slashed at it with the short sword he was carrying as he leaped
past toward the pool, and Par struck at it with the magic of the
wishsong, clouding its vision with a swarm of buzzing insects.
The Shadowen surged back to its feet with a roar of anger,
flailed madly at the air, then rushed them once more. It caught
Morgan a stinging blow as the Highlander jumped aside and
knocked him sprawling. The Shadowen turned, and Coil struck
it so hard with the short sword that he severed one arm above
the elbow. The Shadowen reeled away, then darted back,
snatched up its severed limb and retreated again. Carefully, it
placed its arm back against its shoulder. There was sudden
movement, an entwining of sinew and muscle and bone, like
snakes moving. The limb had reattached itself.
The Shadowen hissed in delight.
Then it came at them. Par tried to slow it with images of
wolves, but the Shadowen barely saw them. It slammed into
Morgan, shoving past the blade of his sword, throwing the High-
lander back. He might have been lost then if not for the Ohms-
fords, who flung themselves on the beast and bore it to the
ground. They held it there for only an instant. It heaved upward,
freed itself, and sent them flying. One great arm caught Par
across the face, snapping his head back, causing flashes to cloud
his vision as he tumbled away. He could hear the thing coming
for him, and he threw out every image he could muster, rolling
and crawling to regain his feet. He could hear Coil’s cry of
warning and a series of grunts. He pushed himself upright, forc-
ing his vision to clear.
The Shadowen was right in front of him, clawed forelimbs
spread wide to embrace him. Coil lay slumped against a tree a
dozen paces to his left. There was no sign of Morgan. Par backed
away slowly, searching for an escape. There was no time for the
magic now. The creature was too close. He felt the rough bark
of a tree trunk jammed against his back.
Then Morgan was there, launching himself from the dark-
ness, crying out “Leah, Leah” as he hammered into the Shad-
owen. There was blood on his face and clothing, and his eyes
were bright with anger and determination. Down came the Sword
of Leah, an arc of glittering metal-and something wondrous
happened. The sword struck the Shadowen full on and burst
into fire.
Par flinched and threw one arm across his face protectively.
No, he thought in amazement, it wasn’t fire he was seeing, it
was magic!
The magic happened ‘all at once, without warning, and it
seemed to freeze the combatants in the circle of its light. The
Shadowen stiffened and screamed, a shriek of agony and dis-
belief. The magic spread from the Sword of Leah into the crea-
ture’s body, ripping through it like a razor through cloth. The
Shadowen shuddered, seemed to sag inward against itself, lost
definition, and began to disintegrate. Quickly Par dropped under
the thing and rolled free. He saw it heave upward desperately,
then flare as brightly as the weapon that was killing it and dis-
appear into ash.
The Sword of Leah winked instantly into darkness. The air
was a blanket of sudden silence. Smoke floated in a cloud across
the little clearing, its smell thick and pungent. The stagnant pool
bubbled once and went still.
Morgan Leah dropped to one knee, the sword falling to the
ground before him, striking the little mound of ash and flaring
once. He flinched and then shuddered. “Shades!” he whis-
pered, his voice choked with astonishment. “The power I felt,
it was… I never thought it possible …”
Par came to him at once, knelt beside him and saw the other’s
face, cut and bruised and drained of blood. He took the High-
lander in his arms and held him.
“It still has the magic, Morgan!” he whispered, excited that
such a thing could be. “All these years, and no one has known
it, but it still has the magic!” Morgan looked at him uncompre-
hendingly. “Don’t you see? The magic has been sleeping since