They picked themselves up and checked themselves over; nobody had taken any permanent damage, thankfully. At least not physically. Sorcha was as shocked as the rest, and then was taken by a foul mood marked by a dangerous glint in the eye. Even having never seen it before, Brandon tread lightly around her.
Once they’d removed themselves from the dead clearing and confirmed that the Necromancer had fled the scene, they gathered around Sorcha some distance away.
“That was a trap, and one I should have seen.”
“You’ve seen something like it before?” Brandon asked.
“Then it wasn’t your fault, Sorcha,” Rich cut in. “Very few have ever seen forbidden arts like this. It’s not fair to blame yourself for not anticipating it.”
“It is true that I can’t anticipate magic I’ve never seen, but damnit, I have a duty to anticipate the unexpected!”
Her nostrils flared and her eyes flashed, and that was no hyperbole; once again Brandon was struck by the curious impression that her appearance had changed, as though she wore a mask and a corner of it had just slipped.