CHAPTER 1THE BLACK WOLF
An hour before sunfall they had reached the foot of the narrow pass across the Mandragon Mountains, and here they made camp. The tall, lean man with the somber face and the unearthly green eyes selected a pocket in the foothills ringed about with boulders for their encampment. He liked being able to set his back against a wall of solid stone. His name was Kellory.
The girl, Carthalla, unpacked the saddlebags the three horned and shaggy little ponies had carried across the mountains. These restive, unruly, half-wild beasts they had taken from the Thungoda war party Kellory had ambushed and slain with his witchfire many weeks before. As she unrolled the sleeping furs and set out their meager repast of dried fruit, salted meat, black bread and sour red wine, she grim
