The dagger surged in his hand like a living thing as the blade tripled its length. The edge glinted in the moonlight.
The troll was on him, with a howl like a steam whistle.
Its tentacles whipped out for him. Matt leaped to the side and slashed at its midriff. The blade struck a spark from its body and skidded. The beast was hard!
The troll twitched its tentacles out of the way and pushed its huge body toward him, giggling inanely. The huge trunk swung into the arc of the blade, and the sword clanged off its side in a shower of sparks. The jar shot pain up Matt's whole forearm. He leaped back, hanging onto the blade by sheer determination, while realization exploded in his mind. Trolls were made out of stone!
Steel was no use against stone. He needed something harder. Diamond!
He turned and ran, hearing the huge feet drumming the earth as the troll followed. Matt panted out a rhyme as he ran.
The sword twitched in his hand, now black and gleaming.
Matt whirled about, swinging the sword with both hands. The blade scored deep into the monster's body, and it leaped back, its scream soaring to a height that pierced Matt's ears. Ichor welled out of the gaping slit in its belly.
Matt jumped in again, but the monster had realized it was in trouble; it bent forward, and shark-like teeth scored Matt's chest, while tentacles ripped at his arm, chest, and belly. He leaped away and swung the diamond blade at the place between head and shoulders, where a neck should have been.
The tentacles lashed out, dancing toward his face. But their tips were moving erratically; they weren't under full control, and the troll was staggering.
Matt leaped to the side and swung down in a full overhand chop. He caught the troll in the same place, and the sword bit in deep, cutting halfway through its head. Its whole body jerked in one mighty spasm. It fell, twitching and heaving, scrabbling about in the dirt. But the thing was already dead, its spinal cord cut.
The spasms slowed and stopped. Matt stared down at the huge, dead thing. The corpse looked shrunken somehow, lying still in the moonlight; it was only an oddly shaped boulder in the middle of the plain.
"You have slain it!" The girl stood just a few feet away now, with the moonlight behind her showing the shadow of her body against the thin cloth of her shift. Here and there, a long gash in the fabric revealed a smooth, creamy curve.
"You have saved me! Oh, you are my true knight!" She stepped closer, her body less than a foot from his. Then she gasped and flinched away. "But you are wounded!"
The cuts were still bleeding and had begun to sting sharply. But he shook his head. "Aw, they're just scratches."
"But they must be tended." She caught up the ragged hem of her shift to wipe at the blood on his chest, exposing more curves. "You must come home with me, where I may care for them."
"Milady!" A score of armed men suddenly came running up, drawn swords in their hands. "Milady Sayeesa! Are you ...."
"Safe, little thanks to you." Her tone was severe. "But no matter. This brave knight has succored me. Now conduct us back to my home, that I may tend his wounds."
"Uh..." Matt shook his head, trying to dispel the haze to which he'd been since he first sighted the girl. "'Thanks, but I'd better not. I've got friends back there, and they'll be worried."
"Then they shall be told and invited to share what comforts I can offer. Captain, see to it!"
The captain moved away to tell off a party of six men to head back to the campsite. Swords snapped into scabbards, and the rest of the men formed up for a march.
Matt found himself alone for the moment, holding the bare sword in his hand, with no place to put it. He frowned, then recited,
A scabbard was suddenly at his hips, belted around his waist. The sword slipped easily into it, just as Sayeesa returned to his side. The captain's cape was about her shoulders now, but she seemed not to notice that it left an open strip down her front.
Her smile was compelling as she placed a hand on his arm. "Come, let us be off!"
With the girl at his side and her hip pressing against his, Matt forgot to notice in which direction they marched. Nor was he aware of how long the journey took.
Then the soldiers halted, and Matt jerked to a stop, staring.
Before him stood a palace. High walls glowed, and tall, slender towers glittered with fairy lights. The whole seemed to be made of jade. And from it came a procession of Sayeesa's servitors. There must have been a hundred of them, joyfully welcoming her. All were young and beautiful - except two. The pair of guards before the entrance were at least seven feet tall and half as broad, burly and ugly. Their skins were of a walnut shade.
"Does my home please you?" Sayeesa asked. At his enthralled nod, she waved her hand. "Then enter, that we may partake of its delights."
Inside, candles glowed everywhere. The air was filled with some heavy scent that seemed to go to Matt's head instantly. And the hallway was lined with statues, mostly of young men, though a few were of lovely girls. They seemed almost alive, each with a dazed but delighted expression.
"Marvelous!" Matt exclaimed. "What great sculptor shaped them?"
The girl hesitated, then admitted, "They are of my crafting."
"You? Lady, you're amazing!" He was standing very close to her, looking downward where the cape was open. "Almost unbelievable," he breathed.
She laughed and spun away with a coy glance at him.
"You regain your strength quickly, Sir Knight. But come hither, and I'll attend to your wounds."
'Hither' turned out to be a Roman bath, tiled in sapphire, with a huge sunken pool. There she turned him over to a pair of female servants, making some excuse about more suitable garb. They seated him on a bench. One removed his jacket while the other stripped off his shoes and socks.
But when one started unbuckling his belt, Matt called a halt. "I'll do that myself."
The girl's face registered astonishment and a trace of what might have been fear. "But sir, 'tis our custom!"
"Not mine." Matt caught an arm around each girl's waist and ushered them toward the door. "Out!"
They went, but before the door closed fully, he caught a snatch of conversation.
"Fear not. Remember, the priest was like that."
"Aye, 'tis what troubles me."
Matt slipped out of his clothes and waded into the pool. From the edge, it went down in a series of foot-high steps. He stepped down twice, then seated himself and leaned back against the warm tiles behind him with a blissful sigh. Here the heady perfume seemed stronger. The warm, murky aroma seemed to fill his head, inducing visions.
Then he heard a silken rustle behind him. Sayeesa had slipped into something that seemed almost transparently blue and silken, low at the throat.
"Rest, Sir Knight," she crooned. Her hands crept to his shoulders, kneading and massaging. "My bath has wondrous minerals in it to heal your wounds."