The crowd gasped out loud.
Meilo flung his weapon behind him and caught the thrust of Mumr’s sword on the flat of the blade.
Without pausing for a moment, Meilo completed his turn; his sword flew out from behind his back and started to descend, threatening to chop off his opponent’s hands. Lamplighter deftly covered himself by thrusting the point of his blade at the other man’s face, countered the blow, and immediately pushed his sword farther forward. My eyes were not fast enough to follow what was happening in the arena. The huge swords flashed to and fro like demented moths, whistling through the air and colliding with a loud crash, parting and then clashing again. At times all the opponents’ movements fused into a single blur, and I could only tell that they were both still alive a few seconds later, when an attack from one of the swordsmen ran into a block.
“Phew-ew-ew!”
“Aaah! Ooh! Oh!” the crowd sang in response to every stroke and every thrust.
Meilo began spinning like a top again and swung hard, putting his very soul into the blow. Mumr jumped back and dropped the hilt of his sword down low, so that the blade rose up vertically, and Meilo’s blow ran into a wall of steel.
The swords wove cobwebs in the air, spinning round in a glittering blizzard of steel, striking against each other, soaring upward and threatening to wound the very sky and then descending, dreaming of slicing through the earth. The two warriors were not fighting, they were dancing, dicing with death, and their own lives were the stakes. Meilo’s sword leapt high in the air, as if it were alive; Lamplighter dashed into the breach that opened up and tried to strike home.
But he could not …
Balistan Pargaid had certainly not wasted his money on this servant. Meilo stepped back quickly, while continuing the movement of his sword, and now Mumr’s bidenhander went flying upward, allowing his opponent to strike.
Lamplighter squatted down and caught the blow almost on the crosspiece of his sword. Then he straightened up sharply and thrust his hilt hard forward. Meilo’s sword very nearly struck its master in the face, the attack was so unexpected. To avoid the deflected stroke, the villain recoiled and started backing away as Mumr came at him.
Only a few minutes had passed since the beginning of the duel, but the faces of the two warriors were already gleaming with sweat.
Balistan’s dog had been seriously startled by the sudden assault and now that Lamplighter had almost sent him to join his fathers, he was watching him with more caution and respect, noting every movement, no matter how small.
“It’s time to kill him,” Hallas growled. “You can’t wave those wagon shafts around for very long.”
The gnome was right. The immensely heavy swords might be flying around like feathers now, but fatigue would come sooner or later, and then the one who was more tired would lose.
With a pitiful groan, the swords came together in a fleeting kiss and immediately leapt apart again.
And then there were more lacy cobwebs woven in the air, creating a beautiful, glittering pattern that had to end in death.
Meilo jumped at Mumr, grunting as he struck blow after blow, pressing him back.
“Ha-a-a!”
“Ha-a-a!”
“Ha-a-a!”
Meilo’s final blow was especially powerful. Lamplighter’s sword flew upward, opening up a breach, and his enemy instantly struck at his unprotected head. Mumr pushed his sword forward, and the two blades froze in the air, with each opponent pressing against the other’s sword, trying to force it back into his face.
For a few moments there was silence in the arena.
Meilo became too involved with pressing and Lamplighter ducked smartly under his sword and pushed his opponent away from him. Tumbling forward, Meilo began spinning round faster than a goblin shaman after a breakfast of magic mushrooms, turning into a blur too fast for the eye to follow. A streak of lightning, a shrill whistle in the air …
Lamplighter guessed what was coming and jumped up in the air.
“Oh, mother!” said the jester, covering his eyes with his hands and watching the fight through the gaps between his fingers. “Tell me that he’s still alive!”
“He’s alive!” said Hallas, who was clutching his battle-mattock with white knuckles.
The gnome was right. Mumr was still standing, although there was an expression of furious annoyance on his face. He had almost been caught out.
“The score’s not looking good for us,” Honeycomb rumbled. “It’s time for Mumr to stop playing with him.”
Meilo straightened his arms suddenly and stabbed at Mumr’s neck. And then again my eyes were too slow to follow what was happening in the arena. In an instant Lamplighter’s gloved left hand was clutching the center of his blade. As if he were holding an ordinary staff, he pushed his enemy’s sword away from him and tried to strike at his throat with the point of his bidenhander. Surprised by this audacity, Meilo recoiled. But that didn’t stop Mumr. Still holding his sword like a battle-staff, he tried to hit Meilo with the knob of the hilt, aiming at his face. Mumr’s blows were “incorrect” and reckless, and Trug retreated in confusion, barely managing to avoid them.
“Ha-a! Ha-a!”
The wide-swinging movements of the Wild Heart’s “staff” gave his opponent no chance to gather himself for a single moment. The very air seemed to groan as the blades clashed. The sweat was streaming down Trug’s face.
Mumr resorted to cunning. He shifted his right hand onto the blade of his sword, too, setting it close to the guard, and holding the sword like a cross, then struck a hard blow at Meilo’s head with the heavy hilt.
“Ra-a-a-a!” A wave of sound ran through the lines of spectators.
After that everything happened very quickly.
Lamplighter pulled back, and immediately Meilo was there beside him, preparing to attack.… I missed the blow that followed; all I could see was that Mumr had been quicker and struck his opponent in the chest with the heavy hilt.
The crowd gasped and started to buzz. I swear by Sagot that even I heard the crunch of bone!
“A hit!” Hallas gasped, with his eyes glued on the fight.
Meilo cried out in pain, staggered back, and pressed his left hand against his chest. Lamplighter stepped forward, hooked a foot round his ankle, and jerked it upward sharply, using a wrestling move.
The tug on his leg threw Meilo off balance. Lamplighter dropped his sword and shoved his opponent hard on the chest with his free left hand, adding speed to his fall.
Trug crashed down onto the trampled earth with his full weight, striking the back of his head against the ground. Balistan Pargaid’s warrior seemed to lose consciousness for a moment, or at least he lay there without moving, although he was still clutching his sword in his right hand.
Mumr picked up his own sword, stood on his opponent’s bidenhander, cast a quick glance at Algert Dalli, and thrust his weapon hard into the chest of his opponent just as he was trying to get up, pinning him to the ground. Meilo twitched once and stopped moving. A puddle of blood began spreading out under the warrior’s body.
Lamplighter pulled his sword free with an effort, stepped back a few paces from the body of the defeated man, and bowed, swaying once, but still remaining on his feet.
Algert Dalli rose and his voice rang out across the courtyard.
