Muscles tensed and he rolled forward on the balls of his heels, angling Larit's body closer to the ground. His instincts rolled away from him like waves, seeking those ripples, and he could feel eyes on him. At Elarial's cry, he took up a position behind her to the right. He could feel the other three following, not as quick as he wished them to be, but still he wouldn't have their blood on his hands quite yet.
The snow they kicked up quickly began to run red with the blood of the ambushers. Daggers and fists working in tandem in a bloody dance, they had made it halfway through the marketplace with not even a scratch. The number of dead they left behind was unknown to Larit. Each face that leapt up to skewer him vanished in a mist of blood and an identical one would appear on his other side, this time holding a spear.
The fear in Elarial's voice drove him and the others quicker.
His mind clouded, only instincts keeping him alive. No cognitive thought crossed his mind and it was only the movement of Elarial in front of him that kept him going in a straight line. Sounds reached his ears of the combat behind him as the non-combatants of the group took up arms to protect themselves.
"My husband is in the military." A whack of metal crashing into someone's skull. "Oh, by the Trinity, they're everywhere!" A grunt and the snapping of wood. "He loves his little girl." A cry of surprise and something hitting the ground. "Kalros!"
The cry of Julia ripped through the air and for a moment, Larit faltered. The dagger that had been aimed for an eyesocket instead slid off the man's cheek. The soldier recovered quickly though and through a mask of blood sent his own weapon, a wickedly hooked halbard, through the gap in the mage-killer's defences. The next dagger did find the soldier's eye, pushed through it with a sickening pop and the force of Larit's blow sent the tip through the back of the man's skull.
Up became down and Larit's knee gave out. A bloody hand supported him from toppling to the snowy ground completely and part of his mind wondered why the snow was melting around him. Kalros fell into view, his head cleanly chopped in two, his eyes staring blankly at the man that had tried to protect him. You failed us, they seemed to say and all Larit could do was agree. He had failed so many, the Master being the first. He had been trained to kill for him and in turn killed the Master when things began to look like the end for him. Kalros was just the newest on the growing list. Distantly, Larit could make out the sobbing of the late man's wife and could even see the body jerk as she shook him.
"You were supposed to protect us!" The voice sounded like it came down a long tunnel, but it sparked a fire in Larit. He was supposed to have been, just like he was supposed to protect those in the band of thieves he had ran. All these deaths lay at his feet and the bodies were growing higher. Soon it would be impossible to move, he figured. The bodies just kept on coming.
No.
His eyes flashed open and with a shaking hand, he pushed himself to his feet. Vision swam but he pushed through it. The soldier that had been rushing to the exposed back of Kalro's wife faltered as a bloody monstrosity with a face like ice stood to face him. He had seen his comrade skewer the man, he should have been dead! He had paused for a moment, only a moment, and then he heard the man say: "I am free."
The dagger slid from the sheath on his arm and into his hand. In a split second it was flying through the air, it's magic taking it directly into the soldier's throat. "I am a good man," Larit growled and another dagger sliced through the air. He could feel himself growing weaker, but with his free arm, he hauled Julia to her feet and pushed her forward, towards the woman with the dead child in her arms. Somehow she had gotten ahead of them and was idling chatting away with Elaria. They were only a few feet from the safety of another street, away from the ambush spot, and only a handful of soldiers were left to challenge their passage.
"Go," Larit said softly, his voice breaking from the strain of staying on his feet. His eyes danced over the soldiers and he grinned, his teeth red with own blood.
"I am loved!" he roared.
The biggest lie.
Daggers flew from the sheath, a river of steel, and they flew into the air spreading into a deadly fan. Only a handful were needed for the ones in the market and those were quick to find their mark, but the others went seeking other foes to warm their cold touch, disappearing over the buildings. As the last dagger vanished from sight, the sheath fell to the ground, its leather cracked and worn with age, the magic used up.
"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered to himself as he moved forward. "Not going to die like this."