Castino obviously decided he would answer these questions later, after he had killed Renco.
He quickly raised his blade again and brought it down with tremendous force—
—whence another arrow slammed into his sword's hilt and sent it flying from his grasp.
Not a moment later, a third arrow whistled down from somewhere above us and struck the rope binding Renco's hands together, cutting it cleanly in two, releasing him.
Renco immediately leapt to his feet, just as Castino—now swordless—-swung at him with one of his gigantic fists. Renco quickly yanked the conquistador who had been holding him to the altar in between himself and the oncoming blow, and Castino's mighty knuckles hit the conquistador square in the face, shattering his nose in an instant, pummelling it into the back of his skull, killing him with a single blow!
Just then another conquistador levelled his musket at Renco and fired at exactly the same time as Renco pivoted on the spot—bringing the dead conquistador around in front of him, using him as a shield—and the musket's shot opened up a ragged red hole in the centre of the dead soldier's chest.
As Renco went off to join the fight, the conquistador holding my wrists across the altar drew his sword and glared at me with evil intent.
But then - faster than a man can blink—an arrowhead exploded out from the centre of his face and the conquistador flopped down onto the altar stone in front of me, face-down, an arrow sticking out from the back of his head.
I looked up into the darkness beyond him, searching for the source of the arrows.
And I saw him.
Saw the figure of a man positioned up on the rim of the canyon.
He was silhouetted against the moon, crouched on one knee with a longbow extended in the firing position and an arrow drawn back to his ear.
It was Bassario!
I gave a cheer, and then I immediately set about unravelling my bonds.
It cannot be understated the carnage that was going on around me at this time. It was-mayhem. Pure and utter mayhem. The clearing in front of the temple had become a battlefield—a ferocious, bloody battlefield.
Fighting went on everywhere, in about a dozen separate battles.
Over by the temple, the rapas had already killed five of the conquistadors, and now they were attacking four more Spaniards and their three Chanca trackers.
Elsewhere in the clearing, the seven Incan warriors— avoided by the rapas due to the monkey urine that covered their bodies—fought with the remaining Spaniards. Some of them fell as the conquistadors fired their muskets into them, others hacked into their Spanish foes with rocks or stones or whatever weapons they could lay their hands on. Despite all the murder and bloodshed that I had seen on my travels throughout New Spain, this was indeed the most brutal and primal example of combat that I had ever witnessed.
Beside me, Renco and Castino had both picked up swords and were now engaged in the most ferocious of swordfights.
Castino, taller than my brave companion by at least two heads, held his sword two-handed and unleashed upon Renco a rain of powerful blows.
But Renco parried well-done-handed, just as I had taught him—dancing backwards in the mud like a classical Spanish fencer, maintaining his balance as he retreated toward the foliage.
As I finally released the rope from my left wrist and stood, I realized just what a keen student Renco had been. It was clear to me now that the pupil by far outclassed the teacher.
His swordsmanship was dazzling.
For every mighty blow that Castino threw at him, Renco would quickly bring up his sword—just in time to stop it.
The two men's swords clashed with ferocious intensity.
Castino swung, Renco parried. Castino lunged, Renco danced.
And then Castino unleashed a devilish blow, a blow so hard and swift that it would have taken the head off any ordinary man.
But not Renco.
His reflexes were too quick. He ducked under the blow and in the fleeting instant that followed, he leapt forward, up o.nto a low rock and launched himself into the air, negating the height difference between himself and Castino, his blade cutting through the air so swiftly it whistled, and before I even knew what was happening, I saw his sword embedded horizontally in the tree trunk behind Castino's neck.
Castino just stood there, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. A moment later, his sword dropped out of his hand.
And then abruptly his entire body just dropped away from beneath his ugly head.
Renco had cut his head clean off his shoulders!
I almost cheered.
Which is to say I would have cheered, had I not had other things with which to deal.
I spun to survey the battlefield around me.
Small battles were still being waged all over the clearing—but the only obvious victors seemed to be the rapas.
