“I am the Lord Vahrohnos of Notohpolis,” stated Paulos, a bit pompously. “My sacred honor . . .”
Alexandros’ barked laugh interrupted. “Honor? You, you High-Lord of buggerers, you don’t really know the meaning of the word. How could you, when your highest aspiration is to wallow in dung?”
Lord Paulos’ face was now becoming darker and his jaws were working, so Alexandros threw a final verbal dart. “No, you piece of filth, you’ve slain your thirty-six men in an attempt to prove what no one can ever prove—that Paulos of Notohpolis is truly a man. Give up. No amount of blood will ever transform you into what you have’ never been, even the whore who spawned you …”
But he had no more time for words. Paulos charged, flat-footed, his sword slashing before him. Alexandros danced lightly from the big man’s rush, managing to sink a deep stab into the Vahrohnos’ left arm, between epaulet and buckler. Roaring like a bull, Paulos whirled and slashed wildly, but his blade whistled through empty space. The Sea Lord had dashed behind, and his red-tipped sword again penetrated Paulos’ shield arm, lower this time, near the elbow.
Shaidos and Hulios were screaming advice to the Vahrohnos, but their voices were lost in the constant shouting of the onlookers.
But it could not last. Paulos suddenly ceased his berserker tactics and, once more silent but for the ragged breathing caused by his exertions, recommenced his wary circling. There were two more brief flurries of sword-play, but the Vahrohnos seemed to be much slower in getting up his buckler. And this was a mystery to none, for the entire left side of his cuirass was streaked and smeared with blood.
Alexandros decided to end it; after all, he had another duel to fight. He swept in, his thrust aimed low. Paulos’ steel caught the thrust and the blades slid their full length, until crossguard met crossguard. While the thews of their sword arms strained, Alexandros slammed his buckler into Paulos’ shield, his boss below the Vahrohnos’. For a brief moment, he feared that Paulos might fail to rise to the bait, but then he felt the shock of the barbed spike as it locked the two bucklers together.
Quickly, he jerked up on his buckler. Paulos was unprepared for such and his own sharpened rim gashed his chin deeply. He did the natural thing, taking a step backward, then another and another, trying vainly to gain room to disengage his sword, now that his locking device had trapped his opponent in a position where brute strength meant more than agility. But Alexandros doggedly followed, step for step, until Paulos’ bloody cuirass was grating on the stone wall that separated yard from drill field.
For the first time, Alexandros discerned fear in Paulos’ bloodshot eyes. Adroitly twisting his sword out of the engagement, so long maintained, the Sea Lord swung his body out as far as he could. He allowed Paulos to raise his blade above his head and start the vicious downswipe . . . and then he stopthrust him, his gory blade grating on the bones of Paulos’ forearm.
“That was a pirate trick, Lord Paulos,” Alexandros panted. “Now, with your help, I’ll show you another.”
“Keeping the Vahrohnos’ blood-gushing right arm skewered on the sword, Alexandros stepped closer and began to strain upward on his buckler, forcing Paulos’ higher … and higher, as the weakened, throbbing left arm began to fail. The knife-edged rim of Paulos’ buckler drew closer and closer to his own throat. Closer, still, blood from his gashed chin dripped onto it.
When it was bare inches away, Paulos gasped, “My lord, please, I beg you!”
“Thirty-six men,” hissed Alexandros. “Thirty-six slain, and how many more dishonored because they feared you?”
Up came the rim of the buckler, and so still had it become that they might have been alone. Up, closer, ever closer.
Tears joined theisweat pouring down Paulos’ face. “As you love God, my lord, if you’re going to do it, do it quickly! You have a sword. Why must you torture me so?”
Savagely, Alexandros jerked his blade from the useless right arm and Paulos tensed, then raised his chin. But the Sea Lord did not thrust. “As I recall, you intended to emasculate me ere you killed me. I am not so crude, but perhaps I’ll take an eye or two. Eh?”