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. The derro had smashed open the gate with a heavy
battering ram and now poured into the enclosure, where
they were met by a sturdy line of hill dwarves.
He concentrated his gaze, looking for one hated form. Fi-
nally Flint saw the hunchback, limping along behind the
leading mountain dwarves.
"Pitrick!" he bellowed, charging into the courtyard. The
force of his voice carried even above the din, and several of
the mountain dwarves, including the thane's adviser, turned
toward him.
"Come and die!" Flint challenged. He raised his axe, and
though its unnatural light was somewhat mutted in the
growing illumination of dawn, it drew the derro's eyes like a
hypnotic token.
"Fireforge," breathed Pitrick, watching Flint's advance for
just one moment. Then the hunchback seized the five heads
of his iron amulet, and that cold blue light poured from the
magic token.
"Reorx curse your cowardly skin!" Flint growled, sprint-
ing toward the savant. He knew he would never reach him
before Pitrick cast his spell. Oddly, he felt no fear of his own
death; just an overwhelming sense of sadness that so much
other killing would remain unavenged
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