Mardion caught a glimpse of one of the culists crumbling from his shot. 

But that satisfaction was quickly replaced with the horror as he ducked into cover and found himself catching aflame anyway. He beat the sleeve down before he could actually be burned, but it was a stark reminder that good cover from an arrow wasn't good cover from a fireball. The thrill of the kill only lasted a moment before the horror happened, shaking the limbs a bit, but not enough to make him useless. 

The terror was something else; they threw fire. He had paltry arrows. He could distract, he could even kill one in ambush, but there was no toe to toe fight for Mardion in this environment. He was a good hunter, but no warrior for the mass clash of arms. He didn't dare go back to the old position just to be scorched to ashes by an angry mage. Instinct dictated flight here. He was already shifting his position, though it was to another firing position.

So the halfling was met halfway with Mardion already falling back. Not a suicider, and not armored, he wasn't about to fight a battle that couldn't be won. 

Handed something by a stranger, he did something that would be absolutely idiotic in a normal situation and just put the stuff in his mouth and kept it there, however distasteful. That was overshadowed by the sight of the minotaur. There was rope and a way out a window, but as he was hauling him up on the ground by the halfling he asked, "If that thing was summoned, would killing the summoner stop the beast? What would happen?" He had to spit to avoid swallowing. (no jokes)

He didn't know a thing of magic, but it was a valid sort of question. He had a sense of which one summoned it, but he needed to find a clear shot. There was plenty of rubble around, and he plotted the movement to avoid the undead so he could focus on killing the living. There was a low-grade headache behind his eyes already, and a constant buzz in his ears, but he could focus on the task and that had to do for the moment.