Intuition told Royce to move again, only he was too late. Thick, heavy arms gripped him as the weight of a body drove him forward. His feet slipped and he fell, pulled down to the bloodstained earth. He turned his blade and stabbed, but it passed through thin air. He could feel clawed hands trying to pin him. Royce twisted like a snake, depriving his attacker of a firm grip. He repeatedly cut at the shadowy thing, but nothing connected. Then he felt the hot breath of the Ghazel finisher.

Hadrian’s stroke glanced off the Ghazel’s shield. He thrust with his other sword but found it blocked by an excellent parry. The warrior was good. Hadrian had not anticipated his skill. He was strong and fast, but more importantly, more frighteningly, the Ghazel anticipated Hadrian’s moves perfectly. The warrior stabbed and Hadrian dodged back and to the left. The Ghazel bashed his face with his shield, having started his swing even before Hadrian turned. It was as if his opponent were reading his mind. Hadrian staggered backward, putting distance between them to catch his breath.

Above, the crowd booed their displeasure with Galenti. Beside him, Wyatt was still playing with the chief. His ruse had bought the helmsman time. The chief was too afraid of Royce to engage, but it would not last long. Hadrian needed to finish his opponent quickly, only now he was not even certain he could win.

The warrior advanced and swung. Hadrian spun to the left. Once more the Ghazel anticipated his move and cut Hadrian across the arm. He staggered back and dodged behind a large fallen block, keeping it between him and his opponent.

The crowd booed and stomped their feet.

Something was very wrong. The warrior should not be this good. His form was bad, his strokes lacking expertise, yet he was beating him. The warrior attacked again. Hadrian took a step back and his foot caught on a rock and he stumbled. Once more the Ghazel appeared to foresee this and was ready with a kick that sent Hadrian into the dirt.

He lay flat on his back. The warrior screamed a cry of victory and raised his sword for a downward penetrating kill. Hadrian started to twist left to dodge the thrust, but at the last minute, while still concentrating his thoughts on turning left, he pulled back to center. The stroke of the warrior pierced the turf exactly where Hadrian would have been.

Grady was dead and the arrows were still coming.

Wesley was shaken. He had already failed in his duty. Not knowing what else to do, he picked up the trilon, fitted an arrow, and let it loose. Wesley was no archer. The arrow did not even fly straight, but spun wildly, falling flat on the ground not more than five yards ahead of him.