like a lance. It looked like some sort of monstrous dog or wolf
with a massive chest and neck thick with fur and a face that was
all misshapen. It had oddly fat legs, a barrel body, small ears
and tail, and the look of something that had no friends. Its jaws
parted once, the biggest jaws Par had ever seen on anything,
and spittle drooled out. The jaws snapped shut, and it started
toward them in a slow amble.
“Keep moving,” Steff said quietly, and they did. They walked
ahead steadily, following the weave of the trail, trying not to
look back.
“What is it?” Morgan asked, his voice low.
“They call it a Gnawl,” Steff answered calmly. ‘ ‘It lives east
in the deepest part of the Anar, beyond the Ravenshom. Very
dangerous.” He paused. “I never heard of one being seen in
the central Anar, though-let alone in the Wolfsktaag.”
“Until now, you mean,” muttered Coil.
They made their way through a broad split in the mountains
where the trail began to dip sharply downward into a hollows.
The sun was gone, and gray twilight hung over everything like
a shroud. It was getting hard to see. The thing behind them
appeared and disappeared in fits and starts, causing Par to won-
der what would happen when they lost sight of it altogether.
“I never heard of one stalking men either,” Steff declared
suddenly from just behind him.
The strange hunt continued, the Gnawl trailing them at a
distance of about a hundred yards, apparently content to wait
for darkness to descend completely. Steff urged them on, search-
ing for a spot where they could make a stand.
“Why don’t you simply let me go after it!” Morgan snapped
back at him at one point.
“Because you would be dead quicker than I could say your
name, Highlander,” the Dwarf answered, his voice cold. “Don’t
be fooled. This creature is more than a match for the five of us
if it catches us unprepared. All the magic in the world won’t
make a difference if that happens!”
Par froze, wondering suddenly if the magic in Morgan’s sword
was of any use against this beast. Wasn’t the sword’s magic
triggered only by an encounter with similar magic? Wasn’t it
simply a common sword when otherwise employed? Wasn’t that
what Allanon had intended when he had given the blade its
power? Hfe struggled to remember the particulars of the story
and failed. But the other magics, those of the Sword of Shannara
and of the Elfstones, had been effective only against things of
magic-he remembered that well enough. It was very likely the
same with . . .
“Ahead, down by that hollows,” Steff said abruptly, ending
his speculation. “That’s where we will…”
He never finished. The Gnawl came at them, hurtling through
the darkness, a huge, black shape bounding across the broken
rock and scrub with a speed that was astonishing. “Go!” Steff
shouted at them, pointed hurriedly down the trail and turned to
face the beast.
They went without thinking, all but Morgan who wrenched
free the Sword of Leah and rushed to stand with his friend. Teel,
Coil, and Par dashed ahead, glancing back just as the Gnawl
reached their companions. The creature lunged at Steff, but the
Dwarf was waiting, the huge mace held ready. He caught the
beast full against the side of its head with a blow that would
have dropped anything else. But the Gnawl shrugged the blow
aside and came at the Dwarf again. Steff hammered it a second
time, men broke past it, pulling the Highlander after him. They
came down the trail in a spring, quickly catching the fleeing
Valemen and Teel.
“Down the slope!” Steff yelled, literally shoving them off the
trail. They rushed into the scrub and rocks, skidding and slid-
ing. Par went down, tumbled head-over-heels, and came back
to his feet all in the same motion. He was disoriented, and there
was blood in his eyes. Steff jerked him about and dragged him
forward, down the slide, the sound of labored breathing and
shouting all about him.
Then he was aware of the Gnawl. He heard it before he saw