Teamwork, Dreamwork

"Lawrence. That was amazing! How'd you do it?" Monica asks as she wipes the blood off of her blade with a cloth she had pulled from her pocket.

"What do you mean?"

"She means that your one spell went off in three different locations, how did you do it?"

"Hm? I split the mana stream into three. Obviously."

"Why do you say that like it's easy? No mage we've worked with could even come close to something like that."

"Really? Huh."

How else could I respond?

Mister's okay? Shadow's voice calls to me.

I turn my head toward the tree that Shadow had vanished into.

"Yes, I'm fine Shadow; have the other dogmen noticed?"

The Dogs? They saw one of the rocks you threw fly in the air. They're looking over here, mister. Mister, there's more than I thought. Some are coming out of the cloth buildings. Six? Seven? Mister, there's a lot more.

"Are you talking to the cat again? Can I do that?"

A few inquisitive barks come from the camp below the hill.

"Oh hell," I mutter.

"Think they know we're here?" Monica says.

I nod.

"According to Shadow, they saw one of the stones. Sorry." I turn my attention to William, "You're primarily a healer, right?"

Another round of probing barks from the camp.

William shook his head.

"I have some healing spells, but I'm more of a support: I can boost stats, temporarily. I can also 'debuff,' the enemy if you know that term."

I nod.

Mister. They're beginning to move. Two of them are holding some cloth above the fire, and the rest are grabbing sticks. Mister, they're coming. Going to hide again.

A long, plume of smoke billows up from the camp, as the rustle of many pairs of padded feet begins to make their way through the low-cut grass of the woods.

"Focus on protecting your sister," I say.

"I can protect myself well enough, Lawrence." Monica chimed in, "Instead, focus on whatever you think is best, William."

William nods at his sister's words, and the worry that had been creasing his face melts away. He wraps the gold chain of the pendant around his knuckles and holds it out in front of him in our direction.

"Oh, you subtle Fires of Strength and Determination, coarse through the veins of all in front of me."

The air around the pendant ripples outward. Heat rushes through my body as that energy flows into me. He then stepped to the edge of the hill.

"I'll slow as many as I can."

A sharp whistle cut through the air as he peeked his head over the crest of the hill. I grab him by the arm and drag him backward as a pair of arrows sail past where he had been standing.

"William! Are you okay?"

William's face was bright white.

"How close were they?"

"About a quarter of the way up the hill."

I point the cane at the edge of the hill. I had an idea for a spell.

"A volley, o' Djinn."

As I finish incanting, the mana begins to flow through me and take shape in the form of five arrows of fire and wind and scan the group. The archers were taking up the rear. As they see me, they lock eyes with me, and I loose the arrows. At my orders, the flaming arrows arch through the air and slam against the pair of archers; three on one, and two on the other. Their wiry fur catches fire, and they fall to the grass to roll around in an attempt to put out the flames.

At my spell, the front line of the approaching dogman formation closes in and raises their shields in front of them, and above them to protect from any oncoming projectiles. Do you think that's enough? I laugh inwardly.

"An awl, O' thou servants of Gob the Highest, to strike my enemies."

I direct the mana flowing out of me into the flank of the formation. A pair of soil and stone spikes jut from the ground and pierces the sides of one of the dogmen shield bearers. It yelps loudly and falls away from the formation onto the spikes. The soil of the spikes give way, as the dogman twitches and dies. It rolls a few feet from the formation and lays still.

I could probably blow them away with a single Rock Throw if I focused, but that would use up too much mana and would leave me, and thus the two with me, vulnerable. The two in the camp were busy sending up smoke signals, and I just know that I'll need to be ready to move at a moment's notice.

The pair of spells took no longer than a couple of seconds to pass, by that time William had regained his composure and stood beside me.

"Oh, thou invisible beings that dwell within all, slow the steps of all those before me."

He says as he holds the pendant in front of him. Once more the air ripples. As it collides against the oncoming formation, their steps noticeably slow as if they're walking through waist-high water.

"That's...actually incredibly useful."

I say.

"Isn't it? I'm proud of my brother." Monica slaps William's shoulder a couple of times. "My turn." She smiles as she holds her blade in front of her so that the tip points to the sky. "Oh you daughters and dancer of wind and sky, grant me, your grace."

A small breeze wraps around Monica, and she darts forward. She steps through the air as if an invisible path had been laid out in front of her. She closes the distance between the top of the hill, and the back of the formation in less than a second, sliding to a stop on the grass. She flings herself forward into the formation; her blades finding the spaces in between their armor. One fell, and then another, and another. Their reactions seem to be slowed by William's spell as well. They were a good pair.

The pair of dogmen that had been sending the smoke signal rush forward, with their own weapons drawn. About half of the formation turns around to meet this new threat at their rear. Monica weaves and dodges through all of it, like a butterfly escaping the swatting claws of a cat.

"Bombard my enemies, O' thou servants of Gob, the magnanimous," I utter.

I draw the mana downward and find a stone about the size of my head and pull it from the ground. I urge the mana to spin the stone like a bullet coming out of a rifle. It slams into the shield of the centermost dogman. The shield shatters, the arm is pushed backward and its shoulder dislocates. The rock slams into the chest of the dogman behind it; the gray-furred creature falls forward into the grass, and then the approaching dogmen stop in their tracks, turn tail, and begin to hurry down the slope.

Too, slow, however. Monica, who had finished cutting a trail of blood, flesh, and fur through the ones who had turned to meet her as she delved into the retreating mass. Her thin saber, and dagger work as one to stab and cut and slice and pierce. Blood flows from innumerable wounds as one by one the dogmen drop. The once green grass of the climb up the hill was now a rust-colored crimson.