Fire scaling

Voska made a single motion with his hand, waving outward, palm up, like a farmer sowing a field with seed. Yet instead of crops there blossomed hundreds of small jets of flame from the ground, at the feet of the lead goblin and around his compatriots. The lead goblin squealed as its rags caught fire, and it dropped its weapon and began slapping at its thighs and groins in a desperate attempt to quell the flame. The others were daunted by the fire’s effect, and by the flames themselves, and pulled back.

“Kor!” bellowed one of them, “Itz wizars. Itza wizar there!”

Voska chuckled and pointed a finger at the leading goblin. A single line of flame jutted from his finger and flew unerringly to strike the goblin in the chest. Green flesh crackled, and the goblin screamed as the fire fed off the creature’s flesh. '

Jodah could not take his eyes off Voska. The elder mage made it look so easy—the choice of spell, the recalling of the memories of the land, the few hand motions that unlocked the power and the effects of the magic made Visible in fire. Jodah knew how difficult it was, and Voska carried himself effortlessly. Later the mage would be exhausted, but now he turned aside a company of goblin raiders with ease. The lead goblin was now little more than an animated fireball, cascading down the side of the hill, scattering its fellow creatures in its wake.

Then everything changed. There was a twang of a bow from down the hill, and the shaft of a goblin arrow blossomed in Voska’s shoulder. Voska raised his hand to his shoulder and cursed, his concentration suddenly gone, his spells made useless. The surviving goblins saw this and gave a deep-throated cry.

***

The Gathering Dark, Chapter 1