The illusion I’d cast of myself was holding, though- I could feel it running away from me, following along right on top of a ley line that lay deep under the park grounds, and I could feel the creaking treant’s footsteps loping away after it.
My turn to run again, then.
I rose to my feet, feeling nausea rise in my throat as I shoved myself off the tree and forced one foot in front of the other. At least I was moving again, I reasoned as I trotted and tripped through sticks and stones and the occasional mud pool, following a less-used hiking trail.
When I got to the field on the other side of the forest, the rain had stopped, and the Carpenters’ tent shimmered into sight from beneath Molly’s veil, their flashlights flicking around like anxious fireflies.
“Not yet!” I choked, waving my arms wildly as I headed for the tent, “Not yet!”
I skidded across the wet grass and dove into the mud face first, unable to keep my legs under me.
The tent shimmered out of sight again, and I groaned, turning over on my back just in time to see the treant over the top of the forest canopy, his huge torso pouncing down on something at his feet. I felt the illusion snap back to me along the ley line, just like I’d planned, and fought back a wave of dizziness, right on cue.
Then I raised my left hand, snapped my fingers, and yelled,
“Globus Marcasse fulminas!”
And blue ball lightning roared from my outstretched middle finger along the ley line, straight up the treant’s...