Autloc replied and bowed again.
Ian and Ixta faced each other across the courtyard. They wore loincloths and sandals. Tonila and the Perfect Victim stood against one wall. The Perfect Victim held two cudgels. He looked at Ixta, then at Ian, both of whom nodded. The Perfect Victim raised the cudgels above his head.
‘Let the contest begin,’ he called, striking the cudgels together.
Ian and Ixta circled each other warily, which in Ixta’s case was a mistake as Ian suddenly lunged at him. Ixta reached out to grab Ian’s arms, but Ian broke the attempted hold by swinging his arms in a full circle and at the same time his right foot shot behind Ixta’s left ankle and jerked him off balance. Ixta staggered back and Ian moved in, grabbing the Chosen Warrior by one arm, then turning away abruptly to go for a shoulder throw. Ixta had sense enough to realise that if he tried to resist his arm would break. He hit the ground face down in front of Ian who didn’t release his arm but, holding it in a handlock, began kneading Ixta’s muscle with his other fist. Both Tonila and the Perfect Victim were impressed but Ixta wanted to cry out in fury as he felt the strength draining away from his arm. He knew that with an arm useless he had already lost the contest. Somehow he had to break Ian’s hold and reach the thorn which he had carefully placed beside the door to his quarters.
Then Ian made his mistake. Knowing Ixta’s arm was completely weakened, he released his handhold and stepped back. Using his good arm and under Ian’s watchful eyes, Ixta rose to his knees and massaged his useless arm. At that moment Tlotoxl, Autloc and the Doctor came into the courtyard.
‘Don’t let him scratch you, Chesterton,’ the Doctor shouted immediately. Ian was puzzled and looked at the Doctor.
‘Scratch me?’ he asked. The distraction gave Ixte enough time to scramble to his feet, race to the door, grab the thorn and throw himself at Ian who easily blocked the attack but not before the thorn had been drawn across the inside of his wrist.
‘Use stealth, use cunning you said,’ Ixta was jubilant. ‘You defeated me with your thumb, I have defeated you with the thorn of the maguey cactus.’
‘Plus a sleep-inducing herb,’ the Doctor protested as Ixta threw away the thorn. Ian knew that to win he had to do it quickly. He also realised that the more energy he expended, the harder his heart would pump and the faster the drug would circulate through his system. He needed a submission hammerlock, but Ixta was keeping his distance, dancing out of the way, waiting.
‘Stop this childish nonsense, Tlotoxl,’ the Doctor demanded, ‘stop it.’
Tlotoxl had victory in his eyes as he looked at the Doctor. ‘No’
‘But I gave Ixta the thorn,’ the Doctor protested. ‘Then you should rejoice,’ Tlotoxl replied.’ Ixta will win’
‘Autloc, stop it,’ the Doctor pleaded, ‘the contest is unfair.’
‘I cannot.’ Autloc was embarrassed. ‘The Perfect Victim desired this contest and only the High Priest of Sacrifice, who commands here, can stop it.’
‘Let it continue,’ the Perfect Victim requested. Tlotoxl bowed.
‘And to the death, Ixta, to the death,’ he called ecstatically.
Ixta bent down to pickup one of the studded cudgels. This is my last chance, Ian thought, and rushed at the Chosen Warrior. Once again he caught Ixta off balance and pushed him to his knees. Knowing he no longer had the strength for the submission hold, Ian clamped on a half-nelson and went for the pressure point again with his thumb. But his head was beginning to swim, his eyes blurring and his strength ebbing away. Ixta threw him off. Ian rolled over and stood up groggily while Ixta picked up the second cudgel and handed it cautiously to him.
‘I have but one arm but soon you will sleep,’ Ixta smiled at Ian, ‘forever, and I shall command our armies.’ He swung his cudgel at Ian’s head. Ian saw it coming and fended off the blow, but it
Ian and Ixta faced each other across the courtyard. They wore loincloths and sandals. Tonila and the Perfect Victim stood against one wall. The Perfect Victim held two cudgels. He looked at Ixta, then at Ian, both of whom nodded. The Perfect Victim raised the cudgels above his head.
‘Let the contest begin,’ he called, striking the cudgels together.
Ian and Ixta circled each other warily, which in Ixta’s case was a mistake as Ian suddenly lunged at him. Ixta reached out to grab Ian’s arms, but Ian broke the attempted hold by swinging his arms in a full circle and at the same time his right foot shot behind Ixta’s left ankle and jerked him off balance. Ixta staggered back and Ian moved in, grabbing the Chosen Warrior by one arm, then turning away abruptly to go for a shoulder throw. Ixta had sense enough to realise that if he tried to resist his arm would break. He hit the ground face down in front of Ian who didn’t release his arm but, holding it in a handlock, began kneading Ixta’s muscle with his other fist. Both Tonila and the Perfect Victim were impressed but Ixta wanted to cry out in fury as he felt the strength draining away from his arm. He knew that with an arm useless he had already lost the contest. Somehow he had to break Ian’s hold and reach the thorn which he had carefully placed beside the door to his quarters.
Then Ian made his mistake. Knowing Ixta’s arm was completely weakened, he released his handhold and stepped back. Using his good arm and under Ian’s watchful eyes, Ixta rose to his knees and massaged his useless arm. At that moment Tlotoxl, Autloc and the Doctor came into the courtyard.
‘Don’t let him scratch you, Chesterton,’ the Doctor shouted immediately. Ian was puzzled and looked at the Doctor.
‘Scratch me?’ he asked. The distraction gave Ixte enough time to scramble to his feet, race to the door, grab the thorn and throw himself at Ian who easily blocked the attack but not before the thorn had been drawn across the inside of his wrist.
‘Use stealth, use cunning you said,’ Ixta was jubilant. ‘You defeated me with your thumb, I have defeated you with the thorn of the maguey cactus.’
‘Plus a sleep-inducing herb,’ the Doctor protested as Ixta threw away the thorn. Ian knew that to win he had to do it quickly. He also realised that the more energy he expended, the harder his heart would pump and the faster the drug would circulate through his system. He needed a submission hammerlock, but Ixta was keeping his distance, dancing out of the way, waiting.
‘Stop this childish nonsense, Tlotoxl,’ the Doctor demanded, ‘stop it.’
Tlotoxl had victory in his eyes as he looked at the Doctor. ‘No’
‘But I gave Ixta the thorn,’ the Doctor protested. ‘Then you should rejoice,’ Tlotoxl replied.’ Ixta will win’
‘Autloc, stop it,’ the Doctor pleaded, ‘the contest is unfair.’
‘I cannot.’ Autloc was embarrassed. ‘The Perfect Victim desired this contest and only the High Priest of Sacrifice, who commands here, can stop it.’
‘Let it continue,’ the Perfect Victim requested. Tlotoxl bowed.
‘And to the death, Ixta, to the death,’ he called ecstatically.
Ixta bent down to pickup one of the studded cudgels. This is my last chance, Ian thought, and rushed at the Chosen Warrior. Once again he caught Ixta off balance and pushed him to his knees. Knowing he no longer had the strength for the submission hold, Ian clamped on a half-nelson and went for the pressure point again with his thumb. But his head was beginning to swim, his eyes blurring and his strength ebbing away. Ixta threw him off. Ian rolled over and stood up groggily while Ixta picked up the second cudgel and handed it cautiously to him.
‘I have but one arm but soon you will sleep,’ Ixta smiled at Ian, ‘forever, and I shall command our armies.’ He swung his cudgel at Ian’s head. Ian saw it coming and fended off the blow, but it
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