"Oh, this will not do," Mortirmir said, standing over Rhiannon. "This will not do at all."

He carefully looks around him, and notices the tell-tale movements that skulking creatures make when they believe they are hidden. He pauses, and takes a small breath to calm himself before opening his eyes to the [i]aethereal[/i]. 

"Hmm."

He makes a small gesture half-unconsciously, and a great round gout of flame bursts forth from his outstretched palm, roaring as it comes into being. Mortirmir briefly glances at the wounded woman at his feet, before [i]pushing[/i] with his will, and the flame launches from his hand. 

The ball of fire splits into nearly a dozen smaller versions of itself, covering half a league in land. The balls land in brush and stick onto trees, igniting instantly with a deafening roar and a blinding light. Mortirmir shields his eyes, and when he looks again the land in front of him is a swirling inferno, a wall of fire nearly ten feet high. Mortirmir frowns.

"Perhaps a bit too much," he admits, then staggers to the side in sudden fatigue. He holds a hand to his head. "Yes. Too much indeed. Hmm."

He returns his attention to the wounded woman, and tends to her quickly. He heals the minor wounds and stabilizes the others, careful not to deplete his remaining [i]potentia[/i], which he must guard jealously. Then, with a grimace, he picks up the woman, groans, and looks around for an escape route.