Twelve powerful chargers met head-on, and twelve strong men smashed together with an ear-splitting CLANG! Shattered spears showered splinters everywhere. Men and animals went down.
Hector was rocked back in his saddle, but somehow managed to avoid falling off. On the other hand, he couldn’t really regain his balance, either. Dust and weapons filled the air. A sword hissed near his head and rattled off his shield.
With a supreme effort. Hector pulled out his own sword and thrashed at the nearest rider. It turned out to be a fellow Watchman, but the stroke bounced harmlessly off his helmet.
It was so confusing. The wheeling, snorting animals. Clouds of dust. Screaming, raging menA black-armored rider charged into Hector, waving a battle-ax over his head. He chopped savagely, and the Watchman’s shield split apart. Another frightening swing—Hector tried to duck and sBd completely out of the saddle, thumping ainfully on the ground, while the ax cleaved the air where his head had been a split second earlier.
Somehow his helmet was turned around. Hector tried to decide whether to grope around blindly or lay down his sword and straighten out the helmet. The problem was solved for him by die crang! of a sword against the back of his head. The blow flipped him into a somersault, and knocked the helmet off completely.
Hector climbed painfully to his feet, his head spinning. It took him several moments to realize that the battle had stopped.
The dust drifted away, and he saw that all the Kerak fighters were down—except one. The black-armored warrior took off his helmet and tossed it aside. It was Odal. Or was it? They all looked alike. What difference does tt make? Hector wondered. Odal’s mind is the dominantne.