Quite coolly, he brought up the fire-gun he'd taken from the guardsman ... leveled it with grim precision at the squad's commander.
The man passed some remark to Tumek. But the oldster only shook his head and stood the straighter, face calm, serene ... almost spiritual.
Craig corrected his aim a fraction.
The firing squad's commander pivoted ... sucked in air to give the final order.
Craig squeezed the fire-gun's trigger.
A green shaft of flame lanced out. It struck the squad chief square in the chest. He slammed backward—face contorted in a death's-head grimace; already toppling.
The squad seemed to freeze in its tracks. Then, as the spell broke, one man started to whirl, whipping round his own weapon.
Craig dropped him where he stood.
Chaos descended on the guardsmen. Frantically, they lunged for cover.