Torm and his men thundered down the hill with all the force of an avalanche. Even with sixty thousand zealots, a contingent of three score knights on barded destiers would trample through hundreds of men, anyone dumb enough to get in their way. Luckily for both the knights and the priest-queen's army, only small streams of the flood of men had crossed their path, most all too eager to make it for the walls rather than checking their flank. Perhaps in some small measure this would help the beleagured defenders. Once they safeguarded the dwarves, Torm would turn his men around and try and help as best they could.

Sir Draufkrieg felt his stomach clench, and Lycurgus raise his hooves, and then the turbulence of crashing into the body of a full grown man. His steed ran down three men before Torm's sword clove through the collarbone of a flagellant, splitting him open like a melon. He felt the tremor in his arm when his two handed sword struck the ribcage, but his strength and momentum sent his sword free of the body and ready for the next swing within the span of a second. 

His men followed in wedge formation, so as to better penetrate through the swarm of men. He hacked the head off a second man, and he felt a small cut on his leg from a lucky zealot, but he did not tarry. All remaining zealots Torm left behind were run down seconds later. The men crashed against their horses like water on rock, dozens of zealots losing their lives every moment, screaming to their false gods. There was an occasional spearman in the horde, but even if they had the frame of mind to use it, they would need to have good aim to penetrade the steel armor the knights were clad in. 

Beyond them, from the vantage of the horse, Torm could see the dwarves being set alight. Their hands bound by steel manacles and their burly forms set up against logs, pitch grasping at their proud beards. Torm cried in dismay when the first of the fires went up, and he called for his knights to hurry, though in his heart he knew it was too late. The dwarves stood stoicly, grimacing and giving out great roars of protest rather than squeals of pain, as a man might do. Perhaps they could save a few. Dwarves were known to be hardy against fire. Better to combat dragons with, Torm had heard. But they still had a stretch to go, and he knew he would see more dead dwarves than living when they got there.