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Pitrick's sneer was all the answer he spared for his victim,
then the derro barked the harsh command for his spell. A
bolt of lightning suddenly sizzled from his hand, exploding
toward Flint in a blast of magical death. The hill dwarf
howled his rage, squinting against the blast of approaching
magic, but not faltering in his charge.
Then the Tharkan Axe blinked brightly, and a white burst
of light overpowered the pale dawn and caused Pitrick to
close his eyes, crying out in pain. The axe shone as the light-
ning bolt crackled into Flint, and suddenly the spell was
gone, inexplicably snuffed. Whatever the reason, Flint
dimly realized it had something to do with the axe.
"Now you'll fight, scum!" hollered Flint in savage exulta-
tion. For reasons he did not stop to contemplate, the axe
would protect him from Pitrick's magic!
Other mountain dwarf troops stepped in the way. Sud-
denly one of these was bashed away by Tybalt. Then Ru-
berik stepped to Flint's side, knocking back another of the
savant's protectors.
"Face my blade, you miserable coward!" called the king
of the gully dwarves, until only one guard stood between
Flint and Pitrick
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