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designed to impede and
kill his men. As death by ice became a reduced threat, Seth sought out his next
target. Opposing magics began to diminish as his men closed in on the casters,
yet his troop numbers began to fall as well. Seth needed to even the odds, lest
Valdadore’s only hope fall here and now. Reaching out again to seek a foul mage
blessed with wicked magics, Seth realized he would not turn the tide this time.
    *****
    Rose smoothed out her traveling cloak and turned to watch
her two dearest friends walk off towards impending doom. They had known each
other for practically their whole lives, each of them being consigned to
service to the kingdom at the same Choosing ceremony so many years ago. Seven
of them had decided together to retire from service after decades, and now only
four remained. Three of them were here now back where their friendships began,
and Rose prayed to her god that this would not be their last time together.
    Watching as James and Jack drew their weapons, Rose turned
to face those she had been left behind with.
    “Who is in charge here?” she shouted.
    Moments later a man, perhaps in his fifties yet appearing in
his early thirties, extracted himself from the throng of more than a hundred
battle mages.
    “I am, though currently we take orders from Felonus, captain
of the archers,” he proclaimed.
    “Wrong answer, son,” Rose said, and spinning round to address
all those gathered she continued, “I am now in charge of all battle mages. Form
ranks, we march to help our king.”
    Unsure as to what was taking place, none moved to follow
Rose’s order.
    “And who might you be to declare yourself our master?” the
man asked defiantly.
    “I am Rose Devante, former head of battle mages. I come to
temporarily reclaim my post.”
    The name alone demanded respect, and the man who stood to
thwart her immediately looked to his feet, ashamed. He should have recognized
his former headmistress. He had trained under her, as did all young mages, in
his first year at the castle. Then she had retired, Vladmere taking her place.
It made no matter; all here knew her name and her abilities. Some had tried to
recreate the things she had mastered, and studied her writings and lessons.
Vladmere had achieved the most success openly, but even so he was but a shadow
before the sun. Bodies burst into action and within minutes Rose had four even
ranks of mages ready to march to battle with her.
    “Follow my lead. If you are on the outside of the formation,
use fire shield. Those of you inside, target enemy mages first, common troops
second,” Rose commanded.
    Without giving any further explanation Rose strode off
towards the ever-nearing battle. The formation of battle mages fell into step a
few paces behind. Within seconds all those mages vulnerable to immediate attack
cast the fire shield spell. A complete ring of fire blazed around the junior
mages following Rose. So close were they that her very robes began to smolder
as smoke billowed out of her cowl. Rose did not so much as cough; fire was an
old friend. Most of her days she spent sitting in front of the fire. She
enjoyed its warmth, but it had been years since she allowed herself to enjoy
its touch.
    Raising her palms to the heavens, Rose chanted an
incantation and her robes immediately ignited in entirety. Seconds later they
were consumed and Rose walked the remaining mile to the battlefield devoid of
clothes, her nude body covered in dancing and swaying flames.
    Every trace of hair had vanished, yet beneath the fire Rose
walked uninjured. Together with her followers, Rose marched directly into the
enemy and, with a wave of her hand, a tidal wave of fire sprang from her body
engulfing all those ahead and to either side. Her fellow mages took that as
their cue and fireballs of varying size and intensity lanced out in all
directions as victims were chosen and felled. Screams of the burning sounded
from all around the mages as giant werewolves made way for the