The small group stood in tense silence. The air practically shimmered with the anticipation and the magic leaking out of John. The only sound was the ragged breathing from those who had already seen battle. John reached for his beltpouch. Roger looked over sharply and frowned. "If you put one more thing in your system, you are not going to survive."

John shook his head. "It's not for me. It's for them." 

Sara frowned at her son. Her grip tightened on her daggers. "And just what are they going to do to us?"

John rolled the vials around in his hand. "Nothing, if I'm careful."

Sensing the tension between them, Caleb hesitantly spoke up. "Then we'll just be careful."

John smiled at the child's optimism. Stepping in front of the crowd, he poured two of the potions together and began to shake them. So long as he kept his thumb over the top, nothing would happen. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I can hear them. They've congregated in the atrium. We should try and block off part of the doorway, so that less of them can enter at a time." His eyes scanned the room they were in, a deep frown on his face. "Try piling some of the bodies in the doorway. It will at least make it harder for them to enter."

Sara shook her head. "There's no time." As if the tree understood their words, the doorway began to shrink. Sara's eyebrow shot upwards curiously. "Well that is useful." She eyed the smaller entrance way. "Caleb, you stay back. If you see a chance to escape, I want you to take it."

Caleb set his jaw stubbornly. "I am not leaving." Knights did not run from battle. However, as the army of gnomes began to come into sight, Caleb began to wish that knights could run from battle. His grip tightened on his dagger. This was not going to be an easy battle. 

The opposing warriors filed through the entrance in a determined stream. John drew back his arm and whipped the small bottle into the crowds. An explosion rippled through the ranks. Taking advantage of the distraction the enchanted warrior surged forward, his sword flashing as he cut the first couple down. Blood flowed and limbs flew. The crush of soldiers pressed the small group backwards. John's defenses broke. The gnomes surged forward into the room in a steady march of destruction. Their fallen comrades were kicked to the side or trampled over with little regard to if they still breathed.

Sara joined her son in the fray. With expert precision, she flowed from combatant to combatant. Her daggers slashed through flesh as easily as if she were cutting through clouds. As one blade slid through a gnome's tender throat, another sank deep inside his companion's stomach. One died with a bloody gargle. The other clutched at his gut in a desperate attempt at keeping his innards where they belonged. From behind a sword removed his head. The soldier that had so callously dispatched of his weakened companion pressed forward, his blade sailing towards the deadly woman.

Sara leaped backwards to avoid the first blow, then faded to the side to avoid a second. She lashed out with her blades, just missing her chance to take him down. The gnome, having expected her counter lashed out with his fist and caught her hard across the jaw. Sara staggered backwards in a disoriented daze. John's heart stopped. Sara shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind. Her opponent had a sickening grin across his face. His arms were over his head, the light flashing off his sword. With deadly precision he sliced downwards.

With unnatural speed John leaped between his mother and the gnome's blade. His own sword surged upwards, knocking the gnome's clear away. "Don't you touch her!" he raged. Pressing forward, his blade practically sang as he decapitated his foe. Fury ran thicker through his veins than the potions he had consumed earlier. His blood pulsed green and his eyes flashed red. No matter their issues, no one touched his mother. A title wave of fury, he cut through the opponents as if they were mere ghosts. So focused was he on his retribution that all else was lost to his world. Even when one gnome sank a lucky blade into his side, he failed to register the glowing blood that dripped down his side and soaked into his shirt.
 
Scer was not happy about the loss of his troops. He would have sacrificed all of them, if they had managed to take out even one of their opponents. And yet they seemed utterly useless. "Worthless maggots." He sent a surge of power forwards, blasting a path that cut through gnome and tree alike. Soldiers fell screaming as the black flames consumed them. John flew backwards and slammed into the wall, his combatants clattering to the ground around him in a disoriented pile. Scer slithered through the doorway and towered over the humans, skeleton, and rablin that dared to oppose his plans. "It seems I shall have to kill you lot myself."