139
The bear looks daunting, but you’re no fool.
“Forget the bear!” you call to your companions. “The mages are far more dangerous!”
You take off into the stands, going for the mage with the most supercilious-looking sneer you can see—and from there it’s all a blur of blades and spells. Tarquin seems to be everywhere, slashing and slicing; Ashur is nearby, casting barriers at both of you as often as he can spare mana while battling crazed cultists up close. You’ve seen him fight with magic before, but you haven’t seen him bring out his blades. How does a man develop so many skills simultaneously? You suppose it must be all that fancy Altus education.
Mae and Neve are keeping their distance, using their elemental magic without throwing themselves into combat. Every so often, one or the other of them heals up whoever most looks like they need it and you suspect that, while you’re occupied, Mae is giving Neve a bit of a boost, too. The combination is exactly what you need to get the better of the crowd of Venatori howling for blood and you get no small satisfaction from being the one to slice off the very last Venatori head.