The light went out, but the moving points of light didn’t. If anything, they blazed brighter, and now they occasionally detached themselves from the surface of the ceiling and whizzed around a few inches below it.
As we watched, the points of light dropped down even farther, now just brushing the tops of our heads. Lou liked this new development even less than we did. He quickly headed toward the table, intending to take cover underneath. Right before he reached it, one of the bright sparks flew out of its orbit and struck him squarely on his back leg. He yelped and dove under the table, finding relative safety for the moment.
A second later one of the light points swooped down and nicked my forearm. I almost yelped myself; it felt like the sting of an angry wasp. The room was now thick with the swirling points of light; they didn’t appear conscious or malevolent, just random. But there were enough of them so that soon intent wouldn’t be an issue. We were in serious trouble.
Sherwood grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the far corner of the room.
“We need to set up a barrier shield,” she said.
I nodded and yelled over at Lou to join us. His hiding place under the table wasn’t going to be effective for long. Sherwood and I had worked together long enough to be an efficient team. Usually two practitioners using talent end up at cross purposes, but we’d found ways to divide up tasks without getting in each other’s way. We used the two sides of the corner walls as a natural barrier and quickly set up an energy shield to cover the rest.
But this was only a temporary fix. Protective physical shields are an active use of talent, and take a lot of energy to maintain. A static shield, like a warding, is different. It’s like putting up a barbed-wire fence; it takes some time and effort, but once it’s up, it’s done. You don’t need to expend energy to keep it in place. You need to keep up maintenance, like if you had to replace a rusted wire or loose post, but otherwise it’s just there.
Same goes for aversion spells, and passive spellwork like personal shielding of talent or creating illusions is even easier. You have to keep your concentration, but a trickle of energy will suffice to keep them going.
But an energy shield is like an electrified fence, and the power has to come from somewhere—usually from your personal store. The stronger you are, the longer you can hold it steady, but sooner or later you tire and run out of energy. Then the shield collapses. But we had a moment’s respite, and Sherwood took out her cell phone.
“I think we could use a little help,” she said, and started to punch in a number. Then she stopped and stared at the phone.
“Let me guess,” I said. “No service.” I waved at the flecks of light. “The energy animating those things is going to disrupt any electromagnetic signal.”
“Of course. Otherwise it would have been easy. So what now?”
“Just the question I was asking myself.”
“How much time do we have?” she asked. “How’s your energy holding up?”
“Not bad. I’d guess we’ve got an hour, give or take.”
My forearm was still smarting from where the speck of light had grazed it. I examined it, expecting to find a welt like from a bee sting, but it was more like a burn. An angry red line, turning black around the edges, ran down the arm. I showed it to Sherwood, who whistled.
“Nasty,” she said. “Those little points of light must be super hot, like little flecks of molten metal. What do you think—can we douse them?”
“I don’t see how. Too many of them, and they move too fast, anyway.”
The air was now thick with them. Another problem was the nature of the energy shield. It protected us, but it also protected the lights. In order to deal with them, we’d have to drop the shield, and we might not last long enough after that to do anything much.
“Fuck!” Sherwood yelled, and slapped at her neck. An angry welt appeared
As we watched, the points of light dropped down even farther, now just brushing the tops of our heads. Lou liked this new development even less than we did. He quickly headed toward the table, intending to take cover underneath. Right before he reached it, one of the bright sparks flew out of its orbit and struck him squarely on his back leg. He yelped and dove under the table, finding relative safety for the moment.
A second later one of the light points swooped down and nicked my forearm. I almost yelped myself; it felt like the sting of an angry wasp. The room was now thick with the swirling points of light; they didn’t appear conscious or malevolent, just random. But there were enough of them so that soon intent wouldn’t be an issue. We were in serious trouble.
Sherwood grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the far corner of the room.
“We need to set up a barrier shield,” she said.
I nodded and yelled over at Lou to join us. His hiding place under the table wasn’t going to be effective for long. Sherwood and I had worked together long enough to be an efficient team. Usually two practitioners using talent end up at cross purposes, but we’d found ways to divide up tasks without getting in each other’s way. We used the two sides of the corner walls as a natural barrier and quickly set up an energy shield to cover the rest.
But this was only a temporary fix. Protective physical shields are an active use of talent, and take a lot of energy to maintain. A static shield, like a warding, is different. It’s like putting up a barbed-wire fence; it takes some time and effort, but once it’s up, it’s done. You don’t need to expend energy to keep it in place. You need to keep up maintenance, like if you had to replace a rusted wire or loose post, but otherwise it’s just there.
Same goes for aversion spells, and passive spellwork like personal shielding of talent or creating illusions is even easier. You have to keep your concentration, but a trickle of energy will suffice to keep them going.
But an energy shield is like an electrified fence, and the power has to come from somewhere—usually from your personal store. The stronger you are, the longer you can hold it steady, but sooner or later you tire and run out of energy. Then the shield collapses. But we had a moment’s respite, and Sherwood took out her cell phone.
“I think we could use a little help,” she said, and started to punch in a number. Then she stopped and stared at the phone.
“Let me guess,” I said. “No service.” I waved at the flecks of light. “The energy animating those things is going to disrupt any electromagnetic signal.”
“Of course. Otherwise it would have been easy. So what now?”
“Just the question I was asking myself.”
“How much time do we have?” she asked. “How’s your energy holding up?”
“Not bad. I’d guess we’ve got an hour, give or take.”
My forearm was still smarting from where the speck of light had grazed it. I examined it, expecting to find a welt like from a bee sting, but it was more like a burn. An angry red line, turning black around the edges, ran down the arm. I showed it to Sherwood, who whistled.
“Nasty,” she said. “Those little points of light must be super hot, like little flecks of molten metal. What do you think—can we douse them?”
“I don’t see how. Too many of them, and they move too fast, anyway.”
The air was now thick with them. Another problem was the nature of the energy shield. It protected us, but it also protected the lights. In order to deal with them, we’d have to drop the shield, and we might not last long enough after that to do anything much.
“Fuck!” Sherwood yelled, and slapped at her neck. An angry welt appeared
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