Guardians Of The Coral Throne

Chapter 12

Blade knew that he would still need all his skill to put a scratch on any of the Three. There would be quite a fight before all three of them were stretched out dead on the sand.

So let the fight begin, Blade said to himself. He strode forward out of his circle, toward the Three. He met Tera's eyes briefly as he passed the stake. She seemed half-numb with exhaustion and terror, but he thought a smile flickered briefly on her lips. If she said anything, it was drowned out at once by the shouts of the Three as they rushed forward.

They doubtless hoped to frighten Blade. He decided to make them think they had succeeded, and further increase their overconfidence. He backed away as they came at him, looking in mock terror from one to another. Blade was agile enough to back away almost as fast as he could move forward. The Three came on, shouting war-cries and also obscene references to what they would do to Tera.

One thing had killed most of those who fought the Three before. While an opponent was attacking one, the other two could close in on him. Then the man could either die then and there or break off that attack and die later. Blade had seen both happen.

As the Three approached, Blade suddenly swung to the right and leaped as high and as far as he could. His trained muscles sent him a good fifteen feet. He landed beside the man carrying the two-handed axe. The man started to raise the axe, then realized that he would leave himself wide open if he did: He held the six-foot handle across his body like a quarterstaff as Blade came at him.

Blade's broadsword crashed into the axe head with a shower of sparks. His short sword drove through the man's defense and tore into his right shoulder.

Now the other two men were swinging around to move in on Blade. He quickly backed away. As he did the axeman raised his weapon and let loose with a full swing. Blade leaped aside as the steel head whistled down and half buried itself in the sand. Then he closed, his short sword stabbing at the man's throat and his broadsword slashing down at one arm. He could not quite reach the man's throat without closing too much, but his broadsword bit deep into an arm. The axeman let out a howl of agony and waved an arm that gushed blood and now ended in limp and useless fingers. Blade sprang backward at full speed as the swordsman and the trident man dashed at him. He barely escaped being impaled on the trident. His broadsword whistled in an arc that forced the swordsman to raise his shield and stay at a distance. Then Blade was backing off to a moment's safety.

All around the Arena the crowd was howling in surprise and delight at seeing bloody wounds on one of the terrible Three. It had been months since this happened. By all the gods, this Blade was going to give them a spectacle that no one here would ever forget as long as he lived!

Blade grinned wolfishly at the Three. That was why he had taken a real risk to give one of them a serious wound. It wasn't just a matter of weakening one opponent. It was getting the crowd on his side, as far as the bloodthirsty mob of Karanopolis could ever be on any side but their own. This was worth a fortune to him for what it could do to the courage of the Three when they heard the crowd clamoring for their blood. It had been months since they heard cheers for anyone but themselves.

If any of the Three had to leave the Arena, it would count against them. So the wounded axeman bound up his bleeding arm and shoulder and stayed on his feet. By bracing his axe across his wounded arm and swinging it with his good one he might even be able to fight. But he would be weakened by loss of blood, slowed by the pain, and no longer even half as dangerous as he had been. Blade now focused his attention on the man with the sword and shield.

This man was the largest of the Three. As far as they had a leader, he was it. He was also the fastest on his feet, and probably all-around the most dangerous. Blade knew he would have to mix caution with speed against this man.

He moved straight in against the swordsman. The man stood shoulder to shoulder with the trident man. The wounded axeman stood behind the others, where he would not have to face Blade's first rush.

As Blade closed, the trident man swung out with his net. The weighted mesh sailed at Blade, to entangle his head or arm, slow him, destroy his balance. Blade ducked under the net, pivoted, and did a quick exchange of swords between hands as he did so. Now his broadsword flashed in his left hand and his short sword thrust forward in his right.

Cheers rose from the crowd again at this performance. The cheers were even louder when Blade thrust with the shortsword, nicking the swordsman beside the knee. There was hardly any place where a light wound would slow a man more.

Simultaneously Blade's broadsword whistled toward the trident man. It moved so fast that he didn't have a chance to throw the net again. He didn't have a chance to do anything except jump back, stabbing wildly downward with the trident. It struck only sand, as Blade sprang clear.

Once again Blade drew back to a safe distance and listened to the howls of the crowd. He had them on his side now, for putting on such a show and wounding two of the formidable Three. Tera's face was almost glowing now with sudden hope. Certainly he had made a good start. The axeman was half-crippled, the swordsman slowed, the trident man shaken by the discovery of just how formidable Blade was.

