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." The phantom's red eyes glowed hotly as it laughed
again. "And you are stopped."
Riana's little moan of fear was only a whisper. She bowed her
head and covered her face with her hands. "No," she sobbed, "no,
not again . . ."
The phantom turned its attention to her, recognition flaring in
its bright eyes. "Yes, little one, again. And this time is the last." It
reached for her, the motion as smooth as smoke drifting on the
wind.
Tanis dove for his sword, scattering the hot coals of the
campfire as he ran. He caught up the scabbard and tore the blade
from its sheath, whirling just in time to see another of the
phantoms flowing toward him. The third, though, swirled away as
the glowing embers tumbled like orange jewels at its feet. It feared
the fire!
"Flint! Fire! The fire!"
But Flint, faced with attack from the fourth phantom, could not
make a move toward the dying fire. Fighting with an instinct that
denied Riana's tale of enemies impervious to honest steel, he
swung his axe with deadly force at his attacker. It was a blow that
would have separated a mortal enemy's head from his shoulders.
The blade passed harmlessly through the phantom's neck,
whistling in the cold predawn air.
Cursing in both anger and fear, the old dwarf ducked beneath his
attacker's reach and dodged to the side, passing close enough to
the phantom raider to feel the deathlike chill emanating from its
transparent body
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