Light sped from one end of the blade to the other, searing white light that grew brighter as it approached the tip. Miro felt the sword come alive in his hands, growing lighter and throbbing with energy. He lifted his arms as his enemies came forward, snarling and letting his rage take full hold.
The closest barbarian swung first, but Miro blocked, feeling his arms take the blow and pushing back with all his strength. He saw his opponent's broadsword twist and melt where the enchanted sword clashed against it, and Miro pulled back and swung at the barbarian's face, opening up the skin under his eye to the bone. His opponent made no sound but fell back, and the second revenant came forward. Miro attacked in a flurry of blows, eager to finish the two warriors quickly. His sword sheared through this revenant's broadsword and cut deep into the creature's chest.
Yet both warriors kept going. Miro leapt forward and swung again at the first white-eyed barbarian, once more aiming for the head. The glowing blade bit deep into the revenant's neck and continued, removing his head clean from his shoulders. Miro turned to the last warrior and ducked, slashing through both of his thick legs. The revenant fell to the ground, and Miro hacked downwards to take his head off.
Miro looked around the tent. Everyone in it was dead; there was nothing for him here.
He ran back out and peered through the pouring rain. Nothing. He ran forwards until he saw the dark shapes of more tents. One was much larger than the rest. Miro's feet dug into the sodden earth as he ran towards it.
His blazing sword would draw the enemy to him, and he knew he had little time. He cut a hole in the wall of the long structure and stepped inside.
Moans and screams greeted his entrance. Several hundred prisoners had been corralled inside a pen, fenced with spiked wire on all sides and guarded by revenants. Without time to look for a gate, Miro swung down at the fence with his sword, furiously striking again and again. A revenant came at him and Miro twisted his body, taking the creature's head off with a single blow, before once again returning to the fence.
"Amber!" Miro cried. Where was she?
He finally cut the metal into molten fragments, clearing enough space for the prisoners to exit.
"Get out of here!" he shouted. "All of you, now!"
First one shot out, and then they were moving in a flood. Miro searched every face as he admonished them to run as fast and far away as they could. He couldn't see her.
When he'd scanned every face Miro turned around.
Six revenants charged him. With a roar, Miro came in to meet them.
He despatched the first with a feint and thrust to the throat, following it with a disembowelling blow to the stomach. The second exploded as Miro cut into him with three blows in quick succession. Blood and gore flew into the air, covering Miro with red. The rain made the sword slippery in his hands but he held on tightly, aware that without it he was dead.
Dancing between the snarling barbarians, he concentrated on the neck and head, slicing through a man's skull and taking another revenant's head from his shoulders. Miro's training at Blademaster Rogan's hands and the experience gained from the war gave him lightning reflexes, and his rage gave him strength.
There were only two facing him now, and he charged them both, smashing into one with his shoulder and lashing out with his sword at the second. He rolled on the ground and spun on his heel as he stood up, cutting a revenant in two. Another blow saw the final warrior go down.
Breathing heavily, Miro let his arm fall down by his side. He suddenly felt exhausted, but he couldn't stop now, not when he was so close.
"Amber!" Miro cried again, heedless now of the noise he caused.
He shielded his eyes from the rain. There, ahead — it was another of the long structures. There would be more prisoners there.
Miro ran, feeling splashes and puddles now beneath his boots. He reached his destination in moments and this time the entrance was ahead of him, two revenants standing side by side at the door.
He tore through them without thinking, letting his muscles control the sword of their own accord. Panting, he looked down, seeing two headless bodies at his feet.
"Amber!" he cried.
Miro saw another pen filled with wailing prisoners. His arms felt like lead but he smashed at the fence time and again, the enchanted blade making swift work of the steel. The prisoners ran out and Miro slumped as weariness took him, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to search the crowd, calling out her name.
He sensed motion behind him and spun, the sword coming forward.
"Miro, it's me!"
Amber looked fragile and weak, but she was alive, and she was unharmed. She held Miro's wrist, and he realised he still had the sword raised. He lowered his arm.
"I'm taking you out of here," he said.
"Look," Amber said. She held up her hand.
Miro stared at the flask she held in confusion.
"It's the cure. I have it. We can go!"
Miro grabbed Amber's hand in his left, his right hand holding the blazing sword. He took her out into the empty space between the tents, wondering which way to go.
A bright light erupted from above, blinding them.