As Tomàs was chasing his mount into the swamp, the first stalker took another swipe at the prone elven queen. It's club hit her shoulder with enough force to press her into the soft ground.
Wendolin screeched and slashed at it's side. The stalker turned lightning fast as the metal bit deep in its side and swung the cudgel in a wide arc crashing into the paladin's side. Wendolin staggered under the blow, her left arm hanging useless at her side. Her face white with pain she desparately tried to stay out of the long reach of her opponents arms, backing away slowly, leading the creature away from her prone friend.
The other surviving stalker was keeping Gillandra and Chunky at a distance, neither managing to gain the offensive.
Marcus landed on Jayhawk's shoulder and grabbed a lock of hair to steady himself.
"Shouldn't you do something?"
"I am doing something, " the minstrel replied, his eyes the hue of a dying fire.
"You'd better hurry." The little cherub said as the second surviving stalker managed to score a hit, that tore through Chunky's chainmail like a hot knife though butter.
"I am hurrying, " came the terse reply, "have you ever tried to summon salamaders in a swamp?"
"Oh...no... Is it difficult?"
Jayhawk rolled his eyes, then muttered
"So be it."
The tall minstrel dismounted and walked over to where the panther sat, protecting Benson's prone body. He picked up the broken bow, his hands moved over the wood, which flowed back to it's original shape and strung it with a practised movement. Then he picked up one of the scattered arrows, blew on it's head and watched the fletching turn a bloody red. Placing the arrow on the bow, he lowered it in one fluent move and let the arrow fly.
The arrow sped towards the stalker that had now cornered Gillandra and hit it between the bony shoulder blades, where it burst into flame.
Jayhawk knocked and loosened the second arrow in a single breath. It too flew staight at the remaining stalker, and hit it in the lower back. Flames curled up from the stalker that now started howling.
Its companion was now enveloped in flames, a cloak of fire that seemd to reach with burning hands and coal dark eyes. Seconds later it tumbled forward the fire feeding round the hoe in it's back, feeding outward consuming the flesh. Little tongues licking the marrow from the bones.
As the stalkers stopped twitching the flames rose once more and a shape could be seen inside them. A shape with bony limbs and ridges. They looked at the minstrel, boowed and winked out.
"That was impresive" Marcus chimed.
"Hush, we need to see to the wounded."
"Tomàs, " he called out, "help Gillandra, please?"
Wendolin staggered out from the swamp as the minstrel sank to his knees next to the wounded young wizard. His slender hands reached out to feel if there was any pulse.
"What did you do?" the paladin asked.
The minstrel looked up while his hands continued working near Randorian's wound. His eyes flashed.
"I? I guess, I was lucky. Look to Eme-Redser, will you. Her shoulder's probably broken."
Wendolin shook her head and stumbled towards the elven queen.
"He shot those two, didn't he? " she wondered, "Or did he?"
She shook her head and nearly lost concious.
"I must be seeing things..."
Jayhawk carefully turned the wizard's apprentice over on his back. The young man was breathing slowly, but steadily.
"Will he live?" Marcus asked.
"He'll live, " the minstrel replied, "but he'll be asleep for the rest of the day. Let's see to Thoren's wounds."