helmet, from whatever direction coming, was taken by his tremendously capable shoulders.
The weapons of the mercenaries could not dent” could not even nick, that case-hardened high-alloy steel. Swords
bent, broke, twisted; hammers and axes bounced harmlessly off. Nevertheless the attackers pressed forward; and,
even though each blow of his devastating sword took a life, Tedric was forced backward up the stairs, step by step.
Then there came about that for which he had been waiting. A copper-clad priest appeared behind the last rank of
mercenaries, staring upward at something behind the ironmaster, beckoning frantically. The priest had split his
forces; had sent part of them by another way to the second floor to trap him between two groups; had come in
close to see the trap sprung. This was it.
Taking a couple of quick, upward, backward steps” he launched himself into the air with all the power of his legs.
And when two hundred and thirty pounds of man, dressed in eighty or ninety or a hundred pounds of steel, leaps
from a height of eight or ten feet upon a group of other men, those other men go down.
Righting himself quickly. Tedric sprang toward the priest and swung; swung with all the momentum of his mass and
speed and all the power of his giant frame; swung as though he were concentrating into the blow all his hatred of
Sarpedion and everything for which Sarpedion stood-which in fact he was.
And what such a saber-scimitar, so driven” did to thin” showy copper armor and to the human flesh beneath it, is
simply nothing to dwell upon here.
“HOLD!” he roared at the mercenaries, who hadn’t quite decided whether or not to resume the attack” and they held.
“Bu . . . bub . . . but you’re dead!” the non-com stuttered. “You must be-the great Sarpedion would. . . .”
“A right lively corpse II” Tedric snarled. “Your Sarpedion, false god and coward” drinker of blood and slayer of the
helpless, is weak, puny, and futile beside my Llosir. Hence” under Llosir’s shield and at Llosir’s direction, I shall
this day kill your foul and depraved god; shall send him back to the grisly hell from whence he came.
“Nor do I ask you to fight for me. Nor would I so allow; for I trust you not, though you swore by all your gods. Do
you fight for pleasure or for pay?”
A growl was the only answer” but that was answer enough.
“He of Sarpedion who paid your wages lies there dead. All others of his ilk will die ere this day’s sunset. Be
advised, therefore; fight no more until you know who pays. Wouldst any more of you be split like whitefish ere I
go? Time runneth short” but I would stay and oblige if pressed.” He was not pressed.
Tedric whirled and strode away. Should he get his horse” or not? No. He had never ridden mighty Dreegor into
danger wearing armor less capable than his own” and he wouldn’t begin now.
The Temple of Sarpedion was a tall” narrow building” with a far-flung outside staircase leading up to the pent-
house-like excrescence in which the green altar of sacrifice was.
Tedric reached the foot of that staircase and grimly” doggedly” cut his way up it. It was hard work” and he did not
want to wear himself out too soon. He might need a lot” and suddenly, later on” and it would be a good idea to have
something in reserve.
As he mounted higher and higher, however, the opposition became less and less instead of greater and greater, as
he had expected. Priests were no longer there-he hadn’t seen one for five minutes. And in the penthouse itself”
instead of the solid phalanx of opposition he had known would bar his way, there were only half a dozen
mercenaries, who promptly turned tail and ran.
“The way is clear! Hasten!” Tedric shouted, and his youthful squire rushed up the ramp with his axe and hammer.
And with those ultra-bard, ultra-tough implements Tedric mauled and chopped the image of the god.
Devann, Sarpedion’s high priest, was desperate. He believed thoroughly in his god. Equally thoroughly, however” he
believed in the actuality and in the power of Tedric’s new god. He had to” for the miracle be had performed spoke
for itself.
While Sarpedion had not appeared personally in Devann’s lifetime, he had so appeared many times in the past; and
by a sufficiently attractive sacrifice be could be persuaded to appear again, particularly since this appearance would
be in self-defense.
No slave, or any number of slaves, would do. Nor criminals. No ordinary virgin of the common people. This sacri-
fice must be of supreme quality. The king himself? Too old and tough and sinful. Ah … the king’s daughter….
At the .thought the pit of his stomach turned cold. However, desperate situations require desperate remedies. He
called in his henchmen and issued orders.
Thus it came about that a towering figure clad in flashing golden armor-the king himself, with a few courtiers
scrambling far in his wake–dashed up the last few steps just as Tedric was wrenching out Sarpedion’s liver.
“Tedric, attend!” the monarch panted. “The priests have taken Rhoann and are about to give her to Sarpedion!” “They
can’t, sire. I’ve just killed Sarpedion, right here.” “But they can! They’ve taken the Holiest One from the Innermost
Shrine; have enshrined him on the Temple of Scheene. Slay me those traitor priests before they slay Rhoann and
you may. . . .”
Tedric did not hear the rest of it, nor was his mind chiefly concerned with the plight of the royal maid. It was
Sarpedion he was after. With a blistering oath he dropped the god’s liver, whirled around and leaped down the
stairway. It would do no good to kill only one Sarpedion. He would have to kill them both. especially since the
Holiest One was the major image. The Holiest One . . . the Sarpedion never before seen except by first-rank priests
. . . of course that would be the one they’d use in sacrificing a king’s daughter. He should have thought of that
himself, sooner, damn him for a fool! It probably wasn’t too late yet, but the sooner he got there, the better would
be his chance of winning.
Hence he ran, and” farther and farther behind him” came the king and the courtiers.
Reaching the Temple of Scheene, be found to his immense relief that he would not have to storm that heavily
manned rampart alone. A full company of the Royal Guard was already there. Battle was in progress” but very little
headway was being made against the close-packed defenders of the god, and Tedric knew why. A man fighting
against a god was licked before he started” and knew it. He’d have to build up their morale.
But did he have time? Probably. They couldn’t hurry things too much without insulting Sarpedion, for the absolutely
necessary ceremonies took a lot of time. Anyway” he’d have to take the time, or he’d never reach the god.
“Art Lord Tedric?” A burly captain disentangled himself from the front rank and saluted.
“I’m Tedric, yes. Knewst I was coming?”
“Yes, Lord. Orders came by helio but now. You are in command; you speak with the voice of King Phagon himself.”
“Good. Call your men back thirty paces. Pick me out the twelve or fifteen strongest, to lead.
“Men of the Royal Guard!” He raised his voice to a volume audible not only to his own men, but also to all the
enemy. “Who is the most powerful swordsman among you? . . . Stand forward . . . This armor I wear is not of iron,
but of god-metal, the metal of Llosir, my personal and all-powerful god. That all here may see and know, I
command you to strike at me your shrewdest, most effective, most powerful blow.”
The soldier, after a couple of false starts” did manage a stroke of sorts.
“I said strike!” Tedric roared. “Think you ordinary iron can harm the personal metal of a god? Strike where you
please, at head or neck or shoulder or guts, but strike as though you meant it! Strike to kill! Shatter your sword!
STRIKE!”
Convulsively, the fellow struck, swinging for the neck, and at impact his blade snapped into three pieces. A wave of
visible relief swept over the Guardsmen; one of dismay and shock over the ranks of the foe.
“I implore pardon, Lord,” the soldier begged, dropping to one knee.
“Up man! ‘Tis nothing” and by my direct order. Now” men, I can tell you a thing you would not have fully believed
before. I have just killed half of Sarpedion and he could not touch me. I am about to kill his other half you will see
me do it. Come what may of god or devil you need not fear it” for I and all with me fight under Llosir’s shield. We