The King's fist forced the Captain's claymore another inch toward Helen's face.
His arms screamed beneath the weight while blood ran from his lip.
'Matching this force will break both elbows, so stop matching it.'
He rotated both wrists thirty degrees and angled the blade rather than pushing against the fist.
The change turned his claymore from a wall into a ramp, and the King's own force slid down the steel toward the frozen ground.
The fist buried itself beside Helen's shoulder, and the Captain's hips drove the flat into the creature's overextended arm before it could recover the position.
"Take her," he shouted as one boot hooked beneath Helen's collar.
He dragged her clear and kicked her toward the shield line.
Two knights caught Helen between them as her head sagged against one man's chest and blood continued leaking from her mouth.
"Keep her breathing at all costs," the Captain ordered without looking back.
