"Such things would surely be fearful and invincible medicine helpers," said a man, shuddering.

"The medicine of the Yellow Knives is false medicine," said a man, "Mahpiyasapa is right."

"Suppose it is not," said another man.

"Such things do not exist," said another man. "They do not exist even in the medicine world."

"Whence, then, came the visions for such masks?" asked another, uneasily.

"If they did exist in the medicine world," said the first man, "they would not favor the Yellow Knives."

"True," said another man.

"What if they did?" asked another.

"Then," said the first man, "we would be doomed."

I leaned forward on the kaiila. I could now see, resonably well, the visages portrayed on the masks. The hair on the back of my neck rose. The visages, clearly, were those of Kurii.

"Hold your lines," I begged the men about me. "Hold your lines, no matter what happens!"

"Your medicine is false," cried Mahpiyasapa to the Yellow Knives, though doubtless they could not understand him. "We do not fear it. It is only wood and leather!"

A horrifying sound came then from the ranks of the Yellow Knives and soldiers. It was a long, howling cry. It must have struck terror, too, into the hearts of the Yellow Knives and soldiers. The sound was unmistakable. I had heard it on the rocky slopes of Tovaldsland, on the sands of the Tahari, in the jungles of the Ua.

Emerging then from the ranks of the enemy came a gigantic Kur, some nine feet in height, some nine hundred pounds in weight. It carried a huge shield and lance, the accouterents of a man. Behind it, on each side, similarly armed, came others.

"Aiii!" cried a man, turning his kaiila.

"Hold your lines!" cried Mahpiyasapa.

But the lines, men screaming, kaiila wheeling about, were shattered. Fear became flight, and flight rout, and rout slaughter. Yellow Knives and soldiers pressed in. Women and children screamed.

"Run!" cried Mahpiyasapa. "Run!"

Men fled. Women and children sought the free kaiila which had been brought for them.

I lowered my lance. I trained it on the heart of the gigantic Kur. It was Sardak, the leader of the death squad from the steel worlds. Then soldiers came between us and I could not reach him. A woman on a kaiila, a child before her, clutching her, bounded past.

"Cuwignaka!" I called.

"I am here!" he cried.

I saw him, afoot. He had discarded his lance. He thrust a second child, behind the first, to the back of his kaiila. "Run little brothers!" he cried, slapping the kaiila sharply. Squealing, it bounded away.

"Come!" I cried to him. "Come! Ride behind me!"

He shook his head."There are not enough kaiila!" he said.

I dismounted, next to him. Two kaiila, bearing Yellow Knives, charged past. All was confusion. Men fought here and there about us.

"Get on your kaiila, you fool!" cried Cuwignaka. "Ride! Run!"

"Look!" I said.

Hci sat on his kaiila, almost as though stunned. He seemed paralyzed, frightened, immoveable.

"Look out!" I cried. I saw a Yellow Knife wheel his kaiila about and drop his lance into the attack position.

"Look out!" I cried.

Hci turned, seeing the man. The Yellow Knife, the advantage of suprise lost, pulled back on the jaw rope of his kaiila. The animal almost back to its haunches. Then it was on its feet again. The man, the point of his lance moving slightly, studied Hci. Hci regarded him.

"Beware!" I cried.

It was almost as though Hci did not see the man, almost as though he was looking through him, almost as though the very real man, and the physical point of the lance, of sharp bronze, were little more than tokens or emblems of something he feared far more.

Hci did not bring his kaiila about. He did not set himself to repel the charge.

The Yellow Knife hesitated, frightened, puzzled. This inactivity, so unexpected, so unnatural, so eerie, unsettled him.

Did he see a man before him or something else, perhaps a guest from the medicine world, something through which he might charge, touching nothing, something that might disappear like smoke behind him?

Then Hci cried out in anguish. His shield began to rise. It seemed, for a moment, that he tried to struggle with it, but, inexporably, as though with a will of its own, it rose.

The Yellow Knife aligned his lance.

Hci, resigned, no longer fighting, calmly, not moving, sat astride his kaiila, his arms lifted to the moons of Gor.

"Look out!" I cried.

The Yellow Knife's lance took him low in the left side, hurling him from the kaiila, and then the Yellow Knife, with a whoop of victory, whirled away.

"His shield would not defend him," said Cuwignaka, in horror. "HIs shield betrayed him! I have heard of such things. I never saw it until now!"

A soldier, on a kaiila, bolted past. His lance was black in the dust.

I seized a woman running past. I caught her wrist before she could drive the knife into me. With a cry of pain she dropped it. I slapped her. I threw her on the back of my kaiila. Cuwignaka took the child who had been with her and threw him to the back of the beast, behind her.

"You will not go?" asked Cuwignaka of me.

"I will not leave without you," I said.

"Go!" said Cuwignaka, slapping the kaiila sharply. "Go!" It bounded away in the darkness, darting through the confusion.

A tarn's wings smote the air above us, not twenty feet over our heads. Dust swirled up from the ground. I was buffeted from my feet by the forequarters of a runny kaiila. I climbed tomy feet. I wiped dust from my eyes.

"I am here," said Cuwignaka, seizing me by the arm. "Come with me."

"Kinyanpi," I said, "they will be patrolling the outskirts of the camp. They will be searching the fields for fugitives."

"That is why we must stay in the camp," said Cuwignaka.

We made our way then, through the shadows, sometimes running, sometimes crouching down, somtimes crawling, from the scene of the slaughter. In a few moments we had hidden ourselves in one of the lodges. A short time later we heard the thunder of the kaiila paws leaving the camp.

"They are mounting a pursuit," I said.

"They are tenacious," said Cuwignaka.

"It is the discipline of the soldiers and the beasts," I said.

"Probably," said Cuwignaka.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"He may not be dead," said Cuwignaka.

"Hci?" I asked.

"Of course," said Cuwignaka.

"You are going back?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"I will come with you," I said.

"You ned not do that," said Cuwignaka.

"I will come with you," I said.

"It will be dangerous," he said.

"It will be less dangerous for two than for one," I said.

"Mitakola," said Cuwignaka.

"MItakola," I said. This, in the language of the Kaiila, means 'my friend'.

I did not find it necessary to tell Cuwignaka that I myself had intened to return for Hci. Before we had left the center of the camp I had seen him move.

We left the lodge stealthily. Our business must be done soon, before the return of the Yellow Knives and the soldiers. After their return the discipline would be at an end. Then would be the time of the falling upon the slain, the time of the knives, the time of the trophies.