“I’m going to enjoy this!” Tiger said wickedly.
“You’re going to enjoy your own death?” Blade rejoined.
Tiger was within two feet of the Warrior when he went into action. He suddenly spun, his right leg flicking up and out, his instep catching Blade’s left wrist and jarring the arm aside. As the Warrior’s arm was deflected, Tiger stabbed inward with his right dagger.
Blade threw himself backwards to evade the stroke, his left foot slipping out from under him. He tottered on the beam, his arms waving, trying desperately to regain his footing.
Tiger pressed his advantage, closing, slashing at the Warrior with his left dagger.
Blade felt the dagger bite through his right thigh. He swayed to the right, about to go over.
Tiger speared both daggers toward the Warrior’s chest.
Blade did the unexpected. He deliberately dropped from the beam, releasing his Bowies, and twisted his body toward the beam as he fell. His hands closed on the narrow rail, clamping with all of his prodigious power, and he wrenched himself upward, tucking his body against the underside of the rail. His legs swept up and around, his left leg wrapping over the beam, his right driving into the Shark leader’s midriff.
Tiger almost went over. He stumbled backwards and dropped to his left knee, clutching at the rail with his fingers.
Blade scrambled on top of the beam, his arm muscles bulging. He managed to perch his body on the rail, but with one problem.
He was facing away from Tiger!
Blade glanced over his right shoulder. The Shark leader had recovered and was slowly rising.
“You really are clever,” Tiger muttered.
Blade crawled a few feet from the Shark, then gingerly stood. He turned on the rail, knowing he was dead if he kept his back to his foe.
Tiger was advancing with his daggers at the ready.
Blade tentatively retreated, wishing he hadn’t let go of his Bowies.
“I must admit,” Tiger said, “you’ve put up a better fight than I expected.”
Blade didn’t respond, focusing his energy on backing to his end of the beam.
“In honor of your prowess, I’ll have your body buried instead of fed to the animals,” Tiger offered.
Blade looked over his left shoulder. The end of the beam was six feet off.
Time for his big move.
Blade halted.
Tiger also stopped, eyeing the Warrior suspiciously. “What are you up to now?”
“Nothing,” Blade lied.
“Why don’t you jump and make this easy on yourself?” Tiger asked.
“Why don’t you shove those daggers up your ass?” Blade countered.
Provoked by the affront, Tiger came on.
Blade estimated the Shark leader was five feet from him. He stared at the beam between them, his arms and shoulders tensing. He would have one chance, and one chance only. Tiger would be unlikely to fall for the same strategy twice. His mind flashed back to his teen years, to the rigorous exercise regimen he had adopted to develop his physique. Part of his regimen had involved calisthenics and basic gynmastics; he had improvised a makeshift set of rings and parallel bars, using photographs in a sports book in the Family library as his guide. Additionally, one of his favorite exercises had been a modified handstand. He would push himself into a vertical position on his hands, then do push-ups while in the handstand posture. So perhaps he could utilize his skill at standing on his hands to his advantage.
The gambit was worth a try.
What did he have to lose?
Other than his life?
Tiger was smirking, savoring his impending triumph.
Blade made his move. He bent over sideways, his left side toward Tiger, and gripped the rail with both sturdy hands. His forearms swelled as he applied his entire weight to his arms, and in the next instant he was doing a handstand on the balance beam.
Tiger checked his advance, his features registering his consternation.
“What the…!”
Blade’s confidence was growing with each passing second. He found, as he had hoped, that it was much easier to balance on the beam on his hands than it had been on his feet. His hands took up less space and could grasp the rail tightly, whereas his feet were hampered by the limited gripping ability of his toes. On a flat surface he could walk on his hands for an indeterminate distance; he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t do the same thing on the balance beam.
“Have you flipped?” Tiger queried, snickering.
Blade twisted his head so he could stare up at the Shark leader. “I haven’t got all day!” he said derisively.
Tiger stepped toward the Warrior, his daggers outstretched to maximize his range. He was three feet from his adversary, eager to draw blood, when the tide of battle turned.
Upright on his massive arms, watching Tiger’s every move, Blade abruptly whipped his right leg down.
Tiger retreated a stride to avoid the leg. His forehead furrowed. He looked at the Warrior for a moment, then tried to get within striking distance.
Blade swept his leg down a second time, forcing Tiger to stop in his tracks.
Tiger was frustrated and stymied. Blade’s legs were longer than his arms. He wouldn’t be able to get close to the giant without risking a blow from one of the legs. And although he might score a hit with his daggers, just a glancing blow from those legs would be enough to topple him from the rail and onto the spikes. For the first time, a hint of self-doubt crept over his face.
Blade detected the transformation. He began to slide his hands toward the Shark, one after the other, his body upright, prepared to swing his legs at any hint of an attack.
Perplexed and thwarted, Tiger retreated toward the far end of the balance beam. He considered dropping the daggers and adopting a handstand himself, but he hadn’t practiced a handstand in years. None of his previous opponents had ever employed such a strategy.
Inexorably, Blade herded the Shark leader toward the far end of the beam.
“My compliments,” Tiger spoke up. “This is most unorthodox.”
Blade continued to slide toward the Shark leader.
“It seems I have underestimated you terribly,” Tiger said. “I won’t make this mistake again.”
Hand after hand, Blade drove the Shark toward his doom.
Tiger frowned as he backed up another step. This was getting him nowhere! He needed to do something, and to do it now! His own words rang in his mind: “You are permitted to do whatever is necessary to get past your opponent.”
Whatever was necessary.
Eight feet separated Tiger from the end of the beam.
Blade’s face was red, his veins protruding, his arm muscles rippling like living steel.
Tiger abruptly realized the chamber was hushed. Every eye was on him.
His followers sensed his demise was imminent.
He had to prove them wrong!
He had to show them who was the master!
Tiger grinned as he suddenly raised his daggers, reversing his grip on them, rotating them in his palms so he could grip the tips, so he could throw them.
Blade saw Tiger’s hands come up, saw the daggers beginning to swivel in Tiger’s palms, and he knew what Tiger was doing. The Shark leader was planning to hurl the daggers into his body!
No way!
Blade arched his superbly conditioned frame downward, sweeping his feet onto the balance beam and releasing his hands in one smooth flow. He came erect, taking a stride toward Tiger, closing his left hand into a compact fist and sending his fist into Tiger’s startled face with a speed belying his huge size.
Tiger was caught off guard. He saw Blade execute the flip, and he was crouching to defend himself when the Warrior’s calloused knuckles slammed into his nose, crushing the cartilage, flattening his nostrils. He reeled, dazed, striving to bring his daggers into play.