That might proved to be tricky as he cast a glance back to the rest of the skirmish, where the priest of Nesirie and the squire were both outnumbered (and outmatched, in his self-important opinion). Ogre had the scent of battle in his nostrils now, and would take a few precious moments to rein in. Instead, Lan kicked free of the stirrups and dropped smoothly to the forest floor, and in a clatter of mail and spurs edged his way around the writhing vine-patch to come shoulder to shoulder with Rhoderick.
He swung his crow's bill at the dangling goblin tracker, but the wretch was wriggling so much it was hard to find his mark for more than a scratch.