With the blade freed, Magda felt a storm of power surge from the hilt and up through her. As it inundated her, it made her flesh tingle and took her breath.

Exquisite rage thundered through every fiber of her being.

The men all drew weapons.

The wizard, angry that he had missed, pulled his arms back to conjure yet more magic. He looked more annoyed than angry that she had not fallen to his first strike. She knew that this time he would not be so timid in what he called forth.

A roiling ball of fire ignited in his palm. The liquid flames rolled and burned with a sinister bluish light.

Indeed, he did not intend to take any more chances. He was intending to loose wizard’s fire against her.

Magda knew that she had to act fast or she would die. The sword reacted instantly to her intent, unleashing a surge of fury through her that charged her muscles.

Even as the wizard was cocking his arm back, Magda was already flying toward the man, closing the distance, trying to get to him before he was able to send the deadly fire toward her. As she ran, the blade swept around with lightning speed, whistling through the air.

Her glare was locked on the wizard’s murderous scowl. She was only dimly aware of the sword’s tremendous momentum. She knew only that it felt right. It felt good. She guided its track through her intent as the blade made its way inexorably toward where her eyes were fixed.

She wanted this man dead. She focused all her rage at everything that had happened into her need to end this traitor’s life.

It seemed to take forever to close the distance.

She could see the wizard frantically working with both hands to expand the wizard’s fire between his palms, to make it more deadly and ready to kill. She could see the indignation in his eyes that she would dare to come at him.

She intended far more than merely to come at him.

For both of them, it was a race to kill or be killed.

The blade won the race. With a loud crack it intercepted the side of the wizard’s skull.

Fragments of bone and gore filled the night. In the lantern’s light she could see the cloud of blood and brain matter explode away from where most of his head had been only an instant before. Only the base of his skull and his jaw remained. A trail of blood followed the arc of the blade.

The wizard hadn’t even had time to scream.

But Magda heard herself screaming, screaming with ferocity that was a match for the sword’s.

The killing strike thrilled her, filled her with wild joy. It was nothing short of a sense of magnificent completion.