`Killeen!' his voice rang out. 'Move to the south side! Now!'

The massive helmet swung towards him and he imagined he could see the eyes through that slit, glaring maliciously at him. But the giant obeyed. Horace took up a position facing him.

Seeing the islander's ploy, Halt had come to his feet, his hand reaching to the quiver at his back. But as Killeen complied with Sean's command, he sat, a little reluctantly.

`Just let him breach the rules once,' he muttered to Will. `Let him look like breaching them, and I'll put an arrow in him.'

`That'll make two of us,' Will replied. He was half hoping that the islander would try some underhand trick. That would give him and Halt clearance to shoot him down.

Anyone who broke the rules of trial by combat automatically forfeited the bout and his right to life.

Horace and Killeen faced each other now. Killeen crouched, knees bent. Horace stood upright, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet. The mace and chain swung heavily and ponderously between them. Horace's sword moved as well, the point describing small circles in the air.

Suddenly, shatteringly in the stillness, the signal trumpet brayed its single note.

Killeen was big and clumsy. But he was fast, faster than Horace had anticipated. And his thick wrist had the huge strength necessary to flick the mace and chain up and over, so the spiked ball came arcing down in an overhead blow. As he did so, he stepped into Horace, forcing the young warrior to spring backwards, as he brought his shield up to ward off the blow.

Halt had suggested that the mace and chain would hit like a battering ram. To Horace, it felt as if a house had fallen on his shield. Never before had he felt such massive, crushing force behind a blow. Not even when he had faced Morgarath's huge broadsword, many years ago.

He grunted in surprise and was nearly caught by Killeen's follow-up, a flailing sideways attack that slammed into his shield again, as he managed to lower it just in time. Again, Horace backed away. Only his speed had saved him from those first two strokes and as he sought the eyes behind the vision slit in the helmet, he sensed that Killeen had hoped that his unexpected lightning attack would finish matters before they really got started. Killeen shuffled after him, wary himself now that he had seen the speed of his opponent's reactions. He swung again, this time another overhead blow. But now Horace was ready and he stepped lightly to the side so that the iron ball slammed into the turf.

He cut quickly at Killeen's forearm. The mace and chain had one disadvantage. Unlike a sword, there was no crosspiece to catch blows aimed at the hand and lower arm. But Killeen wore heavy brass-plated gauntlets and solid brass cuffs. The sword cut bruised him and made him jerk back hurriedly. But his armour held and it was far from a telling blow.

Horace began circling now, moving to Killeen's right to cut off the arc of the mace and chain. He frowned to himself. He could avoid Killeen's blows, or block them with his shield. But he could see no way at the moment that he could strike back. He had to keep away from the giant, to avoid having the chain hit the rim of his shield and whip over. Had he been facing a swordsman or an axeman, he could have moved in, crowding him and cramping his weapon. But the mace and chain was a different prospect and he had to avoid that whiplash effect at all costs.

Killeen stepped in with another overhead blow. Horace took it on the shield again, feeling the shock of the blow up to his shoulder. Before he could retaliate, Killeen whipped the heavy weapon back and in again, slamming into the shield a second time.

Horace heard something crack in his shield. He danced back to give himself room and looked down at the shield. It was rapidly becoming bent out of recognisable shape. The edges were crumpled and ragged and in the centre there was a crack where the steel had fractured, exposing the wood lining underneath. Much more of this and the shield would be destroyed, he realised. His mouth wentdry at the thought of facing that horrific mace with only his sword. For the first time, he considered the possibility of defeat.

Then Killeen was attacking again and Horace had no choice but to block with his shield. This time, the rent in the steel split further under the assault and the spiked ball bit deeply into the wood. For several seconds, it stuck there and there was a desperate tug of war between the two warriors. Then Killeen jerked it free and swung again.

This time, Horace ducked low and the iron ball whistled close over his head. But an idea was forming in his mind now. It was a last-ditch, desperate idea but it was the only one he could come up with. He laughed grimly to himself as he realised it was similar to the moment when he had faced Morgarath and hurled himself under the hooves of the warlord's charging horse.

Why do I always come up with low percentage ideas? he asked himself.

Killeen swung overhead again and Horace skipped lightly backwards, watching the mace head thud deeply into the turf. The Outsiders' supporters were beginning to jeer as he danced and ducked away from their champion. So far, he had been totally ineffectual in attack.

I'd jeer myself if I were with them, he thought. The other side of the field had gone noticeably silent, apart from anguished groans or gasps as the thunderous mace and chain strokes found their target.

He danced lightly to his left again, backing away a few more metres to give himself a few seconds' respite. As Killeen began to shuffle slowly after him, he glanced down at the leather strap that held his shield to his upper arm.

He had a few seconds. He slammed the sword point down into the turf and hurriedly adjusted the retaining strap, loosening it a few notches. Then he just had time to recover his sword and dance away again. This time, however, he moved to his right, surprising Killeen, who had expected him to continue to circle left.

That gave him a few more metres but now he stood and waited for Killeen. As the islander came at him, he swayed to one side to avoid the mace, then stepped quickly in and lunged the point of his sword at the vision slit in the helmet. Killeen, by now used to attacking without retaliation, was caught by surprise and only just brought his own shield up in time. The moment he was blinded by the raised shield, Horace darted to his left and hacked again at Killeen's weapon hand, then leapt back again.

Neither the thrust nor the hand strike were ' telling blows. But they served the purpose he had set. They infuriated the huge man facing him. Killeen stepped forward with a snarl of rage. The mace and chain whirred in giant circles over his head as he gathered momentum for one crushing, final stroke.

Eyes narrowed, Horace watched for him to release his wrist and unleash the blow. He knew he would have to judge timing and distance perfectly if his plan were to succeed.

Here it came!

Judging centimetres with the uncanny natural skill that set him apart from the normal run of warriors, Horace took a half pace forward and brought his shield up to take the blow. He grunted as the mace slammed into the weakened metal and the spiked ball bit deep into the shattered steel and wood. Bit and held.

In that same instant, he released his hold on the handgrip and slipped his arm out of the loosened restraining strap. A fraction of a second later, when Killeen jerked the mace and chain back to free it, the battered, crumpled shield went with it, firmly attached to the end of the chain. It soared high and wide in an arc behind the islander, the unexpected extra weight on the end of his weapon jerking him momentarily off balance.

It was only natural that he would turn his head in surprise to see what had happened, exposing his neck below the full face helmet for just a second or two.