A rain of javelins and arrows falls over me.

“Dance for me o—”

A stone spear juts out of the earth and slams into my side, sending me rolling to the ground. The point is deflected by my Repel, but the force is still transmitted to me; I feel one of my ribs crack. Just how good were the apostle’s mana-sensing capabilities? I grip my side and push myself up.

A javelin strikes me in the center of the back, and then another strikes me in the shoulder. My shield cracks and falls off of me, and I roll forward, diving toward the collapsed body of the non-burning construct. An arrow sinks into the flesh of my shoulder, and blood begins to trickle down the back of my arm.

What was I thinking? Taking on an army by myself? I’m not strong enough for that just yet. I hide in the shadows of the tangled roots, and pull out the barbed arrow — the point scrapes against the bone of my shoulder blade, sending waves of pain and nausea coursing through me. I heal the oozing wound as quickly as I could. How would I be able to interrupt the one casting the sound-dampening spell?

Arrows and javelins thunk on the ground and against the thick, rot-smelling roots, and the ground shakes with the force of the explosions going on overhead as Nyt counters every spell cast by the apostle. Think, Lawrence. You don’t have to kill them all, you just have to hold out for...how long? I pull out my phone. 2:30. Really? Only a little longer than 30 minutes had passed? Shit.

For now, I have to break their formation...break their formation? Hadn’t I done that before? Yes. During the battle on the hilltop against the heavy infantry. I tap my forehead with my wand and recast Repel, stick my head out, and glance back. Black smoke and orange flames still waft from the body of the other construct. That should do. I can see the forms of the army approaching. A javelin strikes my head and jerks my head downward with such force that I smack my forehead against the ground. I pull my head back in. Visualize, Lawrence. Visualize. You know where the fire is, you know where the army is...you can sense them.

“By the order of Gob, king of the spirits of the earth, I order you, oh gnomes, seize my enemies.”

I utter as I fall further back into the mess of roots. The mana seeps into the ground, and I push it toward the burning mass of roots. I split the stream in two. Normally, the hands would close around my target, but now I visualize the fist unclenched; its fingers unfurled and straight. I can’t wait too long. Surely the ones circling overhead would assume I was done for, and begin to harass the archers and others within the walls. I have to do this quickly.

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I close my eyes and feel the flow of wind mana.

The mana is thick and heavy. Mixed with the water mana of the mists hung around me, and the mana of the spells booming overhead made it hard to track, but eventually I do. Just as the army near the burning remains, I sense it. The mana in most of the fog clinging to the ground, and the wind mana suppressing sound come from the same source, embedded somewhere in the right flank of the approaching army. With that knowledge, I adjust the earth mana, change my visualization, and release my Ensnare.

Judging solely by the booming and the sounds of panic I can tell that it made contact. The wind and water mana were still there, however. The forces would soon reform around it, despite what losses. I dart out of my hiding place.

“Oh, you ruler of Olympus, lend thy power for my steps.”

I finish incanting just as a volley of javelins and arrows fall over me.

Boom.

The smoldering heap had been tossed by the stone hands through the front ranks, and had caused a bit of damage to their formation; leaving a pretty wide gap in their front line. I aim for that as I rocket forward. As I leap onto the heap of burning roots, the Efrans strike at me with spear, blade, and shield to try to stop me. They’re too slow, however, and soon I am out of their reach within the flames.

I had hoped to crush the spell caster, but alas, splitting the stream of the spell in two had weakened it, and the fog still clings to the ground, and the sound of the shouting Efrans is still muffled. Where was he? The heat of the flame bites at me. Where was he? I scan the forces trying to scramble up toward me. There. There.

A dogman with thick robes over chainmail stood in the center of their forces carrying a glowing amulet, he pushes his way back, and away from me, but I see him. I have a bead on him now.

No earth mana can get up to me, as I stand on the burning wood, so I can’t just quickly impale him, so instead...

“I call upon Zeus; lord of Olympus, lend me a bolt so that I might smite my enemy.”

A blue, jagged bolt arcs out of the tip of my wand and slams into the back of the retreating mage. Its body stiffens up, as do the bodies of a few of the ones surrounding it. The sounds of nearby clamor and the crackling of wood grow in intensity nearly instantly, and the feeling of pressurized atmosphere fades just as quickly. Now to retreat, I turn around and stop. No, this was the perfect opportunity. The fliers aren’t able to harangue me in the middle of their own forces, and since I’m not connected to the ground, the apostle’s earth spells would have to come from the ground nearby.

“Dance for me,” An earthen spike juts out from the side aiming for me, and I dodge further into the flames, “Oh daughters of the wind.”

I pour as much mana as I can into the shell of wind. It catches the embers fluttering in the wind and pushes them out into the air. More mana. More. Soon the wind shell howls and whips around a good 20 yards out of me. I can feel the fog and steam catching into the currents of the wind, just as assuredly as I feel my soles burning and reforming as I cast Lesser Heals on them over and over. I push the shell of wind and steam and smoke skyward. The veil covering the ground lifted and dissipated into the upper atmosphere.