### 315

As you unsheathe the Sommerswerd, a vivid golden flame shoots along the blade. The Vordak shrieks in terror, its blood-drenched bony fingers clawing at a black iron mace that hangs from its belt. It raises the mace to parry your blow, but the sun-sword shears through the iron, a splash of blue flame erupting in its wake. You strike again, curving the golden blade in a great arc. It bites into the Vordak's neck, tearing through its unnatural body, and severing it diagonally from collar bone to hip. A sickening acidic smell chokes your throat as a fountain of green slime erupts from beneath the red robe. The Vordak crumples and topples from view, its dissolving corpse hissing as its spirals towards Lake Inrahim.

Sheathing your sword, you grab the reins and fight to control your injured mount. You have slain the Vordak but the battle is not yet won. The Itikar is losing a lot of blood; it could become unconscious at any moment and drop like a stone.

Suddenly you spot something in the distance. It is a sight that renews your faith in miracles.

Turn to 221.

Text copyright © 1985 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1985 Gary Chalk.