Cautiously peeking out from my hiding place, I assessed the progress of my allies and, from the intensity of the attack, the rest of my forces. Well, the earlier conclusion was confirmed: my allies were exhausted and tired, but the enemy was still alive and kicking. Unfortunately, I couldn't just knock them out with seals — the enemy had set up some kind of shield that simply burned paper and small debris.
Carefully, I aimed my wand at the invisible shield and let out a stream of fire that had no effect on the defense, but I had to move away from the corner where the enemy began to crumble.
Okay, then. I made a square in the air with my wand upside down, crossed it out and pushed it away from me, immediately feeling a powerful reaction — the dirt stayed where it was, but the water itself from the canals, pipes, barrels reacted with a clean wave, but I was in no hurry to raise it. Concentrating intensely on my idea, I began to divide the mass of water into small streams that imperceptibly rose up the stone walls, where they gathered again.
My manipulations were not noticed until a powerful stream of fine ice came down from the ceiling, smashing against the extremely effective shield. It didn't seem to work this time either, but I could see the two mages standing at the edge of the group tense up, though I couldn't see their faces, but I could tell from their clothing that they were trembling, and I could see it in their hands. I still had water left, so I decided to increase the pressure, albeit briefly, but to create a much more impressive pressure.
A second later, one of the two mages staggered and then collapsed, while the other could not hold such a shield alone, and he dissipated into a haze. My allies wasted no time in attacking the enemy. The first blow from our side can be called stunning, as the enemy acted in a noticeable hurry, losing the former coherence, even synchronicity of the established teamwork, which could not but affect the result of the defense.
The defenses were torn apart several times in a single volley, as shields designed for at least a couple of mages were used singly, and they were simply blown away, not so much by the lack of energy invested as by the skewed structures.
Several powerful Bombarda Maxima tore through the barrier, creating a "window" through which a few more flew in, shattering the former monolith. Our forces did not relent, though I saw that four of them were already unconscious, and their partners began dragging their comrades out of the hall, actively maneuvering and using cover.
In fact, there were very few people left in the "forces", and they put all their efforts into pushing one of their two groups, which simply could not withstand the onslaught and only continued to fight thanks to their reserves of strength. I, realizing that if the second group was not distracted, they would not miss their chance, struck again with a stream of flame, the least energy-consuming spell for me, but no less effective against a group of enemies. A deep, heavy rumble drowned out all other sounds, and the flames themselves were bright yellow from the high saturation of magic.
My wand didn't like fire very much — I could feel it, but it didn't hurt it either; had I known the area spells of corrosive poison or acid, it would have sung in my hand, but I could say that it just tolerated it.
The stone of the walls and floor blackened and began to crackle from the temperature of the fire. I don't know what my enemies feel behind their shields, how "comfortable" it is for them there, but I don't care. It took my allies only fifteen seconds to pacify the splintered part of the enemy group, and most of them survived, but found themselves deeply cursed and unconscious. Noting this fact, I send two "not normal" seals, which turn into faceless white figures in flight, to my allies.
Some who had not seen where my shikigami had come from even tried to attack my servants, but my comrades stopped them and helped transport two more wounded who had not been dragged away earlier. I held back the flames for a while while the men gathered the debris into a new shield, and when I released the fire to take a break and join the retreat, we moved together to the exit, covered by our enchanted defenses and sparse shields.
All the wizards with any knowledge of runes were either wounded (three) or killed (one) by this time. Hiding behind the badly damaged exit from the hall, the men immediately set about examining the wounds and helping the unconscious. My shikigami were frozen as no one gave them orders or asked them to do anything, which was the same for them.
— This sucks... — said Anthony Hilyard, examining the smoldering prosthesis, but there weren't even scratches on it except for the soot.
— What are we going to do? — Nick Summers was nearby, several scrapes and scratches on his face, and he was also carefully holding his right hand, which was now glowing with four seals just above the sleeve.
— We can't let these go. — I nodded in the direction of the hall entrance. — Besides, we haven't rescued the girl yet. — I shrugged and felt the elixirs I'd taken a moment ago begin to ease the tension in my muscles and the abrasions and bruises stop burning.
