Lashan's body is not up for this anymore, but she can force it to be for a little while. Bring back the old speed and limberness, bring more than the old strength. Her grasp on her mind-gift has grown more comfortable with experience and she can still synchronize with people, react to intent. When you can't retreat, you attack. When your opponent has more reach, you get inside their guard.

So she rushes him, closing her gloved off hand around the blade of her longsword so she can meet the steelbride with a jarring block and slide back up the blade towards the hand that grasps it. A lot else goes on at the same time.

Marda's sling cracks and delivers a splattering payload of reeking mud right across his face, ideally into his eyes. Ilse screams something incoherent. Crows shriek like they've found a nest thief and launch at him, going mostly for the back of his head and neck. They can't do much but a pair of black beaks jab for the base of the arrow near his shoulder. Someone looses a hasty arrow that glances off armor. A compact teenager races with splashing feet to circle behind him, looking for openings.