There were no rules to hammer dancing. And the outcome could not be questioned. One man was standing and one man was dead. The victor was usually crippled for life.
“I’ve wanted to dance with you since Vegas,” Donny sneered as he backed out of the tunnel to give himself room. “And I’m gonna lead.”
Mercer tightened his grip on his hammer, testing the tool’s balance and trying not to show the fear coursing through his veins. He knew he’d never find his pistol so he followed Donny into the oracle chamber. Stepping into the cavern, Mercer felt like a gladiator entering the Colosseum.
The oracle sat in the middle of the cavern, an enormous sphere reaching for the chamber’s rocky ceiling. Mercer estimated it was at least four stories tall. Below the sphere was a partitioned area furnished with antique desks and divans. The floor under the furniture was layered in carpets.
Randall’s dyed hair gleamed under the lights atop the wood scaffold ringing the top of the oracle. His grin remained fixed, his feral eyes on Mercer, watchful and expectant. He was eager for the fight, confident that his superior size and strength gave him the advantage. He’d probably done this a few times before.
He wore a pair of loose workman’s coveralls and steel-toed boots. With his sleeves rolled up, Mercer could see his forearms were as thick as footballs. The four-foot length of the sledgehammer looked puny in his huge hands. He was back far enough from Mercer to hold the hammer out straight in one hand, and he slowly brought it to the vertical using nothing but the power of his wrist. It was a staggering demonstration of his strength, leaving Mercer to hope that his eyes hadn’t bulged.
“Mercer!”
The cry came from near the towering sphere. The way the light played against the oracle’s glittering surface, Mercer could barely see the diminutive figure at its base, but he knew the voice. Tisa. She appeared unhurt but was tied to a chair. That must be where the archivists interpreted the oracle’s predictions, he thought, although he had no idea how the device worked.
The instant his eyes shifted to see her, Donny lunged forward, swinging his hammer in a wide, powerful arc. Mercer stepped back a pace but was unprepared for how effortlessly Randall could reverse the stroke and move in on him. The hammerhead came an inch from his chest and would have shattered his ribs had he not fallen back another step. He had his hammer up when Donny cut the strike at him again, carving a wicked S in the air. The handles met with a dull knock. Donny shoved and Mercer went sprawling.
The big man stood firm, not pressing the advantage. He wanted to draw this out and toy with Mercer before beating him to death. His grin widened, showing a gap where two of his side teeth had been.
“All that money you make in an office someplace made you soft. You ain’t as tough as people say.”
Mercer remained on the ground for a moment longer, taking his time getting to his feet so that when he launched himself at Randall, Donny wouldn’t expect it to come. He swung in an uppercut, judging the distance so all Donny had to do was sway back on his heels to avoid the blow.
Donny remained rooted, tipping back so the hammer swung past his head. Mercer let the momentum carry him forward and around so as he pivoted he could chop down at Randall’s hip. Donny parried and the steel hammerheads crashed together with a ring like a cracked bell.
Mercer dodged away, unable to meet Randall’s brute strength when fighting on the inside. Randall came at him, swinging wildly. Some swipes Mercer ducked, others he parried. Each time Donny’s hammer struck Mercer’s, Mercer was forced to give ground. Even these deflected blows were taking a toll. His arms ached and his palms were losing feeling. His grip on the hammer was becoming lax. Donny Randall didn’t seem the least affected. He swung and chopped as though his hammer were a toy sword. While Mercer panted, Donny’s breathing was even and steady.
They had moved to within fifty yards of the oracle. Mercer saw for the first time that its surface wasn’t smooth as he’d assumed. It was rippled and made of either the most lustrous brass he’d ever seen or pure gold. It was also far larger than he’d estimated. He added another twenty feet to its height and diameter.
The two circled each other, making halfhearted feints. Donny lifted his sledge over his head, coming down on Mercer like a pile driver. Mercer caught the strike on the haft of his hammer and was nearly driven to his knees. The two hammerheads locked.
Donny heaved on his sledge, trying to pull Mercer’s hammer from his hands. Mercer managed to hold on but was bodily thrown ten feet when the heads separated. This time Randall gave no quarter. He stalked across the chamber, slashing back and forth with his maul. Mercer scrambled back, unable to parry the swipes, only just managing to avoid being hit.
He came up fast against a large antique desk. The oracle loomed overhead. Mercer barely had time to note that the ridges covering the outside of the golden orb were mountain ranges and plateaus. The oracle was an intricately detailed globe on an unheard-of scale! Donny swung again. Mercer rolled to his right, around the desk’s leg. The hammer split the wood, upending the heavy piece of furniture. The scrolls and leaves of parchment that had littered the desktop flew like scattered birds.
Randall fought through the mess, swinging his hammer again and again, as tireless as a machine. His face remained an expressionless mask. From the floor, Mercer drove his hammer at Donny’s ankle, a weak effort that forced the bigger man to move aside only to feel if the blow had been worse than it felt. Mercer scrambled up on the far side of the ruined desk.
Tisa was shackled to a nearby chair. She’d screamed when the table had shattered. Now she watched wide-eyed as Donny shifted away from Mercer and took three long strides across the work area toward her. He stopped when he stood above her, the head of his hammer resting on her bent knee.
“Hey, Mercer, wanna see something cool?” He raised his weapon.
Mercer got to his feet. The oracle chamber felt as hot as the burning monastery above him. He was bathed in sweat. His muscles felt drained, rubbery.
“I thought you were here to dance with me.” His voice came as a rough croak. “Can’t change partners now.”
“This will only take a second.” Donny had enough animal cunning to know if he injured Tisa, Mercer would come at him, blinded by rage. An easy victim.
He watched Mercer as he raised the hammer a bit higher. He could let gravity drop the heavy mallet and the bones around Tisa’s knee would turn to pebble-sized chips.
Something within the oracle lurched, a mechanism of some sort that gave a steadily rising ticking sound directly above the trio. Donny looked up, Tisa looked at Mercer and Mercer rushed Randall.
He caught the movement a moment too late. Mercer’s swing lacked power because it came from his off foot. Still, the steel head caught Randall in the stomach, driving deep into his flesh. Donny doubled over, curling tight in a spasm that ripped the hammer from Mercer’s hands. When he wheeled away, Mercer’s hammer was still lodged in place. Donny dropped his own.
Mercer bent to scoop it from the stone floor and went to finish the fight. He took his eyes off Donny for only the split second necessary to grab the fallen sledgehammer. Donny moved fast, faster than Mercer could have believed. His strike hadn’t been anywhere near as damaging as he’d thought. Donny had gained a firm grip on Mercer’s hammer. His face showed pain, but also a fierce hatred and a deadly determination. Mercer just got his hand on Donny’s hammer when Randall waded in. He swung once at Mercer’s shoulder, a glancing blow that spun Mercer in place, presenting his vulnerable back to his opponent. Donny couldn’t get the hammer to swing around quick enough so he rammed the butt end into Mercer’s spine.