“Enough of this,” Aurelia said, still shrouded in webs. Twin lightning bolts arced out from her hands, tearing through webbing as they streaked toward the ambushers. The man in gray cloaks whirled, dodging the blast. The shorter fellow did not fare as well. The lightning hit him square in the chest, lifted him off his feet, and deposited him outside in a gasping lump of metal, dirt and flesh. Aurelia followed with two more bolts of lightning. The man in gray dodged back and forth, leaping off walls and crates so that each strike just barely missed.

Qurrah lashed his whip, burning away more of the webs. He heard soft chanting from within the darkness high above his head, and he recognized it for what it was: a wizard casting a spell.

“Darkness is no haven here,” he said. Invisible forces gripped his arms and legs, slowing their movements. Qurrah ignored them, knowing they were mental illusions. He kept his hands looping through the semantic motions for his spell. The darkness covering the ceiling suddenly recoiled and fled as if it were a living thing. Standing there, illuminated in no light but still clearly visible, was a middle-aged wizard dressed in yellow robes, a yellow cloak, and a tall yellow hat. In his left hand he held a long, knotted staff.

“Hello there,” he said, realizing his cover was gone. “Clever fellow, aren’t you?”

A ball of fire leapt from his hands to convey his appreciation.

“Aurelia!” Qurrah cried as the fire approached. The elf stopped her barrage of lightning just long enough to place a warding spell around them. The fireball hit the ground and detonated. The flame swirled about Aurelia and Qurrah, held at bay by Aurelia’s spell.

When the fire dissipated, the half-orc laughed at the wizard in yellow.

“Surely you can do better than that,” Qurrah said.