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The battle raged harshly around her and screams filled the air as the combined swords of their company rent through one after another of the brigands. Yet too many there were, and they too few. Unaware if her diversion for Lira, Gorby, and Anson had succeeded or not, for she could not afford to spare her attention, Lumiel heard Thoronmir sound the retreat. "Enough of this! We must retreat!"
His voice carried to her, and she knew he was right. Both her and her mount had gone this far with few injuries and those being only a few superficial cuts by close calls. She did not know how many she had slain, but knew only that the pile of dead near her was growing steadily. The smell of blood was sharp in her nose and her head seemed to pound with the ringing and clashing of metal and steel, staccato in its warlike rhythm.
As well as they seemed to be holding up, she knew that their momentum was dying. Her own arms were beginning to feel heavy, though still capable of arcing and slashing her sword as need demanded. A rosy pink crept from her cheeks and she suddenly realized how restrictive her clothing seemed to be. She had been trained since childhood for battle and her stamina and strength were remarkable for a woman her size. Yet if she was beginning to tire, what of the others?
She carefully backed away towards Thoronmir, keeping a close eye and count on all the foes who were at the moment a direct threat to her. She made it to Thoronmir and saw in her peripheral vision a sword cut across his left arm. Instinctively she turned and buried her blade under his armpit and a gush of warm blood flowed down the already slick sword. He grunted and fell to the ground. Lumiel had no time to notice this as a scimitar sliced across her back as she was jerked closer to Thoronmir. She grimaced in pain and turned to her new foe. She had been saved by her horse, who had realized the danger before her and pulled her away just in time to avoid death, but not injury. Blood seeped down her back in trickling rivulets and soaked her shirt. It was not fatal, but it had cut near the muscle. They had to escape, and soon. "Thoromir!" she called loudly to the man since her back was turned to him at the moment, though he was no more than two feet away. "I've got your back!" She could help defend him as he made his way out of the circle of ruffians. She would depend on her horse to make sure she was safe. He had saved her once, he could do it again, or at least she hoped.
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