— How did you do that? — I squinted at the former American Auror.
— What are you talking about?
— Don't play dumb. — The man grinned. — I saw the door swing shut behind them. — Anthony remained silent, but it was clear from his expression that he was interested. — Who else but you could have done it?
— I plead guilty. — I nodded, covered my eyes, and listened to my own well-being, which was once again perfect. — But I'll keep the recipe to myself.
Judging by their expressions, they didn't like that answer, but that's their problem.
— A spell like this could save a lot of people. — Summers narrowed his eyes and caught my gaze.
— You should know one thing: besides me, there are only two beings in this building who can learn such tricks in the long run, but neither you nor Anthony are one of them. As for being a shield, I'm not enough for everyone here, am I?
— If you'd just said you didn't feel like it... — Summers grimaced and turned away. I shrugged and turned my face to Anthony, whose opinion was far more important to me than that of the skilled but overly bold and stubborn American.
— This magic falls under the category of shamanism — I had to distort the truth a bit, but it's not really a lie, just not the whole truth and from the wrong angle. — Not everyone has a predisposition to it, especially not so strong that they can use this magic quickly, without rituals.
— So you're a shaman? — Anthony, with whom we've been on a first-name basis for some time now, was surprised. — Now your power in ritual magic is clear. — To say more would be to lie, so I just shrugged, and the man nodded in understanding.
— You don't look like an Indian... — Summers commented, looking at me skeptically.
— Nick, I want you to know that shamanism, as magic, is present in all cultures on our planet, every people has always had their own shamans, and the fact that you only know North American Indians does not mean that shamans are only to be found among them. — In fact, I would like to tell him much more, but it is better to hold back, because this man, despite his not the most pleasant character, is a good specialist, and the past battle is proof of that. Besides, he's an authority among Maggie's people, and his word means a lot, and he can really screw things up, so it's better to be patient.
We were distracted from this conversation by other concerns, including the need to transport a badly wounded Auror who needed immediate attention or the consequences for him would be unpleasant. The unpleasant thing is that Amelia has overstretched herself and is now in a blackout, while her men have gone into "autonomous mode," which means they are acting according to the situation, carrying out the original installation, but not perceiving the current decisions and orders. Unpleasant. But not critical.
— What happened? — Anthony's tense voice sounded, but I was not distracted by the conversation, I continued to decipher the message of the spirits watching the enemy in the hall.
— Something is going on in there... — I replied after a few minutes. — It feels strange... something is being prepared... — I opened my eyes and looked at the tense men. — I think you'd better leave the building and prepare defenses to prevent them from escaping, just in case.
— And you? — Summers squints suspiciously.
— I'll stay here and watch, and if I can, I'll interfere with whatever they're preparing.
— Then I'll stay too. — Nick shrugs, and Anthony just nods, then pours a vial of potion into himself.
— You're exhausted, you'll be of little use, and I'll have to pull you out. And tell me, what do I need — unnecessary problems?
Thanks to all the spirits, there was no snotty drama, the spirit of irresistible camaraderie of these two did not inflame, and they have reason, so the people were organized evacuated, but I was assured that they will be "prepared". Yes, yes, this word was singled out separately, and with such a very serious expression on their faces....
I felt like an anime hero, I even looked around for a "cool" background or "heroic" music, and I even shuddered at the thought that this could really be the case. No, spit up! Ugh, ugh!
When the unnecessary witnesses had left, and the shikigami and seals had closed the basement entrance they knew was behind them, I entered the hall. Of course, I had prepared myself, much more seriously than before this operation. No one stopped me from getting within two dozen meters, and then we just stared at each other for a while. I don't know what these clowns could see, but I didn't like the appearance of a new figure among the enemies.
Short, even short, in a solid hooded cloak, a dry, aged hand holding a crooked, old cloak staff. And all sorts of things went through my head again, just on the subject of westerns: long stares, "stern" looks, squinting at close range, the obligatory toothpick in the mouth and stubble.
Strange mood before the fight continues....