Unfortunately for the rogues, Daggers and claws weren’t much of an improvement when the obstacle kept them an arms length from anything of substance.  While it wasn’t unbreakable, Brenda was able to conjure another barrier in the time it took to bypass the first.  Using it to devastating effect, one of the quartet trying to flanker got pinned between one and the other, and used it as a flail to push the others back.

By now, Brenda had a third barrier in the works, and while reduced, she had full control of what parts of the barriers remained.  Effectively, the lower half of a tower shield, and a wide arcing strip looming over the exposed shoulder, which as they just saw, could be brought around like a scythe.

One tossed a rock as a test, however Brenda merely sidestepped the projectile.  Crouching deeper as a third barrier formed to full height.

By now the group were sober, and more careful then they had been.  The boar hefted metal casing from his belt and dropped it to the ground in front of her.

The others took this as a sign, but rather than offering, they moved to regroup.  At first it seemed random, but Brenda quickly saw telltale signs of elemental magic.  Specifically, they were tapping resources from the forest, which of course meant less mana was needed to animate the material.

In truth, Brenda’s shields were limited to five, and took time to generate.  She only had enough held in reserve to produce three full barriers, and if they kept coming at her in force, she would exhaust the spell.

It wasn’t her only spell, however Brenda really wanted to avoid magics that drained her personal reserves.

It wasn’t like magic was cast on allowance.  Magicians have to cultivate every ounce of mana that dwells in their bodys.  A symbiotic practice at that.  Someone who was completely drained of their mana reserves… well in getting to that point, they were no longer in any condition to put up a fight.

Aura from the ecosystem.  Fruit, or essence from plants.  Relics or other affinite materials.  All of these prevented mages from drawing exclusively on their own reserves.  Granted, there was always a cost in something.  A warlock couldn’t shape a battlefield without something intricately tied to their being.  Hence, familiars were a thing.

Brenda’s shields, of course, were produced using aura.  A portion of her thermoregulation was dedicated to it’s reserve, and a relic crafted to gather that aura.  She still had to consciously produce the barriers, but the latter greatly reduced the amount of focus needed to utilize them.

If the forest actually caught fire, she would be left on the back foot for an hour or so.  While it could use flame aura, the relic would not replace her lack of tolerance.

A swath of mud slammed into her foremost barrer.  Warping it back so severely, it nearly brazed her forehead.  At this point, Brenda had already decided to change tactics.  Crouching down, she let her larger barriers collapse, drawing the mud down into a barricade.

A ram of stone flew overhead.  Riding it was the boar, and he performed a double take.  In absence of impact, and with the mage apparently without any of her defenses.  The ram slammed into a nearby tree, while the boar jumped away.

A single junge would have him in striking distance, and he aimed to throttle the witch for all the trouble she caused.

His grip hovered short of where he intended it to be, but by the time he realized something was wrong, he was being hauled to the ground by a ribbon.

Brenda rose in an attempt to pinpoint the other beast.  The canine and a bear were flanking through the trees.  The last apparently favored ranged attacks.  A throwing knife snared by one of her ribbons, a daunting foot from her face.  Brenda bowed her head, resolved to route the beastkin.

One round later, two beasts were down in the mud.  The sniper was mulling his chances, and the fourth… Well, that one was less aggressive than she anticipated.

Beating the ground, the boar rolled over to call out, but held his tongue at what he found.

The violet cat was bruised and huffing, holding one arm at her side as shudders ran across her spine.  The sorceress breathing heavily, but standing strong, and untouched.  Sensing the lull, the latter turned her gaze to the boar.

It was in those red eyes he realized.  This was the skilled sorceress they were promised.  He had fought her aide.  Words failed him, to humble himself further.  With a barking shout, he caused the others to start, and then forced the wolf to his feet to run.

The others followed, and the bear sported a tickled grin.

The cat tracked them through the trees, and glowered, “Cowards.” Drawing those ruby eyes again.  This time, she did not answer them, turning instead to follow the retreat.