Now it was time to make a good ending, finishing off the Three so that the crowd would be with him in everything else that he wanted to do this day. Blade had plans beyond the end of the fighting. To carry them out he needed to have the crowd absolutely in his pocket.

So it was time for the Three to not just die, but die memorably and spectacularly!

Blade launched another attack aimed at the swordsman, and watched carefully the positions the Three took up. Good. The axeman was moving up too close behind the swordsman. The wounded man wanted vengeance and wanted to show the crowd that he hadn't lost his nerve. He was getting worried about the cheers for Blade, and getting overeager.

He had certainly chosen the wrong time and place for that.

Blade came in again and feinted with his broadsword to draw the trident man out of position. Now he had to use all his speed and get his timing exactly right. As the swordsman moved forward, Blade leaped high, both feet smashing into the top of the swordsman's big shield. Blade's impact knocked the swordsman over backward. As he fell he knocked the axeman down. The man flung out his good arm to break his fall, but only succeeded in dropping his axe. He sprawled on his back on the sand, the swordsman pinning down his legs.

Before either of the fallen men could move, Blade leaped again and landed just behind the axeman's head. He whirled and his broadsword slashed down, biting into the man's neck. Blood splashed onto Blade's legs and all over the swordsman. The axeman's head rolled free on the sand, and the crowd howled and shrieked like madmen.

The trident man could have attacked then, while Blade's attention was directed downward. He might even have succeeded. But the sight of the head rolling on the bloody sand seemed to paralyze him. He stood rooted in place, his net trailing, his trident over his shoulder, and his mouth sagging open.

He continued to stand while Blade stepped over the corpse of the axeman and attacked the fallen swordsman.

He smashed the flat of his broadsword down on the wrist of the man's sword-arm. He saw the man's fingers open limply and let his sword fall. Blade reached down and jerked the man's shield aside as easily as if he had been pulling up a weed in a garden. Then he struck downward with all his strength and weight behind his short sword, driving it between the joints of the swordsman's armor. The man gasped, twisted like a worm on a hook, sprayed blood from his mouth and nose, kicked briefly, and lay still.

As Blade stood up, the thunder of the crowd swelling around him, the trident man got up the courage to attack. But he came in slowly and thrust clumsily with his trident, forgetting his net completely. Blade raised his broadsword and thrust it between the tines of the trident, then twisted hard with all his strength. The trident flew out of the man's hand. Blade dropped his short sword and snatched the trident before it could even hit the ground. The disarmed trident man froze again for a split second, then turned and ran. The crowd went mad.

The trident man did not get very far. Blade hefted the trident, tested its balance, then threw it, aiming low. It took the fleeing man in the backs of his unarmored legs. He went down with a yell, dropping the net. Blade dashed up to his victim, landed with both knees on the small of his back, and picked up the net. Carefully he looped it around the man's neck, then started pulling it tight. The man's pleas for mercy became choked whimperings, then the whimperings died and his face began to turn blue. Blade pulled the net tighter, then jerked up and back as hard as he could. The man's neck gave with a sharp crack and he went limp and lifeless.

Blade stood up slowly, dropping the net to the sand. Then he turned and walked back to where he had dropped his short sword. Every step of the way the impossible noise of the crowd pounded at his ears. A quarter of a million people were pouring out every bit of breath in their lungs to cheer the man who had slain the terrible Three of Iscaros as if they were so many half-trained beginners. Blade had given them blood and given them memories to take home and live with for the rest of their lives. They were almost ready to worship him.

Although the cheering made his head ache, Blade ignored it. He bent down and picked up his short sword, then waved both swords over his head. The sun was coming out from behind the clouds now, and the light struck dazzling glints from the swords. People in the stands began to throw scarves, wine cups, pieces of jewelry onto the sand.

Blade sheathed his broadsword and headed toward the stake where Tera stood. The crowd roar began to die as people waited to see the climax of the Game of Rescue. Blade's dry lips curled in a savage grin. Those bastards up there were going to get a surprise in another minute, all quarter-million of them! They were just going to have to get their entertainment some other way than by seeing him with Tera.

