Dancer of Gor

"Fan out," said Fulvius. "Callisthenes to my left, Sempronius on my right." Suddenly the stranger moved toward Fulvius with great speed. The suddenness of this attack took Fulvius by surprise. He had barely time to lift his sword. I could not even follow the movements of the steel, so swift they were! Both Callisthenes and Sempronius, after having been arrested for a moment, startled, almost in shock, at the speed of the stranger" s rush, hurried toward the swordsmen, but then they stopped. The stranger had moved swiftly back, warily. Before him Fulvius had fallen. He was on all fours, with his head down. He trembled. He spat and coughed blood. Then he sank to the grass. He slowly rolled to his back. The sword left his hand. Then he stared upward, at the sky, but did not see it.

Tela screamed, only now seeming to comprehend what had been done.

The stranger had not permitted them to take him between them, Fulvius engaging him. Callisthenes and Sempronius seeking their openings from the sides. He had moved too quickly, before they could close their simple formation, before they could join their forces. Even Fulvius, whom I knew from before was a master of defense, had not been able to stand before him. I do not think steel had crossed more than three or four times before the stranger had leapt back, and then backed away.

I shuddered.

I felt terror before this man, this swordsman, this fighter. I had not known one could handle steel like that. it had been an awesome exhibition of prowess. I was shaken, even at the thought of it. For a brief moment, I wanted desperately to run away. But I was bound.

The stranger motioned with his sword that Callisthenes and Sempronius should move together. Reluctantly they did so, carefully keeping blade room between them. Their leader was gone. They could form no plan, it seemed, between them as to who should hold, who should seek an opening. Neither cared, it seemed, to advance. It there was an initiative here, or some advantage, oddly enough it seemed to lie on the side of the stranger, not the pair of them. They kept their eyes on him. Fulvius, I suspect, had been a very fine swordsman. Certainly Sempronius, earlier, had acknowledged his supremacy among them, with the blade. Yet Fulvius had lasted hardly an exchange with the stranger. This could not fail but weigh with them. Too, I did not doubt but what in their minds were the fates of their fellows, Alcinous and Portus, back at the wagon.

I looked about.

The other girls, too, were dumbfounded. I think they, even Gorean girls, in a culture where the knife and sword were familiar, common weapons, had never seen anything like this. Mirus, even, seemed stunned. He had lowered his own sword. Tupita, near him, white-faced, held him, supporting him.

I regarded the stranger. He was tall, very tall. He was broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. He had long, bronzed arms. His hands were very large. I trembled. He held a steel sword, where such things made law. He was tall, fierce and hard. I was very small, and soft and weak. It was only the swords of Callisthenes and Sempronius which separated him from me. I saw myself then, noting his eyes in the mask, the subject of his gaze. I saw the point of his sword. He, looking at me, moved it, slightly. Inwardly I laughed with joy. I swiftly, in response to his gesture, as I could, spread my knees before him. Callisthenes, first, then Sempronius, hurled their swords, blade first, into the earth at their feet. The handles, upright, were visible in the grass. We belonged to the stranger! I looked wildly at him.

He motioned Callisthenes and Sempronius away from their weapons.

Callisthenes, I suspect, was not a fine swordsman. He had expressed some relief or satisfaction at their earlier inability to locate the stranger. I think he had not really wanted to meet up with him, he who had slain his fellows, Alcinous and Portus. Sempronius, probably more skilled, had been wounded. He ordered Callisthenes and Sempronius to stand to the side. He then approached Mirus. Mirus thrust Tupita behind him, and held his sword, ready to defend himself and his slave. The stranger then, with a decisive movement, sheathed his sword. It cracked into the sheath. Mirus grinned, and lowered his sword. Then, overcome with his exhaustion, his weakness, the loss of blood, he sat down in the grass.