“Turn back. Turn back. Turn Back! TURN BACK!” A chorus of harsh voices heralded the approaching riders rolling on top of the thundering hooves of their horses.
Elein shouted into the oncoming noise, “We can’t do that! We mean you no harm but we will defend ourselves if attacked.”
“Reasonreasonreason-with-DEATH!” The voices broke as the horsemen crashed through the party, swinging their swords like scythes.
Elein dove to one side to avoid being trampled, bow held in both hands. He rolled up into a kneeling position and let two arrows fly toward the rider that had tried to trample him. The arrows sunk into the heavy folds of cloth but it was hard to tell if they had found flesh.
Baruht cursed and stumbled backward as a sword nearly beheaded him, clanging off of a blue-white shield at the last second. He flashed the Flesh-Warden a smile that became a grimace as his body swelled and he assumed the form of a bear. The horse that was in the middle of charging him shied away, dumping its rider to the ground.