Master Of The Hashomi

So he could safely rule out any tactics that depended on his being faster than they were, unless he could hand out a little punishment first. No real chances for that, yet. Maybe he'd better let them make the first attack, and see what he could develop in countering it.

The circling went on, and the watchers by the tent seemed to be getting farther and farther away. The circles were getting larger. That should trigger an attack soon, Blade realized. The two Hashomi would also want the Master and the judges to have a good view of what happened. Their lives might not be at stake, but they'd certainly be interested in earning the Master's favor by a good performance.

Blade was determined that they'd have to work a great deal harder than they expected, to earn anything except broken bones!

One more circle. Then a flicker of metal as one of the Hashomi handed his knife to his partner. The first man now had both hands free for his staff, while the second man dropped his staff and raised a knife in each hand. Ingenious, thought Blade, and quite possibly dangerous. It had the disadvantage of leaving one staff where he could pick it up, though, and that might prove to be a very large disadvantage indeed. Blade was a master of quarterstaff fighting, and the Hashomi staves were weighted and balanced well enough for it.

First, though, he had to survive the attack that could now be only seconds away. The three men made another half-circle, then suddenly the two Hashomi were ru

They were every bit as fast as Blade-but no faster. He picked the man with the staff as the less dangerous. Once past the drug-laden needle at the tip, he would be safe. The knives were a different matter.

He ran straight at the man with the staff and the tip darted toward him with the speed of an arrow. Blade swerved, saw it pass within inches of his skin, leaped clear over the staff as the man drew it back for another thrust, landed, whirled, and struck at the man's shoulder. The man's speed was already taking him back out of range as Blade's hand descended. It struck hard enough to shake him, but nothing was broken or disabled. Before Blade could strike again, the man was out of range and his partner with the knives was almost within range.

Blade couldn't get completely clear of the knife man's rush. The point of one knife left a thin red line across his right arm-no deeper or more dangerous than a paper cut, fortunately, although it stung painfully. One of Blade's long legs whipped out, and a size 12 foot with a leather-tough sole drove into the knife man's thigh. If it had struck the knee the man would have been out of the fight, but he was moving fast enough to spoil Blade's aim. The kick jolted him violently, and he sprang out of range without trying to get another slash home with his knives.

For a moment Blade thought he had the time and the clear space to make a dash for the fallen staff. But his opponents recovered faster than he expected, flowing almost without a break from their retreat into their next attack. The knife man swung wide, until he was between Blade and the fallen staff. Then he and his partner came at Blade again, so fast and so close together that Blade wasn't sure he'd have time to meet them separately.

Once more Blade closed with the staff man, avoiding a thrust even more narrowly than the first time. He closed inside the man's striking range, but did not attack. Instead Blade gripped the staff with both hands, and used his superior strength to jerk both it and the man holding it forward. The knife man came in, suddenly finding himself within seconds of being impaled by the tip of his partner's staff. He slowed down to avoid this. Blade had enough time to wheel on one foot and drive the other into the knife man's stomach. The breath went out of him with a whufff and he reeled back without slashing at Blade.

Blade now shifted his grip on the staff. He kicked at the staff man's groin and at the same moment he heaved with all his strength on the staff. The man sprang clear in time to avoid the kick, letting go of his staff so suddenly that Blade was nearly thrown off-balance. Before he could grip the staff for either attack or defense, the knife man was coming in again.

Blade held the staff crossways and met the attack. Both knives chopped into the staff. The sharp edges with the heavy steel and the man's wiry strength behind them chopped through the wood. The staff fell into three pieces. Blade quickly opened the distance to keep the knife man from doing the same job on him.

The knife man handed one of his weapons to his partner, and both drew back. Both seemed to be a trifle less sure in their movements, and the man who'd held the staff was now rubbing his shoulder. They'd taken a certain amount of punishment-Blade could split two-by-fours with his hands, and without using his full strength. They hadn't taken enough to make them much less dangerous. In fact, now that both had knives, both would be deadly at close range.

The brief pause gave Blade plenty of time to snatch up the fallen staff. He raised it and whirled it over his head. It was light, supple, almost graceful. If he'd been choosing something for cracking skulls or ribs, he'd have chosen something a good deal heavier. Here he wasn't doing the choosing, and if the staff lasted long enough to take out one opponent, that would be enough.

Now Blade had the advantage in reach. He decided it was time to go over to the attack himself. He shifted swiftly to the right, then closed as the two men turned to face him. He whirled the staff end for end, thrusting out savagely with the weighted butt.

The staff struck when the two men were sure they were still out of range. The butt smacked into one man's knife arm. Blade saw his mouth clamp shut, and he sprang back. Blade whipped the staff up and shortened his second thrust. The second man grabbed the staff and shoved it to one side as he slashed at Blade with his knife.

Blade let go of the staff, sidestepped the slash, and clamped both hands down on the man's knife arm. He jerked hard, and the man screamed uncontrollably and horribly as both elbow and shoulder joints gave under the impossible strain. Blade whirled, turning his back on the man and crouching as he heaved with all his strength. The man flew over Blade's head and crashed to the ground. It didn't matter how much punishment he could take or how much pain he could endure-for him this fight was over.

Blade spun around, to see the second man charging him, one hand dangling uselessly but the knife raised in the other. The second staff was also cracked and useless. Blade decided it was time to use his surprise weapon.

By nimble footwork he avoided three furious rushes in the few seconds it took him to untie his sash. It was five feet long, and one end dangled as if weighted. It was. Into a pocket at one end Blade had sewn a number of pebbles and bits of scrap metal. Only a few ounces, but it should be enough. Blade began whirling the sash around his head.

His opponent hesitated for a moment, then decided he still had a chance. He ran at Blade, and this time his knife was raised even higher, to cut the sash apart and deprive Blade of his last weapon.

Blade whipped the sash forward, and with a hiss the weighted end wound itself three times around the man's upraised arm. Blade heaved with all his strength, and the man flew forward to meet Blade's foot slamming up into his groin. He folded in midair and struck the ground already doubled up and writhing. He did not cry out, but after a moment he choked and started vomiting.

Blade turned the man's head to one side so he would not choke on his own vomit. Then he examined the other man. He also was alive, although probably with a concussion and certainly with an arm he'd never be able to use again. Blade rather hoped there was a place among the Hashomi for the one-armed or the castrated, and that he hadn't condemned these men to death by defeating and crippling them. To be sure, they had put his life in considerable danger, but they'd hardly done this of their own free will.