Groggy and shaken, Anest got to his knees. Through the ringing in his ears he heard Lily's voice as she reached him, took his arm, helped him to his feet. Another sound impinged upon his awareness. A sound like thunder! Raising his head painfully, he looked around. Elf riders! From the Bridge Fortress! So that's what Belloc's fire and smoke had been for! Lily was weeping hysterically and saying his name over and over. Oblivious to all else, he took her in his arms and didn't release her until she was quiet, and the sounds of battle ceased altogether.
The company had suffered grievous losses. Ten of the sixteen elf soldiers that had accompanied them were dead. None of the remaining six were unscathed. Dorain was injured.
Dorain!
Lily separated herself from Anest and went to the elven harwynglaive, who lay back on her elbows on the ground writhing in pain. She had suffered a spur-cut to her lower left thigh. Brogan was trying to hold her leg still while a field attendant attempted to wrap a tourniquet around her leg to stop the bleeding. For some reason it seemed that the elf woman did not want to be touched, and tried pushing them away, but Brogan ignored all but her injury. Lily took Dorain's hands to keep her from pushing Brogan away and interfering with the field attendant's work. Dorain could have easily tossed Lily away from her, but she held on to her friend, keening with pain.