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black wolf. The fore- and hindlegs still retained their shape, as did the head
and the thick, bushy tail.
Ryan painfully climbed to his feet, and Pizi shoved the bundle into his arms.
"These are the remains of Deathmaul, one of our most respected soldiers. Do
not dishonor them."
Ryan looked blankly at Sisoka, who said, "It is the custom of the Wolf
Soldiers to retain the mortal coverings of their greatest warriors. The
two-legged soldiers wear the skins of their departed four-legged brothers to
give them strength and courage in battle."
"And," Pizi interjected sourly, "it is the only protection you will have."
Ryan slowly put on the wolf skin, slipping his hands through leather straps
sewn on the underside of the forepaws, attaching the main trunk to his chest
and waist with a harness.
Pizi pulled the skullcap over Ryan's head and secured it there with a thong
knotted under his chin. The muzzle covered his forehead like a cowl.
Outwardly Ryan remained very calm, determined not to allow the flummery of
superstitions and ritual to shake his nerve.
"I am half-blind," he said to Pizi, indicating his eye patch. "Hardly an equal
contest unless you put out one of Blood-sniffer's eyes."
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"Blood-sniffer is lame in one leg," Pizi retorted. "Due to you, I am told. It
is as equal a contest as you deserve. Follow."
Pizi marched out of the tepee, Ryan in step behind him. Sisoka and
Blood-sniffer dogged his heels. The sun was fairly high, and Ryan estimated it
was close to midmorning. He had at least had a rest, of sorts.
Only a few people were about in the encampment, men mostly, and he could feel
the hostility of their stares as he passed by.
Pizi led the way through the ring of tepees and down a gently rolling incline
to where the bases of four bluffs formed a natural bowl, like an
amphitheater or, as Ryan reminded
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Dlands 37- Demons of Eden himself, an arena.
Obeying Pizi's imperious gesture, Ryan went down into the bowl, Blood-sniffer
following. Taking position in the center, he made a 360-degree visual circuit.
Men, women and many wolves lined the base of the bluffs. All were staring at
him unemotionally.
Anger grew within Ryan. No matter what ancient tradition lay behind this trial
by ordeal, it was still bread and circuses for the masses, nothing but
entertainment of the type he and his friends had been forced to participate in
when they were captives of Baron
Mandeville. He had survived those gladiatorial games, and he would survive
this one.
Pizi raised his lance over his head, and Ryan prepared himself for a long
ceremonial speech. But the chief of the Wolf Soldiers said nothing at all. He
jerked down the head of the lance, and Blood-sniffer sprang in a beautiful,
arching leap, straight for Ryan's throat.
The wolfs great forepaws struck his breast with a jarring shock, bowling him
over. Even as he fell, Ryan seized Blood-sniffer by the throat and kicked him
up and over. The wolf landed on its feet, though its balance was off due to
its injured leg.
It spun and jumped. Ryan rolled facedown to keep his exposed torso and
genitals away from the slashing teeth and rending claws. Blood-sniffer's
weight landed on his shoulders, and its huge jaws closed on the back of Ryan's
fur-covered neck. The wolf shook him as a terrier would shake a rat.
The animal's strength was enormous, and for what seemed like an eternity, Ryan
felt as if his head were being torn from his neck. The world tipped and tilted
around him, and the ground rushed up to smash his face.
With a final contemptuous shake, Blood-sniffer flung Ryan to one side, rolling
him over and over to the very edge of the arena. Dizzy, spitting out grit,
Ryan fought his way to his hands and knees. Peering from beneath the wolf
snout canted over his forehead, he saw
Blood-sniffer strutting in a lordly fashion a few feet away. The wolf was
playing to the crowd, red tongue run out between open, laughing jaws.
Around him Ryan heard human laughter and yipping noises of wolf appreciation.
He realized the beast was toying with him, intending to humiliate him before
ripping out his heart. The anger that had been growing within Ryan suddenly
burst in a wild flame of rage.
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Dlands 37- Demons of Eden
But this rage was unlike the red fury that sometimes possessed him. He was
dimly aware of a strange linking of his familiar human anger to an emotion far
darker, more deep and primal. It was a man-rage coalescing with beast-rage, an
atavistic fury fountaining up from the buried wells of savagery lurking within
all human hearts.
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Ryan's muscles coiled tightly as he crouched and faced his enemy. He bared his
fangs and snarled. He sprang at Blood-sniffer, his powerful leg muscles
catapulting him in graceful bounds.
The wolf leaped to met him, and the pair of shaggy bodies collided in midair.
They clinched and rolled together across the rough floor of the arena,
snarling, clawing and biting.
Ryan closed a leg-scissors lock around Blood-sniffer's lean body and gripped a
handful of ruff. He kept his own throat covered and sank his teeth into the
side of his enemy's neck.
He felt hair and hide tear under his teeth, tasted sharp, salty wolf blood on
his tongue.
Blood-sniffer's body, all muscle and sinew, twisted, turned and kicked away
from Ryan's jaws. Then the wolfs fangs snapped and slashed, and scarlet
spurted from Ryan's chest.
The beast squirmed backward out between Ryan's locked legs and inflicted a
bite on his right calf.
The wolf bounded out of reach and watched as the maddened man-beast got to all
fours and sprang again. The animal moved like a great gray wraith, and Ryan
fell facefirst to the ground. Before he recovered his balance, the wolf
smashed him to one side with its heavy weight, and claws raked Ryan's rib
cage.
Ryan didn't cry out or even pause. He leaped again, managing to close his hand
around
Blood-sniffer's leg. The wolf snarled in pain and anger and its fangs ripped
bleeding furrows in the back of Ryan's hand, forcing him to let go.
Rolling, Ryan came back up to his knees as Blood-sniffer bounded forward. He
fell over on his back beneath the wolf, coming up with one foot into the belly
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