“I’ll choose that crossbow we made for him, thank you.”
More translation and discussion. “The Father say crossbow not traditional.” The old woman gestured. “You take one.”
“That’s unfair. I refuse.”
When this was translated it caused an ugly stir in the crowd. To Gideon it seemed sentiment was already swinging against Garza.
“The Father say fight. Or die.”
Garza stared at her in disbelief. Instinctively, Gideon stepped forward to intervene, but Imogen restrained him. “Don’t,” she murmured. “Or you’ll be the next one in that ring.”
“But he’s going to get killed!”
“You know these people. There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Christ, that’s cold. After he saved the chief’s daughter?”
“We have no choice but to let it play out.”
Gideon watched as Garza picked up a spear, hefted it. It was a sad-looking thing, with a wooden shaft and spearpoint and tail of hammered bronze. After a brief examination of the weapon, Garza shrugged and nodded, and the warriors carried the pallet of weapons off the field.
Watching, Gideon had to admire Garza’s pluck. For all his complaining, when push came to shove he was still the bravest man Gideon had ever met.
Now two additional warriors—evidently referees of some sort—took both contestants by the shoulders and walked them to opposite sides of the dirt arena. A roar rose from the waiting crowd.
“I can’t watch this,” said Gideon.
The referees walked to the edge of the fighting ground and planted their spears. The chief gave a shout that was evidently the signal to begin.
Blackbeard immediately came forward, sword extended laterally. Garza, tense, circled him, holding the spear defensively before him.
Mugdol casually walked closer while Garza backed up, then took a desultory swing that Garza parried. He took another swing, insolently slow, and Garza jumped back. There was a hiss of disapproval from the crowd.
At least he’s quick, thought Gideon, heart in his throat.
Now Mugdol lunged with the sword, and Garza scrambled backward, this time just missing being gutted and almost losing his balance. This was more to the crowd’s liking. Garza danced backward as Mugdol continued to stride forward, sword now low and to the side, and then he swung again at high speed, the weapon hissing through the air. Garza tried to parry, but the sword made contact with the bronze end of the spear and knocked it to one side. Before Garza could fully recover, Mugdol came lunging in again and his sword, slashing the air, nicked Garza’s right forearm, raising a small mist of red.
Another roar came up from the crowd at this first sight of blood.
Garza skipped out of range and cocked the spear, bringing it above his shoulder. At this, Mugdol tensed and began moving more cautiously, sword held out in both hands.
They circled each other and then, with sudden force, Garza launched his spear.
Blackbeard’s sword flashed down and, with a great cracking sound, swatted the spear away. It flew off into the dirt, cut in half through its wooden shank.
Another great roar from the crowd.
Now Garza scrambled backward, looking left and right as if for a route of escape. The crowd was in a fever of excitement. He retreated behind a small boulder, then picked up one of the smaller rocks that were scattered around. Blood was streaming from the nick on his left arm.
Mugdol strode confidently forward, a relaxed look again on his face. He was in no hurry, evidently planning to enjoy the kill. Gideon wanted to turn away but somehow was unable to force himself.
Garza threw the rock hard, but Blackbeard dodged it. This was followed by another, also dodged. There were jeers and catcalls from the crowd.
Now, picking up a smooth round stone, Garza retreated farther, to the edge of the fighting ground, where their robes and headcloths lay draped on a boulder. Garza snatched up his headcloth and shook it out into a long strip of fabric as he continued to retreat, while Mugdol came at him at a slow walk, relishing the sport. Fumbling with the headcloth, Garza folded it around the rock, then swung it up, stone cradled in the middle, gave it a whirl—and then released one end, letting the rock fly.
It went wild, missing Mugdol by at least twenty feet—but it moved fast, much faster than if Garza had thrown it. Mugdol paused, gave a mocking grin, and marched on.
Still retreating in a circular motion around the edge of the arena, Garza picked up some more smooth stones, holstered one in the cloth, whipped it around in an underhand motion, and launched it. This time, his aim was better and the rock whizzed past Blackbeard, missing him by inches.
The crowd loved it. They began to cheer, a sort of high keening sound, and Gideon had the impression they were growing beguiled by Garza and his spunk.
At least, that’s how Mugdol took it. He scowled and, instead of continuing his leisurely chase, gave a roar of displeasure and charged, sword raised—just as Garza whirled the improvised sling again and released another stone.
Mugdol’s charge was precisely the wrong strategy. Almost on top of Garza, he was so close that aim was no longer a factor and, with a sickening sound, the rock violently impacted his skull directly between the eyes. The huge figure stopped, swayed, then fell to the ground with a shuddering thump, sword flying. The high keening increased to a wail, led by Lillaya.
Garza leapt forward and seized the sword. A roar went up as he walked over to the unconscious body of his opponent. Planting his feet on either side of Mugdol’s chest, Garza raised the sword in both hands and turned it point down, preparing to plunge it into his opponent’s heart.
A hush suddenly fell over the crowd.
And then Garza hesitated.
The hush grew tense as the hesitation lengthened. Finally, Garza lowered the sword. “I can’t kill a man who’s down,” he said simply.
Lillaya translated this and the hush turned to a dead silence—a silence, it seemed to Gideon, of disapproval. Garza then held up the sword and turned to the crone. “Tell everyone I’m keeping this. It’s mine now and no one—no one—is to touch it.”
When these words were translated, it was as if a dam broke. This, finally, was the right move. The crowd cheered, screamed, and stamped their feet, while Mugdol lay on the ground, moaning and thrashing feebly as consciousness returned. He struggled on the dirt, eyes rolling in his head, blood streaming from a deep gash between his eyes.
The crowd rushed into the fighting ground like fans after a game, reaching out noisily to touch Garza almost as if he were some kind of deity. His arm was now coated in blood from the sword wound. The gashes from the leopard were still healing, and he looked as if he might collapse at any moment.
“Get me out of here,” he murmured as Gideon pushed his way up to him.
With a shout, Gideon raised his arm and, supporting Garza with the other, led his friend through the parting crowd, the sword of triumph held tightly in Garza’s bloody fist.
33
GIDEON WOKE TO the heat of midday, still weary from Garza’s wedding ceremony the previous night. He lay on his goatskin pallet, mind wandering back to the quaint and at times odd rituals that had made up the extended ceremony. Most of it was incomprehensible, conducted in a language he could still scarcely understand, but impressive nevertheless. The chief, looking more frail than usual, had been content to sit back and let the elders orchestrate most of the formalities. Garza had looked nervous and uncomfortable throughout, but went along gamely and managed to muddle through the various rituals. Following the combat with Mugdol five days before, he now seemed more resigned than anything else. At last the bride arrived, riding a camel and draped in long, shimmering robes, coming into a circle of light cast by the large bonfire, with the crowd chanting and a group of musicians playing stringed instruments that, though simple, nevertheless made a haunting, almost human sound that echoed off the cliffs. She had looked beautiful, her brown eyes rimmed with kohl, heavy mahogany hair braided with gold ribbons. Clearly aware of the gravity of the moment, she bore a self-assured air that was both regal and dignified, and looked every inch the princess she was. Upon seeing her, poor Garza had just about collapsed in discomfiture and amazement. That, Gideon thought, had been a truly spectacular moment.