Glaffin bites back an epithet and nudges his horse forward just a bit so it is facing Alec's own before dismounting by his wounded comrade's side. The adrenaline pumping through him prevents him from noticing any pain the shaft in his own thigh for now, although it is no less urgent, and he knows it will have to be dealt with immediately once the greater concerns are taken care of.
Chanting under his breath with a somewhat unsteady voice, he touches Alec's brow and discharges a prayer of healing into him, hoping it will be enough to rouse him from this state. As much as he hates to think this way, they need moving bodies if they're going to survive the next few seconds.
And just where the heck are those guards? Glaffin thought they'd be ready for something like this. He clearly wasn't.
If he sees Alec rousing, he'll advise the sailor to stay low so that any more arrows have a hard time of hitting him, "Stay down for now, alright?"