‘I can’t watch,’ Loren said not taking her eyes off Mervyn. Keno hung by one hand while taking swipes at Mervyn with his stanza.
‘Where is Tarun?’ Aurora asked looking around her. ‘He was here a moment ago. Have you seen him?’
Loren had no time for Tarun, ‘Shh, they are going to start.’
‘Ready...,’ the commentator called. ‘Strike! Keno’s fast waiting to skewer Marvin with his stanza. He’s finished off two opponents with that move already this year. Manic Marvin’s not drawn in, though, and goes high. Oh, great shot. Hit! Manic Marvin moves into an early lead with a superb shoulder shot: Fifteen points to nil’
‘That’s it Merv, keep moving, keep moving,’ Aurora shouted.
‘You’re not meant to enjoy it, Aurora.’ Loren said. Couldn’t she take anything seriously?
‘Strike positions, please. Killer favouring his right shoulder, but he’s left-handed so I doubt it’ll slow him down. Ready... Strike! Killer ignores the ball and lashes out at Marvin with his stanza. Marvin back-flips deftly out of the way. Killer’s going crazy chasing Marvin round the pool, but Marvin stays high out of harms way. Marvin picks up the ball. Nice shot, but easily deflected off Killer’s stanza.’ Loren watched Mervyn leap high again.
‘Marvin with the ball again. Killer ignores the shot and lunges straight at Marvin. Wow -- close. You nearly got him that time.’ Loren gasped as Mervyn ducked.
‘Killer’s off balance. Marvin closes in and sneaks in a low ball to the Killers knee. Hit! Another five points to Marvin: Twenty points to nil.’
Loren breathed again, two strikes down and Mervyn was fine. She tuned into the commentary again.
‘We have strategic play developing here tonight: Manic Marvin’s going high and looking for points, while Killer Keno -- well he’s going for the kill of course. It’s all a matter of stamina, and who can stay clear of the ball and that killer blade.’
‘Ready... Strike! Oh, fantastic play Killer.’ Loren shoved her fist in her mouth to stop herself crying out. ‘Marvin goes for the quick ball, but nearly loses his head in the process. A few more of those Killer and we’ll be home for supper in no time.’
‘Killer with the ball. Take you time, take your time. Cracking shot -- that’ll have smashed a few of Marvin’s ribs -- no points in it for Killer though as it didn’t connect with a hit zone. But who cares about points -- Marvin’s on the ground and Keno’s closing in for the kill.’
Aurora leaped up and thumped the sphere in desperation, ‘Get up, Mervyn! Get up!’ Loren watched in horror as Keno stabbed down at her friend.
‘Oh, this is fantastic... I mean gruesome. I’ve never seen play like this before: Marvin’s squirming on the floor at Killer’s feet like a wild animal. Killer’s stabbing frantically, but still he can’t find his mark. It’s all over now. Just a matter of seconds.’
Mervyn rolled to his right to avoid the searing death jabbing at him. The gleaming point of the stanza missed him by a finger’s width. Keno jabbed again. Mervyn squirmed onto his side and sucked his stomach in. The point snagged the suit by his belly button. The fabric ripped as he rolled clear and the stanza rose again. He wanted to roll onto his front and hide his eyes, but that way lay certain death -- he had to face the deadly stanza to stand any chance of surviving the next few seconds. He didn’t think, he didn’t feel; he just moved.
Something bumped against his hand -- the ball. The stanza jabbed again. He used the ball to leaver himself away, but a sudden pain shot through his leg. Was he hit? No, Keno was standing on his leg to hold him still. This was it -- his last whistle.
An image of his lifeless body with a stanza protruding through the throat, and Rufus De Monsero standing triumphantly on his chest, flashed before his eyes. No you don’t. Mervyn lashed out at the offending leg with the only weapon to hand. Keno froze -- a look of surprise on his face. Mervyn used the opportunity to roll clear and scramble to his feet. Outside the pool he was dimly aware of the crowd leaping and screaming. The scoreboard registered another point, he had survived another round, but only just.
Without warning Mervyn’s knees gave way. He could feel his heart pounding as though it would burst through his ribs at any moment. He tried to calm himself, but suddenly he felt hot, and faint; fresh sweat -- cold and clammy erupted on his forehead, and his hands shook as though he were freezing to death. He ignored everything and kept his eye fixed on his opponent, waiting to react. He neither knew nor cared who was winning. His single thought was that to stay alive he had to keep hitting the Rinhus with the ball, and if he hit him enough the Rinhus would stop chasing him.