He nudged his assault up to the next level, attacking with such force that Achilleus’s shield rang out like a cracked bell.

Then John swore as one of his blades shattered and broke in half.

Achilleus smiled. Seeing that John was distracted, he seized the moment, barged into him, pushing his shield aside and bringing his own shield up with a straight left punch to the side of John’s head.

John was tough.

He barely flinched, and shoved Achilleus away with his spear arm, too close to use the blades. He was wounded, though. His right eye was bleeding and swelling shut.

Lewis nudged Mick. “That’s good,” he said. “Johncan’tsee so well now; he can’t judge distance with one eye. He’s blind on that side. Akkie needs to concentrate on his left. Keep on hitting him from there.”

That was easier said than done, though. The injury had made John furious, and he was advancing on Achilleus like a berserker, knocking him back with a series of spear thrusts and smashes with his shield. Achilleus tried to hold his own, but he was tired. Finally John cracked him on the jaw with the shaft of his spear, and Achilleus staggered across the yard, stunned.

“He’s faking it,” Lewis drawled.

“You think so?” said Mick, unconvinced.

“Yeah,” said Lewis. “He’s my dog! He’s leading him on, man, hoping John gets cocky and makes a mistake.”

If Achilleus was faking, he was doing a very good job of it. He looked dazed, cross-eyed, unsteady on his feet. His spear wavered in the air and his shield was low.

“Here it comes, gay boy,” said John, and he lifted his spear and drove it downward from shoulder height, aiming above Achilleus’s lowered shield.

Achilleus just managed to jerk his head to the side in time. One of the knives raked his cheek, though, and cut his ear half off. Then some instinct told him to lift his shield, and in the tangle, another of John’s blades broke.

He was down to one now.

But one was still enough to kill.

Achilleus shook his head and blinked. His eyes were red and burning. Feverish. He was losing a lot of blood. His ear was hanging off.

He was a wreck.

John was grinning, showing his little jagged teeth.

“Had enough?” he asked. “You want to surrender? You want to give in?”

Achilleus smiled back at him. John didn’t know it, but he had shown his first hint of weakness. To offer Achilleus surrender meant that somewhere in the back of his mind he maybe didn’t want to take this fight all the way. There was something making him hold back just that tiny bit.

He didn’t want to kill Achilleus.