“Come on, Pharaoh,” Ryan snarled. He hit him on the chin, bouncing the back of his head against the ground. “Give me a cerebral hemorrhage.”
A fierce downward jab opened a gash above Akhnaton’s eyebrow.
Akhnaton tried to exchange punches with Ryan, but his flailing fists missed their weaving target, or rebounded from his forearms. He bucked beneath him, hands darting for the one-eyed man’s throat.
Ryan caught the wrists, noting fearfully it was like grabbing two bars of tempered steel. They tumbled over the ground, locked in each other’s arms, tearing at each other like raging beasts. They grappled, and Akhnaton’s fingers slipped on his opponent’s sweat-slick arms, his grasp so powerful Ryan’s skin peeled away in strips as if it were scalded.
Ryan realized that although Akhnaton’s strength was immense, his combat acumen and skills weren’t even up to the levels possessed by Dean. He had never fought hand-to-hand for survival before, and Ryan took vicious advantage of him. He kicked him, he clawed him, he head-butted him, he bit him, he tried to gouge out his crimson eyes.
But Ryan knew that because of his adversary’s superior strength he couldn’t kill him, so he single-mindedly inflicted as much pain and humiliation on Akhnaton as he could.
Then a bronze hand closed around his throat. Ryan tried first to poke his fingers into Akhnaton’s eyes, but he straightened his arm and his hands couldn’t reach him. He came up to his knees with Ryan struggling to pry those steely fingers apart. He kicked at him desperately, but his apronlike garment impeded his movements.
Akhnaton’s hand mercilessly crushed tendons, muscles and ligaments against his vertebrae. Ryan was a strong man, far stronger than average, but he felt like a kitten, helpless in the hands of a sadist. Blood thundered in his ears.
Akhnaton flung him aside as if he were a dummy stuffed with straw. He landed flat on his right side, the impact knocking what little breath he had out through his nostrils and mouth. He lay where he had been tossed, his face against the ground, trying to cough, trying to breathe, trying to move.
Through the blurry vision of his eye, he saw Akhnaton stagger to his feet. Blood streamed from a score of wounds all over his body, his face a battered mask. He touched his lacerated lip, frowned at the crimson wetness shining on his fingertips and said unsteadily, “I underestimated you, Cawdor. You held your own in a face-to-face with me. I’ll be damned. You actually hurt me.”
Akhnaton’s voice held no anger, only bewilderment.
“Good,” Ryan said hoarsely. His throat felt raw, and his head throbbed.
Akhnaton smiled wryly. “No matter. I’ve lived so long with pain, I no longer really feel it.”
Ryan got his hands under him and pushed. The pavilion swayed around him. Gradually the thunder in his ears faded to a dim mutter. He stumbled erect.
“Why didn’t you use your psi-powers on me?” he croaked. “Give me a hemorrhage or burst my heart, like you said you could do?”
“You were ready for me to try that,” Akhnaton answered calmly. “Your strength of will is greater than I initially figured. If a mind is strong enough, consciously resisting me, I can’t do much more than inflict a headache.”
Ryan massaged his throat. “So you’re not quite up to the superhuman specs of Mission Invictus.”
“Actually,” he retorted matter-of-factly, “I am. My bones are denser, my circulatory system is far more efficient than yours. I probably have three times your strength, as you found out. I have control over my body’s autonomic functions and reflexes. I’ve already stopped the bleeding and nipped any chance of infection. I’ll be fully healed by tomorrow. You won’t be able to say the same.”
Ryan stared at him, noting with despair that blood no longer flowed from the man’s many wounds. “What now? Public execution for daring to lay hands on Pharaoh?”
Akhnaton shook his head derisively. “That’s the act of a coward, Cawdor. No, you’ve made this a personal situation between us when it could have been a simple exchange. Torture, I think, is more appropriate.”
Ryan chuckled dryly. “Torture isn’t the act of a coward?”