The shield wall was a living thing, breathing and bleeding and holding against the tide. I had become part of it, my body moving in rhythm with Runa's, my shield pressed against hers, and my weight pushing forward to brace the front rank. I had learned the cadence of the battle—the ebb and flow of the monsters, the coordinated strikes of the spearmen, the way the wall would flex and bend and never break.
But no wall was perfect. No line could hold forever.
It happened in the space between heartbeats. A spear broke, its shaft splintering under the weight of a charging beast. The warrior wielding it stumbled, and for an instant, there was a gap in the front rank. A gap no wider than a man's shoulders, a gap that would be filled in a moment.
It was enough.
