I don't know whether it was Martell's plan—to use words to make the Mountain lose his temper—or whether the prince himself was being carried away, but so far his words had had no effect on Clegane.
Yes, the Mountain had begun to move a little more slowly and to limp, and the spectators could now hear his heavy breathing. Yes, he was turning his head more and more often, trying to keep track of such a nimble opponent. And here his thick helmet, with its narrow eye slit, was more a hindrance than a help. Though, on the other hand, had the helm been more open, Oberyn might already have reached his eyes.
"There are snakes that like to play with their prey," Tywin said quietly.
"The Mountain is a bit too big to be a toy," Tyrion replied, and everyone who heard it smiled involuntarily.
Tywin and Kevan watched the fight with complete calm. Cersei sat rigidly upright, gripping the armrests of her chair so tightly her knuckles had gone pale; her nostrils flared like a predator's. Jaime Lannister stood at the foot of the steps leading up to our platform. He looked intensely focused and tense—it seemed that not a single detail, not a single moment of the brutal battle escaped his attention. I was certain that, in his mind, Jaime was down there on the battlefield, in the place of one of the fighters, defending and attacking alongside them, feinting, maneuvering, stepping aside and surging forward… And yet this did not affect his professionalism as Lord Commander—he remained perfectly calm and even found time to glance periodically at our platform and the crowd.
The duel went on. The Red Viper shouted ceaselessly at Clegane, reminding him again and again of what he had done.
It seemed the Mountain was beginning to tire. His nimble opponent, the crushing weight of his armor and weapons, and the blazing sun —all of this steadily draining his strength.
Oberyn's spear once more struck sparks from the Mountain's shield.
Martell feinted. The Mountain opened himself for the briefest moment—and the spear instantly darted toward his eye slit. The Red Viper stretched out, putting all his power and precision into the thrust, and reached his foe.
The Mountain took a step back and dropped to one knee with a hoarse groan, blindly sweeping his sword through the air.
The spear seemed to live a life of its own. Gregor's armor had been scarred and dented long before this battle, but I was certain it had never endured anything like what was happening now.
"You killed my sister. You raped her," Oberyn was already shouting, repeating the same words over and over. His tongue spat them out, and the spear continued to stab.
"Shut up. I'll kill you. And then I'll piss on your filthy corpse," Gregor growled, and it became clear that the prince had finally pushed him past the breaking point.
In the next instant, Gregor literally hurled himself forward. Oberyn did not have time to evade the blow and was forced to raise his shield. Until then, he had fully respected the Mountain's monstrous strength, and if he raised his shield at all, it was only to let the strike glance aside. But this time Gregor still managed to pour all his power—and the full momentum of his massive body—into the blow.
The prince's shield shattered. The pieces hung together only by the iron rim. A murmur rolled across the platform; it looked as though Martell's arm had been broken.
The Red Viper went deathly pale—it was clearly visible. He loosened his grip, and the ruined shield fell to the stones.
"Not bad," Martell managed, finding the strength to smile.
Gregor seemed to draw a second wind and pressed the attack. Now the prince was forced to retreat outright. Had the courtyard been smaller, such a pursuit might well have ended in tragedy for him.
However, Oberyn retreated without fear—and with purpose. He had a plan.
Clegane unleashed another unstoppable blow—how many had we already seen today? The sheer momentum carried the sword forward, and in that instant Oberyn twisted in midair, leaped, and struck Clegane in the shoulder.
And he hit—cleanly, precisely—between helmet and gorget. Everyone saw that the spearhead sank into flesh at least a hand's breadth. The shaft lodged fast. The Mountain roared and hacked downward with his sword, finally cut through the shaft. Oberyn was left holding no more than a three-foot length piece of wood.
The violent movement tore the spearhead free, and it clattered to the ground. A fountain of blood burst into the air.
The Mountain swayed like a felled tree. His shield flew aside. With a heavy groan, he collapsed to his knees, bracing his left hand against the stones. He managed to driven his sword into a crack between the paving slabs, and now his massive hand clutched the hilt convulsively—it seemed to be the only thing keeping him from toppling forward.
"Hey, are you dying?" Oberyn asked, his voice almost gentle. "No, ser. Not so fast."
The prince's left arm hung useless at his side, but it did nothing to hinder his coordination. He bent swiftly, retrieved the broken length of spear with its blade, and then, as if considering how best to finish the Mountain in the most painful way possible, began to circle him.
"That's it—Ser Clegane has had his day," Mace Tyrell declared loudly.
The Mountain still held his sword in his right hand, though his head sagged lower and lower. Blood pooled on the stones in a dark flood, as if from a slaughtered bull. Oberyn stepped easily over the red-black stream and stopped thoughtfully before his fallen foe.
Then it happened.
The Mountain's right arm snapped out like a deadly spring and grabbed the prince by the collarbone. Even on his knees, Gregor Clegane managed to reach the shoulder of Oberin, who was by no means small.
The iron gauntlet crushed the Red Viper's shoulder as if it were wax. Oberyn screamed. The Mountain dragged him closer, but at the last instant Oberyn twisted the broken spear, aligning the blade with the narrow eye slit of his enemy's helm.
The Mountain jerked Oberin toward him, and the spear plunged deep into the helmet.
The giant's grip slackened. His arm fell limp. Then Clegane himself crashed to the ground. His legs kicked convulsively a few times, scattering dust, and his immense body shuddered one last time before falling still.
(End of Chapter)
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