Blade was stunned. He went lurching backward and his feet caught in the forgotten net. He fell heavily on his back and the rapier skittered from his hand. Gutar, blood streaming from him in fountains, raised his sword and rushed at Blade with a harsh cry. He was on Blade, and slashing downward, before the big man could roll out of danger.
Blade could see well enough now to raise his shield and parry the first blow. Or partially parry it. The descending sword slashed away half the shield. Gutar slashed again and his blade struck the shield's boss and exploded in a shower of sparks. Gutar jammed one foot into Blade's chest with enormous force, pinning him, and raised his sword for the death stroke. The mob was going blood mad.
Blade watched the cruel short sword glint downward. He fended with the half shield and at the same time reached up and grabbed at the bow still slung over Gutar's shoulder. Blade tugged down with all his strength. The bowstring caught about the Pethcine's thick neck. He strained back, trying to recover balance for a last blow. Blade pulled. Gutar lost his footing and came smashing down atop Blade.
They were both covered with blood. Blade wriggled partially from under Gutar, managed to get half astride the man, meaning to ride him, using his weight, and throttle him with the bowstring.
The bowstring broke. Gutar, his body lubricated with blood, squirmed free of Blade, rolled onto his back and thrust up with his sword. Blade fell away. His vision was clearing now, but he could not find his rapier. He hurled the broken shield at Gutar and backed away. Gutar brushed the shield away with a massive forearm and began to stalk Blade, forcing him back against the huge stone just as Blade had done a few minutes before.
Blade dared not take his eyes off Gutar. His bare feet touched nothing but sand as he retreated. He was not going to find the rapier! His back touched the stone. Gutar made a fierce guttural sound in his throat and rushed.
Blade's outflung hand brushed back over the top of the stone altar. His fingers touched the hilt of the great sword. They closed around it. The muscles in Blade's right shoulder and arm knotted and corded as he lifted the sword in his right hand and swung it, level and flashing like a scythe, at the grinning, blood-drenched Gutar.
The big sword hummed a threnody, whispering, as it came around. Blade felt the tremor along the shaft as it bit into Gutar's neck.
Gutar's head leaped into the air, hovered for a moment, then fell and bounced away to the right.
For a long moment the Pethcine's headless body stood confronting Blade. The short sword was still raised to strike. A jet of blood leaped two feet into the air as the body still stood like a grotesque statue. At last the sword fell, the knees buckled, and the squat and dying body crashed down in a writhing heap.
Blade put the point of the huge sword in the sand and leaned on it. Only gradually did he become aware of the dead silence in the arena; the air was as devoid of life as the still quivering trunk of Gutar. It was an instant before Blade really understood it. He had not been thinking. He had been fighting for his life. Then he understood: he had touched the Sacred Sword! Worse. He had used it, defiled it, to Mil the champion of all the Pethcines. Now, surely, they would tear him limb from limb.
And there was nothing he could do. He wiped blood and sweat from his face, still leaning on the sword, and waited. He was bone weary.
Totha leaned and spoke to her father, Org. Org glanced quickly at Honcho and raised a finger. Honcho approached the throne and there was much whispering. Blade waited, breathing easier now, his heart still thudding.
King Org, Totha, and Honcho were approaching him. The silence in the arena persisted, as if no one even dared to breathe.
They were close now. Then Honcho and Totha halted and King Org came on alone. He fell to his knees before Blade. He reached to touch the bloody sword, ran his finger along the steel, and marked his forehead with the blood.
Org's voice filled the arena: 'Mazda! HE WHO COMES TO THEY! Mazda! Who has come to us, to the Pethcines instead, to lead us back into Tharn and to our heritage. Mazda! Lord Mazda! We welcome you. We accept you. We obey you. Give me, Lord Mazda, a sign of your love.'
So that only Blade could hear, Org said: 'Touch me on the shoulder with the sword. Then Totha will come. Do the same with her. Then go with her, follow her, quickly! Take the sword with you.'
Blade nodded. He was, then, going to get out of this alive. He raised the great sword and touched Org on the shoulder with the bloody point.
Then Totha came forward. Honcho remained where he was. The neuter's face was impassive, his eyes nearly closed, and he did not look happy.
Totha knelt before Blade. She touched the sword and smeared blood on her forehead as her father had done. Her voice was light, clear and melodious, carrying far as she spoke.
'Accept my love also, Lord Mazda. And give me yours.'
Blade touched her bare shoulder with the sword. Gutar's blood had not yet thickened and some of it ran down her collar bone and trickled like a red worm between her bare breasts.
Totha stood up and extended her hand. 'Come with me,' she said softly. 'Do not speak. Bring the sword with you.'
She led Blade across the arena, over the crimsoned sand, her hand firm and strong in his. He could feel her trembling and knew that she was terribly excited.
Blade could feel the thousands of Pethcine eyes on him as they walked behind the throne and approached a narrow passage. Two guards stepped aside and fell to their knees at a sharp command from the girl. They bowed their heads and did not look at Blade.
The passage was narrow, twisting and turning, and lit by flaring torches in sconces. As they rounded the first turning Blade could hear Org speaking to the crowd again, then the sudden crashing roar of what sounded like acceptance and approval.
Totha led him into a small chamber cut in the stone. A single torch glowed smokily against the wall. In one corner was a pallet of skins. A water jar, its sides glistening with moisture, hung from a peg. Blade took his hand from Totha's and stepped toward the water jar. She tugged at him fiercely.
'I am thirsty,' said Blade. 'And I would wash and bathe my wound. Have you something to bind it with?'
