The Clan by D. Rus Read Free Book Online

after casting a mist screen, Lt. Singe's wizards made a circle, unfolding the Minor Power Dome around us. As they did so, I selected the castle as target and activated the Astral Mana Dispersal. The ground shifted underfoot as the black vortex began its slow whirling dance. One of the special-ops guys cussed with feeling. A swift hook to his liver stopped him half-word. Now we could see the castle's protective field clearly as the anthracite lightning branched over it, squeezing out and devouring the spell's magic ingredient.
    Behind the castle walls, the alarm bell tolled. Several powerful fireballs shot skywards, illuminating the field and the dark mass of warriors exiting portals and taking up their positions. A glaive thrower snapped, followed by another one. I didn't see the first glaive. The second one hit the dome, ricocheting into the sky. The mages winced, absorbing the cooldown. Thirty seconds...
    We were our enemy's closest and most enigmatic opponent—therefore, his primary target. Try to imagine a foggy circle about fifty feet in diameter with a black tornado dancing at its center. All the enemy had to do was realize the connection between our presence and the dome awash with black lightning. I could only hope that the banshee wails of their wizards reporting their accumulating crystals being drained dry would frustrate the enemy enough to force them into making hasty errors.
    At the moment, I had all the mana I needed. Clan enchanters worked in pairs transfusing their stocks to me.
    Sixty seconds. The pressure on the dome kept growing. The glaive thrower fired every ten seconds, the constant ricochets of crossbow bolts rattling against the dome. Finally, the enemy deployed the big guns. The sky burst into a crystal hail. A downpour of meteors showered overhead like tracer bullets. Flame spewed from the gun slits, devouring the mist-shielded circle. Fire rose above our heads, roaring like a blast furnace. The dome-controlling wizards were turning paler with every second. Blood gushed from one's nose and another one's bitten lip. The third one groaned, clutching his head.
    "The dome!" Brown barked to his mages.
    After a brief moment, a supplementary power dome rose over our group. Not a moment too soon. The first dome exploded into a million crystal shards, its five casters collapsing on the ground. An already-drained enchanter was fussing over them, forcing the turquoise elixir into the mages' white lips.
    Eighty seconds. The distant Vets' formation got moving, rapidly covering the remaining ground. According to HQ's calculations, the castle's defenses should collapse after three or four more ticks. Now that the enemy had a more interesting goal in their sights, they relaxed their pressure on us. Two Necros, our last reserve, began pumping us up with their mana. The Lieutenant peered at me, then at the castle, as if asking, so where's the result you promised ? The whole op was at stake. We were almost out of mana. The second dome was about to give up the ghost. And their defense was still holding. By the looks of it, we sure had underestimated the Cats.
    The Necros raised their hands, drained. My mana was at forty percent. That would last me about fifteen seconds' autonomy on the High Spell. Two or three ticks. After that, hasta la vista, baby .
    Time raced. "That's it," Brown wheezed.
    With a crash, the second dome collapsed. A crossbow bolt struck me in the hip. I had three thousand damage points' worth of passive shields. As long as I had them, I could hold the spell. The flames roared, reaching up over our heads. Clouds of toxic green smoke clogged our lungs, thorns pushing through the earth to pierce our feet. The enemy's mages made sure they kept us occupied. What an eerie feeling, to stand amid the fire like a broken doll feeling nothing as the shield absorbed not only the damage but also the very sensation of pain. There was no pain, thanks to our developers and the Fallen One.
    With a quiet tick, the