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My tarn struck him like a screaming saber of black lightning flashing through the ring. - (Assassin of Gor, Chapter 22, Sentence #433)

This warned the rider of the eighth bird, a Gold, and he, bent low in the saddle, looked behind him to see, piercing the rings, eyes blazing, wings snapping, the great black tarn. To the crowd's astonishment, but not to mine, he wheeled his tarn, a rare, gloriously plumaged jungle tarn from the tropical reaches of the Cartius, to block the first of the right center rings. The bird, beautiful, fierce, talons lifted, wings beating, hanging almost motionless before the ring, faced us. My tarn struck him like a screaming saber of black lightning flashing through the ring. I did not look back. The crowd seemed stunned. The seventh rider was a nonfaction rider, but a veteran rider, who, upon orders from the Ubar or not, did not intend to wheel his tarn to face me, thus surrendering his opportunity of victory. - (Assassin of Gor)