But at that critical moment, the General released some of the wind he had accumulated, allowing it to flow through his veins and arteries. As the deadly shards closed in, Hadjar began to move with the fluid grace of a reed, dodging them with practiced ease.
Each time a deadly shard threatened to strike his chest, shatter his head, cripple his leg, or pierce his stomach, time seemed to slow to a crawl around the General. Every time they came close enough, the lightning-fast projectiles would freeze in midair, starting to move at the speed of a lazily crawling snail. And with effortless grace, Hadjar would flow around them, his movements as fluid and natural as a stream going around an inconspicuous bump in the ground.
“Well done, mortal!” Gardagrag roared through the blinding blizzard.
