He gave a curt nod to Sirgala, not trusting himself to speak without squeaking. That was the fear talking; this was a much larger fight than anything he'd ever seen. In his world, a scrape consisted of shooting down some beast or exchanging arrows with a bandit before that one got the message and left. This was something else. 

Mardion wasn't about to buck orders in this instance, but they had a number of corpses to kill off in the place before he could find vantage and use arrows. When told to go for the heads, he realized that he really didn't have the right tool for the job on that front. An axe would be ideal for splitting heads, but a fireplace poker would do in a pinch. Iron and a spike, perfect for piercing skulls and crushing a head.

He wasn't some sort of warrior god, he took one out as he moved methodically toward what had been guest rooms; charred, burned and with unstable footing, it was still an elevated vantage for an archer. He was used to shooting wolves and other predators off his family's herds, but this was an entirely different affair, and he found himself shaking and his head pounding a bit, his vision tunneling. It was the same was meeting bandits, you tried to master that and use that for the extra sprint in your step or the sudden burst of strength you had in climbing something you had to climb. Later, of course, an older person might pay the price with a limp or sprain.

Besides, he was a good enough hunter, but not really used to combat, he was happy to leave the hacking and chopping to people in armor with heavier weapons who looked ready for it. It took ten or so seconds to string the bow once upon a vantage where he could identify the cultists and another two to nock an arrow. He used cover and concealment, but he was not a thief or some sort of wilderness dwelling ranger that could simply melt into terrain. All the same, he was able to regulate breathing, clear his mind and do what he could, scrambling mentally, to calm himself enough to aim.

He aimed for their center mass, but he did not necessarily expect to land every arrow -- he was accurate, but the target was moving and would be wary after the first shot. He took his time and lined up that first shot, hoping to get one square on. After that, he'd have to settle for providing a distraction for heftier, better armed types to potentially make an assault. If he could just keep them pinned and avoid any return...well return hellfire, lighting, or whatever other magic they put in. He didn't know what his odds were of that or what they could do. He didn't get magic, but if they reacted like bandits, they wouldn't want to necessarily advance when arrows were flying.

He had two quivers with him. He could make those forty arrows useful.

He released.