John smiled at last as his cockiness got the better of him. He lowered his shield and spear, mocking Achilleus, exposing himself, as if to say, “Look at me. You can’t get anywhere near me.” He sneered at Achilleus and gave a dismissive click of his tongue.

Achilleus was ready. It was time to finish it. On the upswing, as the point of his spear lanced back over his shoulder, he loosened his grip, letting the shaft run through his fingers. As it slid to the end and he felt the pommel, he gripped tight again. He now had the full length of the spear in his grasp and he swung it around in a wide circle.

Instead of Achilleus’s reach being a yard, it was now nearer to two, and the sharp end of the spear easily reached John’s head.

It happened too fast for John to react. He had no idea what Achilleus had done. He stood there, casually expecting the spear to be out of range. And then the spear slammed into the side of his head. He staggered drunkenly, shocked and stunned, with no idea where the blow had come from. Achilleus quickly choked up on his spear and moved in for the kill. He knocked John’s shield and spear out to either side with his own weapons, stepped in, and brought a knee up sharply between John’s legs. John grunted and buckled, bent double. Achilleus raised his shield and brought it crashing down on the back of John’s head. John went down fast and heavy, his face smashing into the dirt.

“That was for Freak,” said Achilleus.

John lay there without moving.

A great cheer went up from the palace kids, and a groan of disappointment came from the little knot of squatters. It was over so quickly in the end.

Achilleus stood over John, sucking in oxygen, his chest heaving. He rolled the body over with his foot.

John was conscious, but his black eyes were swollen shut. The bandage had fallen completely off his nose, which was a horrible flattened mess.

Achilleus put the point of his spear to John’s stomach, pushing it into the soft flesh.

John winced.

“Do it, then,” he said. “Kill me.”

“Nah,” said Achilleus. “You’re already dead. Nobody remembers a loser.”

“Kill me!” John yelled.

Achilleus gave his spear a little push, and John gasped.

“You really want me to? You know how slowly you’ll die if I stick you in the stomach? You really want me to shove my spear into you and spill your crappy guts all over the ground? Hmm? Do you? You really want that, big man?”

“No,” John said quietly. “No, I don’t. Please don’t. I don’t want to die.”

“Who does?” Achilleus knelt down. He put his face very close to John’s. Dripping blood onto it.