Martin brought his bow to the ready. “Baru’s tiring. It’ll be over soon.”
But like a dancer timing his moves to the music, Baru let Murad fall into a pattern. Up and down the sword rose and fell, then, when it was rising, Baru ceased his retreat, instead stepping forward and to the side. With a sweeping cut, he sliced Murad’s ribs. It was a deep cut that bled fiercely.
“That’s a surprise,” Martin said calmly.
“Damn fine move,” said Roald in professional appreciation.
But Murad didn’t let the surprising blow finish him. He turned in place and grabbed the Hadati’s sword arm. Murad was off balance, but he pulled Baru down with him. They grappled and rolled down the hill toward the rocks where Arutha stood. Weapons slipped from blood-wet fingers and the two combatants struck at each other with fists.
Then they were up again, but Murad had his arms about Baru’s waist. Hoisting the Hadati into the air, the moredhel placed interlocked hands in the small of Baru’s back, squeezing to break his spine. Baru’s head went back as he cried out in pain. Then he brought his hands together in a thunderous slap over the moredhel’s ears, rupturing his eardrums.
Murad gave a warbling, gurgling cry of pain as he dropped Baru. The creature covered his ears with his hands, blinded by pain for a moment. Baru reared back and struck the moredhel in the face with his fist, a staggering blow that pulped Murad’s nose, broke some teeth, and split his lip.
Again Baru struck him in the face, jerking his head back, and again. The Hadati seemed on the verge of clubbing the moredhel to death. But Murad gripped Baru’s wrist and pulled him down, and again they rolled upon the ground.
Then Murad was atop Baru, and each had his hands around the other’s neck. With grunts of pain and exertion, the two began choking each other.
Jimmy reached down and took a dagger from the body of the dead moredhel at his feet, to supplement his dirk. Martin said, “Soon. Soon.”
Murad bore down with all his weight, his face turning red, as did Baru’s. Neither could breathe, and it was only a question of who succumbed first. Baru bore the bulk of the moredhel atop him, but Murad had a deep wound in his side, which still bled, weakening him as every second passed.
Then, with a grunt and sigh, Murad fell forward onto Baru. There was silence in the woods for a long moment before Murad moved. With a roll he fell over, off Baru. The Hadati slowly rose. Taking a knife from the moredhel’s own belt, he slowly cut Murad’s throat. Sitting back upon his heels, Baru breathed deeply. Then, with deliberate contempt for his own danger, he plunged his knife deep into Murad’s chest.
“What’s he doing?” asked Roald.
Martin said, “Remember what Tathar said about the Black Slayers. He’s cutting Murad’s heart out, just in case he might try to rise again.”
More moredhel and renegades had joined the company overlooking the combat, and now more than fifty riders watched the Hadati butcher the moredhel chieftain. The Hadati cut down into the chest, then his hand plunged deep within the wound and with a single jerk he pulled Murad’s heart free. Holding his hand up, so that all might see, he showed the assembled moredhel and the humans that Murad’s heart beat no longer. Then he tossed it aside and rose drunkenly to his feet.
With a staggering, wobbling run, he tried for the rocks, only ten yards away. A moredhel rider moved to strike him from the side, and Jimmy threw his dagger. The point took the creature in the eye, causing him to scream as he fell back out of the saddle. But another came at Baru and cut at him. The sword took him in the side, and the Hadati fell forward.
“Damn you!” shouted Jimmy, near tears. “He won. You could have let him come back!” He threw his dirk, but the other rider dodged. The moredhel who had struck Baru stiffened and turned, and Arutha and his companions saw an arrow in his back. Another moredhel shouted something as he put away his bow. This brought an angry shout from a third and one of the humans.
“What is all this?” asked Arutha.
Roald said, “The one who killed Baru is a renegade: no honor. That fellow on the horse seems to have had the same opinion as Jimmy. The Hadati won, he should have been allowed to return to die with his companions. Now the slayer, another renegade, and the human bandits are all shouting at one another. We might gain a little time, or at least have some of them quit, now that their big chieftain is dead.”
Then the Black Slayers charged.
Martin reared up and began firing. The archer’s speed was phenomenal, and three riders were unhorsed before they reached the rock abutment.