The impact drove him back.
He yielded ground beneath the second, turned the spearhead aside, and used the opening to slide between Vane and the ring.
Not retreating.
Positioning.
He knew which patches of earth lied more convincingly than the others, and he intended to make Vane stand on every one of them.
"You'll want to know how I learned this," Threll said.
He parried another thrust and let the ground spoil Vane's recovery by half a beat.
"Same way you are. Badly. In the middle of something that mattered too much to stop and understand."
"Then stop talking," Vane said, "and show me the rest."
Threll's mouth twitched.
"Fair."
He stopped talking.
The fight became real.
Not a formality. Not the kind of contest Vane had grown accustomed to ending as soon as he understood the shape of it. Threll's strength did not match his, nor did his speed, but two years beside the ring had given the commander something more dangerous than either.
He knew where certainty failed.
