Arwin met Roderick head-on, his movements quick but unsure against the seasoned knight's slightly better skill. Sparks flew when their blades connected, and Roderick's blows shoved Arwin away from him, step by step.
Nearby, Dion staggered as a knight lunged, the heavy blade scraping his shoulder. He swung his little dagger like a lunatic, and to his great surprise, the wild swing hit the knight's knee. The man went down shrieking as Dion breathed ragged gasps of air.
From a distance, Luenor watched a knight's sword strike down an elf, an elf so young that he looked like a boy. Something snapped inside of him. He screamed as he charged for the nearest bag of mana stones, fumbling and tearing at the coarse cloth.
He felt the mana sweep over him like fire, and there was more mana than he had ever held. His body shook, and the energy coiled and burned in his veins as he reached for the knight who had slain the elf.
The mana burst from him like a wave; the knight's scream was lost in a torrent of light and force, the man torn apart like a piece of the forest reclaimed by fury. Silence followed, leaving only ragged breaths of those still in the fight.
Roderick spun around, fear evident in his wide eyes.
He kicked Arwin backwards, his blade ripping into the earth as Arwin fell to the floor. His eyes locked on Luenor – on a boy who could have such power.
Snarling, he advanced on Luenor with his sword raised. Luenor couldn't physically move, he felt like lead as he drew on any magic left in him but his breath came in jerked gulps.
Nalia swayed on her feet, barely able to focus enough to throw a wall of stone up in front of them. Roderick roared in anger, smashing his sword into the wall sent cracks branching through the stone.
"I'm out," Luenor ended up whispering as he took in air through his gulps. "I don't have any mana stones left."
Nalia slumped forwards, her staff falling from her fingers as she dropped to her knees, gulping air. "I'm... I can't... I'm done..."
Roderick's sword finally smashed through it, the pieces falling away around them. He grinned with triumph while lifting his sword over the barely conscious mage.
But Arwin was already there—he slammed his sword across Roderick's side, drawing a grunt of pain from the knight and tearing open red lines across Roderick's armor.
Roderick spun on him, all of his fury now aimed directly at Arwin's soft, tender flesh.
In that moment, Luenor surprised everyone by throwing himself forward into Roderick's back with all his might. It was a last-ditch effort, with Luenor's hands scrabbling at Roderick's heavy armor, but it was enough to stumble the knight.
Arwin took the opening by stabbing straight down into Roderick's knee. The blade broke and protruded alongside the knight's leg with a sickly, burning crunch.
The man howled in rage, his huge hand slapping down on Luenor. Luenor slammed into the wall of the cave, gasping as pain ignited in his ribs and his vision swirled.
Roderick turned from him, breathing barely contained, eyes glinting with murderous triumph. He raised the blade to end Nalia—his voice low and snarling, "I'll start with the mage—".
But just before the hammer could fall, a new presence came into the cave, a subtle shifted in the air, like a ripple in a pond before a storm.
Hunter stepped out from the shadows, eyes bright with rage. The sight of Luenor crumpled up against the cave, the ruined elves, the trembling mage—he felt cold, focused fury baked into his chest.
He'd taken one step, and the weight of his aura poured forth from him. The cave bucked, and the closely surrounding knights flinched away, seemingly freezing mid air.
Roderick turned, his face draining of colour. The weight of the aura hit him like a wall—he staggered, dropping his sword.
Hunter and Roderick made eye contact, and the former's eyes seemed cold and unrelenting.
Roderick's breath hitched. His knees buckled, and he went down as though utterly dead.
___
In the sudden silence that filled the cave Burizan's breath came in fast, ragged draws. He looked first to the crumpled body of Roderick, then to the shock of the knights' faces, finally landing on Hunter's burning stare. The realization of what he had done—joining together with knights—settled around him like a stone.
He knew there would never be mercy shown him. No mercy.
His gaze settled on the fallen elf beside him—an elven blade lay abandoned in the dirt. He closed his fat fingers around the hilt.
The knight beside him turned his head, his face a mask of pale horror. "You—"
Burizan's hand shot up. The knife bit deep into the knight's throat, choking off his last breath with a wet gurgle. Blood splashed to the cave floor like rain as the knight crumpled. His eyes widened in one last surprise.
Burizan breathed raggedly, letting the knife fall from his own hand. His own face hung blank with horror and resignation to what he knew would happen next.
The remaining knights stood frozen, fear and shock and horror in their eyes. They looked to Hunter—looked to the towering beast of a man that had taken their captain out with a single look and saw the end of everything.
They dropped their swords one by one, the sound of steel hitting the stone ringing out in the narrow confines.
"We surrender," one of them said, the words coming out in a horse tone. "Please… no more blood."
Hunter moved his head in a minimal acknowledgment again, the sound of crushing was steady but firm. "Tie them," he said, simply.
The elves and villagers moved quickly gathering ropes or whatever they could find to bind the knights' wrists and ankles. They were still working in awful silence, that thick scent of blood and earth in the air.
Luenor had pushed him self up to his feet, and every breath was a punishment, takes them toll on his bruised ribs. He could see the captives were being led away, their heads bowed, ashamed.
"Take them back to Eclion," Hunter said softly. "We'll decide what to do with them there."
The injured—be they elf or human—were carefully lifted onto makeshift stretchers, muffling their pained groans and gasping breaths beneath careful hands of their kin. The dead were wrapped in rough cloth bandages, their faces obscured to the moonlight.
Outside was cold and brisk, the moon bathing the world in pale light and casting long, darkened shadows into the forest. Once again, the beat-up survivors of the cave emerged, blinking in the soft light.
Thalanar and the other elves waited at the outer edge of the clearing with nothing but silence as the captives were led past. But it was in their eyes—hard and emotionless—a combination of no pity or forgiveness. Only the quiet promise that this forest belonged to them and no one would take it away from them again.
Luenor stopped in at the mouth of the mine, looking over the destruction of the entrance, the havoc of the broken earth.
"Damage?" he asked quietly.
Arwin nodded, with his arm in a makeshift sling, "Collapsed in places, we'll have to shore it up, but it can be salvaged."
Luenor closed his eyes for a moment, a shudder rolled down his spine as he felt the weight of it all settle onto him. The mines, the village, the lives he chose to protect. It was all his now. He would not fail them.