by John Norman
Grendel and the second attacker then, some yards apart, crouched down, watching one another.
Cabot could see the movements of the lungs of the two beasts.
The attacker then began to groom itself, not taking his eyes off Grendel.
They remained so, almost motionless, for several minutes.
The crowd was silent, and patient. Kurii, when hunting, are very patient.
The attacker then roared and rushed forward, and, as it advanced, but feet from Grendel, Grendel setting himself to accept the charge, the attacker suddenly twisted to the side and, with one clawed foot, swept a great storm of sand toward Grendel, a blasting flight of particles that might have stunned and blinded a tharlarion. But Grendel who had anticipated this device hurled himself to the sand below this flighted granular torrent, and swept his bar across the sand, striking the now-again-turned attacker frontally across the legs, some inches above the ankles, and the attacker, with a bellow of agony, fell forward into the sand, its legs shattered, as the sand fell about Grendel and his pet, descending even onto the cement platform, and striking about the pet's back and shoulders, and coating her hair and eyelashes. Grendel then rose to his feet, slowly, deliberately, and, as the crippled attacker watched, and lifted his arms to defend himself, Grendel struck down with his bar, shattering through the fending arms, and breaking the head open as one might have beaten a hammer into a crusted larma. He then went, deliberately, to the first attacker, who sat helplessly in the sand, and punched through his skull with the bar.
"He is Kur,” breathed Peisistratus.
"Or human,” said Cabot.
Grendel then turned to regard the five remaining challengers.
There was a roar of anger from the stands.
"The crowd is displeased,” said Cabot.
"Not with Grendel!” cried Peisistratus. “Observe!"
Four of the five remaining challengers were advancing together.
"It is, I gather, not Kur,” said Cabot.
"No,” said Peisistratus. “It is not Kur."
The crowd was howling with rage, but the four continued to advance, and began to spread themselves about, to encircle Grendel, and he could not, of course, defend the pet on more than one side.
She was screaming, and, with her small hands, jerking wildly at the chain. This was futile, of course, as it had been decided that she would remain in place. In Gorean arenas, beautiful female slaves are commonly awarded as prizes to the victors. They are usually chained in place, to await their disposition, pending the outcome of the contest. In the current instance, of course, it was the very blood of the female that was sought.
"The rubies are now mine,” said Peisistratus, angrily.
"Consider the rains in Anango,” said Cabot.
"Do not be foolish,” chided Peisistratus.
Grendel suddenly left the vicinity of the pet on its chain moving with great speed toward the nearest of the attackers, it unwisely now, too eager, some yards in advance of the others. There were movements of the weapons but they did not make contact. The foremost attacker's bar struck down into the sand, and Grendel was then behind it and he thrust his weapon into the abdomen of his foe, and literally lifted the Kur from the sand, impaled, and flung his body from the weapon.
"He is strong even for a Kur!” cried Peisistratus.
"He is more than Kur!” cried Cabot.
At the same moment another of the Kurii rushed toward the pet, who screamed, his bar lifted, to strike down, but Grendel spun about and flung his weapon almost as might a lesser creature have hurled a javelin, and it struck he who threatened the blonde in the back, emerging through his chest, and his bar fell ringing on the cement to the left of the terrified pet. At the same time, a side stroke from a bar struck Grendel on the left arm, and the arm jerked, useless, for the moment paralyzed. Grendel scrambled toward the cement platform, to retrieve a weapon, his or the fallen bar of he who would have smote the pet. But there lunged between him and his goal another of the attackers, his weapon raised.
Grendel crouched on the sand.
The blonde pulled back to the length of her chain.
"He does not see the attacker behind him!” said Peisistratus.
"He sees the shadow,” said Cabot. “He knows! He sees the shadow!"
"Why does he not move?” demanded Peisistratus.
"It is not yet time,” said Cabot.
"The shadow is gone!” said Peisistratus.
