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As Talik and Nalun scrambled up the ridge, the laccolith leaped into the heart of the rebel line, scattering elves and Vec alike. Several elvish archers managed to sink arrows into its neck and shoulders while other rebels advanced on it with swords.
"Get back!" Talik heard his uncle warn the rebels. "In Eladamri's name, retreat!"
Too late. The laccolith stopped, swelled, and then seemingly exploded. Red-hot jets of liquid fire erupted in all directions from its spikes, drenching rebels in searing, clinging agony. Many died before they hit the ground, and still others were blinded or maimed. Triumphant, the laccolith roared, and only then did Crovax's troops move in, brutally finishing off the wounded.
"They will not savor this victory long," Nalun said grimly.
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"Uncle," urged a wide-eyed Talik, looking beyond the carnage. He pointed to a jagged line of light growing steadily brighter and larger on the valley floor. A low, wavering hum began and grew in intensity until Talik felt his bones rattle. "What's that?"
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