Voltan's sword sliced across Rage's chest, sending a spray of blood into the air. Bane groaned, the sound swamped by a great cry from the crowd. Voltan leapt in for the kill. The old gladiator swayed to the right. His blade lashed out. Voltan threw himself back, but not before Rage's sword had ripped open a wound above his right hip. The two men circled more warily now. Rage had been cut across the top of his chest, underneath the right collar bone, the blood streaming down over his belly. Voltan's wound was also bleeding heavily, staining his kilt and flowing to his thigh. The two men came together again, blades clanging and clashing. As they closed Voltan suddenly threw a punch that caught Rage on the temple, knocking him back a step. Rage rolled with the blow, and managed to parry a disembowelling thrust. They circled again.

The fight was less furious now, more measured as each man sought out a weakness in the other. It was no less tense, and the crowd was unnaturally silent. For Bane it was as if time had slowed. He stared at Voltan, trying to see a weakness, a tell, anything that would indicate an opening for Rage. But there was nothing. Voltan was the most complete fighter he had ever seen.

And Rage was tiring. Despite his fitness, and the endless hours of exercise that created it, age was beginning to tell now. Voltan could see it too, and slowly the fight became more cat and mouse. Voltan blocked a sudden lunge, and his riposte cut Rage's shoulder. Another attack saw Rage almost stumble. Voltan's sword snaked out, the blade glancing from Rage's temple as he threw himself aside. Blood was on the older man's face now.

Voltan tried a feint, followed by a lunge to the heart. Rage parried it, and sent a return cut that struck Voltan's left bicep, slicing open the skin. Suddenly the pace picked up again, both men hacking and slashing, blocking and moving. Bane knew Voltan was seeking to exhaust his tiring opponent. And he was succeeding. Rage's sword arm did not have the same speed as before, and Voltan's blade found a way through, stabbing the older man in the left shoulder. Rage backed away. Bane could see his great chest heaving as he sucked in air. Voltan, though bleeding profusely, did not seem to be suffering.

A commotion began in the stands to the right of the Royal Enclosure. Bane glanced round, to see Telors pushing people out of the way and clambering over a low wall and grabbing a large padded drumstick from a surprised drummer. Hoisting the huge drum to the wall Telors began a slow, steady beat that boomed like distant thunder around the arena.

Out on the sand the two fighters paused momentarily as the drum sounded.