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. As he
did, he twisted his weapon down, forcing the point of the
enemy's blade to the ground. When it hit the dirt, Huma
stomped on it, shattering the blade like glass. He then
swung upward, his weapon knifing through his enemy's
breastplate easily, slicing into the soft flesh beneath it with
the sound of ripping silk.
The man dropped his sword and grabbed at his stomach,
shrieking with pain as he tried to keep his entrails from
spilling to the bloody ground. He fell to his knees, his eyes
on Huma as he pawed at his intestines, futilely trying to
stuff them back into the gaping wound. Then his eyes rolled
up into his head and he collapsed on the steaming mass with
a whimper.
Almost as if the man's gory death signaled the
beginning of a new battle, the black soldiers surged
forward, engaging Huma's troops. The ringing of the metal
rose again, along with the shouts and grunts and curses of
fighting men. The noise increased until it was a din,
overpowering all other sound.
Huma pushed his way forward, swinging with his own
weapon, cutting into the Queen's forces. Slashing at them,
hacking at them, he pressed on, the woman with the silver
hair at his side. A huge soldier, his black breastplate slick
with the blood of others, thrust a sword at Huma
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