Steel met steel, and sparks flew.
X jumped backward to avoid a slice meant for his chest.
Hammerhead was even bigger than he looked from a distance, standing nearly a head taller than X and outweighing him by a hundred pounds. He swung again and moved with the blow, slamming his chest into X and knocking him backward.
Grabbing the chain, Hammerhead yanked Rodger off his feet, knocking him to the ground with a thud and dragging him several feet.
X regained his balance instantly and sliced at his opponent’s hand, missing by a finger width. Hammerhead dropped the chain and swung both axes from right to left in an effort to take off his head. The blades came close enough that X felt the wind of their passage through the air.
Hammerhead swung again, this time bringing the axe down as if splitting a round of wood. X rolled left to avoid being split in two and spotted Rodger, standing and holding two yards of slack chain.
But it wasn’t his inept fighting partner that worried X. Behind Rodger, four Cazador soldiers ran in through another gate. Each was armed with a double-headed spear and dressed in heavy, clanking armor. X rolled up into a squat and spotted the leader, who held a shield with an octopus painted across it.
“Rodger, behind you!” X yelled. He sprang to his feet, wincing at the sharp twinge from the pressure on his wounded foot. Ignoring the pain, he ran toward Rodger, who finally turned.
The Cazador soldier carrying the shield moved in front of the others and lunged at Rodger with his spear. Seeing no other option, X stopped and threw his sword.
His aim was true, and the blade penetrated the soldier’s chest armor before he could raise his shield. X was almost surprised at the rusted sword’s performance.
“His spear!” X shouted as the dead Cazador crumpled to the ground.
Rodger grabbed the weapon and tossed it to X. They came together as the other three spearmen closed in on the right and Hammerhead moved in from the left.
It was hard to hear anything over the screaming crowd, but X thought he heard Magnolia yell a warning. He looked over his shoulder in time to see the blur of an axe cartwheeling through the air. He had only an eyeblink in which to move his head aside. The weapon passed so close, he heard the blade whisper past his ear and smack into flesh behind him with a sickening crunch.
Rodger! X’s heart sank at the muffled cry. But before he could turn to check on his partner, Hammerhead was on him. A kick in the chest sent him flying backward, and pain shot through ribs still tender from the battle in el Pulpo’s throne room. He landed on his back, knocking the air from his lungs.
Through the pain, X managed to hold on to the spear, which he jabbed to keep Hammerhead at bay while he got to his feet, gasping for air.
The first thing he saw was Rodger, with all his limbs, and no blades jutting from his flesh. He was picking up the spear of a Cazador soldier. The axe that flew past X had planted square in the soldier’s face, splitting it open like a watermelon. The dead man’s feet jerked once, then went still.
Hammerhead screamed something in Spanish at the other two men, and they slowly backed away. It struck X then, the axe hadn’t missed its mark. The behemoth gladiator wanted the glory of killing the Hell Divers all to himself.
“On me!” X yelled to Rodger.
They came together back to back, spears out. It was time to finish this big bastard.
Keeping low, X hurled the spear at the shark tattoo on Hammerhead’s chest, but the gladiator parried with the flat of his remaining axe, knocking the shaft away. And on he came, swinging the blade before him.
X lunged out of the way, but the giant kicked him in the thigh and grabbed him by the arm. He yanked X back toward him and punched him in the side of the head.
Bees swarmed X’s vision, and he tasted blood from the hole where a tooth had been. He spat it into the sand and drove an elbow up, catching his adversary under the chin. Hammerhead loosened his grip, and X managed to pull free before the giant could use the axe in his other hand to lop off a body part.
X scrambled away and heard the blade thump into the dirt where he had stood only a moment ago. He thrust his spear backward and was surprised to feel it connect.
Turning, he saw that the blade had severed the breathing apparatus, exposing a missing cheek from an old battle. The opening gave him a view of jagged yellow teeth. Hammerhead let out a shriek of pain and stumbled backward, clutching his face.
The crowd was screaming so loud, X barely heard Rodger yelling for help. He returned his attention to the two Cazador soldiers, who were staring in disbelief at their injured champion.
“Down, Rodgeman!” he yelled.
Seizing the moment, X grasped his spear at midshaft, twirling it over his head. The spinning spearhead slit the throat of a shocked Cazador soldier, who dropped his weapon and clamped his hands over the spurting wound.
The other Cazador soldier jabbed his spear at Rodger, but Rodger and X both jabbed back. The man moved from left to right and ducked, but there was nowhere to go.
Rodger stuck him in the chest, penetrating the armor. The Cazador grabbed the shaft and fell back onto the sand, twisting in agony.
“I got him!” Rodger yelled with glee. He looked over at X, and his smile vanished as his eyes focused on the area directly over X’s shoulder.
X turned as a shadow loomed over him.
Hammerhead grabbed him by the neck, lifting him off the ground.
Rodger lunged, but the gladiator shoved him away with his other hand. He hit the dirt and skidded on his back, the chain pulling taut between them.
The crowd roared and laughed, their noise filling the arena. The announcer spoke again in Spanish, bringing more laughter.
X squirmed in the grip of the beast holding him in the air. The insectoid optics peered at him as if he were a specimen being examined under a microscope. He gasped for air as Hammerhead tightened the grip around his neck. The stench of rotting teeth made X want to puke, but he had to suck in what air he could.
He battered Hammerhead in the ear, over and over, but it was like a gnat biting an elephant. Hammerhead screamed in fury, slinging spittle across X’s face.
Vision narrowing, X could feel his life force draining away. He had only seconds before this guy broke either his windpipe or his neck. He swung his fist again, this time at the buglike optics over Hammerhead’s eyes. The first blow didn’t do much, but the second knocked them lose. Bulging, bloodshot eyes stared back at X. Hammerhead dropped him to the ground and brought up his hands to shield his eyes from the setting sun.
X lay in the sand for a moment, gasping.
“I’m coming!” Rodger yelled. Jumping on Hammerhead’s back, he looped the chain around the thick neck and hung on. X felt the chain tugging, but he could do nothing except suck in air.
Hammerhead clawed at Rodger with his free hand, the other one still covering his eyes. He bucked and twisted, but Rodger clung tight with his legs.
X finally managed to push himself up on one knee, but he was so light-headed, he fell back onto his belly. He couldn’t get enough air, and he felt the slick of blood in his boot from the reopened bullet wound.
Get up, old man.
“Help me!” Rodger yelled.
X saw a double-headed spear half covered by sand. Grabbing it, he pushed himself to his feet. He staggered slightly, listening to the screams and wails of the fans. Everyone in the arena was on their feet—even el Pulpo, who watched from the balcony of his booth. Magnolia was by his side, and nestled beside her was a dog.
Miles, I’m coming for you, boy.