Merci was glad that the darkness hid her blush. There were several mages with the group and most of them might have managed the magelight with more skill and elegance than she did. It wasn’t her fault that her training was spotty but she could feel the judging eyes of the other on her back.

When the trap sprang she had a momentary flash of horror, afraid that it was her fault. It was followed by an equally guilty rush of vindication that it hadn’t been her that had fouled up. Focus. You can feel guilty and still be alive if you keep your mind on the job. She fell back behind the warriors. There was little she could do directly, she doubted that the undead would fall for illusions. Fire. They were dry like kindling. Her own abilities with destruction were meager at best, but there was more than one way to skin a saber cat.

[b]“Space! I need space,”[/b] she yelled above the crash of swords. With practiced strokes she began scratching a hasty summoning circle onto the moss covered stones. She could call up someone who would bring fire. Magicka shivered through her body. The first time she had done this she had been surrounded by chanting cultists, crazed with halluonegienc laced wine. Keep you mind on the present! She reached for the Daedra as she called its name under her breath. It writhed against her will like a snake. Grimly she ground her intent against it, forcing the Daedra to take the shape she wanted, forcing it to obey her. The fire atronach began to rise from the ground, the heat of it warming her skin but not burning her. It was forbidden to burn her, though in its heart it wanted nothing more than to drag her to the primordial fire from whence it came.