Dain gave ground only as far as the second anchor.
His heel touched the iron seat. The tether at his hip shortened, and the remaining shield face settled into a slanted guard that covered him from knee to chin. Iven’s next strike glanced from it with a shriek of stressed metal.
The commander answered with his right fist.
It was a short punch, driven by a piston impulse rather than a long swing. Iven caught it across his plate and felt the force spread through his shoulder. His boots left the boards for an instant. He landed against the bridge rail, bent his knees and stayed upright.
Dain had followed.
Iven sprang along the rail’s inside edge. The shield moved to cut him off, but this time he did not try to beat it around the same level. He planted one boot on the low crossbar, pushed upward and struck down at the commander’s exposed wrist.
Dain turned his arm. Iven’s piston hit the shield’s metal rim instead of bone.
The rim bent.
