Odal, for his part, had Hector’s charge and swing timed perfectly in his own mind. He would duck under the swing and bury his ax in the Watchman’s chest. Then he would face the others. Probably, with their leader gone, the duel would automatically end. But, of course, Hector would not really be dead; the best Odal could hope for now was to win the duel.
Hector charged directly into Odal’s plan, but the Watchman’s timing was much poorer than anticipated. Just as he began the downswing of a mighty broadsword stroke, he stumbled on the helmet. Odal started to duck, then saw the Watchman was diving face-first into the ground, legs flailing, and that heavy broadsword was cleaving through the air with a will of its own.
Odal pulled back in confusion, only to have the wildswinging broadsword strike him just above the wrist with bone-shattering impact. The ax dropped out of his hand and Odal involuntarily grasped the wounded forearm with his left hand. Blood seeped through his fingers.
Shaking his head in bitter resignation, Odal turned his back on the prostrate Hector and began walking away.
Slowly the scene faded, and Hector found himself siting in the booth of the dueling machine.
The door opened and Leoh squeezed into the booth. “You’re all right?”
Hector blinked and refocused his eyes on reality. “I think so. . ..”
“Everything went well? The Watchmen got through to you?”
“Good thing they didI was nearly killed anyway.”
“But you survived.”
“So far.”
Across the room, Odal stood massaging his forearm while Kor demanded, “How could they possibly have discovered the secret? Where was the leak? Who spoke to them?”