### 246

Your command works: the pain quickly subsides. However, the creature's rubbery tendril is still drawing closer to your vulnerable throat. Snatching up your weapon from the hot, black sand, you lash out and sever the tip, but instead of blood, or what would pass for blood in the body of this ghastly creature, a flame sparks into life like a spluttering fuse. The brain ceases to move, hovering motionless above the sand, as the spitting flame burns fiercely along the thin tube of flesh.

Turn to 170.

Text copyright © 1986 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1986 Gary Chalk.