anced toward Hector, holding his sword out before
him. The other Watchmen stood aside while Hector slowly backpedaled,
stumbling slightly on the uneven ground.

Odal feinted and cut at Hector's arm. The Watchman barely parried in
time. Another feint, at the head, and a slash into the chest; Hector
missed the parry but his armor saved him. Grimly, Odal kept advancing.
Feint, feint, crack! and Hector's sword went flying from his hand.

For the barest instant everyone froze. Then Hector leaped desperately
straight at Odal, caught him completely by surprise, and wrestled him
to the ground. The Watchman pulled the sword from his opponent's hand
and tossed it away. But with his free hand, Odal clouted Hector on the
side of the head and knocked him on his back. Both men scrambled up
and ran for the nearest weapons.

Odal picked up a wicked-looking double-bladed ax. One of the mounted
Star Watchmen handed Hector a huge broadsword. He gripped it with both
hands, but still staggered off-balance as he swung it up over his
shoulder.

Holding the broadsword aloft, Hector charged toward Odal, who stood
dogged, short-breathed, sweat-streaked, waiting for him. The
broadsword was quite heavy, even for a two handed grip. And Hector did
not notice his own battered helmet laying on the ground between them.

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 that 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 wild-swinging
broadsword strike him just above the wrist. The ax dropped out of his
hand, and Odal involuntarily grasped the wounded forearm with his left
hand. Blood seeped through his fingers.

He shook his head in bitter resignation, turned his back on the
prostrate Hector, and began walking away.

Slowly, the scene faded, and Hector found himself sitting in t