With his heels to his horse, he smashed into the first line of men, scattering them in a single swing. He saw three flames come together at once, and then his axe traced the path of their meagre, and like the most perfect paintings, he dismembered three men with the utmost efficiency.
"Guh!" One man cried, as Vol's axe ran across his throat. It was the only sound that he could make. His fingers slipped around the wound of his neck as he tried to close it. His legs weakened under him. Defiantly, or fearfully, he stood, not letting the sword go free from his one hand.
