step toward the beast.
Instantly it came at him, a lunge that carried it into the big
Rover almost before he could brace himself. Garth jerked his
head back just in time to keep it from being ripped from his
shoulders, whipped the quarter staff around, and flung his at-
tacker aside. The wolf creature landed with a grunt, regained its
footing in a scramble of clawed feet, and wheeled about, teeth
bared. It came at Garth a second time, ignoring Wren com-
pletely. Garth was ready this time and slammed the end of the
heavy quarter staff into the gnarled body. Wren heard the sound
of bone cracking. The wolf thing tumbled away, came to its feet
again, and began to circle. It continued to pay no attention to
Wren, other than to make certain it could see what she was
doing. It had apparently decided that Garth was the greater
threat and must be dealt with first.
What are you? Wren wanted to scream. What manner of thing?
The beast tore into Garth again, barreling recklessly into the
waiting staff. Pain did not seem to faze it. Garth flung it away,
and it attacked again instantly, teeth snapping. Back it came,
time after time, and nothing Garth did seemed to slow it. Wren
crouched and watched, helpless to intervene without risking her
friend. The wolf thing allowed her no opening and gave her no
opportunity to strike. And it was quick, so swift that it was
never down for more than an instant, moving with a fluid grace
that suggested the agility of both man and beast. Certainly no
wolf had ever moved like this, Wren knew.
The battle wore on. There were wounds to both combat-
ants, but while Garth’s blood streamed from the cuts he had
suffered, the damage to the wolf creature seemed to heal almost
instantly. Its cracked ribs should have slowed it, should have
hampered its movements, but they did not. The blood from its
cuts disappeared in seconds. Its injuries appeared not to concern
it, almost as if .
And suddenly Wren remembered the story Par had told her
of the Shadowen that he and Coil and Morgan Leah had en-
countered during their journey to Culhaven-that monstrous
man thing, reattaching its severed arm as if pain meant nothing
to it.
This wolf thing was a Shadowen!
The realization impelled her forward almost without think-
ing. She came at the creature with her long knife drawn, angry
and determined as she bounded toward it. It turned, a hint of
surprise reflected in its hard eyes, distracted momentarily from
Garth. She reached it at the same instant that Garth did, and
they had the beast trapped between them. Garth’s staff ham-
mered down across its skull, splintering with the force of the
impact. Wren’s blade buried itself in the bristling chest, sliding
in smoothly. The creature jerked up and back, and for the first
time made a sound. It shrieked, the cry of a woman in pain.
Then it wheeled sharply and launched itself at Wren, bearing
her down. It was enormously strong. Wren tumbled back, kick-
ing up with her feet as she struggled to keep the hooked teeth
from tearing her face. The wolf thing’s momentum saved her,
carrying it head over heels into the darkness. Wren scrambled
to her feet. The long knife was gone, still buried in the beast’s
body. Garth’s staff was ruined. He was already gripping a short
sword.
The wolf thing came back into the light. It moved without
pain, without effort, teeth bared in a terrifying grin.
The wolf thing.
The Shadowen.
Wren knew suddenly that they would not be able to kill it-
that it was going to kill them.
She backed quickly to stand with Garth, frantic now, fight-
ing to keep her reason. He withdrew his long knife and passed
it to her. She could hear the ragged sound of his breathing. She
could not bring herself to look at him.
The Shadowen came for them, hurtling forward in a rush.
It shifted at the last instant toward Garth. The big Rover met
its rush and turned it, but the force of the attack knocked him