And away went the bow, too, the Disciple of St. Gwendolyn drawing the fine sword Braumin had given her, and rushing around Diamanda and Elysant to anchor the far right of the line. She warned Thaddius to keep up as she went.
“Behind Elysant!” she clarified as the brother hustled in her wake.
In mere moments, the three sisters had flanked the confused powries, shifting their entire defensive posture to the right side of the dwarf foursome.
The two in the embers scrambled up, but one took a wicked crack in the face from Elysant’s staff, the other got his arm ripped by Victoria’s sword.
The other two, though, recovered and swept around their fellows, rushing in at Diamanda, who met them with a scream and quick rush, only to feint and roll away, turning a complete circuit as Elysant swept before her, the quarterstaff banging against that strange multi-headed weapon and driving it to the side enough so that the further dwarf couldn’t get in close enough to score a hit on the retreating Diamanda.
Elysant seemed a blur of motion, then, and indeed a blur, as she called upon the shadows offered by the diamonds in her cloak.
Victoria quickly followed her, cutting in front of the second powrie on that end and stabbing at its face, but not to score a hit, for she could not. No, she simply drove it back a step, so that she could skid to a stop, reverse her footing and throw a backhand with her sword at the furthest to the right, batting down its dagger arm.
Just as Diamanda came around, her tiger’s paw raking at the dwarf’s face, then the stiffened fingers of her other hand shooting forward to jab the dwarf hard in the throat.
The dwarf staggered back, and then fell back more as starbursts erupted in its face, a series of tiny explosions from the hurled celestite crystals of Brother Thaddius. They burned and stung, smoked the dwarf’s dung-dipped beard, and poked little holes in his face.
Diamanda glanced back as she moved to keep up with Victoria, to see Thaddius fumbling with several stones, seemingly at a loss. One hand went back to his pouch where he kept the little firebombs of celestite, while in the other, he rolled several stones, in no apparent coordination.
“Brother!” she said sharply to shock him into the moment.
But she couldn’t say more than that or do more than that. Victoria roll behind Elysant, flanking her to the left and Diamanda had to move in tight to the right of the centering defensive warrior. She hoped Thaddius would have the good sense to get behind Elysant, but if not, there was nothing she could do for him.
The three dwarves came on, more angry than hurt. The fourth moved to join them, but got hit by another celestite barrage and fell back once more.
Victoria flipped her sword to her left hand and sent it out across in front of Elysant, inviting the dwarf before her to bear in, which it, predictably, did. The agile woman rolled backward, bending her knees to keep just ahead of the dagger, and as the dwarf bore in, Elysant’s staff stabbed across before him, right under the thrusting arm, and drove upward, lifting the blow harmlessly.
And under the upraised staff, to the left, went Victoria, between Elysant and the dwarf she had driven back with her sword thrust, moving into the dwarf battling Diamanda, commanding its attention with a sudden flurry and rush.
She stopped again, retreating quickly between her sisters, but the distraction was all that Diamanda needed, and out lashed the tiger’s paw, tearing skin from the dwarf’s face and shoulder.
“Ah, ye ugly runts!” the dwarf gasped, falling back.
Diamanda pursued, thinking she had a kill, but Elysant’s cry stopped her, and turned them all, to see another dwarf, an arrow in its shoulder, another in its face, rushing in at Thaddius. Elsyant dove back to intercept, but the dwarf she had blocked recognized the movement and its knife chased her and caught her, sliding into her lower back.
Still, the small woman did not turn, but continued forward and drove the newcomer aside before it could get to Thaddius.
Victoria intercepted the knife-wielder so he couldn’t do more harm. Diamanda closed tight to her, both moving with Victoria to reform the defensive line.
By all rights, they were winning the fight. They had hit their enemies many times harder than they had been hit.
And yet, they were losing. They all knew it. The powries, stuck with arrows, faces clawed, throats jabbed, hair burned, seemed hardly hurt!
“Victoria, flee and tell St.-Mere-Abelle of our fate,” Diamanda said, and she slugged a dwarf hard across the face.
But it laughed and swatted at her with its spiked club — which Elysant blocked with her staff.
The cunning bloody cap rolled the club over that block, though, and clipped Elysant across the arm, tearing the sleeve from her white robe and gashing her, shoulder-to-elbow.
The tough Disciple of St. Belfour just growled through it, though, and spun her club like a spear and jabbed out, once, twice, thrice, into the dwarf’s face and throat.
Pain burned in Elysant. Blood ran down the back of her leg and from her arm liberally, but she growled through it and worked furiously to keep the ferocious dwarfs from her beloved sisters.
But they were overmatched and outnumbered, and for all of the beauty in movement and precise strikes, the dwarves would not fall down.
“Go, Victoria, the Church must know,” Diamanda cried, and the end was garbled as she took a glancing, but painful, blow from that many-headed weapon. She barely managed to straighten and fallback as the axe of another swept in at her, and still would have been hit had not Elysant’s quarterstaff flashed across yet again.
“No,” Victoria cried.
“The Church is greater than any of us! Go!” Elysant yelled at her.
A dwarf leaped up high, descending upon Elysant, but Victoria sprang between them, her sword longer than the dwarf’s knife, the blade catching the descending powrie just under the ribs, and driving up as its weight carried it down, down.
Blood erupted from the wound and the dwarf tried to scream, but all that came form was a showed of red mist and spurting liquid.
Victoria couldn’t possibly disengage in time to bring her sword into a defensive posture, so she simply let the blade fall with the powrie — their first kill, and one, at least, would not be dipping its beret in the spilled blood of the sisters!
Up and around came Victoria, seemingly unarmed, and that prove an advantage, as the powrie she had been facing thought her an easy kill and came in with abandon.
She slugged it square in the face, sending it staggering backwards, and how she wanted to leap upon it and choke the life from it!
But she could not, and she followed her training and fell back in line beside Elysant.
“Go,” Elysant pleaded with her et again, and she meant it, for while one dwarf was down, the others pressed them hard from every angle. They couldn’t hold on against the fierce bloody caps — Elysant’s left leg was going numb and the fingers on her left hand tingled so that she could hardly hold her quarterstaff.
A powrie blade flashed out at Diamanda to Elysant’s right. She sent the staff out to block.
But too late, and Diamanda staggered, her belly stabbed.
“Tell them sister,” Elysant pleaded with Victoria. “Tell them we fought well.”
And Victoria almost fled, and intended to, but a hand fell upon her shoulder, and before she could react, a blue-white glow encompassed her.
“Sister!” she cried to Elysant, and she moved a step closer and grabbed Elysant’s wounded upper arm.
How Elysant howled, and started to pull away.
But she too saw the blue-white ghostly glow flowing over her form, and instead she reached her staff out toward Diamanda, calling to her to grab it.
And as the woman did, inviting the glow to encapsulate her as well, Elysant managed to glance back at Brother Thddius.