A burst of flame that forced his eyes to shy away - and in that moment his attacker separated from him, clearly observing another target of greater interest. Eragos had half of a second to see what had happened. Eithne had doused one of the attackers in flame. Bahn was curled up to one side, gripping the hilt of a knife that had emerged from his shoulder. Cols was staring at the burning man as though he'd exploded into a scene of madness. Where was Tirad? The fellow had disappeared, perhaps gone after the messenger, or perhaps for help, but it was Thiele and Tanist that were suffering the attention of their attackers. Now that they knew in the light whom to target, it was easy for them to do so. Apparently. Three leaping strides carried him across the room with the flambard in hand, raised over his shoulder, long blade gleaming behind him like a dragon's tail.
The fellow who had seized Thiele saw him coming. That did not save him. Even as he let go of the Green Elf, Eragos struck with that flashing steel. A hand had come up, with knife gripped firmly, to try and block the strike. Eragos' throat was alive with a roar of triumph as his blade sliced clean through the man's wrist - and then followed on a downward arc, hacking through the man's neck. A gout of blood struck his uniform square in the chest as he pivoted, letting the momentum of the swing carry him - and dropped to one knee as he released the flambard. It clattered to the ground with a ring of steel of stone. The man who grappled with Tanist looked over his shoulder.
A seething growl came from the man's throat as Eragos' hand lifted, with one heavy knife clutched in the glove of a White Rider. That knife hurtled across the room in a deadly spin. A spin which terminated in the man's throat - with a cracking gurgle the fellow sank to his side, falling off Tanist even as blood leaked from his throat in a torrent that Eragos could scarcely credit. Still there was shrieking from the burning man - and when Eragos seized the hilt of his flambard - stood up despite the sudden weariness in his bones, the shaking of limbs that followed the charge of battle - Bahn was kneeling over Thiele with a knife still emerging from his shoulder. The wounds she'd suffered were ugly, but the mage of water and smiles was already working to restore the damage done to her person.
Aside from Bahn and Thiele, none of them seemed seriously injured. Eragos could feel the four dozen tiny gouges that had been made in his skin. His tunic was ripped nearly to shreds. It was that, and not the sudden death of hot blood, that was weakening him.
At least they were all alive. He resisted the urge to berate Tanist only because the fellow had good intentions.