He saw them begin their charge, and decided to act. He chose his spell, untested as it was. His eyes turned into the obsidian ovals once more, as he reached into the Ethereal, drawing mana from the world without time. He felt the warmth flow from his fingertips, rolling over his whole body and condensed the mana to his left hand as he ran. He held the sphere for a few seconds, waiting for the glicks to be in a closer bunch, than how they were at the moment.
They continued to charge towards the young Edryd, and in doing so, got closer to one another. Wait for them to get closer together, but can I even strike them all at once? Edryd thought. Thoma kept sprinting. His mud-caked boots were getting heavy, and he was hard-pressed to continue at the same pace he was at just a few short seconds ago. He saw the glicks approaching faster than he could get there, and knew exactly what he had to do. The jade sphere of mana had gotten so hot, his glove felt as though it was catching fire. He drew his left hand back over his shoulder, and then threw it forward, extending his left hand for the release.
The ball transformed into a whip-like tendril that moved at an incredible speed towards Edryd. He saw Thoma casting the spell out of the corner of his eye and wondered what it was he was trying to do. Edryd, seeing the whip-like spell coming quickly, ducked and rolled to his left as fast as he could to get out of its way.
Thoma flicked the whip and wrapped it around the oncoming glicks around their torsos and groins. He flicked his index finger from the base of his thumb to the tip, igniting his spell. The mana-flame traveled along the tendril and reached the intended targets, melting flesh and bone wherever the mana had been present.
Their limbs flew away from their bodies after having been viciously severed by the spell. All four glicks fell to the ground in chunks of molten flesh and bubbling blood. Roburn saw the spectacle, though he was too occupied with slaying the remaining glicks. Shit, I used too much mana, he thought as his vision blurred. He noticed something was amiss, but was instantly occupied by another oncoming glick.
Garret - who had been watching the battle from a distance - decided it was time for the bow-casters to finish off the stragglers. “Infuse!” he called out, and each bow-caster's eyes turned into obsidian ovals. They drew from the Ethereal, however, instead of condensing it to their bodies, they condensed their mana to the bows themselves. The mana coated the bow's curves and string, becoming denser at the grip and anchor point. Having nocked their arrows, the mana flowed into the arrow itself.
With an index finger above, and the middle and ring fingers below the arrow's shaft, they were ready. “Aim!” he yelled, and all picked their targets, judging the distance. “Fire at will!,” he called out. The arrows – now enhanced with mana – rapidly soared through the air without being tampered with by the wind.
The remaining glicks were few and far between, but the bow-casters' arrows found their marks. They rained down from above, and struck the glicks' heads, piercing their scales, bone, and flesh. The arrowheads came out on the other side, just between the bottom of their jaws and their necks. As soon as the arrows struck, each one fell limp as a boned fish, and dropped to the ground with a 'thud'.
Just as he was about to strike, Thoma's attacker crumbled onto the bloodied ground after the arrow had struck its scaly head. It skidded a short way on the slick ground, coming to a halt just before his feet. That was close, he thought. He looked about him and watched the remaining monsters fall like haunches from a butcher's rack, slamming into the ground. Their green blood soaked their limp bodies and seeped into the ground beneath them. The stench of sour meat began to overwhelm the young synners.
Batch, unfortunately, was the first of them to vomit up his breakfast. The bow-casters on the hill's slope began to laugh at the poor bastards below, wallowing in their enemies' reek.
Thoma was barely phased by the smell now, he knew how to control his body well enough to not puke, but he came close once or twice. The taste of bile was enough for him to react by swallowing his morning oats back down from whence they came. He shook his head and he immediately turned towards Edryd, whom he saw motionless on the ground. “Edryd!” he shouted, desperate to find his friend unharmed after the spell had blown the creatures’ limbs off into all directions.
Irun had already reached him, and was kneeling by his side. “He’s wounded!” Irun shouted back. Thoma felt a chill go down his spine as he rushed to Irun's location and saw Edryd lying on the ground, unconscious. He had a large talon mark across his chest that had been bleeding profusely for quite some time.
“We need some help over here!” Irun called out while Thoma was trying to make sure the wound wasn't as severe as it looked. Garret himself rode over and dismounted from his black stallion. He rushed over to the young synners, kneeling at Edryd's side, and briefly looked between the flaps of the sliced jerkin. “He'll live, but I need to close this wound if he's going to continue to have that option,” he said.
