OathBlade (Wattys2015)

21. Strike Back!*

Allied forces broke the line to absorb the fleeing riders, then folded them among their number.

The enemy crushed against their allies, filling the air with the clamor of weapons and armor.

Once safely positioned with the wall of allies between them, Elery leaped from Isandel's back. Ishthemir and the other molner stopped as their riders dismounted as well. Elery tied the reins of the other two mounts to Ishthemir's.

"Go! Ride home!" she urged, swatting his flank.

Ishthemir trilled loudly and bolted, tugging the other two along beside him.

Already the screams of pain rang through the air, filling the once-peaceful field with the ugliness of combat.

"What are you doing, fool? We need them!" Taelin called over the noise of battle.

"They're exhausted," she shouted, barely raising her voice over the conflict. "Much more strain and they will die with us on their backs." She scanned the sea of armor and blades. "We will not retreat. We cut them down then ride home with the others!"

"Victory or death!" Dakkan howled gleefully, flexing his thick fingers so that his black claws reflected the light. "There is no other path!" His mouth drew back in a snarl as his ears flattened. "Come, Elery! Show us your mettle!"

His eagerness visibly unsettled Cylphi, but it sparked a flame within Elery's chest.

"Cylphi, retreat to the east of the line with the other casters," Elery yelled. The noise grew louder, almost smothering her voice. "Taelin and Zethir, follow her."

They ran down the back line of the fighters to join the protected group of casters some distance away.

Isandel turned and whipped his tail, snapping it like a whip at an enemy who broke through the defensive wall.

The creature who bore the armored corpse went flying, skipping across the grass like a stone thrown over the placid surface of a lake. The rider split in half at the waist, spilling putrid-smelling guts across the drenched grass.

More of the reanimated rode forward, separating her army into two groups. They swarmed like vayspar maggots to rotten flesh. The beasts which served as mounts slammed into Erwell's army, knocking them from the backs of their molner to a more vulnerable position on the ground.

The ugly, stout creatures ridden by the opposition attacked the molner, ripping feathers from their flanks and breaking their legs. One of the beasts turned toward Elery and howled, widening its maw to flash twisted teeth aimed toward her leg.

Elery struck her sword down like a guillotine and split its skull, then turned to plunge the sword into the chest of a reanimated lycar. She curled her lip as violet energy burst from the wound.

She should have known she would face them. The lycar did not burn their dead.

A rock ridge swept up near her, blocking the strike of several other enemies. Sounds of their blades rang, metal against stone, joining the cacophony of battle.

Isandel leaped over the ridge and turned his head. He opened his jaws and thrust his head forward, snapping two enemies from the backs of their beasts.

A risen lycar howled. The torn flesh around his mouth trembled and patches of fur shook loose, peppering the wet soil beneath his feet. Several other lycar ran forward, curved short swords in each hand.

Several riderless beasts raced past her, trampling one of the lycar while pulling another behind it. The tether around his ankle ensured he would go wherever the beast took him.