«Enough of this,» said Zef-Dron harshly. «Call the witnesses forward, swear the War Oath, and let us get on with this business.»
The witnesses apparently were the warriors from the other five towers. There was no need to call them forward, since they had started out across the Plain of War the moment they saw the argument between the two commanders. Within a few minutes some three hundred warriors in five different colors were assembling in the five different sections of the Plain reserved for the witnesses. With one exception they made no attempt to keep any sort of rigid formation, but sat or stood or even lay about like picnickers rather than warriors.
The exception was the forty-odd warriors in yellow orange. Their section had been marked by a fanged and snarling leopard's head, and they sat in two neat lines. Pen-Jerg looked at them and grunted.
«Those damned Leopards. They know they can make the rest of us look silly just by sitting that way. And it makes our warriors nervous when they go up against the Leopards. That's why the Leopards win almost all the time. If they didn't, they'd be finished. All that playing around with the Peace Wisdom they do. Would you believe that they even let Low People rise to high rank?»
Blade kept his mouth shut and managed to look politely horror-stricken. But he made a mental note that getting in touch with the Tower of the Leopard was a high-priority item. If they were in fact less rule-bound and class-ridden than the other Towers of Melnon-
He was interrupted by a sharp order from Pen-Jerg. «Take your place, Blade.»
«Where, Pen-Jerg?»
A grim smile broke Pen-Jerg's sober expression. «If you can defeat Kir-Noz, perhaps we should give you the chance to prove Zef-Dron full of wind. Would you like to be a line leader?»
Blade could not really say that he did like the idea. But on the other hand, it was certainly the best way to prove himself. Just as long as there weren't too many warriors as good as Kir-Noz.
He nodded.
«Good. Take the lead of the third line.»
Blade fought back the temptation to throw Pen-Jerg a mocking salute. Instead he turned silently and headed for his assigned place in the rapidly assembling formation of the Serpents' warriors.
Chapter SIX
Once they had received the proper orders, the warriors of the two towers no longer straggled, stumbled, or delayed. They scurried about like energetic ants, moving into their positions in well-disciplined silence. Within five minutes both sides were lined up and ready, in four lines of ten men each. The two commanders stood off to Blade's right, staring at each other and at each other's formations.
When they had satisfied themselves that everything at least looked ready, both turned to the witnesses from the other towers. «Hail, witnesses,» they shouted in unison. «We, commanders of the towers fighting war this day, call on you to witness that each has present on the Plain of War forty chosen and fit warriors and a commander, according to the War Wisdom.»
«We so witness!» shouted several dozen voices.
«We rejoice in your witnessing,» the two commanders shouted. «We shall now swear the commander's oath.»
«I (and here each said his name) swear by the War Wisdom of Melnon, the Peace Wisdom of Melnon, and my own honor, to uphold all laws and customs that govern the war upon this day, the twelfth of the month of the Ox. I swear to slay any man under my command who holds not to these laws and customs. I ask that I myself be slain if I fail in this wise or in myself upholding and obeying that which governs the wars of the Towers of Melnon.» A pause for breath. «Do you witness that we have sworn the Commanders' Oath?»
«We so witness!» came again from many of the watchers.
«Is there your consent that we begin the war?»
«There is!» this time coming from nearly all the spectators in a single roar.
Both Pen-Jerg and Zef-Dorn turned to their warriors. «Line leaders-are you ready?»
Blade joined seven other warriors in a single shout of «We are ready!» He found himself having to fight off the notion that this was some sort of religious ritual, that there was not really going to be any fighting or any danger. He knew things were quite different, but it was hard to accept this stylized situation as dangerous or even warlike. He shook his head. After fifteen generations of this sort of flight from reality, the warriors of the Towers of Melnon would be swept away like mice by cats if they ever came up against a realistic and efficient opponent.
The two commanders exchanged a final look. Then each turned back to his warriors and shouted:
«Let the war begin!»
And the line leaders on each side strode forward into the fifty-foot space between the war parties.
Blade came out with a slow sidling step, already dropped into a fighter's crouch, long sword raised to strike, short sword raised to guard. His opponent, half a head shorter than he was but just as broad, strode out without taking any such precautions. As they closed, Blade could see a grim smile on the man's face. Obviously he expected that a man fighting almost naked, and so nervous that he apparently could not stand straight, would be an easy opponent. That was one thing Blade knew he would never be-an easy opponent.
They were twenty feet apart when Blade's opponent dropped into fighting stance. But he did so with an almost negligent air, as if to indicate that he didn't really need to deploy all his skills to defeat Blade. Blade's own face creased in a brief smile. An opponent this overconfident could be easy meat.
Blade let the Eagle warrior launch the first attack. The man came in fast, feinting at Blade's head with the short sword. At the same time the long sword came round in a horizontal slash. It was meant to slice in under Blade's raised guard and chop him nearly in half.
Instead Blade's own short sword darted down like a snake's tongue, warding off the long sword. Steel met steel with a terrible clang. For a moment the other's right arm was frozen by the shock. In that moment Blade's left arm twisted, sending his short sword grating up the long sword, driving point-first into the man's unprotected thigh. His own long sword swung overhand, smashed down through the desperate lunge of the other's short sword, and crashed down on the white helmet. The blow did not penetrate, but it stunned quite thoroughly. Blade stepped back as the Eagle warrior toppled forward on to his face with a resounding thud. From the man's first attack to his last twitch, the whole bout had lasted barely thirty seconds.
Blade was aware of a good many snake-like hisses of indrawn breath from the Serpents behind him. And he saw a good many eyes open wide among the Eagles and the witnesses. But he had no time to care about the audience. His next opponent was stepping forward into the open, looking somewhat nervously at the line leader's prostrate form. But he got himself under control, and signalled to Blade that they should carry the line leader out of the fighting area. With Blade at the head and the other at the feet, they did this. Then they squared off against each other, both in the standard crouch.»
The second Eagle warrior was perhaps not so competent as the first. But he lasted longer, because this lack of competence kept him from rushing straight in to his doom like Blade's first opponent had. He stood on the defensive instead, and Blade eventually had to attack and smash down the man's guard in half a dozen quick exchanges. On his seventh long sword blow, Blade struck the Eagle hard enough on the right shoulder to lay open the armor and the flesh beneath it. Blood spurted, then the man dropped both swords on the ground and bowed his head in submission. Blade motioned him aside and waited for the third man.