There were now three birds beyond us, the Red, the Silver, and the Yellow.

I saw the brightly plumaged bird, who had first contested a ring with us, in the net below, alive but trembling.

Somewhere behind I heard a scream and the judge's bar signaling that a ring had been missed. I sped on.

Another bolt from a crossbow hissed past.

"On!" I cried. "On!"

Ubar of the Skies, like black fire, burned past one ring and another.

There were still five tarn heads on the poles when he overtook, between rings, and passed the Silver. In another turn he passed the Red. The man was beating his tarn unmercifully with the tarn goad, the bone talisman on its string flying behind his neck. As I drew near, and then abreast of him, I saw madness and fury in his eyes. He attempted, in moving through the rings, to force us to the left, into the heavy edge, but before he could do so, we had passed him.

I cried out exultantly. Ahead there was but one tarn, that of Menicius of Port Kar.

"Now," said I, "let us fly, Ubar of the Skies."

The bird gave a great scream and the wings began to strike the air with the fury of victory.

Low on the bird's neck I saw, ahead, the bent figure of Menicius of Port Kar, astride Quarrel, growing larger and larger.

I saw four tarn heads left on the poles.

I laughed.

The great black tarn hurtled on. "Victory will be ours!" I cried to him.

Even faster did he fly.

Suddenly, to my dismay, I heard about us shouts and the thunder of wings and, closing in upon us, and following us, and rushing to meet us, were tarnsmen.

The crowd's protest of fury must have torn its way to the very clouds in the calm, blue sky.

I whipped out the Tuchuk bow and, in the instant, found myself wheeling and fighting in the midst of more than a dozen tarnsmen, while many others, wheeling about, attempted to press in upon me. Ubar of the Skies suddenly uttered a scream that terrified even me, raising the hair on my neck and arms; it was not simply the challenge scream of his kind; it was a scream of pleasure, of horrifying eagerness, of the tarn's lust for blood and war; steel-shod talons grasping, screaming, beak tearing, Ubar of the Skies, his black eyes blazing with delight, hurled himself on odds that pleased him, odds which even he, that majestic carnivore, could accept as worthy.

Again and again the small bow, swift and vicious, fired, twenty barbed arrows in half an Ehn, tarnsmen struggling to reach me with their swords, thrusting with their heavy spears, and all the time Ubar of the Skies tearing and ripping, his beak and steel-shod talons engines of fierce carnage; I felt blood along the side of my neck as a bronze-headed spear seemed to flash in my face and then I saw, to my horror, the arm that had thrust the spear seized in the beak of my tarn and wrenched from the hideous body torn screaming from the saddle of its tarn, the safety strap parting like twine.

The tarnsmen, packed together, impeding one another's movements, were fodder for the slaughter of the Tuchuk bow, and then, crying out with fear, they turned aside their mounts and broke before us.

"The race!" I cried. "The race!"

The tarn, to my amazement, turned from the fray in an instant and smote his way from the environing, reeling tarns and struck out again for the rings.

Menicius of Port Kar was now far in the advance of my tarn, silent, save for the crack of his great wings, eyes bright, blood on its beak and steel-shod talons, again took up the pursuit.

In the time we had fought four tarns had passed us, though the rest were still behind, either fallen from the race or unable to pass the rings where tarnsmen still wheeled in disarray. I heard the judge's bar ring twice, indicating two had failed to clear one ring or another.

Swiftly we passed one tarn, a nonfaction bird.

The Silver, the Red, and the Blue were still ahead of me, as well as the Yellow, that of my foe Menicius, he of Port Kar.

Two wooden tarn heads now surmounted the high poles.

Another crossbow bolt feathered its swift way, a line of blurred light, soft, past me.

When I came to the right center rings I again encountered tarnsmen, now regrouped. Again and again the Tuchuk bow fired and again and again unwilling tarnsmen felt the lightning-like kiss of the barbed steel. Then the arrows, of which there had been forty, were gone. I heard an exultant shout from behind me and saw the leader of the tarnsmen signal his men across the dividing wall again, to meet me at the left center rings.

