An unexpected savior (Princess Lethiliie’s perspective):

The fight wasn’t going well, that much was clear to Lethilliie. She did her best to gain an overview of the situation from where she was, pressed up against a wagon behind some loyal guards. Her escort had managed to form something of a defensive line, but it was ragged, and the skirmish was rapidly devolving into chaos. The attackers, who were clearly elves themselves, outnumbered them. The weaver her side had with them would count for a lot, even as she thought that he sent three assailants flying with a burst of windsong, but he was not invincible. Her own power, while considerable, was not meant for war. She was, first and foremost, a healer. She’d be very useful after the battle, if any of them yet lived. The princess sighed deeply. Clearly, she and her mother had underestimated the faction that had plotted against them. They had thought them humbled and neutered after the failed coup attempt, their leaders dead and their forces exiled. And it had no doubt achieved something but, in their weakened state, the plotters had decided to strike at the princess rather than the queen. And much to Lethilliie’s chagrin, it looked like it might work. Losses would be heavy, but her head was worth those of all the assailants and much more.

Over the din of combat, her sharp ears picked up a new sound. Thunder. Unmistakably, the thunder of hooves. The princess’ heart sank. If the enemy had mounted reinforcements coming, they were surely doomed. She craned her neck towards the sound, trying to locate its source. Her vision was, like her hearing, better even than that of other elves. Her sharp eyes quickly found what she was looking for.

A massive black horse, quite possibly the largest one she had ever beheld, was thundering down the hill ahead towards them. Atop it was a lone human rider who, by the looks of it, was not exactly small himself. As a matter of fact, he was tall. Tall and regal, she thought. He sat straight backed on his mount, his face showing nothing but fury and determination. In one hand he held a sword, the other was balled into a fist at his side. There was something wrong with that, her mind seemed to say, but what? The reins, he wasn’t holding the reins with either hand. It didn’t seem to matter though, his horse kept the course and pace, angling straight for the bulk of her attackers.

A ray of sun emerged from behind the clouds and hit the heroic rider just right, making his beard shine liked polished copper and his reddish-brown hair glow like embers. At that exact same moment, he suddenly whipped his free arm out ahead of him, and a bolt of lightning shot from his fingers. The bolt struck the ground in the middle of a group of ambushers. It exploded with a deafening crack, startling everyone and sending five elves flying. And just like that, Lethilliie was no longer scared or even worried. She smiled as the mountainous steed ploughed into the enemy ranks, scattering them like grains of sand, and as its brave rider cut down the assailants like wheat before the scythe.

But he was all alone and surrounded by enemies. Even as he shot another bolt of lightning, quite literally blowing one foe into chunks of charred flesh and fine red mist, others crowded around him. The horse fought like a beast from the hells, kicks caving in skulls and teeth crushing bones, but it was clear that it would not be enough. The pair were surrounded, and her heart sank as she watched the courageous man be torn from the saddle.

But with his incredible courage he had bought them a chance. Many attackers lay dead, and the defenders found new vigor and strength. Some from the man’s example, others were shamed into it by the fact that it had been a human who so outdid them. Lethiliie found her voice and imbued her three melodies with magic to soothe nerves and steel spines. “Come now my brave warriors, will we meekly let one who rode into danger for us fall at our enemies’ hands? No, I say. Surge forth with renewed effort, for me and for our hero, and pour your fury upon them!” And surge they did. A great cry rose up from them as they pushed forward, the momentum squarely on their side now. The battle would be won indeed, she sorely hoped it would not be too late for her beautiful savior.