This is my truncated fight. It was supposed to be a complete fight scene, but when I got to it, I realized it wasn’t going to be. Instead I wrote this:
An outraged yell erupted from his throat and he ran forward. I called my magic to me, and when I did, the human-seeming glamour fell. The glamour that allowed me to pass for a normal mage stayed in place; it was too strong to break so easily. His eyes widened as he sensed my magic, than turned and tried to sprint to the back. Instead, he tripped on the woman he’d been leeching from and fell hard on his face.
I pushed my way past dazed leecher addicts. Mags tried to scramble away, but I grabbed his arms and shoved him back down. His head cracked on the floor. That must not have hurt enough, because green witch fire engulfed my boots. It was like a bonfire opened up under my booted feet. I kicked his ribs, hard, and he yelped. Cowardly leecher. The fire disappeared, but the smell of burned leather stayed in the air. Another spell slithered around his aura, scrolling bands of pale green, something bigger than witch fire to show up like that. I pinned his arms to the floor and forced them back. He screamed, high and shrill, the spell vanishing from his aura. Pain made it hard to focus enough to cast a spell.
Ropes of my own magic pooled in my hands and wrapped around my wrists; the normal-mage glamour made it look blue with the odd green splotch. I readied the binding spell in my head and –
Heat and sharp pieces of something hit my back. I dove sideways, hands covering my head, found myself on top of the woman Mags had been leeching from. She was curled in a fetal position, head pillowed in her arms and moaned softly. Her naked back was bloody and covered with splinters. Little hot balls of pain struck the back of my head. Small black beads littered the floor around me and spattered against the walls. Lines and circles of green whirled in the air, dark at first, lightening as the spell ran out of strength.