We passed the Silver, and then the Blue, between the rings.

I noted that the Red was gaining rapidly on Menicius, who was blocking him at the side rings. I could see the talisman of bone flying behind the neck of the bearded rider on Red. I had seen the maddened eyes of the rider on Red, his frenzy with the tarn goad; he was clearly, Ubar or no Ubar, intent upon the race. I smiled.

Then, suddenly before me, at the left side rings, closing the rings to us, hovered some ten tarnsmen, weapons ready. Ubar of the Skies did not hesitate but hurtled into their midst, beak rending, and then was clear; they turned in pursuit but four of them, caught in the wide loop of the Tuchuk rope, were cursing, cutting at it, while the tarns, suddenly startled, finding their movements inhibited, broke formation; the tarns, the men, struggling in the wide boskhide loop, wrenched this way and that, and tumbled to the net; the others cut across the dividing wall to head me off once more.

Now there was but one tarn head on the poles when I came again to the right center ring.

Already the Tuchuk bola was whirling, a blur of leather and lead.

Again the tarn cut through and two of the tarnsmen were screaming, trying to shield themselves from the weighted straps, flying about them; the weights in the Tuchuk bola can crush a skull, the leather can strangle.

A tarnsman pressed in with sword upon us and I met the sword with tarn goad, with a bright yellow flash; his tarn veered away and I hurled the tarn goad savagely at another bird dropping toward me, talons opened; the goad struck him with a blinding flash and he, too, veered away; I then drew my sword, parried twice and thrust home with a fifth man; the sixth man, the leader of the tarnsmen, drew his bird away from our path, cursing.

The last tarn head loomed on the pole.

"Ubar of the Skies," cried I, "fly! Fly now as you have never flown before!"

We flashed through the end rings and, on the straightaway, saw, ahead, the Yellow and the Red approaching the left side rings. Like an arrow, a black torrent, Ubar of the Skies flashed toward the side rings. I think that there could be on Gor no tarn his equal. "Har-ta!" I cried. "Faster! Har-ta! Faster!"

Then, approaching the last of the left side rings, Ubar of the Skies, striking for the heart of the ring, burst between the startled Red and Menicius, who led him by perhaps four yards. I saw a look of wild hatred transform the features of Menicius and he jerked at something in his belt. The Red, cursing, tried to force us up, where we might strike the unpadded bar; at our speed we might be cut in two; my tarn struggled to avoid the bar, not turning to do battle, but persisting in his race; I was suddenly aware of the arm of Menicius flying forward and I instinctively threw myself forward even lower on the tarn's neck; there was a crash of a vial and I heard a hideous scream from the bearded man who was suddenly tearing at his body and face with his fingernails; his tarn, startled, veered up and to the right, out of control, and the man's shoulder struck the bar and he was cut from the safety straps and thrown rolling and screaming, bloody, whimpering, to the net yards below.

I heard a frightful crack and my left arm broke open bloody in two lines; my sword leaped up and the next time the whip knife struck I severed it; Menicius, with a curse, threw the coil of whip at me and it passed overhead; we shot through the first of the final rings, and end rings; his tarn knife was in his hand but suddenly, eyes wide, he saw my arm back, the Tuchuk quiva poised; "No!" he cried, wheeling the tarn to shield himself; my tarn struck his and together, passing through the second of the final three end rings, saddle to saddle, hand to hand, we grappled, I holding his wrist, he mine; he cried out with pain and dropped the knife; we heard the judge's bar; both of us had missed the final ring; I thrust the quiva in my belt; "Does Menicius of Port Kar care to race?" I asked, wheeling my tarn back to negotiate the final ring. With a curse he jerked savagely at the control straps of Quarrel and that fine bird instantaneously responded and together Quarrel and Ubar of the Skies passed through the final ring; with a snap of his great wings Ubar of the Skies struck the winner's perch, seized it in his steel-shod talons and threw back his head with a scream of victory. I lifted my arms.