By the time Blade reached Tera the crowd was almost quiet. Blade was reaching out with his short sword to slash the ropes binding Tera to the stake, when he got a better idea. He sheathed the sword, stepped up to the stake, and took a firm grip on it with both arms. Then slowly, steadily, teeth clamped hard together and forehead wrinkling with the strain, he pulled. Inch by inch the heavy wooden stake slipped up out of the sand, up out of the circle of Tera's arms, until suddenly it came free with a rush. Tera collapsed on the sand. Blade raised the stake high over his head, then threw it like a spear as hard as he could. It flew a hundred feet, then sank point-first into the sand and stood there quivering.

Before the cheering died away Blade stepped up to Tera and picked her up in his arms. Her trembling hands gripped his shoulders, and her eyes closed briefly. She was close to fainting with strain, exhaustion, and relief. Blade took a firm grip on her and began walking across the sand, heading toward the Emperor's canopy.

Silence settled down over the Arena again, broken by an undercurrent of confused muttering as people realized what Blade was doing-or rather, not doing. That was fine with Blade. Let them stay confused for a few minutes more, until he reached the Emperor.

It seemed more like a few hours, walking slowly across the sand with Tera a limp weight in his arms. But eventually Blade found himself standing before the Emperor's section, looking up at the massed potentates of the Empire of Karan. Pardes was there now, and as Blade watched, Iscaros came scurrying down from his own section. The count's face was pale and drawn, the big eunuch's totally expressionless. The Guardians of the Coral Throne were as immobile as so many statues in a temple to the gods of war. But Blade knew that a single word from their commanding officer would put a hundred arrows into him and Tera. He could be facing more danger now than he had against the Three, with less chance of fighting back.

Blade took a deep breath and raised his voice.

«Your Majesty!»

A startled rumble of voices came from the notables. Heads turned toward Jores VII. It was his move now. By law no free subject of the Coral Throne might address the Emperor without being spoken to first. But a slave stood outside the law. Blade could be shot down like a rabbit-or listened to with respectful attention. It was up to the Emperor. The only one of the notables not looking at the Emperor now was Pardes.

Seen close up, Jores VII did not impress Blade. He was no more than nineteen or twenty, with a thin, intense, pimply face framed by unkempt dark hair. The purple robes and glittering regalia of Karan seemed like a costume on his lanky body, and he fidgeted and twisted in his seat. This was not a man Blade would have trusted with his life or the life of anyone close to him, if there were any choice.

The Emperor jerked his head in what was no doubt supposed to be a gracious nod; and raised a hand. That also was no doubt supposed to be a gracious gesture. To Blade it looked more like someone hailing a taxi. But the notables now shifted their eyes to Blade. The Emperor was going to let him speak.

Blade's words came out smoothly. «Your Majesty. This woman, Tera, was to be my wife among the Scadori. I would ask of you permission not to take her here upon the sands before all Karanopolis. Rather, I would take her as my wife, as it would have been, for I have found her pleasing. If this cannot be, then I must ask that I be allowed to slay her, for-«(he almost said «-for she has suffered enough in Karan») «-for I would not see her shamed.» Then he bowed his head as humbly as he could manage, wondering what he would do if Jores VII said, «Very well, you have my permission to slay her honorably.»

Instead, the Emperor's high-pitched voice rose. «Stand, Blade.»

Blade stood, not quite looking at the Emperor but aware that the man was looking intently at him.

«Blade, you have this day fought as I would not have believed it possible to fight. You are a mighty warrior. Such as you should not be exposed to death in the Arena.

«Therefore it is Our Imperial Will that you be at once set free, and enrolled in the ranks of the Guardians of the Coral Throne. You shall have of Us money to purchase all that you may need, and also Our command to make of this woman Tera your wife according to the Laws of Karan. So We have spoken, so shall it be.» The Emperor sat down.

Cheering rose again from the stands of the Arena, as word of the Emperor's command ran through the crowd. Blade let out a long sigh of relief. His grand gesture had drawn the response he had hoped for. Now the crowd was cheering it wildly. He had not spoiled the popularity he'd earned by his victory over the Three. He had added to it, in fact. In the process he had saved Tera from whatever fate Iscaros might have inflicted on her in his rage over the defeat of the Three.

Finally, he had thrown down to both Iscaros and Pardes the warning that he was a piece with a mind of his own. The count was sagging into a chair, too stunned to even stand, his face working and twisting. Pardes showed no more expression than ever. But the dark eyes in the heavy face were fixed on Blade's like a hungry snake's on a bird.