She turned and looked for someone else to engage. All of her own troops were locked in battle. The odds looked fairly even. One of the enemy soldiers charged her and they engaged one another in swordplay. Matching her blow for blow, she struggled to overcome. At one point, it seemed as if this particular soldier would win. Daathar had been beaten at swordplay before, but those times were rare. She refused to allow herself to panic and let her natural ability and agility take over. Sometimes fighting is something that must be done in the spirit, not in the mind. She disconnected herself from her movements and soon the clash began to turn her way.

Until she slipped on some loose pebbles along the ground and fell backwards. Her opponent jumped at the opportunity. Briefly, very briefly, Daathar wondered if she were going to die when her enemy’s sword stopped just a hair’s breath above the fighter’s heart. Confused, the soldier pulled at the sword. It behaved the same as it would have if it were stuck in a log. The soldier pulled it free with a grunt and with a screaming cry of rage tried again to run Daathar through. Before he did, Daathar scrambled out of the way and the sword plunged into the ground right where her heart had been a few grains ago.

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