Chapter 17 – The Chains of the Wicked
There was a certain flourish to Zilan's blows. When the glaive came to land, the man would twist his wrist ever so slightly. If a weapons instructor had seen the action, he would have condemned the General, pointing it out to be a weakness, for the vulnerable position that it put his wrist in. But when it was delivered by a man with as much overwhelming strength as Zilan, that weakness became a strength. It allowed the strike a penetrating quality, with the extra turn that he gave it.
Oliver had come to know that strike better than he had known any other strike before. It was only stubbornness that he felt. No conscious thoughts slipped into his mind. And yet, repeatedly exposed to the same sort of strike, his body could not help but put together the strings of knowing, creating a solution to that problem that presented itself.
