The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

If he thinks as a warrior, let him prove it—his strength against my strength—after the ways of the People!”
    Some of the sullenness left Manulito’s expression. He was eager, excited.
    “You would duel with Deklay after the old custom?”
    “I would. Say this to Deklay, openly so that all men may hear. Then Deklay must also give answer openly.”
    Manulito flushed at that implication concerning his leader’s courage, and Travis knew that he would deliver the challenge openly. To keep his hold on the clan the latter must accept it, and there would be an audience of his people to witness the success or defeat of their new chief and his policies.
    As Manulito disappeared Travis summoned the coyotes, putting full effort into getting across one message. Any tribe led by Deklay would be hostile to the mutant animals. They must go into hiding, run free in the wilderness if the gamble failed Travis. Now they withdrew into the bushes but not out of reach of his mind.
    He did not have too long to wait. First came Jil-Lee, Buck, Nolan, Tsoay, Lupe—those who had been with him on the northern scout. Then the others, the warriors first, the women making a half circle behind, leaving a free space in which Deklay walked.
    “I am the Fox,” Travis stated. “And this one has named me witch and natdahe , outlaw of the mountains. Therefore do I come to name names in my turn. Hear me, People: This Deklay—he would walk among you as ’izesnantan , a great chief—but he does not have the go’ndi , the holy power of a chief. For this Deklay is a fool, with a head filled by nothing but his own wishes, not caring for his clan brothers. He says he leads you into safety; I say he leads you into the worst danger any living man can imagine—even in peyote dreams! He is one twisted in his thoughts, and he would make you twisted also—”
    Buck cut in sharply, hushing the murmur of the massed clan.
    “These are bold words, Fox. Will you back them?”
    Travis’ hands were already peeling off his shirt. “I will back them,” he stated between set teeth. He had known since his awakening after the stoning that this next move was the only one left for him to make. But now that the testing of his action came, he could not be certain of the outcome, of anything save that the final decision of this battle might affect more than the fate of two men. He stripped, noting that Deklay was doing the same.
    Having stepped into the center of the glade, Nolan was using the point of his knife to score a deep-ridged circle there. Naked except for his moccasins, with only his knife in his hand, Travis took the two strides which put him in the circle facing Deklay. He surveyed his opponent’s finely muscled body, realizing that his earlier estimate of Deklay’s probable advantages were close to the mark. In sheer strength the other outmatched him. Whether Deklay was skillful with his knife was another question, one which Travis would soon be able to answer.
    They circled, eyes intent upon each move, striving to weigh and measure each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Knife dueling among the Pinda-lick-o-yi, Travis remembered, had once been an art close to finished swordplay, with two evenly matched fighters able to engage for a long time without seriously marking each other. But this was a far rougher and more deadly game, with none of the niceties of such a meeting.
    He evaded a vicious thrust from Deklay.
    “The bull charges,” he laughed. “And the Fox snaps!” By some incredible stroke of good fortune, the point of his weapon actually grazed Deklay’s arm, drawing a thin, red inch-long line across the skin.
    “Charge again, bull. Feel once more the Fox’s teeth!”
    He strove to goad Deklay into a crippling loss of temper, knowing how the other could explode into violent rage. It was dangerous, that rage, but it could also make a man blindly careless.
    There was an inarticulate sound from Deklay, a dusky swelling in the man’s face. He spat, as might an enraged puma, and rushed at Travis who did not quite manage to avoid the lunge, falling back with a smarting slash across the ribs.
    “The bull gores!” Deklay bellowed. “Horns toss the Fox!”
    He rushed again, elated by the sight of the trickling wound on Travis’ side. But the slighter man slipped away.
    Travis knew he must be careful in such evasions. One foot across the ridged circle and he was finished as much as if Deklay’s blade had found its mark. Travis tried a