The giant bared his teeth defiantly, clenching his fists and glowering at the leopard warrior. Slowly but surely, the massive Lagon began to close the distance with his prey.
Guin dodged to the side. Dodok followed. Guin circled to the left, and Dodok whirled to meet him; Guin shifted to the right, and Dodok was there. So the two combatants traded move and counter-move in a silent killing dance, their positions ever changing, neither gaining a clear advantage for long.
“Dodok! Dodok!” came impatient shouts from the blood-thirsty crowd. They couldn’t understand why their towering chieftain didn’t just pick up his tiny opponent and be done with it, and the wait was beginning to cool their excitement.
“Fight! Fight!”
“Grab him, Dodok!”
“Dawn is coming! Fight!”
“Dodok!”
Dodok stood impassively, seemingly heedless of the cheers and cries for blood. He was no fool, and he would not enter combat at a disadvantage just to please the eager throng. Hands crooked like claws, legs spaced apart, he circled around the center of the arena slowly, patiently.
This time, it was Guin’s eyes that sparked with a faint color of irritation.
Again and again, Dodok the Brave warily closed the distance between them, then sprang suddenly forward; again and again, Guin leapt safely aside, and the circling resumed. It was just after one such maneuver that the leopard-man let his eyes wander for an instant, glancing up over the mountains that surrounded the village.
Above the stone chair placed among the row of spectators, where sat the white-haired, many-fingered Kah the Wise, his eyes half-lidded in seeming disinterest; above the stone steps circling the place of combat, filled with shouting warriors, cheering women, and sleepy-eyed children; above the soaring black silhouette of the mountains, jagged as a broken crown, there stretched the wide dreamlike sky, brilliant yet ephemeral in the delicate light of pre-dawn. It was a sight that no painter could have duplicated, not even in a lifetime of the highest skill. So divine was its hue, so filled with the limitless meaning and delicacy of which only nature was capable, that even in the midst of the battle a bolt of recognition flashed through Guin’s brain.
As the two warriors fought, dawn was slipping out of the darkness.
The fire chariot of the sun god Ruah had not yet appeared in all its magnificence over the edge of the mountains. Nor were the clouds blushed with the first traces of pinkish light that heralded Ruah’s coming. Yet, as sure as Aeris wheeled through the sky toward the horizon, the night was drawing to an end. Above the combatants and the spectators, all focused single-mindedly on the struggle playing out upon the patch of empty ground at the bottom of the town-basin, the air had begun to fill with an almost audible premonition of the day, and the sky was slowly shifting from indigo to blue.
It was the morning of the fourth day of Guin’s quest—his last day. His last chance.
The leopard-headed warrior gritted his teeth to stem a rising tide of irritation and rage. For a fraction of a moment, his guard was down.
“Gwarh!”
Everything around him went black as Dodok’s battle cry rent through the half-lit quiet. Iron limbs, more powerful even than those of the grey ape of Gabul, seized the leopard-man’s shoulders and drew him into a vise-like embrace.
Guin howled, twisting his body in a vain attempt to throw off that iron grip. His upper body blushed crimson, the muscles rising in taut bands over his shoulders, chest, neck, and arms.
Dodok let his full one-hundred-fifty skones of weight do the work for him. No matter how Guin struggled, the Lagon was irresistible. It was as though Guin grappled with a massive boulder, grown in the place of his flesh-and-bone adversary. All Dodok’s strength went into his arms, slowly dragging Guin closer.
Then, inexplicably, the giant’s grip loosened. Guin began to swing his arms upward to knock away the claw-like fingers digging into his shoulders—but he had fallen into a trap. The instant the leopard-man shifted his hands from their position braced against the Lagon’s chest, Dodok brought his own hands down, pinning Guin’s arms to his sides in a crushing bear hug.
A great cheer went up from the crowd. In one swift move, Dodok had made his victory almost certain. With a low growl he tightened his hold on Guin, squeezing until it seemed that his adversary’s backbone would surely snap in half.
A beast-like roar escaped from Guin’s mouth. He arched his torso backward, scraping with his fingers at whatever he could reach. Yet still the grip tightened, threatening to fold him in two.
Dodok’s eyes bulged widely, staring at Guin. The leopard warrior, his head cast backward, scrabbled with his fingers against his enemy, trying to dig into the iron muscles. For the first time, Dodok the Brave allowed himself a howl of victory.
The howl cut off halfway. Guin, his arms a deep purple from the strain, had worked his hands up Dodok’s torso until he found the Lagon’s arms. Now he grabbed those iron-like pincers and began pushing against the giant’s grip.
Dodok’s face went pale. For the briefest of moments—one that seemed to last for an eternity—the two became like statues, strength enough to crush rocks pushing inward against a similar strength pushing out. So evenly matched they were that, from a distance, they seemed poised in perfect calm. Only the hot sweat dripping from their faces and bodies revealed how desperately they fought their deadly contest.
The crowd was suddenly silent. Not a single cheer, or cry of “Dodok!” could be heard in the clearing. The mass of spectators held their breath, swallowed, and watched to see which way the scales would tip.
Suddenly, the balance broke. With a dull sound, Dodok’s vice-like grip on Guin’s body gave out.
Guin took his chance. Bending backward like a bow, he snapped his torso forward, slamming into his foe. Dodok spun once around like a top, and fell on his back, sprawling across the ground. Guin fell atop the giant. With the last of his strength, Guin slid out of Dodok’s limp embrace and sprang away, only to fall to one knee, his back bent, exhausted.
For some time Dodok did not move. A murmur ran through the crowd. Is he unconscious? Is he dead? A breath that was part shock, part fear passed through the crowd. Just as quickly it became a cheer, as Dodok the Brave sat up.
A trickle of blood ran from the giant’s mouth, and his left arm hung limp. Yet his eyes burned with unquenched rage: You may fight me, but you will lose! I am Dodok. Dodok the Brave!
Through a haze of pain, Guin saw his opponent charging, off kilter, his good right arm stretched out in front of him. There was no sound, no howl of rage. Dodok hurtled forward in utter silence. All hatred and derision were gone from his eyes. All that was left was his warrior spirit, stronger than any anger.
Guin stood to meet the charge. A bolt of pain jabbed down his spine, and he clenched his teeth to stifle a cry of pain. As he flexed his back he knew that he did not have strength enough remaining to finish this opponent, even injured as the Lagon was.
Surrender, however, was not an option. The warrior spirit that rose in Dodok’s blood shone too in Guin’s leopard-yellow eyes, blazing as he stared forward. Unthinkingly, he dropped to one knee again and groped at his belt—an unconscious, instinctive motion to seek something he could use as a weapon.
His fingers found something hard and cold. Instantly Guin whipped it out, though his blurry eyes had trouble focusing on it. He thrust the object at the careening Lagon chief in blind self-preservation. Blade or no blade, whatever the object was, he would make it hurt Dodok, or he would pay with his life.
But the charge never came. In the utter silence that had fallen, Guin forced his aching eyes to focus on the cold object in his hand.
The leopard-man had needed a miracle to win, and he had got one.