“I can chill you with a chain as easily as a blaster, One-eye,” Mog said, his voice a low, deep rumble that boomed out of his cavernous chest like a cannon shot.
Outside the circle, Grundwold raised his hands. “Ready?”
The question was answered by a rumble of shouts and whistles from the crowd. They were more than ready, for blood and chilling.
“Fight!”
The circle came alive with movement.
Ryan stepped back from the center, expecting Mog to swing the chain in his direction, but instead he quickly turned to the left, whipping his arm out and catching the mutie named Laslo in the neck. The chain tore into the mutie’s neck, embedding itself three inches into the flesh, causing a gout of blood to spurt up from the open wound.
Hambly looked at his partner with stunned fascination as Laslo desperately tried to pull the chain from his neck. Blood was pouring over the dying mutie’s shoulder as he fell to his knees, still vainly trying to work the chain free.
Mog took a step toward Laslo, wrapped the remaining length of chain around the part of the neck that remained, and then pulled with both hands. The blunt chain ripped through the mutie’s flesh like a dull blade, tearing his head from his shoulders and sending it spinning into the air.
The flying severed head, blood still draining from inside, caught the attention of the crowd and most of the combatants.
But not Ryan.
He used the opportunity to move right and slash at the leg of one of the sec men. He caught Salazar on the right leg just below the knee. The man let out a yelp of pain as his pant leg was slashed open and blood began to pool around his right foot.
“You should have chilled me with that blow, One-eye,” Salazar said, clutching at his bleeding leg. ‘”Cause I’m gonna make you pay for it.”
The sec man lunged forward, but stopped himself in midstride when he found the sharpened tip of Brody’s pike between himself and Ryan.
“Let him come,” Ryan said, moving the pike aside with his left hand. “You just watch that the other poor excuse for a sec man doesn’t interfere.”
Richmond heard the comment and sneered at Ryan. “Don’t chill him, Sally,” he told Salazar. “Leave a bit of his worthless life for me.”
“You got it.” Salazar grimaced, still bleeding.
Ryan stepped back to keep his distance from the approaching sec man. On Ryan’s right, the second mutie, Hambly, had his hands full trying to stay away from Mog. The giant appeared to be toying with the man, putting on a show with his chain that the crowd seemed to be enjoying since they were still shouting, “Mog! Mog! Mog!” louder than ever.
Salazar’s knife was about the same length as Ryan’s panga, but that’s where the similarities ended. Ryan’s blade was sharp, and the balance of the weapon was excellent. Salazar, on the other hand, seemed to be fighting his knife, not sure whether to lunge or slash with it.
And there was another advantage Ryan held over the sec man. Salazar’s wounded leg continued to spill blood. If the cut hadn’t slowed him, the loss of blood was sure to. All Ryan had to do was wait, but in this arena, waiting was a luxury he might not have time for.
“What’s the matter, One-eye, don’t want to stand and fight?”
Ryan thought of the Trader’s saying about those who run away being able to run away another day, but that didn’t apply here. If he ran, his fight was over and one of these creatures would end up with Krysty.
His best friend.
His lover.
The thought of her made Ryan stand his ground.
He planted his boots on the dry, dusty ground and threw the panga back and forth from his left hand to his right. The move had been intended to confuse Salazar and let him know that Ryan was equally good with the knife with either hand, but it had also captured the attention of the crowd, who appreciated a fighter with some showmanship and flare. Even Mog and the others were watching Ryan now. But he refused to put on a show for their entertainment. Chilling was a matter of survival, not people’s amusement. He stopped tossing the panga back and forth and held it before himself to guard against an attack.