Beats up Harry

Ebenezar’s foot slid off the last patch of ice, and he promptly threw a stomp kick at the bridge of my left foot as he came in. I avoided that, but it put me off-balance, and the old man’s staff hit my shoulder with enough force to shatter concrete.
Molly did good work. There was a flash of light from the spider-silk suit, the scent of something putrid burning, and instead it merely felt like getting smacked by a particularly proficient Little Leaguer.
I cried out in pain and staggered back.
“Don’t make this anything it doesn’t have to be, Hoss,” my grandfather said, his voice hard. His next blow hit my right foot, and evidently Molly hadn’t specifically enchanted the shoes. Which the old man had probably been able to sense. The strike wasn’t as strong as it could have been, but it broke toes, flashes of vicious, stabbing heat that quickly vanished into the rippling chill of the Winter mantle, and I staggered to a knee.
The old man stomp-kicked me in the center of the chest, driving the wind out of my lungs with a sickly gasp and slamming my shoulder blades and the back of my skull against the dock.


Peace Talks chapter 32, Page 304-305