Desperately, you attempt to get your bearing.

From the twoscore warriors that accompanied the emissary's treck, only one dozen survived the initial deadly volley of black arrows.
However, the guards are rallied and charge the enemy, apparently a group of about half a hundredship ragged looking beings you immediatley recognize as large goblins, led by a couple of their shamans. While a single goblin is no match for a human warrior, the shamans double the goblins' threat, and they make up in numbers what they lack in size.

Lucius is using his powers over the wind to make arrows useless, and most goblins have thrown their bows away and now wield evil looking barbed knives.

One guard, trying to charge through the goblins to strike down a shaman, is dragged from his horse, and both the guard and the poor beast soon disappear und the goblin's small twisted bodies.

You are specialized in Ice.

The Spark, for you a crystallized snowflake, burns brightly with cool reassurance deep within you.

Quickly you assess the situation.

The goblins outnumber the surviving soldiers four to one, and even without the goblin's magical assistance in form of the their shamans, your guards will not stand a chance.

The shamans. Hmm. You would be surprised if one of them was capable of casting such a bolt of lightning as struck down J'Arel, and you are rarely surprised by facts.

So, there must be another magician close by, and someone quite powerful.

You will attempt to divine the source of the lightning bolt that struck down J'Arel.

Closing your eyes, and trusting that Lucius' winds will shield you from stray arrows, you invoke the ancient runes of Divination, trying to make the magic tell you where the strands of woven magicka, of which the lightning bolt that charred the Fire magus undoubtedly consist, lead to.

This is a task that requires great concentration for several seconds, but your rigid training helps to fade out the screams of the wounded and dying and the clash of weapons.

In what is a split second but which feels like an hour to you, your mind picks up the magical weaves of the spell that had been cast, and unravels them.

You admire the precision and the masterwork, a great lot of energy must have been used up to strike such a powerful bolt of lightning at such precision.

Your mental fingers follow the invisible strands of magic, and you are suprised to find that the origin of the lightning bolt seems to come from the emissary's coach.

You open your eyes again and break your spell, unsure as how to deal with this piece of information. Looking towards the battle, you see that the guards are in serious trouble dealing with the goblins.

You have to act quick.

You ignore the information, and hurl shards of ice towards the goblins.

With cold fury upon witnessing the slaughter of the guards, you cast out your arms and hands, and hurl shards of ice into the goblin horde, where they explode into tiny slivers that burn with unnatural cold.

Those goblins that are hit by the large shards themselves fall down never to get up again. Those burned by the cold splinters scream in pain and are swiftly dispatched by the soldiers which have been looking for just an opportunity.

Two more shards of ice strike down the shamans busily trying to heal their goblin fighters.

They goblins are close to routing, as suddenly, you sense someone behind you. You turn, and the last thing you hear before your vision fades to black is Lucius' inhuman scream on the other side of the coach...