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of the spell flipped him over onto his stomach. Morigna’s spell flung the urvaalg over and knocked it on its flank, its vile-smelling breath exploding from its lungs in a surprised wheeze. Ridmark rolled over and scrambled to his feet, and the urvaalg regained its balance with fluid grace. The beast surged at Ridmark with terrible speed, but this time the Gray Knight was ready for it. He yanked the dwarven war axe from his belt and swung the weapon, the glyphs upon the blade starting to glow, and severed the fingers from the paw that reached for him.
    The urvaalg reared back with a scream of pain and fury, dropping to all fours, and Ridmark pursued. Yet his momentum would not last forever. One man was not a match for an urvaalg, and sooner or later the creature’s inhuman stamina would outlast him. Morigna summoned more power, drawing the magic from the earth beneath her boots …
    “Morigna!” shouted Ridmark, dodging under a swipe of the urvaalg’s claws. “Behind you!”
    Suddenly she remembered that urvaalgs almost always hunted in packs. 
    Morigna spun and saw the rippling blur of another urvaalg.
     
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    Ridmark attacked, pushing the urvaalg back, and the misshapen beast retreated to avoid the enchanted edge of his dwarven axe. He struck at its right side, forcing the creature to put its weight upon its maimed front left paw, and a spasm of pain went through its frame. He swung the axe for its chest, hoping to land a killing blow, but the urvaalg sprang aside, and Ridmark had to retreat. The edge of his axe opened a cut on the urvaalg’s right foreleg, but that meant little. The beast could heal wounds with uncanny speed, and was already regenerating the damage to its paw. 
    If he did not end the fight decisively, the urvaalg was going to kill him. 
    Worse, one of the other urvaalgs from the pack was going to kill Morigna. 
    Ridmark’s dwarven axe could kill an urvaalg, and Morigna carried a dagger with a similar enchantment from Coldinium. But a dagger was a feeble weapon against an urvaalg, and her magic could not wound one of the creatures. 
    Without his help, she was going to die. 
    She would die in front of him, just as Aelia had. 
    The rage at that prospect gave him new strength, and he attacked the urvaalg with everything he could muster. 
    Yet still the beast eluded his blows.
     
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    Morigna cast a spell, purple fire blazing around her fingers. The ground beneath the blurred air rippled, and the second urvaalg appeared, roaring as it lost its balance and fell. Morigna began another spell, conjuring a column of acidic mist that rolled over the urvaalg. The beast screamed as the acid ate into its flesh, but the creature’s unnatural strength repaired the damage almost as quickly as she inflicted it. Morigna had to stun this one long enough to help Ridmark kill the first urvaalg, and then together they could dispatch the second.
    Yet the urvaalg jerked and twitched towards her, its burning muscles clenching even as the mist ate into them. It was going to spring upon her, and once it got on top of her it would rip her to shreds. The dwarven dagger at her belt could harm it, but the wound would not slow down the urvaalg.
    The urvaalg tensed to jump, and Morigna cast one last spell. 
    Her mind reached out, her thoughts sinking into the urvaalg’s mind.
    Morigna screamed as pain flooded through her head.
    Her magic let her touch the minds of birds and beasts. Some she could control with ease. Others she could influence, even persuade. But the urvaalg was no natural animal. Its mind was a hideous, nightmarish maze of bloodlust and cruelty. Other predators killed for food and had no interest in the suffering of their prey. The urvaalg killed for both food and pleasure, and delighted in the suffering of its victims. It wanted to hear her scream, to kill her as slowly and painfully as possible.
    And that cruel, blood-drenched, primitive mind was ancient. The urvaalg had hunted the Torn Hills