The blonde Ildonian turned toward the screaming prince of Catheldor. Queen Heather Catheldor turned toward her screaming son. The elven royalty turned toward the screaming human in the bushes. Every Ildonian and every hostage turned toward the screaming young man. Thothen, Gaston, Miirik, Jarik, and Firae turned toward their screaming companion.
Seizing the opportunity, Jarik launched from behind the shrubbery and lunged at the nearest Ildonian. Sword above his head, Gaston wasn’t far behind. Thothen groaned and uttered the incantation to turn his fists and arms to stone before following. Miirik and Firae sprinkled the Ildonians with divine and arcane energies. Arlin continued to scream.
“That’s a prince of Catheldor,” Blondie yelled. “Bring him to his knees before this wench. That should make her talk.
“Run Arlin!” Blondie grabbed the queen and clamped his hand over her mouth before any more words could be shouted.
The burning village erupted into further chaos. Ildonians scrambled to bring their weapons to bear against the assaulting young men. Once captive Catheldorians and elves stood and struggled against the Ildonians, fighting for their freedom. Weapons clashed. Battle yells rang out.
“Get out of here,” Gaston shouted as his sword slashed across an Ildonian standing before the elves. The Elven prince and princess nodded and weaved through from the chaos. Through the undergrowth Miirik and Firae circled the battlefield towards the elven royalty.
“Must save mother,” Arlin dug through his bag and retrieved a small potion vial. He popped the cork and slammed it down in one gulp. When the liquid was gone his body faded from sight. “I will save you mother,” Arlin’s disembodied voice rang out.