[Thanks for that, Cao Pi, but Quentin doesn't even have time to think that before the thing is on them, bearing down against the Shield Quentin erects between them and there's not enough magic, not enough power left to keep it up for long.
And Quentin is trapped between the 250 pounds of dead-weight strapped to his waist by the travois and Eliot, and the spirit with the big mouth. He's screaming, yelling in frustration as his mind cycles through spells and discards them until he finally drops the Shield in a dull shimmer of spell shards and does the one spell that never fails - he conjures cheap red wine, right in to the gaping mouth in front of his face, fingers twisting and he's pushing his arm way UP. Not just a glass, but a flood of wine pouring out of thin air.]
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And Quentin is trapped between the 250 pounds of dead-weight strapped to his waist by the travois and Eliot, and the spirit with the big mouth. He's screaming, yelling in frustration as his mind cycles through spells and discards them until he finally drops the Shield in a dull shimmer of spell shards and does the one spell that never fails - he conjures cheap red wine, right in to the gaping mouth in front of his face, fingers twisting and he's pushing his arm way UP. Not just a glass, but a flood of wine pouring out of thin air.]
I fucking can't!