The single combatant was a soldier in the uniform of a common fighting
man. One of the pair was a tall Nubian in a striped tunic; the other
was an Egyptian, short, fat, purple of countenance--Unas!
With a furious exclamation, Kenkenes slackened his pace only long
enough to undo the falchion at his side and rushed to the fight. It
did not matter to him who the soldier was or what his cause. The fact
that he was fighting the emissaries of Har-hat was sufficient
indorsement of the lone soldier. But even as he sprang forward, Unas
sank on the sand, moved convulsively once or twice and lay still.
The soldier staggered back from the second servitor and fell. The
Nubian, standing over him, swung his heavy weapon aloft, but Kenkenes
thrust his falchion over the fallen man and caught the blow, as it
descended, upon the broad back of the blade.
"Set receive your cursed soul," the Nubian snarled. Kenkenes leaped
across the prostrate soldier, and simultaneously the weapons went up,
descended and clashed. Then followed a wild and fearful battle.
The Egyptian falchion was nothing more than a sword-shaped ax.
Therefore, these were not tongues of steel which would whip their
supple length one across the other and fill the air with the lightning
of their play and the devilish beauty of their music.
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