choose your own adventure, episode 19a

KNIGHT SWORD, EPISODE 19A

“Don’t do it,” you whisper, grabbing Curtwall’s arm. “It’s a trick.”

“Of course it’s a trick,” murmurs Curtwall back. “Give me a moment.”

He steps to the battlements.

“I cannot decide on my own!” says Curtwall. “I must discuss it with the others!”

“As you will,” Vlacht calls back. “Take all the time you wish, wizard. But remember. Nightfall comes soon.”

Curtwall beckons you, and he hastens to the stairs. But instead of descending into the monastery’s courtyard, he instead circles the crumbling walls.

“A distraction,” mutters Curtwall, the cold mountain wind tugging at his yellow beard. “The orcs are devoted to the Blood Queen, almost as priests to a goddess. They would never dream of betraying her, and…ah!”

You look down. Between the wall and the cliff, it’s a four hundred foot drop to the hills below…and a score of orcs in the crimson mail of the Blood Queen are scaling it. The orcs look up, see you, curse in alarm, and begin scrambling back down the cliff.

But not before Curtwall casts a spell, an azure lightning bolt screaming out the sky to explode against the cliff. A dozen orcs fall to their deaths, and the rest hasten to escape.

A moment later you here Vlacht’s voice drifting over the monastery.

“You’ll regret that!” he shouts. “You should have surrendered when you still had the chance!”

Three hours later, night falls.

You and the others have been making circuits of the monastery walls, but the orcs have not made any attempt to storm the ruins. Once Ulmoch is active, you have no idea what the Night Raven will do, only that he will do anything to capture the soulblade you carry. He might try to starve you out…which would give you the chance to escape through Curtwall’s portal come midnight. But if Ulmoch knows that Curtwall is strong enough to conjure a portal, he’ll order Vlacht and the orcs to attack. And even Curtwall’s spells won’t be enough to stop the attack of four hundred orcs driven by a Night Raven.

Yet night falls…and nothing happens.

You gather with the others over the ruined gate and stare into the night. The orcs have lit no torches. Some moonlight falls over the foothills, enough that you can glimpse distant shapes, but you can discern no details.

“What the devil are they waiting for?” mutters Mourner, hands twitching near the hilts of his sword and dagger.

“Perhaps they’ve given up,” says Dietrich, standing next to you.

“No,” says Curtwall, “they’re up to something. Be on your guard.”

You blink. You’re almost certain you just heard a…whooshing noise? It sounds almost like the faint noise of the breeze blowing over taut leather.

You open your mouth to say something…and then you hear the screams coming from the orcs’ camp.

Horrible, wet, ripping screams, screams filled with agony, screams worse than everything you’ve ever heard.

And then you recognize the voice. It’s your father. He’s still alive…and the orcs have him.

Ulmoch has him.

“Rosalyn!” Jerome shrieks. “I…no. No!” He screams again. “You have to…you have to come out! You have to bring them the sword! Otherwise they’ll keep doing…no, don’t, no, please don’t, please, please I’ll…”

His voice dissolves into an incoherent wail of agony.

You grip the sword so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Don’t listen to it!” says Caius, but his face is stricken. “The sword is more important than Jerome’s life.”

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