The twins engaged the fallen rider as it sprang to its feet. They danced together ebbing and flowing as naturally as the tide and spots of red began to appear with each strike they landed.
Sahlina spun and pirouetted above the battle, lifted by invisible gusts of wind, zooming down to strike any enemy that turned their back on her. She fell upon them like a hawk leaving deep wounds to mark her passing. Her weighted cloak danced behind her, as if alive, and confounded the wild swings of the cloaked riders.
The skinny form of Ristul was driven to the ground by a horse fleeing the battle. A blue-white nimbus surrounded his hands as he unsteadily rose to his feet. He grabbed his next attacker’s sword by the blade and used it to pull him off his horse. The rider landed in a jumble of arms and legs and did not move.
Elein looked for Neff and did not find her in the chaos of the battle. Horses screamed, men and women yelled, and swords met in loud clangs. He let three more arrows fly, his hand becoming a blur.