Or so I thought. Actually, I’d messed up. I was supposed to spit Urruzaal’s body like a piece of meat on a sheesh kebab, thus rendering him temporarily useless, at which time the Daggermen would swarm over him like leeches in a bowl of blood. Instead my throw had been so hard that the goddam lance went right on through, out the other side and clattered impotently on the tarpaulin several feet away. I did get the consolation prize, though—Urruzaal screamed in pain and staggered to one knee.
The Dokta and his six men charged inward, but their assault was met with powerful resistance. Even down on one knee, the Angel of Malice was amazingly powerful. It held up its staff, which absorbed all the cuts, swipes and blows that the Daggermen could unleash. The crazy stalemate threatened to go on f
