There were shouts, many voices calling. The grasping hands lost some of their eagerness and for a second Thom found himself kicking and punching at air. "Benedictonium de Dea," a cry came from behind him. There was a flash of light and a soft whoosh and a fine powder rained down on Thom. Blinking away the dust, he pushed himself up on his elbows. The little circle of light was filled with fast moving figures. Tordil, sword in one hand slashed at one zombie while a flick of his fingers ignited another into a staggering pillar of flame. Quintala, her twin swords whirling, sliced arms and legs off two of the undead and then stamped with squelching force on the heads of the fallen torsos. Tordil's elven companions glided with equal grace, expertly dismembering the undead. Jolander and his lancers were there too, burning brands thrust into undead faces and swords skewering their abdomens.
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