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Then, beside them she saw the dark, twisted figure of her
worst nemesis - it could only be Pitrick. She stared, mo-
mentarily uncertain of the threat, but then she saw the wash
of blue light and her panic galvanized her into desperate
action.
"Get down!" Perian cried, throwing herself flat on the
rampart.
"What?" grunted Basalt, even as he, too, flattened himself
to the earth.
He squinted into the night, seeing a tiny globule of flame
drift slowly through the air. It danced forward, toward the
redoubt, to a place just to the right of Basalt's and Perian's
position. Basalt thought that the tiny ball was rather pretty,
though that instantly struck him as incongruous.
But nothing could have prepared him for the horror that
happened next.
The dot of fire drifted onto the top of the breastwork
among a huddled group of dwarves. Then it instantane-
ously erupted into a huge, globelike inferno of death. Basalt
felt the heat from the nearby explosion singe his skin and
hair. He heard screams of terror and pain, yet saw nothing
for precious moments against the brightness of the fireball
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