Turning tide

Odsier Plain
Walking among their tribesmen, their faces streaked with dust and red ochre, the Bonecasters walked toward the main like, twelve of them, their tanned hide clothes whipped by winds.

Sir Zane's army realised moments too late why most Odsier riders had pulled away, giving way to the newcomers, as bolts of lightning struck the ranks, winds buffeted them and horses bolted, unseating riders to be trampled.

Magik. Panic spread through the ranks. Most of those alive in Helians had not seen such displays of power ever in their lifetime. Their mere presence on the field of battle sending shockwaves through the masses. The desperate Helians sent volley after volley of arrows, but the shafts were blown out of the air, towards the milling Odonine.

The Bonecasters continued raining down misery and destruction upon the main army, sweeping their eyes over the men from across the seas, that had come to plunder their way of life. Where they turned, red and yellow blinding light exploded among the men of Ostiarium, stripping skin, melting iron to flesh, caving in heads and hearts. Brains boiled in skulls. Teeth snapped. Hundreds fell in a few heartbeats such was the ferocity of the attack.

Vastad's Song faltered, as did the Odonine's war drums.

Blinding light exploded everywhere. Thick choking plumes of smoke rose skyward, covering the battlefield, carrying the smell of burnt flesh everywhere.

The Odsier riders emboldened by their Bonecasters advance, wheeled their horses around and once more rode into the fray. All was not lost, they hoped

They would protect Erewhon's Blood as long as they could and drive the enemies from their lands.

A horn's long peal sounded across the field of battle. Louder than anything heard that day. From the East, the Silent Flock rode their horses frantically towards the twelve Bonecasters.

The Inquisition had finally taken to the field....