Blood fills her mouth from the blow, adding the necessity for her to spit before she can pull herself up on one knee, staff clenched in the hand hot wiping at her mouth. There is no time for anything elaborate- nor particularly destructive, she was loath to admit. With the Spaniard in range nothing of real damage she could throw at the assailant would fail to strike her ally as well.

The pains of not simply working alone.

She cast an ice spell instead, aimed at the man's chest, cold enough to momentarily stop breath. It was instantly followed by a simple blast of magical energy- painful but not particularly spectacular.