Hectoris, as befitted a man. with supreme confidence in the outcome, was taking his time. He put his mount through its paces, letting it rear and paw the air and slash down with shod hooves. The waiting Blade got the point, but he sneered and made a derisive gesture and halloed into the wind: «I grow impatient, Hectoris. What ails the master of Thyme and Samosta? Cold heart?»
Hectoris reined in his mount and couched his lance. Blade glanced back at the sea behind him. A ten foot wave curled in and broke with a roar on the damp sand,
sending salt spray around him in a haze. Blade retreated ten steps and took his stand for the first attack.
The massive horse gained momentum slowly on the sand. The loose stuff shifted under the great hooves and clung to them. Blade had counted on this when he elected to fight on the beach.
Hectoris bore the lance to his right. Blade moved to offer the target of his — shield, kite shaped and with its secret well-grooved and varnished over. He stood his ground as the horse and rider thundered down on him, Hectoris low in the saddle, the lance steady on the target. The beach shuddered beneath Blade as the animal came on and on and the lance point gleamed pale in the dull light.
Blade leaped to his right, his timing perfect, his movement that of a heartbeat, and Hectoris rushed past. Blade smote the rump of the horse as it brushed him. And laughed loud enough for Hectoris to hear even above the whine of the wind; if he could anger the man so much the better.
The war horse ran nearly into the angry sea before it could stop. It reared, dancing on its back legs, and for a moment Blade thought Hectoris would be thrown. He tensed and started forward, but the Samostan regained his seat and fought the mount into a sideways canter out of the creaming waves that licked at its feet and frightened it. Blade ran quickly to his right, closer to the water, and took up position again. Hectoris would learn from that mistake and would not make it again.
Nor did he. Hectoris rode off a little way and wheeled his horse about; this time he would attack along the beach line. Some gain and some loss for Blade. The damp sand would cling and slow the horse even more, but he no longer had the sea at his back. Hectoris couched his lance again and came on, slowly at first, then faster and faster. He still carried his lance to the right, but in his left hand now he swung the mace.
Again Blade executed the same maneuver, leaping away from the lance point, but this time he took a mighty blow from the mace on his shield. That weapon, a spiked iron ball attached to a short handle by a length of chain, put a dint in his shield and nearly wrenched it from his hand. Hectoris wolf-grinned and snarled something as he passed but Blade did not make out the words. He faced about again and only just in time, for the war steed proved not so slow or clumsy as he had supposed and was thundering at Blade again almost before he could draw breath. Blade took another mace blow on the shield that beat him to his knees. And Hectoris wheeled and was coming back again.
This time Blade did not leap away from the lance. He took the point on his shield, near the boss, and deflected it, but his left side was numbed by the impact. Nonetheless he thrust and drew blood from the horse as it passed him. A superficial wound, of no advantage to Blade, yet it cheered him.
Hectoris did not come again at the moment. He inspected his lance point and went to the rack for a new lance. His manner was that of a man who has all the time in the world. Blade glanced beyond the ruins of the tent to where Juna stood between Nob and the Samostan soldier. She was shielding her eyes against wind and sand, staring down the beaches.
Hectoris couched his new lance and swung the mace a few times over his head. Blade gave attention to his own shield. Time to bring out his trick.
A hole had been bored near the boss of the shield and another near the rim. A groove had been cut so that the thin chain would lie flat and, covered with a heavy coat of varnish, unseen. It was taut nova! and seemed a part of the shield. Blade loosed it on the inside, near the hand grip, and tugged it out of the groove and it fell into a loop. A loop of chain that might catch and hold a lance head.
Blade moved closer to the sea. Hectoris — could not charge him down the slant of the beach, lest his mount run into the sea and founder in the harsh waves, so he moved again to the side. Blade shifted to face him. The war horse began to gain speed, mane waving, teeth and red mouth showing in froth, screaming in shrill rage as it had been schooled. The wind caught the sound and flung it over the beaches like a demon's cry.
Blade braced for the shock. If he could catch the lance point in his chain loop and wrest it from the grip of Hea-
toris he would have another weapon. That was well within. the bargain, for he had kept his word and started combat with only sword and shield. And did Hectoris, surprised and unready, cling long enough to the lance he might be unhorsed. In the end it must come to that if Blade was to win. Closer now. Closer. .
The computer struck. A maniac raved in Blade's head and he lowered his shield and screamed in pain, for the moment driven mad by the bludgeoning hurt. Of all times-in all this time-not so much as a twinge to hint that he was sought by Lord L-and novf- now-in the red fog he fell to his knees and twisted away as best he could. Cursing and bitter. The computer sought him too early and too late. It would not take him this first time, it never did, but yet it would be the death of him. He was blind with pain, contorted with it, made helpless by it.
Hectoris, mayhap unnerved by Blade's scream and sudden crumble and fall, was off the target by inches. His lance point shifted.at the last possible second and tore the leather and steel from Blade's shoulder and barely scratched the flesh. Blade's armor ripped away at the join and the lance bore away the sleeve as trophy. Heetoris cursed mightily and reined the mount about. Now to finish it.
The pain vanished. Blade staggered to his feet. He had lost his sword and there was no time to search for it. He had time only to adjust the chain loop and throw his shield high as the Samostan came at him once again.
He stood his ground and offered a fair target for the lance. The dark eyes of Hectoris spoke death as he bent low and forward to make the final thrust. His men in their thousands were watching from the ships and it was time for an end. And, give him his due, Hectoris was not a man to bait and taunt a brave foe.
The lance thudded home. The sharp point engaged the chain loop. Blade felt his arm being torn from his body, but now all his great strength counted and he fell to his knees and twisted the shield and chain. The point slid away and the shaft, caught by the chain, turned in the grasp of Hectoris and exerted a great leverage. Hectoris did not loose it in time. He was pulled from the saddle and fell heavily a dozen paces beyond Blade.
Blade ran at him with the lance. Too late. Hectoris rolled and was up. Blade gambled and hurled the lance with all his might and the Samostan fended it away with his shield. Blade halted and began to retreat, glancing about for his sword. There, gleaming in the sand near the water. He moved toward it.
Hectoris was there, between Blade and the sword, mocking. He swung his mace and the spiked ball slammed on Blade's shield. Again and again, high and low, the mace thudding and thundering and bending the shield as Blade was forced back and back- and always away from the sword.