Around them the apparent earthquake increased in fury. Dust from the falling bricks and building stones rose like a fog. It whirled and eddied in a wind that came from nowhere, but stubbornly hugged the ground to obscure vision beyond a couple of meters. Unable to target, the razorguys ceased their steady fire. Only when the swirling dust opened a fire lane did the guns speak. Cyan flashes of magical energy lit the dust clouds as they screamed in response to Masamba’s erratic barrage of amber bolts.