Sergeant Girard was watching the back inn roof, while leaning against the opposite wall. By long habit he was playing with the ends of his well waxed mustache. 

Young Sebastien was filling the air with excited speculation on whether the others had chased down the cleric yet, whether there were more secret clerics to be found, whether they’d get any more action before going home, whether they'd get to use the teleportation circle again.... 

Keen that boy. But solid enough head on his shoulders, as long as you kept him pointed the right direction. 

Girard shushed him when the noise came from inside, and turned towards the door.  

Orgull staggered to a stop in the doorway. 

Four soldiers approaching from outside. Including the boy, with a stupid surprised expression at seeing his own face.

Too close to get by them.

No escape backwards, the big man had nearly caught up.

Channel.

They’d drilled combat channeling at seminary, but they were told that normally you'd catch too many of your own side to be worth it. Unless you had been stupid enough to let yourself be surrounded by enemies on all sides. 

Mostly he’d used it for clearing out lice and other vermin from his cell. 

There was a brief moment of feeling hollow, like he was a conduit for something burning and freezing him from the inside as the energy rushed out through him.

Young Sebastien and one of the others fell forward. There were screams indoors from behind where the cleric stood in the doorway.

Sergeant Girard winced in pain, but kept going.

He dearly wanted to check if the boy was okay, but there was no damned time. He needed to stop the Asmodean before he hurt anyone else.  

He’d cleared a gap in the advancing Galtans. Just enough to dodge through.

A quick jump over a sprawled body and he had a clear alley ahead. Freedom.