“The girl and the whelp! Get them! There they are, behind the guard!” O'Bellah had noted them the second that they had returned, and Zya felt that this was no time to be scared. The duty that the Duke felt echoed to him through his bow. He climbed atop a column behind the dais and found a perch to fire from. He would save the Duke the only way that he could. The mercenaries that had surrounded their foe now joined the attack, and O'Bellah closed behind them. “Join Me!” He commanded, and with a roar the unarmed fighting men burst in on the hall. With a lust for battle that had been missing in the catatonic mercenaries, they lit up the hall with their animation and obvious hunger for blood. As a unit they charged towards the dwindling force of the Duke and his guards, and as a unit they cras
