He tottered--fell upon his knees.
Even as he dropped, the giant flail swept down upon the soldiers.

It swept through them like a scythe through ripe grain.

It threw them, broken and torn, far toward the valley's sloping sides.

It left only fragments that bore no semblance to men.
Ventnor was at Chiu-Ming's head; I dropped beside him.

There was a crimson froth upon his lips.
"I thought that Shin-Je was about to slay us," he whispered.