The Vulture Lord came at him like a swelling river of steel, longsword raised high to meet Vilon's guard.
Steel crashed against steel.
No sooner was the first slash turned aside than Ratio unleashed a barrage that gave him no room to breathe. Vilon ducked beneath an overhead arc and felt the air whistle above his helm, then caught the second squarely on his shield. A shower of splintered oak burst into the air as the blade shrieked its way down the kite's face.
The impact went ringing up through Vilon's arm and rattled the bruised bones of his left hand until the fingers went numb and useless inside the strap. He staggered back a pace, and all his earlier bravado melted away into a cold and sickening terror as he understood, properly and completely, exactly how broken a thing he was bringing to this fight.
