The sword went through her as if she were gossamer.

The sword went flying as she hit the ground with enough force to drive the breath from her lungs.

As mine had done, it split and the sword went on into his hand.

His sword had gone and blood was running from the side of his head.

The man who made the sword went to defeat and death.

The lookout at the window had time to recognize the man who killed him, before that same sword went into his heart.

"That was well done," says Eric as the sword goes down.

This was a woman who could bring them to harm, and he knew the sword wasn't going to protect him.

He felt the sword go in all the way.

He was swinging, but she stepped back suddenly and let the sword go by.