Their discipline was superb.
“Just think,” Teucer remarked. “One machine gun would turn the tide.”
“The man who used one would be ostracized if he lived,” Rikki noted.
“Not one of them would violate their code of honor.” He paused. “In a way, their code of honor is a lot like ours, only stricter. Perhaps even better.”
“If you like them so much, maybe you should become a Spartan,” Teucer joked.
“No thanks.”
“Why not? I thought you were big on codes of honor.”
“I am,” Rikki admitted. “On bushido. But the real reason I won’t become a Spartan is because I’d have to give up my katana.” He looked at the bowman. “And the only way anyone will take my sword from me will be to pry it from my cold, stiff fingers.”
Teucer frowned. “You’re becoming morbid in your young age, my friend.”
Blade listened to their conversation with only half an ear. He was absorbed in the battle, noting the ebb and flow, amazed at the swordsmanship displayed on both sides. A crick developed in his neck, and to relieve it he places his hand on the nape, squeezed, and turned his head to the right His gaze happened to sweep the field in the general direction of the barracks, and he was puzzled to observe ten Spartans approaching the building from the southeast. “Where did they come from?” he wondered aloud.
Rikki and Teucer both looked.
“They must be Dercyllidas’s men,” the bowman commented.
The ten were running toward the barracks with their swords drawn, their cloaks billowing behind them. They did not have shields.
“If they’re Dercyllidas’s men, why are they heading for the barracks instead of the battle?” Rikki questioned.
“Who knows?” Teucer responded. “Maybe they’re going to protect Dercyllidas.”
“What if they’re not?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Could they be some of Agesilaus’s soldiers?”
Blade had been thinking the same thing himself. He wouldn’t put it past the madman to try and finish the job. If Dercyllidas was assassinated, Agesilaus would win. And what better time to send in an assassination squad man while most of the bodyguard contingent was embroiled in the battle? It would have been easy to send a squad around the long way and have them sneak into the barracks at the proper moment. Acting on a hunch, he started the SEAL and performed a tight U-turn.
“Where are we going?” Teucer asked.
“Three guesses,” Blade replied, watching the squad. They were almost to the building. He raced to the south, driving onto the field and angling straight toward them. If he was wrong, no harm done. But if he was right, he must save King Dercyllidas at all costs.
Four soldiers suddenly emerged from the barracks. Without hesitation, as if they’d seen the squad approach through the windows, they drew their swords and formed a line facing the newcomers, blocking the entrance.
Blade had the answer he needed. He pushed the speedometer over 50.
The squad never slowed. At a word from one of the soldiers in the lead, they fanned out and bore down on the quartet. In moments they engaged, and although the four men fought bravely and downed two of the squad, the fight was hopelessly one-sided. All four defenders perished.
“We’re too far away,” Rikki said anxiously.
The SEAL was 40 feet from the building. Barring a miracle, Blade couldn’t prevent the squad from entering, and slaying Dercyllidas. He needed a distraction, and he did the first thing that came into his mind.
His right palm pressed on the horn. At the unexpected blaring to their rear, the eight Spartans spun. The leader barked orders, and four of the men ran toward the van while the rest went into the barracks.
Blade brought the van to a slewing stop. “Stay with the SEAL,” he instructed Teucer, then vaulted to the grass, drawing his Bowies as he landed. He ran to meet the four assassins.
Out on the road the battle attained a furious metallic crescendo, the dust becoming thicker by the moment.
The four members of the squad halted, hefting their weapons, and regarded the giant coldly.
“This doesn’t concern you, stranger!” one of them barked. “Leave immediately.”
Slowing, Blade studied each of them, then focused on the speaker. “I’m going inside.”
“Care to bet?”
Before Blade could reply, a black-clad whirlwind hurtled past him.
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi’s katana was a blur as he tore into the Spartan on the right, and his graceful movements belied his lethal intent. The Spartan executed a single thrust, then staggered when his neck was nearly severed, blood pumping from his throat. Rikki slipped around his foe while the man was still swaying and dashed inside.
“Get him!” cried one of the soldiers.
Blade leaped forward to prevent them from chasing Rikki, forcing them to deal with him first, his Bowies flashing. He took on the soldier in the middle, wielding his knives ambidextrously, his initial swings deftly blocked.
The remaining pair came to the aid of their comrade.
Three against one were uncomfortable odds. Blade opted to reduce them immediately by faking an overhand swing with his right arm, then following through with an underhand left thrust when the Spartan lifted his sword in a reflex action. The thrust took the soldier in the chest and the man stiffened and let go of his short sword. Blade yanked the Bowie free and moved to the right, his back to the transport, both knives extended.
Only steps away, the last two abruptly halted, wary now. Each glanced at his fallen buddies and gripped his sword a bit tighter.
“There’s no need for this,” Blade told them. “Surrender your weapons and you can live.”
“A Spartan never surrenders,” responded the thinner of the pair, and they both pounced.
Blade backpedaled to gain a few precious seconds.
From behind him there was a familiar swishing noise, and an arrow struck the thin Spartan in the right eye, jerking the trooper’s head around.
He dropped where he stood.
The last soldier was game to the last. He leaped at the giant and swung his sword furiously, seeking to batter the big knives aside and revenge his companions.
Hard-pressed to parry the flurry, Blade resorted to an ingenious ploy.
At the very instant the Spartan’s sword hit his left Bowie, he deliberately released the knife. For a fraction of a second, as the Bowie arced to the grass, the soldier’s eyes were on the knife, and at the moment of distraction Blade dropped to his right knee and sank his other knife into the Spartan’s stomach.
Unwilling to admit defeat even with a Bowie sticking in him, the soldier delivered a swipe at the giant’s head.
Blade caught the man’s wrist in his left hand, pulled the Bowie out and reversed his grip, then smashed the hilt into the Spartan’s jaw.
Four up, four down.
And now to check on Rikki. Blade took several strides, when a sharp shout drew him up short.
“Blade! Look!”
Whirling, Blade saw Teucer standing next to the SEAL and pointing toward the road. He glanced at the site of the battle and couldn’t believe his eyes.
King Agesilaus’s men were winning!
General Leonidas’s phalanx had buckled in the center and their foes had breached the outer ranks, forcing a wedge deep into the heart of the formation. Dercyllidas’s bodyguards were resisting gallantly, but the break in their lines created gaps in their defensive wall of shields, gaps the enemy poured into, causing even more casualties in the process.