THE BLADES.
The sudden flood of light made him whirl around, searching for its source. Somewhere and sometime during the battle, he had finally been injured past the point of Regen's capacity to catch up, and so he felt the bones in his forearm creaking, one arm mangled in the gauntlet. Yet another enterprising undead knight had dug past the less-protected armour on his thighs, where the rigid plate gave way to chainmail – some protection had been sacrificed for mobility, as he couldn't be a rigid, clanking metallic automaton in the field. Bravery and Haste made his movements faster, more choppy, their entire party seeming out-of-joint with time itself. And Rictor's pale eyes widened at the onslaught of Holy, betraying his shock and surprise as the zombies were buffeted with it – it was too quick, more manna than the usual mage could hold. (Was this arithmetick, then?) In that moment, all he could see was the white of holy and Luscini's vestments; the red of blood and the cross on Rictor's shoulder, the sigil of their Order. Everything was white and red.
The first wave of undead fell.
“You—” He couldn't finish the sentence. His throat was parched and dry, and for a moment, he wished that Kapur were here, carrying water. Ric tasted blood in his mouth. He'd instinctively shifted into the stance that would presage Cleansing Strike, but with the aftershocks of magick and their enemies falling, his movement died. What was that? he didn't ask, because there were more coming down the passageway: the monsters seemed riled up somehow, agitated like a nest of ants overturned. Swarming. The cave rumbled; pebbles rattled off the walls, stone grinding on stone. (Elsewhere, there was one creature disturbed, another awoken, fire searing the walls.)
Here, however, they were bottlenecked. Rictor glanced to the side, and saw Filip Auvray giving him a strained smile. “I'm not looking forward to writing this report,” the other Blade said in the tone of the long-suffering, and Ric bit back a laugh.
There was no time for apologies or explanations, and so Rictor settled for “Thank you both,” backing away until his back jutted against the priest's, with Lex visible in the periphery of his vision. One side each. He reassumed the stance for Cleansing Strike, then threw himself forward once more.