"The mirrors have been changed,” said Cabot. “Not every foe, it seems, is on the sand."
"Grendel dares not turn his back,” said Peisistratus.
Had he done so the foe between him and the pet might have struck.
"He need not do so,” said Cabot. “Again they underestimate him."
"How so?” said Peisistratus, grasping the bars, looking down to the sand.
"His hearing,” said Cabot. “It is that of the Kur."
Whatever the clue might have been, a pressing of a paw into the sand to gain leverage for a blow, an intake of breath prior to striking, a tiny sound of harness, perhaps even the slick, shifting of a grip, to take advantage of a less-moist, drier surface, Grendel threw himself to the side and the mighty bar plunged a foot into the sand beside him. He then leapt up, turned, and seized the startled Kur who had struck at him and swung him about before him, to interpose him between himself and the attacker in the vicinity of the platform, who had quickly sped forward, but now stopped, angrily, the bar lifted.
"Why does he not strike?” asked Peisistratus.
"He needs a clean blow,” said Cabot. “If the weapon is stopped, by sand, by the body of the other, it might be seized by Grendel."
"He could decapitate both with one blow,” said Peisistratus.
"Grendel might,” said Cabot. “But I do not think it could be done by a common Kur."
Grendel's left arm, slowly, surely, doubtless with considerable pain to himself, encircled the throat of the Kur he held, and he drew back a mighty fist, and this fist, with a blow that might have felled a tharlarion, he drove into the back of the Kur's neck, better than two inches, breaking the skull away from the vertebrae. He then cast aside the limp body of his former antagonist and turned to face the sixth challenger, the last of the four who had advanced together.
The seventh challenger had not interfered, but had remained crouched, with his weapon, near the far wall, near the gate through which he and the others had originally entered.
The sixth challenger now moved about Grendel, circling, who, weaponless, unwilling to reach for a weapon, and thus expose himself for a blow, turned, crouching, to keep his foe before him.
The challenger was then again between Grendel and the pet.
It was clearly unwilling to turn and attack the pet, for that would expose it to Grendel's attack.
They then crouched in the sand and faced one another, some four or five yards apart.
After a few moments the challenger began again, warily, to move, again circling, his clawed feet scarcely disturbing the sand, perhaps not wanting the cement shelf behind him, against which he might stumble, perhaps wanting to have both the pet and Grendel in view.
"I fear he has a clean blow,” said Peisistratus. “It is only a question of the moment in which he will strike."
"It seems,” said Cabot, “the rubies are yours."
"I do not think I want them,” said Peisistratus.
It is, of course, next to impossible, without an object to interpose, to escape the vicious, lateral sweep of such a weapon.
"Look,” said Peisistratus. “Grendel has backed near the platform. He chooses to die in the vicinity of the ungrateful, worthless thing for which he has fought, and for which he will now die."
The stands were now quiet.
And so Grendel stood, not moving, before the platform.
"He accepts his fate, and awaits it uncomplainingly,” said Peisistratus.
"I fear so,” said Cabot.
"He is Kur,” said Pe
isistratus.
"And human,” said Cabot.
The sixth challenger, with a grimace of pleasure, lifted his weapon and saluted Grendel.
There were in the stands noises of approval, and the smiting of thighs.
"He accepts him as a worthy foe,” said Peisistratus.
"Grendel, it seems,” said Cabot, “is at last redeemed."
The sixth challenger drew back his great bar and then suddenly it hurtled about in a smooth, sweeping arc within the compass of which stood Grendel.
"Ai!” cried Cabot.
The blow might have shattered walls, felled small trees.
The two beasts struggled for control of the weapon.
Grendel had grasped it in its flight. His two massive forepaws were clasped about the bar, as were those of its startled wielder.
A cry of astonishment roared through the stands.
Then Grendel drew the weapon closer and closer to himself, inch by inch.
"The Kur should loose his grip!” said Cabot. “He is being drawn too close to Grendel!"
