The guards had left the wagons now, or at least the ones in the rear had. They were advancing carefully towards the broken wagon, pausing only to send a couple more bolts at the remaining group of bandits once they had reached the relative safety of the wooden cover. Their noble efforts were matched by the guards still with the caravan, bolts flying. Two more bandits fell. Their numbers were severely diminished since the start of their attack, and their resolve was clearly weakening. The spellcaster and one of the others took flight, running north away from the battle as fast as their legs could carry them. Their shortbow-armed compatriot was quick to follow, sending one last arrow in Cecily's direction before turning to flee himself.
Cecily, sitting atop her horse, pulled her rapier from the body of the bandit she had practically run down, blood dripping from the tip of the weapon to land in scattered droplets on the grass. Beside her, Glaffin smashed in the head of the other bandit, howling like a berserker. It was a clear shot to Tallhelm, now. It wouldn't take him more than a few moments to reach the caravan's owner, very possibly saving his life. Indrys had directed his horse up beside the wagon, shielding them from incoming fire. Behind the dwarf, there were sudden dual cries of pain.
Cecily slumped in her saddle, and arrow protruding from the bard's chest. It looked like a bad hit, but she was still breathing as far as the dwarf could tell. Back closer to the last remaining bandits was Thorus, holding a bolt he had just pulled out of his armour. The tip of the projectile was stained red, but the ex-soldier seemed to be fine, for now.