### 147

Your shaft strikes wide, glancing off his shoulder and disappearing over the parapet of the roof. He utters a mocking laugh, his cat-like eyes glinting through the slits in his visor, and hurriedly drops the Lorestones into a small sack tied to his swordbelt. Angered by his laugh, and by your failure, you shoulder your bow in favour of a hand weapon and rush forward, determined to prevent his escape.

Turn to 22.

Text copyright © 1987 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1987 Brian Williams.