"He lies." Daghula snapped, the great Black Blade leaping into his hand almost of its own
volition, the life within it resonating up his arm with its hunger and bloodlust. Instantly every man was
against him and these were not the bumbling cut-purses they had encountered in Nan Chun. These men
were salt of the earth, men used to the rigors of a harsh existence, and righteous men.
Daghula spurred his horse forward as a villagers closed on him. The Black Blade danced out to
take the head from his closest attacker, the electric shock of that one's life force adding speed to his
own reflexes, strength to his arm, but then the Black Blade only encountered metal, and metal again,
and then his horse was falling beneath him.
Daghula rolled clear and managed to take the lives of two more in the process, the Black Blade
striking out even though he was too busy to see who had been struck, and then Daghula was fighting
for his life, the Black Blade more often skittering across the blades of the elusive villagers than finding
flesh and his own defenses, the long knife somehow in his left hand, inadequate to deflect all of the
attacks against him. A cut seared across his thigh, and he Cast the healing spell to begin to deal with it.
He was pierced in the back and run completely through the stomach. In the melee he saw Sey. She
fought like a demoness, her twin blades blurring, her skill amazing. Men fell around her, but she would
tire rapidly under the press. Of Hutan there was no evidence. He was gone.
Daghula could not tire. Each successful strike of the Black Sword sent renewed energy through...