deadly; heavy whiff of discarded centuries. And, without further thought, Ronin leapt upward and away.
On the third step, panting, he turned, looked downward. The broken body of the vulture knelt against the edifice of Moichi’s body as if it had hit a stone wall instead of—
‘The second move is completed,’ Ek intoned from the pyramid’s summit. ‘House defeats vulture.’
Already there was motion above him and Kin Coba, the crocodile, landed above him on the fourth step. The long jaws gaped, just centimeters from his face. He rolled away and she came after him, brandishing a short-hafted battle ax in her right hand.
He drew his blade once more and it clashed against her swing, the metal scraping together. She pivoted, swung again, and as he ducked away, leapt to the third step.
He recovered and slashed at her, bracing for the concussion as their weapons crashed together in a welter of sparks and noise.
Blood streamed from his shoulder where the vulture’s talons had sunk. For the moment, the pumping adrenalin compensated for the energy drain, but all too soon—
He stood his ground, letting her come against him, over and over, gauging the manner of her combat.
She was a warrior. She swung from her widely planted bare feet, using her hips and upper torso to make up for her arms, which were more slender than a man’s. And she was clever. Time and again she nearly got behind his guard for a killing blow. But perhaps more importantly she was tireless. Stunting, varying the angles of her attacks, carefully calculating each blow, she became a machine of destruction and, with pain and fatigue lapping at the periphery of his senses, the idea of defeat crept into his mind.
He shook his head, risked a glance toward Ek high above him. Was it his imagination or was the ebon-robed figure bent in concentration? With that, he knew that the thoughts of defeat were not his own and he returned his concentration to his battle on the third step. Once again, he knew that his sword alone could not prevail against the god. What then?
And out of the corner of his eye, a possible answer came crawling along the cold stone. A small lizard on the step perhaps a meter behind the crocodile, its bright eyes staring, its forked tongue flicking the air before it.
The clashing was hypnotic and he held his ground. The lizard seemed transfixed by the replicated movements of the battle. Ronin retreated and the lizard scuttled forward. Locked together, he allowed the crocodile to push him further back. This time the lizard scuttled further along the stone until it was just behind his foe.
Abruptly he pressed his attack, exerting great force, shoving the crocodile backward along the step. One bare foot struck the lizard, who squealed, terrified, and squirmed.
The crocodile stumbled for an instant.
It was all Ronin needed.
Slamming a mighty blow with the flat of his sword against the side of her face, he sent her flying. She cried out as she tumbled downward, her mask slipping off as she hit the top of one of the great stone Chacmools at the base of the Sacred Pyramid. A crack like thunder.
Ronin swung up onto the fourth step.
‘The third move is complete,’ Ek cried from above. ‘Lizard defeats crocodile.’
While he gained the fifth level.
Uxmal Chac: flint moving against him now; the light of the low platinum moon, which frosted the swaying tops of the massed trees in the west, shot dazzlingly from his adversary’s high metallic mask.
The night was waning. Would the dawn bring Tzcatlipoca?
Jagged blue-green lightning banded the Sacred Pyramid; a distant growling had begun from the interior of the Temple of Tzcatlipoca at its summit.
Ronin felt the pain in his shoulder intensify as his sword met the crescent flint blade of Uxmal Chac. But he urged his body onward, his iron will forcing the agony down into insignificance.
It is my time now, he thought wildly and he yelled the battle cry of his unknown ancestors, a call of power
On the third step, panting, he turned, looked downward. The broken body of the vulture knelt against the edifice of Moichi’s body as if it had hit a stone wall instead of—
‘The second move is completed,’ Ek intoned from the pyramid’s summit. ‘House defeats vulture.’
Already there was motion above him and Kin Coba, the crocodile, landed above him on the fourth step. The long jaws gaped, just centimeters from his face. He rolled away and she came after him, brandishing a short-hafted battle ax in her right hand.
He drew his blade once more and it clashed against her swing, the metal scraping together. She pivoted, swung again, and as he ducked away, leapt to the third step.
He recovered and slashed at her, bracing for the concussion as their weapons crashed together in a welter of sparks and noise.
Blood streamed from his shoulder where the vulture’s talons had sunk. For the moment, the pumping adrenalin compensated for the energy drain, but all too soon—
He stood his ground, letting her come against him, over and over, gauging the manner of her combat.
She was a warrior. She swung from her widely planted bare feet, using her hips and upper torso to make up for her arms, which were more slender than a man’s. And she was clever. Time and again she nearly got behind his guard for a killing blow. But perhaps more importantly she was tireless. Stunting, varying the angles of her attacks, carefully calculating each blow, she became a machine of destruction and, with pain and fatigue lapping at the periphery of his senses, the idea of defeat crept into his mind.
He shook his head, risked a glance toward Ek high above him. Was it his imagination or was the ebon-robed figure bent in concentration? With that, he knew that the thoughts of defeat were not his own and he returned his concentration to his battle on the third step. Once again, he knew that his sword alone could not prevail against the god. What then?
And out of the corner of his eye, a possible answer came crawling along the cold stone. A small lizard on the step perhaps a meter behind the crocodile, its bright eyes staring, its forked tongue flicking the air before it.
The clashing was hypnotic and he held his ground. The lizard seemed transfixed by the replicated movements of the battle. Ronin retreated and the lizard scuttled forward. Locked together, he allowed the crocodile to push him further back. This time the lizard scuttled further along the stone until it was just behind his foe.
Abruptly he pressed his attack, exerting great force, shoving the crocodile backward along the step. One bare foot struck the lizard, who squealed, terrified, and squirmed.
The crocodile stumbled for an instant.
It was all Ronin needed.
Slamming a mighty blow with the flat of his sword against the side of her face, he sent her flying. She cried out as she tumbled downward, her mask slipping off as she hit the top of one of the great stone Chacmools at the base of the Sacred Pyramid. A crack like thunder.
Ronin swung up onto the fourth step.
‘The third move is complete,’ Ek cried from above. ‘Lizard defeats crocodile.’
While he gained the fifth level.
Uxmal Chac: flint moving against him now; the light of the low platinum moon, which frosted the swaying tops of the massed trees in the west, shot dazzlingly from his adversary’s high metallic mask.
The night was waning. Would the dawn bring Tzcatlipoca?
Jagged blue-green lightning banded the Sacred Pyramid; a distant growling had begun from the interior of the Temple of Tzcatlipoca at its summit.
Ronin felt the pain in his shoulder intensify as his sword met the crescent flint blade of Uxmal Chac. But he urged his body onward, his iron will forcing the agony down into insignificance.
It is my time now, he thought wildly and he yelled the battle cry of his unknown ancestors, a call of power
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