punches out Fix

I felt sick, like I was fighting a blind man.
Fix landed exactly two feet short of where I’d been, and his sword came down through the space where I’d been standing. If I’d still been there, he would have split me into two gruesome halves.
But I wasn’t. I was standing behind him, within inches of his back, and before he could rise, I struck. A moment before, I’d used my intellectus to locate an old nail on the ground, about four inches long, partly coated in rust. Thomas or I must have dropped it while walking to or from the cottage, back when we’d been beginning repairs on it and building the Whatsup Dock. The nail had lain out through several seasons, only lightly touched by them.
I put my thumb behind its head, used the strength of the Winter mantle, and drove it straight through mail that had never been designed to stop such a small point, and two inches into the muscle of Fix’s shoulder blade.
Fix let out a scream of shock and pain and swung his sword at me—but with cold steel piercing his skin, and his access to the Summer mantle disrupted, he had only his own reflexes, strength, and skill to rely on. He hadn’t trained in them without the power of the Summer Knight to back them up, and he hadn’t learned in the brutal school of hard knocks that Mab had put me through. The sword’s slash was slowed and clumsy, and I struck him twice—once on the wrist, breaking it with a clear snap, sending the sword tumbling away, and once on the jaw, not quite as hard, sending Fix to the ground in a senseless heap.
“Knight takes Knight,” I called into the cloudy night air. “Check.”


Cold Days Chapter 47, Page 456-457