You shall yield glory to myself, and your soul to Hades of the noble steeds." Thus spoke Sarpedon, and Tlepolemus upraised his spear.

They threw at the same moment, and Sarpedon struck his foe in the middle of his throat; the spear went right through, and the darkness of death fell upon his eyes.

Tlepolemus's spear struck Sarpedon on the left thigh with such force that it tore through the flesh and grazed the bone, but his father as yet warded off destruction from him.
His comrades bore Sarpedon out of the fight, in great pain by the weight of the spear that was dragging from his wound.

They were in such haste and stress as they bore him that no one thought of drawing the spear from his thigh so as to let him walk uprightly.

Meanwhile the Achaeans carried off the body of Tlepolemus, whereon Ulysses was moved to pity, and panted for the fray as he beheld them.