Chapter 119: 7.4 – The Gates of Tarin-Tiran

Now!

Rerebos’s voice echoed in Robin’s head and he willed a the illusion of a wall across the alleyway behind him, right after the mage ran into it. A [Lesser Phantasm] cast the sound of running feet headed away down the other branch of the alley.

Rerebos confirmed that they had lost the hob.

It had been a desperate plan, but Robin had had too many close calls during this chase, and the hobs were gaining. He needed to face them one at a time and make sure he survived.

Ruprecht would just have to get another set of hobs to snack on. Robin’s life took precedence over the dungeon’s appetite.

A bolt of fire caught Robin in the thigh. The mage had taken advantage of his distraction in casting the illusion, but had not yet noticed that she now faced the bard alone.

Robin sang out a quick [Healing Note]. He’d taken more than one bolt of fire as he fled from the two hobs. Now he needed to patch himself up so he was in good enough shape to go toe to toe with this strange mage.

The next bolt of fire missed.

Robin ducked behind cover and threw an illusory mist around himself. The hobgoblin mage growled in annoyance. She didn’t seem worried however.

Illusionists? Underestimated? That was hardly uncommon.

Robin began a sort of guerrilla skirmish, moving form point of cover to point of cover, stepping out to fire off a [Lesser Witchbolt] when opportunity presented itself, using [Visual Phantasm] to conjure obvious targets, etc.

It was far from a fast engagement, but Robin wanted to test the mage’s limits, to see what she was capable of. If there were more like her all the information could prove invaluable.

He didn’t think taking this chance was putting himself in too much danger. She had yet to produce any large or powerful spells, and if she was going to do so, he would have expected to have seen it during the conflict and chase already.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t some trump card she was holding on to, but from what he’d seen so far, he was safe enough testing her limits like this.

The mage answered him spell for spell. She always used fire of some kind, be it shaped as a dart or other kind of bolt, or an arc or a lash of even a small explosive ball of flame.

Robin didn’t feel the latter was quite worthy of the name [Fireball], for all the similarities. It just wasn’t impactful enough. Was [Lesser Fireball] or [Least Fireball] a thing? He’d have to pay more attention in this studies.

And the fire always, always issued forth from the wand she held. She never cast fire with her free hand, or spat it from her eyes or mouth. It was always channeled via the wand.

As he fought, Robin noticed something else. The runes on the collar glimmered faintly right before the wand released a spell. More evidence that the two were connected.

I think that wand is a huge weak spot. Robin sent to Rerebos. Keep an eye out. If you get the chance to snatch it from her, take it. She might very well be powerless without it.

Yes! I will take the shiny! I shall be mine!

Robin wasn’t going to promise that, but he also knew better than to argue with Rerebos during a battle. The little dragon might get too caught up in fighting for what he saw as his rightful spoils of victory. or worse, he’d begin to sulk and wouldn’t bother to try and snatch the thing at all.

Getting the wand from Rerebos later would be a battle in and of itself, but it’d certainly be one with lower stakes than this.

Robin dodged as another bolt of flame nearly took an ear off.

Enough! He had plenty of information. It was time to stop playing around and see about winning this fight.

Robin launched into another offensive, using illusion to mask his movements and his attack cantrips to whittle away at this target.

The mage was surprisingly robust. Far more resilient than any spellcaster had a right to be.

That or Robin needed some more powerful spells. Always a possibility. Still, they were coming. He was likely to find several good options somewhere in this very city, in fact.

If he survived long enough to delve deeply enough.

Robin exchanged more cantrips with the mage. He had [Healing Note] on his side, at least. The mage didn’t appear to have any healing magic at her command. He didn’t even see any potions she might use.

The bard ducked behind a pile of rubble to catch his breath. He needed to do more cardio! He was getting winded.

To cover, he conjured an illusion of himself popping up from behind cover not far away. The mage raised her wand in response, preparing to fire another bolt of flame at him.

Rerebos chose that moment to strike! The little dragon swooped down and snatched the wand from the mage’s upraised hand. In moments he had darted away with it, concealing himself once again amongst the shadows of the ruins.

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‘No!’ The mage wailed, clutching wildly at the air.

Robin didn’t give her the chance to regain her mental balance. He pressed the advantage, sending a [Lesser Witchbolt] at her. The flaming card sliced her cheek and drew a slim line of blood.

The mage stumbled back. Her eyes spat daggers of hate toward him and her fingers flexed, but she didn’t immediately counter with a spell.

He had been right! Losing the wand definitely had an effect on her combat effectiveness. Robin pressed his advantage.

He cast [Lesser Witchbolt]s interspersed with mocking quips about the loss of her wand, fuelling the insults with the sorcerous power of [Cutting Words].

The mage quickly began to show signs of exhaustion and wear. This battle was not going well for her, and every time she tried to flee Robin blocked her exit with illusions, conjuring darkness she could not see through and thus causing her to stumble and fall, or thick clouds of mist that played havoc with the senses.

Robin was going to win. The mage was going to die. She realised that before long and her face grew increasingly desperate.

Robin didn’t let up. He couldn’t afford to let the mage escape. Besides, he wanted a closer look at the collar, now that he had the wand. What about it so impacted her magic?

Then the mage did something unexpected. She stood stock still and began chanting, he hands moving through the practiced gestures of spellcasting.

Robin froze. He’d had such an advantage, and the mage had shown no other signs of being able to cast without her wand before this, that her actions caught him off guard.

He should have expected this.

Wild, dancing flames kindled in the mage’s eyes, followed shortly by a nimbus of fire that began dancing around her. Robin, currently in plain view, immediately wrapped himself in an illusion and threw himself to one side. Whatever she was conjuring he had no desire to get hit with it!

The mage howled in hatred and in fury and brought her hands together. An arc of flame, magically intense roared out from her, heading toward Robin.

No, not quite flame. It was…butterflies made of fire! Their wings aflame in reds and oranges and golds. They were beautiful!

And they were painful! One after another slammed into Robin, setting his clothing alight and searing into his skin.

The bard yelped and slapped at the fiery insects, but there were too many of them to avoid. The mage was pouring out an endless stream of them.

No. Wait. Something else was happening.

Between the flickering of the butterflies and Robin’s efforts to evade as many of item as he could he caught sight of the mage. It was hard to see with so many butterflies swirling around her, but she herself was burning—no, she was dissolving into the butterflies!

Screaming. She was screaming. Her magic was out of control!

In moments there was only the faintest of outlines remaining, until she detonated with a concussive bang! Butterflies exploded everywhere, washing over Robin and the nearby buildings, setting everything aflame.

Nothing remained of the mage. Not even the collar.

Not that Robin had time to retrieve it. There were larger problems in his life right now. Like escaping the rising conflagration.

He darted away, running several alleys and streets along before he pulled up to catch his breath. He could see a bit of smoke behind him, but it didn’t look like the fire was spreading much more beyond the street he had stood on. Probably enough ruined buildings to make effective firebreaks or residual anti-fire enchantments.

Small motes of flame danced on the breeze. The fiery butterflies. Robin wondered if they’d become a part of the local ecosystem now. They didn’t seem to be fading like most spell effects would.

Strange.

Though possibly not as strange as the notification flickering on the edge of his vision. Robin focused on it and his eyes widened as it provided at least a bit of an explanation for what had just occurred.

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