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. Finally he
collapsed on his face in the mud, the pool of his blood grow-
ing ever larger.
And the world went mad.
The first rays of sun crept over the eastern ridge, spilling
light into the town. Flint scarcely breathed as he reached to
retrieve his weapon. The Tharkan Axe in Pitrick's chest,
nestled against the remains of the five-headed amulet,
glowed red, so hot that Flint could not even touch it through
his gloves.
Suddenly it burst into flames. White smoke billowed
from the fire. The cloud hissed forth, snaking upward and
rapidly spreading into the sky.
Simultaneously, the severed heads on the amulet began to
writhe like snakes, hissing, spewing a great cloud of black
smoke. This dark vapor, too, poured into the air, growing
like a living thing, writhing and twisting its way upward.
The two clouds met, spuming around each other, but each
remained separate in a shocking contrast of light and dark.
The dawn sun reflected from the white smoke with a bright
glare, but the black vapor seemed to absorb the light, suck-
ing the energy from the air and giving nothing back.
Flint stumbled away from the clouds, stunned by their
sudden incarnation
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