But the Kur was unwise, and was reluctant to surrender the weapon. Did it truly think the struggle was for the weapon? Did it not understand that the struggle was for who should live and who should die?
Suddenly Grendel released the weapon and thrust out his massive clawed paw and the fingers of his right paw thrust through the left eye of the Kur and the rest of the grip, the thumb, was on its jaws, back, behind the fangs, and then Grendel turned his paw, thus lifting and exposing the Kur's throat, and then brought it forward, to his own jaws, and tore it away, and then stood crouched over the shuddering, dying body, blood smeared on his chest and about his jaws.
The blonde screamed in horror.
Grendel turned to regard her, his long dark tongue moving about, licking the blood about his fangs.
She lay down on the cement platform, covering her head with her hands, trembling.
Grendel then went to one of the fallen weapons, picked it up, returned to his kill, and there lifted the weapon, saluting his foe.
"He has accepted him as a worthy enemy,” said Peisistratus.
There was much silence in the stands, and then several of the Kurii smote their thighs, acknowledging this gesture of respect to one of their species, albeit from one hitherto deemed not Kur, but no more than a malformed thing, a misbred brute, an abomination, a monster.
There was then a roll of drums, and all eyes turned to the seventh challenger, who now rose from his crouching position, to a height of some ten feet.
"He is massive,” said Cabot.
"He is the champion, Magnus, Rufus Magnus,” said Peisistratus.
"He is concerned with the blood of the pet?” inquired Cabot.
"No,” said Peisistratus. “He has been hired."
"He has no personal interest in the matter?"
"None,” said Peisistratus, “unlike the other challengers. His only interest here is to kill Grendel and collect his fee, after which the pet may be dealt with as others please."
"He is a champion?"
"A high champion,” said Peisistratus. “See the two rings on his left wrist?"
"Yes."
"They are of gold,” said Peisistratus.
"Look,” said Cabot. “He puts aside the great bar."
"Yes,” said Peisistratus.
"He will face Grendel unarmed?"
"No,” said Peisistratus.
A praetor now approached the seventh challenger, and placed in his huge paws a gigantic ax, some ten feet in length, and double-bladed at each end, an ax which, in the grip of one such as he, one of such strength, might have decapitated a larl, and perhaps even, with three or four blows, Gor's mightiest constrictor, the giant hith.
"Is this honorable?” asked Cabot.
"Some higher authority has ruled on this, apparently,” said Peisistratus, grimly.
"Agamemnon?"
"Doubtless,” said Peisistratus.
The champion, Rufus Magnus, shifted the great ax about, easily, from paw to paw, testing its balance, and then, satisfied, he looked across the sand, to where Grendel stood, waiting.
The blonde now lay collapsed upon the platform, a tiny, pathetic, trembling figure, white against the gray of the cement. Cabot was not sure she could move, even had she wished to do so. He grasped the bars.
"You can do nothing,” said Peisistratus.
"It is getting dark,” said Cabot, suddenly.
"The mirrors!” said Peisistratus. “They are turning!"
The light which before had streamed into the arena was now lessening, as though night were falling, gradually, but at an unnatural pace.
"He must attack, he must run, there is little time!” exclaimed Peisistratus.
"I think there is no time,” said Cabot.
"The shutters are closing!” said Peisistratus.
"I cannot see!” said Cabot.
"Nor I!” said Peisistratus.
"The shutters have closed?” asked Cabot.
"I do not know,” said Peisistratus.
"If there is light I cannot detect it,” said Cabot.
"Nor I,” said Peisistratus.
There were anticipatory noises from the crowd.
"They can see!” cried Cabot.
"The champion is advancing upon him!” said Peisistratus. “I am sure of it!"
"Dishonor!” cried Cabot.
"True,” said Peisistratus, angrily. “There is no honor in this."
There was a roaring, as though of a frightened animal below in the arena.
"Turn up your translator!” cried Cabot.
Peisistratus fumbled in the darkness.
