The aftermath was a tableau of pain and power.
Roric lay crumpled some distance away, a bloody, still silhouette against the shattered stone of the academy floor.
Kael was closer, on his knees, his breathing ragged and shallow, the front of his uniform dark and soaked with his own blood, his fine sword discarded beside him.
Standing in front like an immovable colossus was Thorgar.
His massive back provided the last shield for the injured, radiating a grim stability.
The huge war hammer in his hands was a terrifying conductor, arcs of fierce, pale-purple lightning dancing and cracking over its surface.
In front of them, amidst the smoking ruin of the hallway, the dark man stood, clapping slowly, his expression a mixture of genuine respect and cold appraisal.
"Amazing! I never imagined you'd be this strong, Professor Thorgar," the man said, his voice carrying genuine praise.
