Tarl and the warriors thundered along the narrow corridor next to the cavern wall. Responding to a magical voice in his head, the ranger screamed to the others. "Hold your breath until the mist clears!" A purple haze materialized at the edge of the trees and drifted into the forest. The moving branches temporarily halted, but as the haze faded, the trees resumed their encroachment.

A wall of ice and snow blasted out of the sky, forming a frozen drift at the edge of the forest. The trees slowed their squirming, and the fungus that dripped from the branches froze solid and fell off in huge chunks. Within moments, the ice began to melt and a cloud of steam arose. The trees resumed their unnatural assault.

Finally, a pinpoint of light appeared above Tarl's head. Growing brighter and brighter, the speck swelled to a ball larger than a warrior's helmet. It followed the cleric as it blazed forth with the intensity of the sun.

The unholy forest recoiled at the blinding light. Trees and plants ahead of Tarl all veered away as he approached. The four riders thundered onward, now unhindered. Less than five minutes later, they burst from the forest to charge across the grassy plain, their mounts streaked with white foam from the hard ride. Tarl called out to his unseen wife. "Nice going, Shal!"

Up in Denlor's Tower, the sorceress smiled in relief.

The reaction in the enemy camp was much different. In Marcus's tower, the fiend slammed his fist into the crystal sphere, smashing it to powder.

"Fair travelers, we would approach!" A voice rang through the woods, warning the sleeping camp of incoming strangers.

Miltiades, always awake, stood guard. Ren had awakened early to share the morning watch. They heard scuffling sounds in the woods long before the voice announced the presence of travelers. Overhead, dark stormclouds still rumbled and swirled, but the sky had lightened with the sunrise. Three men astride huge wolves trotted into camp.

Minutes earlier, Gamaliel had sensed their coming and awakened his mistress and the rest of the party.

"Friendly faces are welcome, but be warned, we are a formidable band," Ren replied to their hail.

Dismounting, the three strode toward the group. They were a rough lot with shaggy black hair and torn, homespun clothing. None showed any weapons-a fact the companions found unusual for woodland travelers. No weapons, that is, except for the three enormous wolves.

"I am Artur Bladeson." The biggest of the three men gave Ren a toothy grin. "These cubs behind me are my cousins, Wuldor and Donar Arcnos. We are traveling to Vaasa to visit relatives in Moortown. Can you tell us of any trouble in the lands between there and here?"

On the opposite side of the camp, the druids talked in hushed tones. "Look how the wolves are growling at Miltiades," Talenthia whispered to Andoralson. "Could they be sensing your illusion magic?"

"No, but they could be detecting that he's an undead creature. I'll have to work on putting scent into my illusions. I don't usually bother. I hope you noticed those wolves aren't really wolves."

Meanwhile, Evaine and the barbarian sized up the strangers.

Mistress, Gamaliel mentally communicated, those men do not smell human. And those huge wolves are just waiting for the chance to attack. He stood facing the three men like a pillar of stone, blocking their view of Evaine.

Ren senses something strange, too. I can tell by his posture. There's no question he's on the defensive. Let's follow his lead, Evaine silently told her comrade.

The wolves continued to growl at Miltiades, all the while shooting wary glances at Gamaliel.

"Brutus, Tog, Garf, shut up! These fine people have invited us into their camp. The least we can do is be civil. Wuldor, take those curs away and settle them down."

Wuldor smelled like wet fur. Ren couldn't help but crinkle his nose as the man passed.

"I don't think I've ever seen wolves used as mounts before. Are you druids?" Ren tried to break the uneasiness between the two sides.

The three men laughed in an odd, barking manner.

"Druids," Donar said, choking with laughter. "No disrespect to those two over there, but even druids couldn't tame our three pets. We live with these beasts, and they do what we tell them."

"Your friends don't talk much," Artur said, warming his hands by the fire.

"They just woke up," Ren said evenly. He walked to the opposite side of an already blazing fire and added more logs. He felt compelled to get these men on their way as soon as possible. "The paths to Vaasa are clear-I just came from there. Phlan has suffered the wrath of the gods and has disappeared. Only a patch of tents marks the place where the city once stood. But you shouldn't have much trouble passing through. What do you know of Zhentil Keep and Yulash?"

"I heard that Phlan was gone," said Artur, "but I figured it to be a rumor. You've seen it, then?" Ren nodded. Artur's gaze shifted about the camp. "You people seem a little tense. Let's share some food. There's no reason we can't be friends, eh?" he said, trying to act more congenial than he looked. All the companions instinctively felt he was hiding something.

Wuldor, still tending to the wolves, spoke to Ren. "If you're traveling south, stay away from Zhentil Keep. Something has stirred up the evil in that gods-cursed city. We lost a brother there when we tried to conduct some business for our master. Some frenzied priests of Bane attacked us without reason."

None of this surprised Ren. Zhentil Keep was always a place to avoid, and Wuldor described what might well have been daily events.

Wuldor was slapping the wolves and casting strange glances toward the campfire. "Something is odd about the forests and trails to the south of Zhentil Keep. We tore through them because they didn't smell or feel right. There's a growing evil."

"Yulash, on the other hand, is fine. No problems," Donar said, taking packs of meat from his saddlebags. He quickly whittled a branch into a spit and hung some meat over the fire for roasting.

Do you see what kind of meat that is, Gam? Evaine silently voiced to the barbarian.

I smell what kind of meat it is. Should we attack now? The barbarian's eyes shifted from pale green to a deep golden color.

Let me get Ren away from them. When I give the signal, I'll go for the humans-you attack the wolves. Maybe we can disable one or two of them before they have a chance to metamorphose, she told the barbarian. She raised her voice and spoke to the druids. "Talenthia, I think you should prepare your new chalice for our friends' visit. You know, the one that makes that wonderful wine." Evaine hoped the two would pick up on her hint.

The sorceress mentally readied a spell. "Ren, could you help me for a moment? That clumsy barbarian has the straps of my backpack all tied in knots."

The ranger arose, giving Gamaliel a puzzled look. He pulled a dagger from his boot and stepped toward Evaine. But as he did so, she rounded the campfire and yelled, "Attack!"

Eighteen missiles of magical energy shot from her hands and struck Artur's chest, albeit with little effect. The camp was suddenly filled with the shouts of the companions and the flash of spells. But the three strangers and their wolves reacted almost in slow motion.

Artur rose from his place by the fire. As he stood, he transformed, as did his cousins, into a werewolf. Dark fur sprouted all over their bodies. Each man grew in height, expanding muscles rippling along their arms and legs. The change was nearly instantaneous, but these monsters weren't in any hurry. They relied on the horrifying transformations to help frighten their victims.