"More! Higher!” said Cabot. “Direct it toward the sand!"
"Light! Light!” came from the translator. “I cannot see! Light! I cannot see!"
"It is Grendel,” said Peisistratus. “He is terrified! He is lost! He cannot see!"
"Excellent!” cried Cabot.
"What?” cried Peisistratus.
"We see him as Kur,” cried Cabot, “but they see him as human, as human!"
"They think he is blinded, helpless, forlorn in darkness?"
"Precisely,” said Cabot, speaking in what for him was utter darkness.
"But he cries out in terror!” said Peisistratus.
"Does he?” said Cabot.
"Ah!” breathed Peisistratus, softly.
"And, too, it seemed,” said Cabot, “he was slowed, muchly injured."
"Ai!” cried Peisistratus.
"Our large, fierce friends, I fear, have miscalculated,” said Cabot.
Shutters must then have been reopened, and mirrors turned again, to gradually illuminate the sand.
"I owe you a dozen strings of coins,” said Peisistratus.
Below, howling, his left arm lifted, two golden rings now on his left wrist, stood Grendel.
One of his clawed feet was on the chest of his antagonist, and the great, blunt bar he had had as weapon was thrust some four feet into the sand, first having pierced the massive neck of the antagonist, then pinning him to the sand by the ruptured throat, the body of the antagonist jerking, splashing sand about, hands and feet, and then scratching futilely at the thick metal bar.
"He could see!” said Peisistratus.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
Grendel put back his head and howled in victory, a Kur's cry of triumph.
In the stands, after a silence, first one, and then another, and then thousands, smote their thighs in approbation.
"He has taken the two golden rings from the wrist of Rufus Magnus,” said Peisistratus.
"They are his now,” said Cabot.
"In the falling of darkness I see the hand of Agamemnon,” said Peisistratus.
"The authority would have been his, indeed,” said Cabot. “Surely it could not have taken place without his permission, or command, but what could be his interest in the matter, the pet, vengeance for a hunt gone wrong?"
"It is my speculation,” said Peisist
ratus, “it has more to do with Grendel."
"How could that be?” inquired Cabot.
"The experiment, the outcome of which was Grendel,” said Peisistratus, “turned out badly, Grendel failing to be such as to be accepted by humans as a leader. Such failures do not reflect well on the astuteness or stratagems of a Face of the Nameless One, and their lingering, failed residues are best discarded."
"I see,” said Cabot.
"And there is unrest within the world,” said Peisistratus.
"I have gathered that,” said Cabot.
"In the cylinders treason lurks,” said Peisistratus. “In the palace, accordingly, dark imperatives obtain."
"The winds of power sometimes blow waywardly,” said Cabot.
"One who has grasped power is not easily persuaded to relinquish it,” said Peisistratus.
"It is so, too, with humans,” said Cabot.
"And there is another experiment, the outcome of which is not yet determined,” said Peisistratus.
"What is that?” asked Cabot.
"That of enlisting a human leader, one men will trust, a warrior, a seeming champion, a seeming hero, one whom men, properly motivated, will unquestioningly, eagerly follow, one who will lead armies against the Sardar."
"I see,” said Cabot.
"Agamemnon grows impatient for your answer,” said Peisistratus.
"He will have it soon,” said Cabot.
Grendel had now removed the great bar from the sand, and from his antagonist, and cast it aside, into the sand.
He then turned about and went to the cement platform, and freed the chain of the blonde pet from its ring. He then led her slowly from the platform, to the sand, and then across the sand, and then through one of the far gates, she on all fours.
Two attendants, with poles with hooks, came and removed the now inert body of the champion, dragging it through the sand, furrowing it, to another gate.
"The blonde pet is now safe,” said Cabot.
"Here, no human is safe,” said Peisistratus.
There was then a sudden roll of drums.
"What is it?” asked Cabot.
"The climax of the festivities,” said Peisistratus.