At the last possible moment he threw up his hand and caught Kassar's wrist. He stepped back out of the path of the dabbus and jerked downward on Kassar's arm. The weight of the mace helped throw Kassar off balance, and he landed on his chest with a grunt, the air driven out of him.
Daoud stamped on Kassar's forearm and yanked the dabbus out of his grasp. He flung himself down on Kassar and pinned him to the sand.
Though all his attention was on Kassar, there was room in his mind for a triumphant surprise.
Allahu akbar! God is great! I never thought I had the strength to throw the Kipchaq.
"Nicetas won the contest. Admit it, or I'll break your skull," he growled, holding the dabbus over Kassar's head.
Kassar remained silent. Daoud lowered the dabbus and tapped the Tartar's round skull through his mop of straight black hair. He hit Kassar just hard enough to let him feel the weight of the dabbus.
"Admit that Nicetas won."
"All right," Kassar grunted, his face in the sand. "He won."
"Swear by the Prophet you will leave him alone from now on."
"I swear," came the muffled voice.