The door creaks open far enough to reveal a woman’s face. She is elderly, with tousled grey hair spilling out of a white
bonnet. A small pair of spectacles rest on the end of her nose. After taking one look at you, she opens the door wide and gestures for you to enter.
    The room is small and filled with various bottles and pots. Before you can speak, the woman is already moving towards a side room. ‘What is it?’ she asks hurriedly. ‘I doubt I
can help you.’
    ‘Elysium,’ you croak, closing your eyes as the room tips wildly.
    The healer freezes mid-step, glancing back at you with a frown.
    ‘It’s a long story,’ you wheeze, forcing back another wave of nausea. ‘Please, I need your help . . .’
    ‘Indeed.’ The woman gestures for you to follow. ‘My name is Anna. This way, please.’
    You follow her into a dimly lit room, cut from the grey rock of Carvel’s hillside. A pallet bed rests against one wall, where a male patient lies on sweat-soaked sheets. He squirms in a
feverish delirium.
    The rest of the room is dominated by a wooden table, covered in more bottles and containers. A curtain divides this room from another area, where you glimpse a