The strange, sickly grasses rustled in the endless wind blowing from the west, the misshapen trees jutting from the slopes like the moss-covered fingers of a corpse. From time to time the deformed ravens perched upon the branches, cawing. Something like slime coated their feathers, yet the birds had no trouble flying. Their black eyes gleamed with a pale blue glow, like the fires wreathing the central tower of Urd Morlemoch, and Ridmark understood why Morigna was unable to control them as she could natural ravens. The sun never came out, and the sky grew steadily darker, the clouds more agitated, the closer they came to the walls of Urd Morlemoch. Four more times they encountered echoes of ancient necromantic spells. Twice they encountered roving packs of urvaalgs. In every fight they made short work of their foes, destroying the undead and cutting down the creatures. Arandar and Heartwarden proved most effective against the creatures of dark magic, and the Swordbearer’s aid made the battles far easier than they would have been otherwise. That helped cut down on the tension between Arandar and the rest of Ridmark’s companions.
