He was a giant, topping seven feet by several inches. His sword glittered in the sunlight as he slashed it savagely through the air, and his hair was a coarse, matted mane. He growled some barbaric command and the Wild Ones charged onward. The ring of defenders tightened and stood firm, waiting for the attack. Swords rang. Jon found himself opposing a brawny youth with fierce, widely-set eyes and a good sword-hand. He parried a two-handed chop that could have cut him in half, and smashed back with a quick lunge that drew blood. "Dog!" The Wild One flicked blood from the flesh wound and drove forward. Jon parried again, drove in, crashed his sword off the other's hilt. His hand numbed, the Wild One dropped his sword. Without hesitating, Jon cut the unarmed man down and turned to seek his next opponent. He glanced over and saw Len, the Tower Captain, in tight combat with a gigantic Wild One. The giant was driving Len back toward the sea with sweeping swings of his huge broadsword. Jon turned and started to go to Len's assistance when another barbarian interposed himself. Jon whirled and leaped forward for the battle, just as he saw Len fall to the giant's sword. "Give back! Give back!" someone yelled. "They're beating us!" _They're not beating me_, Jon thought fiercely, as he laid open his opponent's arm with a savage slash and followed immediately with a quick swipe that ripped open the Wild One's throat. Breathing hard, now, Jon turned to look for his next opponent. He had but one thought: the Tower must be defended. The Tower was sacred to the Free People; the Tower must be defended. * * * * * He found himself embroiled in another duel quickly enough. The barbarians seemed to be all over the place, cutting and slashing with their wild, untrained manner. A quick glance around told Jon that the Tower guards were being driven back; half a dozen of his childhood friends lay slain near him, and a river of blood trickled slowly through the grass. The barbarians were falling too--but their giant leader was indomitable, was wreaking death right and left in the ranks of the Guardians. Jon killed his opponent and looked around. The thick of the battle was on the other side of the Tower, he saw. It was now nearly noon, and the sun blazed brightly off the Tower's metal sides. When he reached the other side of the Tower, he was surprised to see that barely half a dozen guards remained alive. Half a dozen, out of nearly forty. He plunged into the fray with furious energy, cutting down three Wild Ones before they realized he was there. That narrowed the odds considerably. Only three of the Free People remained--and four of the Wild Ones. It had been a bloody, fierce battle, with heavy loss of life on both sides. Jon's sword plunged into a barbarian's throat, and in that instant the giant's weapon cut the life from the man at Jon's side. Two against three, now.