At the last instant, just before his blade made it to her, Merritt crashed into him from the side, knocking him off balance. The big soldier stumbled from the impact and fell to a knee. Before he could get up, Magda brought the sword down from above, splitting him all the way from the top of his head to the center of his chest.

The man toppled, hitting the ground with a wet thwack that spilled organs out the gaping split and across the ground.

The night was suddenly still. There were no more men coming at her.

Chapter 86

Magda, on her knees, sword gripped in both hands, eyes wide, ready to defend herself, gasped for breath. The night was silent. There were no men screaming battle cries. There were no more blades coming at her.

Her head swiveled, looking everywhere, scanning for threats. She was surrounded by bodies. Blood and gore and unrecognizable bits of flesh lay scattered all around her.

There were no men left standing to come at her.

Not far away, Merritt, in the iron collar and hand restraints, struggled to get to his feet. Once up, he rushed to stand over her, a small, proud smile lighting his face.

With the threat ended, the Sword of Truth dropped from her hands.

And then, searing torment started like a spark deep inside, quickly expanding into an inferno of pain, burning through every part of her. Magda doubled over. She cried out as she collapsed onto her side, arms crossed over her middle, trying to quell the torture that felt like it was consuming her. She desperately needed air, but try as she might, she couldn’t draw a breath. The weight of suffering pressing in on her wouldn’t allow it.

Merritt knelt beside her, but with his wrists shackled into the device locked around his neck he couldn’t reach out to her. He was helpless to do anything, but it was a relief to simply not be alone with the terror of the suffering.

As quickly as it came, the pain released her.

As the agony lifted its grip, Magda flopped over onto her back. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gasped, getting her breath. She looked up at the concern on Merritt’s face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she finally said between panting breaths.

“It’s the sword’s magic,” he said. “It extracts a price when you kill with it. The first time is by far the worst. You’re fortunate. The sword’s power was derived from your life force, so it was already somewhat familiar with you.”

Magda rolled onto her side and pushed herself up off the ground to sit back on her heels. “I’d hate to experience worse.”

“Anger is a shield for the power of the sword’s magic, so that helped, too.”