### 268

Even as Agarash's words are fading, a tumultuous roar fills the air: the demon host is roused into a frenzy. Instinctively the Simar steed turns and thunders up the slope of the valley, heading east. The howling pack springs forward in pursuit, possessed of a savage fury instilled in them by their master. The terrified stallion flies like the wind out of the Tilos hills and on to the even plain. The countryside rushes past in a blur of green. Now you must head for the pass in the mountains to the east, a patch of forest among the hills.

Almost fifty miles lie between you and the pass. You look over your shoulder to see that the enraged beasts are beginning to dwindle in the distance as the Simar's broad, rolling gait eats up the miles. The horse's coat gleams with sweat and there is foam around its mouth but it no longer moves with the madness of a runaway.

If you wish to stop for a while, turn to 31.

If you wish to continue as you are until you reach the pass, turn to 47.

Concept copyright © 1986 Joe Dever and Gary Chalk.
Text copyright © 1986 Ian Page.
Illustrations copyright © 1986 Paul Bonner.