52

Standing before a crumbling bridge that crosses the left-hand fork of the Belzar River, you gaze, awestruck, at the desolate city that rests beneath the shadow of the mountains. In your darkest dreams, you have never known a place so eerie and forbidding: the blackened shards of the city walls reach hauntingly into the sky; clumps of black weed grow between pieces of crumbling masonry, and the twisted heights of ancient spires and crippled towers point accusingly at the heavens; an awful gloom hangs in the air and an atmosphere of brooding menace emanates from the heart of the city.

You look at the faces of your brave companions: Urik’s wrinkled face, so often creased with laughter, now set in a frown; the hard countenance of brave Samu, the sundered king; and the angular, hawkish features of Hugi, whose eyes gleam greedily. You notice how pale they look, almost sickly, and a vague disquiet stirs in the back of your mind.

You approach the bridge and Hugi looks at it, his eyes full of doubt. ‘Is it safe?’ you ask.

‘It’s stood here for centuries,’ Hugi answers.

The swift-flowing water looks black and uninviting.

If you wish to cross the bridge, turn to 186.

If you wish to swim across the river, turn to 18.