A confused look passed the archer's face as a metal point appeared to sprout from between his lungs.  He choked and breathed his last, and Hugh maneuvered him off the point of his lance and to the ground.  Killing was not something he thought he'd ever quite come to terms with, but it was a necessary evil.  The feeling that he got from a dying man, the spark of life ebbing from his body and finally vanishing into whatever ethereal river guided him on...it was enough to make a man sick, at times.

Another moment, and the archer squad was all but wiped out.  A single one of them surrendered, and Hugh sent the least-wounded member of the current group -Jeane- to escort him toward the convoy and tie him up.  A momentary respite settled over the group as Marcus rushed to heal the last of their wounds.  It wouldn't be long, the knight knew, before Nick's leg got the better of him, and they needed to make these last few minutes count.  He caught a glimpse of Sanguin, Lilith, Habeen, and Kuur between the buildings, mopping up the last of a unit of thieves.  For a moment Hugh dared to think that the attack had gone off without a hitch.

Then he heard and excited neighing.

Hugh whirled around to find a Pegasus and its rider just coming between two huts.  Though his first instinct was to toss a javelin first and ask questions later, a quick examination accredited the idea that there was more to this one than met the eye.  He leveled his lance at them and shouted, "Who goes there?  You haven't the manner of a bandit."