The element of surprise had been lost long ago. That single instant in which Beam had slain Kursak. He'd felt something buckle then – he was sure that was the changing of the tides of battle, the opening of the floodgates. His sword had felt it too. He killed ten Yarmdon men in a matter of moments, as though his blade had been spurred on by the wind.
But now, that very same steel that had been so fast earlier now slowed, as though a spider was shooting webs at it, trying to bury it in place.
It was the flow of battle, Beam realized, that was what he felt. It was the same thing he'd felt in the mountains, just before the Titan had arisen. There was an odd force, a momentum, a current and a strength that governed every move in the lead-up to victory. That amplified the strong, and undermined the weak.