“Give me some space, boys,” his eyes glowed with an intense, amber color. He was in the timeless-world – the light shafts still spinning and colliding overhead. He rubbed both of his hands together in a circular manner, and began pulling the tendrils towards him , condensing the amber mana directly to his hands – each hand having its own sphere. His eyes returned to their normal state, and the mana remained in his hands. “Open the flaps of the jerkin for me, Thoma,” he ordered in a calm voice. Thoma moved as quickly as he could to open them – coating his hands in his best friend's blood in the process.
Thoma recalled the severed limbs soaring through the air from his spell. One of the claws must have hit him as it flew. Damn it, he thought.
Garret placed both of his hands over the open, bloodied gash that was the young boy's chest and shoulder. He alternated his index and middle finger to slowly release the spell. The wound began to sew itself shut, using the tendrils of raw mana to both pull the separated skin together and seal it shut. The heat produced from the spell was enough to sear the skin, giving it an even tighter seal. The smell of burning flesh and blood filled the air near the downed boy, and Thoma almost couldn't bear to see it.
“There,” Garret said with a sigh of relief. “The bleeding has stopped, but he'll have to be careful for the next few days. Wouldn't want that opening back up, now would we?” he asked. “No, Master Garret,” Thoma replied. “I'll see to it that he properly recovers,” he said. “Good. Make sure he gets put in one of the wagons. He won't be riding on horseback for a few days by the looks of things,” Garret said. “Yes, Master Garret,” Thoma replied.
The rest of the convoy came down the hill, and met up with the bloodied warriors. When the Master arrived, he gazed out over the small amount of havoc the young ones and the bow-casters had wreaked, and smiled. “A pity Edryd isn't awake at the moment,” he said. “I'd have loved to congratulate him for his bravado in combat. Holding his ground to face at least three of these bastards at a time is nothing to sneer at. See to it he gets a comfortable spot on one of the wagons to be able to recover,” he said, looking at one of the nearest synners, who responded with a slight nod.
“But that's not even mentioning the spell that was cast as they were advancing,” he said in a subtly praising tone, while looking at Thoma. Thoma looked down at his muddied and blood-soaked boots, humbled by the compliment given by the Master – his second in two days – and tried to hide a grin.
“Master,” Garret began, “We best be on our way. We've at least twelve leagues ahead of us, and I for one would like to be there before nightfall,” he said. “Very well,” the Master said.
“Wait,” someone cried out. An old farmer crawled out from underneath a few sacks of potatoes. He had a long, unkempt beard with white hairs among black. He was mostly bald, and had probably seen at least 60 winters. “Yer a' headin' out yonder-ways, ain't ye?" he pointed South-East. “Yes, my good sir,” the Master replied, giving the elderly man a once-over glance. “One would imagine that you're not here only to be attacked by these foul beings,” he continued.
“Aye, that be true,” said the elderly one. “I was on my way to me farmstead when me wheel got stuck in yon puddle o' mud. When I was a leapin' from me wagon, I saw the bastards a' comin' from about a league off to the East,” he said, raising an index finger to point in the general direction of the morning sun light.
“I see,” said the Master. “I hid meself from them foul beasts, so as to avoid gettin' in the way of progress, if ye get me meanin',” the farmer said with a rapid succession of head bobbing movements. “Yes, I get your 'meaning',” the Master replied. “What is your name?" the Master asked. “Jehn Boone, at yer service,” the old man replied.
“Very well, Jehn Boone,” the Master began. “Safest of travels, and gods' speed to you and your oxen,” he nodded. “Thank ye, master, and thank the young-uns for savin' me wagon 'n' oxen,” Jehn replied, smiling from ear to ear. Thoma, Batch and Irun nodded to the elderly man, and began to mount their horses. Edryd was carried to the nearest wagon, and placed on top of a sack of bedding materials by two of the bow-casters.
Bernar rode up next to his little brother, grinning as always. “I told you never to use an untested spell in combat,” he said, adjusting his arse in the saddle. “Oh, and I imagine I was supposed to have allowed my best friend to die a death worse than I can imagine,” Thoma replied with remorse seeping through his tone.
“But you pulled it off,” Bernar interrupted “So I suppose I owe you an apology for having doubted your capabilities.” Thoma was puzzled to hear that, but nodded. “Thanks, I guess,” he said solemnly. “Bah, don't thank me till we're at the castle and Edryd's awake,” Bernar said. Thoma nodded once again and began mounting his horse.
The synners reformed their original formation, and awaited Thoma to get into position. Once he was, the Master gave the signal to begin moving once more and they were off, heading South-East to Coltend Castle – where everything Thoma knew would begin to be put to the test.
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