The first time their swords clashed together Eragos felt the jarring impact in his bones. Wrists that were used to force against force compensated for the blow. Like wretched titans they dragged their swords apart, boots sliding in the mud. Galatin went low. Eragos swung to meet him, sword points scraping in the snow as the longer and more powerful flambard forced the knight's blade into the ground. Galatin released one hand, flung it out to the side to balance his kick. Eragos pivoted his sword on its tip. Enough to catch the worst of the kick against his ricasso. That wrenched the flambard free from the dirt but ruined his balance. In the half-second it cost Eragos to recover Galatin freed his blade, and thrust mightily, a blow that Eragos parried by holding the hilt of the flambard low to his stomach and raising the blade up, parallel to his body.
"Not b-"
The knight's insulting praise was cut short when Eragos lifted his knee, drove it into the relatively soft chain mail between his ribs and his waist. A weak point. Galatin staggered and gasped. His face was red as he fumbled with his sword. Knights didn't fight with their knees in the southland. They thought a sword was the only important weapon. Eragos slid his left foot forward as Galatin prepared to charge again. Left elbow extended, right elbow tight against his side. The flambard lay against his forearm. Flat. Gleaming in the relative brightness of the clearing. Galatin clearly didn't expect such a massive sword to be wielded in this way. So he charged forward. The change in the light of the sword - silverwhite to blue - was his only warning. A tongue of lightning streaked out. In that instant Eragos saw his eyes widen. In that instant he saw Galatin's breath catch. The knight and defender of the realm caught the blast of electricity directly in his chest.
Behind him, a group of knights was charging forward.
It arched out, from one to the next, the finger of Bahamut himself. Each man who felt the shock of the lightning had not even the time to scream. It was drawn to them by heavy layers of chain and plate. Metal to call home the fury. Steam was shooting out of the gaps in their armor as they fell, swords useless and limp. Galatin was the first but not the last. There were four others caught in the storm of the lightning. Only two remained, between Eragos and the Lady Vera, when the lightning faded away.
"Drop your weapons!" Eragos barked, the still-smoking blade raising higher into the air.
With neither sound nor piteous pleas the men flung their swords to the ground and fled.
Country knights, no matter what city they lived in. He fell to one knee. Heart was pounding. Too many times over the course of the last days. Weariness was setting in. Barely enough of a fight, but adrenaline and exhaustion were still waging war in his veins. The wound was leaking blood beneath the bandage. Not a sound escaped his ears, but there was no sound, only the deadly quiet. Creaking of leather that tightened with heat. Hissing flesh as it popped beneath the charged and shocked armor.
He felt as though he were going to faint.
"Are you all right?" he managed to gasp out when the Lady Cithia fell to her knees beside him.
"I think he's injured," the king remarked, peering over his panicked daughter's shoulder.
"Fine," Eragos panted. "Just... a moment..."
If he made it through the next thirty seconds, he was reasonably certain that he wouldn't black out.