When one first joined the Dawnmartyrs, every risk and responsibility had been laid out for them. The knights did not hold back and told them the very worst scenario, of their fellow knights who had died painful deaths in the hands of the cult, of others who had been literally torn to shreds - or even simply never even survived the initiation and had their souls trapped in a weapon forever. Yet, those who joined heard all that still decided to give their life to the Order.
But she knew that all the words and training in the world would never prepare someone for their first encounter with the dead. So, the knight-lieutenant could not blame Lorgan when he scrambled back away from the monstrosity. Something tripped him and he fell onto his back, scrambling away in a panic.
As Veriel called upon her aether, the markings on her body glowed silver, branching out into more elaborate patterns as she summoned two more blades, both levitating on her sides. She threw Iratallin, the blade flying true toward the corpse. It sliced through its neck with ease, but there were already more of the dead starting to rise all around them.
The terrified shrieks of the townspeople broke the thick silence, but the siltori kept her eyes on Lorgan. Jerys and Erich had gone on a few expeditions, so she knew they would be able to handle a dozen of undead and keep the civilians safe. She grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him to his feet. There was no time to coddle the horrified young man. He stood unevenly, eyes darting around as he saw that they were surrounded.
“Wield your blade, knight,” Veriel ordered, catching Iratallin as it flew back to her hand. She stood near him, letting her dancing swords do the work for now. They flew with purposeful grace, but they wouldn’t be enough. Even as she spoke, out of the corner of her eyes the siltori could already spot more of the dead rising.
Slowly, Lorgan snapped out of his stupor and summoned his longsword. “Yes, lieutenant,” he said shakily. It didn’t matter that fear shone brightly in her eyes or that his grip was wavering, for now, all that mattered was that he dared to stand.
Most of the corpses were concentrated where they were. The cart was already somewhat at the edge of the town. They should have no trouble leaving. Both Erich and Jerys were looking at them apprehensively from afar, hesitant about what they needed to do.
“Get them out of here now!” she shouted as she slashed the undead closest to her. As it fell, another readily took its place.
Fortunately, she did not have to tell them twice. Jakob snapped his reins and the cart started moving. Much to her surprise, not a single one of the townspeople tried to run off on their own. Instead, they chose to huddle around the cart protectively, seemingly determined to protect the weakest of their people. Good.
Now, she could focus on the battle at hand.