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.
Tybalt gave him a casual wave, and Flint chuckled at the
constable's cool and easy demeanor. It surprised him to no-
tice the warm feeling he got from having his family near dur-
ing these hours of crisis. They're a good bunch, he told
himself with not a little pride.
"How soon?" Flint turned as Ruberik asked the question.
The farmer was still standing beside him atop the wall of
earth.
"Close," Flint replied. He looked at the large crossbow in
his brother's hands. The weapon's hilt, of weatherbeaten
oak, was smoothed by long usage. Its steel crossbar did not
shine, but nevertheless tensed with unconcealed strength. It
had once been their father's weapon. "You ready?"
In answer, Ruberik raised the heavy weapon and held it
firm, drawing a bead on his target in the field - a target that
was not the charging derro, but instead a large clay jar in the
Theiwars' path.
"Can you see well enough?" inquired Flint, dubiously
peering into the darkness. Flashes of yellow light rippled
across the ground, but quickly died back to shadows. "This
seemed like a better idea in the daylight."
"No need to worry," grunted Ruberik, squinting in con-
centration
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