Regardless of what Emperor Harkrat and Empress Elyana might think, Blade was now heartily in favor of the rebellion's success. It had gone too far to turn back. Failure now would mean only a bloody massacre and an embittered people held down by brute force. That would play directly into Kloret's hands. A victorious rebellion in Mythor, on the other hand, might bring Kloret down. It would certainly put a good part of the people and the lands of this Dimension out of Kloret's reach.

Blade reached the dueling circle first, rode out into the middle of it, and dismounted to spare his horse. He'd taken the strongest horse he could get, not worrying about whether it was trained for fighting or not. If it would hold up under him, he would do all the necessary fighting.

Then Sigluf rode up with a terrific rattle of drums and blaring of war horns, along with a large escort. Gribbon was with him. Sigluf rode into the circle without dismounting, while Gribbon told everybody what they already knew.

The duel would be simple. Each man would have a thrusting lance, a throwing spear, and a shield. Sigluf had a sword, Blade a war club, and neither of them had any armor. They would fight until one of them was dead or could fight no longer, and the winner would have the right to kill a disabled loser. They could use whatever tactics they chose, but the first man to go outside the circle three times would be declared the loser.

Blade mounted and waited until it was obvious that Sigluf was going to let him make the first move. Blade spurred his horse toward his opponent and Sigluf swung his mount out of Blade's path, controlling it so that he could hold both lance and spear. Blade had his shield on his left arm and his right hand on the reins. He wanted to get Sigluf to use up as many of his weapons as possible before closing in to settle the fight.

Sigluf cooperated. The arm with the spear went up and back, then forward. The spear flew at Blade. Blade judged its flight, then threw his shield up. The spear hit hard enough to jar his arm from wrist to shoulder, and the head drove clear through the wood and leather to stick out six inches on the back side. If he'd been holding the shield close to his body he might have taken a flesh wound. As it was, he was unharmed.

Before Blade could do anything with his own spear, Sigluf charged. As the chief charged, he swung his shield off his back and lowered his lance into striking position. Blade had barely time to turn his horse and take the lance on his own shield. Once again the shock nearly immobilized his arm, but Sigluf found his lance point jammed in the shield. Before he could pull it free Blade gripped his war club and swung it at the lance shaft. The shaft didn't break, but it cracked and sagged as Sigluf pulled the lance free and backed his horse away before Blade could strike again.

That exchange was the last for a while. Sigluf now saw through Blade's tactics and refused to come close. He was as good a rider as Blade, and his horse was not only better trained but carrying at least fifty pounds less weight. So he easily avoided Blade's rushes. After the first half-dozen failures, Blade decided to wait until Sigluf decided to close again. His horse still seemed as strong as ever, but he didn't want to risk tiring it.

By now it was well past the dawn of another damp, grayish day. On the ground it was clear, but low-hanging clouds laid a blanket of mist and rain on the hills just beyond the dueling circle. Blade realized that he hadn't seen the sun for more than a few hours since the storm caught their boat out at sea. All the world seemed to have turned gray and damp and seemed ready to stay that way until the end of time. He suspected that a few days of bright sunshine would improve everybody's spirits. It would also dry out the ground and speed up the army's-

Sigluf charged, shouting a high-pitched war cry, shield slung again, head down, and sword held out to one side for a wide slash. Blade jerked his horse around, but Sigluf was on him before he could get ready with either lance or spear. Instead he twisted as far around in the saddle as he could, and struck with the spike of his shield at Sigluf's face.

It was an awkward blow, and Sigluf was able to duck low enough to save his face. But he was wearing a leather cap held on his head by a strap under his chin. The shield's spike caught under the brim of the cap, gouging Sigluf's scalp and jerking his head backward. By sheer reflex he yanked on the reins, making his horse rear back on its haunches. Blade had just enough time to drop his shield, bring his war club around, and strike Sigluf on the chest. The Maghri chief slid backward out of his saddle and over his horse's rump onto the grass. His mount promptly got to its feet and trotted off.

Sigluf staggered to his feet as Blade backed his own horse clear. He still held onto his sword, but with the other hand he was rubbing his chest. His face was twisted with rage, pain, and surprise. Blade knew that since he'd unhorsed the man in fair combat he could now ride Sigluf down. However, he had no intention of killing the man if he could avoid it. Now he also decided against doing anything which would humiliate him. Disgraced but left alive, Sigluf might pay a secret visit to Blade some dark night, knife in hand. Blade felt he already had enough trouble guarding his back in this army.

So Blade kept backing his horse until he was more than fifty feet from Sigluf. He was just starting to dismount, when suddenly a rider came pelting down the hill, shouting in a shrill, almost hysterical voice: «Goharans! The Goharan riders are coming! Ten thousand of them are coming over the hills!»

«The Goharans!» shouted someone in the circle.

«We're caught,» said another, a Maghri. Then, more loudly: «We're doomed! Flee!»

Blade swung himself back into the saddle, lifted his spear, sighted on the warrior who was shouting in panic, and threw as hard as he could. The spear flashed across the dueling circle and struck the man in the chest as he started to turn. He choked, clutched at the spear shaft, and fell on his side.

Blade rose in his stirrups and bellowed, «I'll do the same to the next bastard who starts crying like a coward! There aren't ten thousand Goharans in this whole land. They've sent enough to be dangerous, but only if we run. If we stand and face them like warriors, we've nothing to fear worse than a warrior's death!»

Blade's first shout froze everyone around him. His next words got them moving again, but not in the wild panic that might have developed if he hadn't spoken. They were gathering together, pulling out weapons, and looking around for the enemy rather than for the best way to run.

«Sigluf!» Blade shouted. «Get on your horse and warn Gribbon. I'll command here until we find out what we're facing.» The Maghri chief stared at Blade for a moment, then nodded and ran toward his horse. Blade saw Khraishamo and Rhodina standing among the Mythorans and rode over to them.

«Both of you-get back to the wagons! Have the teamsters pull them into a circle and get inside.» That would give the teamsters and their animals some protection. It would also give dismounted Maghri and Mythorans a defensible position for a last stand, if it came to that. Blade hoped it wouldn't, but there was no point in hoping until he'd seen what the Goharans were actually sending against the rebels.

He spurred his horse toward the hills, and the men around the circle parted in front of him. Some of the Maghri were mounted by now, and six of these joined him. Blade reined in to let them catch up. This gave him time to realize that he might be starting his last ride, scouting in the face of an army with only six companions.

However, as is so often the case in war, somebody had to do the job, and Richard Blade was the man on the spot.