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bank of the
Sippi, rang a single deep note to indicate the half hour.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
The officer cleared his throat. "Duel will begin on my signal. Any apology?"
He hardly waited for the possibility of an answer. "No? Swords. No other
weapon. I'll shoot down any man breaks the rules or interferes." He waved a
.32-caliber Taurus revolver in his right hand. "Ready? Start."
Only then did the crowd become aware of the discrepancy between the two men's
chosen weapons.
Gatewood, tall and lithe, wore a white suit, with a vermilion vest that
sported mother-of-
pearl buttons. He swished the long-bladed saber that Ryan recognized as
resembling a nineteenth-century light-cavalry officer's sword. It was nearly
three inches wide, single-
edged, with a needle point to it and a ponderous brass basket hilt.
Kahla, jacketless, wore a dark vest and pants over a white shirt with loose,
baggy sleeves.
His rapier was less than an inch in width, probably Spanish in origin, several
inches shorter than the saber, with a delicate, silver-chased hilt.
"My support is with the swordsman rather than the clumsy artisan," Doc
whispered.
Ryan's first gut reaction had altered. Trader used to say that biggest and
strongest was best, and it generally was. But there was also a case in this
kind of combat to be made for fast and light and deadly.
Apart from the fluttering of the ornamental bunting that was strung all about
the upper decks of the boat, the only sound was the steady, monotonous
pounding of the stern paddle wheel, which Ryan noticed was moving a little
more slowly than usual, as the evening light began to fade.
Gatewood made no effort to launch his attack on the sailor's word, contenting
himself with planting a kiss on the cheeks of each of the blond sluts, half
bowing to them, an unworried smile on his lips.
Kahla shuffled a couple of steps across the deck, as though he were testing
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out the footing, the rapier held loosely at his side, point trailing.
"Fuck'n get on with it!" someone yelled in a flat Yankee drawl.
A number of the watching whores started to giggle and clap their hands, eager
to see some action.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
Gatewood waved the enormous saber with a great flourish over his head, bowing
and smiling, gradually edging a little closer to his much smaller opponent.
"Three to one on the colonel," shouted a stout man who had dragged a chair out
to give him a place in the front row. At those odds he didn't get many takers,
showing where the mood of the passengers lay.
"Take him up, Jak," Ryan whispered, slipping a small bundle of folded notes to
the teenager, who grabbed them and wormed his way through the crowd, keeping
an eye on the fighters. He did the deal with the gambler, who looked surprised
to have any wagers in on Kahla.
"Are you ready to meet your death, my tiny amigo?" Gatewood called, closing
in, making
Kahla step back toward the rail of the boat.
"As ready as you," said the small man in a high, squeaky voice, like a pompous
mouse, which brought a ripple of laughter around the deck.
Without any further warning, Gatewood was on him, swinging the massive saber
with his enormous strength, bringing it hissing down, aiming at the neatly
parted hair.
But Kahla wasn't there.
To a gasp of shock from the watchers, he had ducked under the murderous blow
and jinked sideways, pinking his opponent in the top of the right thigh with
his whiplash rapier as he moved past him. He continued to stand with his back
to the crowd, the blade trailing on the planks again. A tiny bead of crimson
dripped from it onto the white wood.
"Touché!" Doc called out delightedly. "Tapped his claret for him."
In that split second the whole atmosphere changed as the knowledgeable
passengers realized that the duel now had a whole different scenario.
Gatewood also backed away, cursing, rubbing a hand at the small wound. "A mere
nothing," he said with a sneer, but his face had grown pale, his eyes
flickering nervously from side to side. Ryan noticed beads of sweat on his
forehead.
"The next will not be nothing," Kahla riposted, his confidence visibly grown.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
What happened was so fast that even Ryan couldn't be certain just what he'd
seen.
The crowd behind the little Mexican jostled and pushed violently, and there
was a volley of curses, followed by a woman's scream.
And the thin metallic sound of steel snapping.
"Someone broke his blade," J.B. hissed. "Stamped on it. Bastards. I didn't see
who& "
Time froze.
Kahla was holding the hilt of his fencing sword, with only a couple of jagged
inches left of the blade. His jaw dropped, and he saw his death advancing.
Gatewood grinned wolfishly, moving fast, the saber half lifted.
Ryan reached for the SIG-Sauer, but the sailor was swinging around with his
Taurus. "No blasters," he shouted. "I'll chill the first man draws a blaster.
It's only swords and "
For once in his life Doc reacted with lightning speed, drawing his own rapier
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from its ebony sheath and throwing it toward the trapped man. "Take it," he
called. "And use it with honor."
The Toledo steel caught the burning rays of the dying sun, glinting like a
flash of molten blood, spinning across the deck. Diego Kahla snatched at it,
dropping his own sabotaged sword, flashing a smile at Doc.
"Cheating!" someone roared, possibly the man in the chair. And the sailor spun
toward
Doc, finding himself looking down the muzzles of five blasters.
"No cheating," Ryan yelled. "Swords!" The officer nodded slowly and
thoughtfully, then reluctantly lowered his own weapon.
It was Gatewood's turn to back away, driven toward the rail by the weaving web
of deathly steel.
Kahla used the perfectly balanced blade like the master he obviously was,
cutting the bigger man three, four times, across the arm, the knee and on both
sides of the face.
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Axler, James - Deathlands 33 - Eclipse at Noon
Blood streamed over the white suit, invisible on the crimson vest. Gatewood
was breathing raggedly, trying to keep up the guard of the heavy saber. But
his strength was being sapped, and the end was coming.
"Do him!" whispered a slut in the front row, who was sporting a swollen black
eye.
The saber lifted in a last, desperate attack, but Kahla was in under it, arm
and wrist straight in the perfect lunge. His blade went in under the fifth rib
on the right side, sliding through clothes and skin, flesh and muscle,
piercing the heart. He twisted his hand as the blade was withdrawn, doing
irreparable damage, blood gushing from the long, narrow wound.
Gatewood dropped his useless sword, which clattered on the deck, loud in the
breath-held stillness. The setting sun concealed his deathly pallor as he
slumped to his knees. "Tell my father, Judge& that& " Then he fell facedown in
his own blood.
"Get our winnings, Jak," Ryan said in a normal conversational voice.
THE SIX FRIENDS SAT around a plain Amish table in the roulette room, each with
a large crystal glass of finest imported brandy in front of them.
Diego Kahla stood opposite, his own balloon glass raised in his left hand,
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