Read Trident Fury (The Kurgan War Book 3) for Free Online

Sheridan as well. For what seemed like an eternity, Abbas fired his pistol until the slide remained back—he was out of rounds.  
    The odds were now even. Sheridan tossed the dead mercenary’s body to one side and yelled at the top of his lungs before charging straight at Abbas. He struck the man hard in his stomach, bowling him over. Both men tumbled to the marble floor. Sheridan was the first to recover. He jumped up to his feet and looked around for a weapon. He spotted the dead guard’s pistol lying by the elevator and dove for it.
    Abbas may have been a portly looking man, but he was fit and fast on his feet. He saw the weapon at the same time and rushed to grab it as well.
    Both men collided into one another and slid across the smooth marble floor. Sheridan rolled over and swung his right elbow at Abbas’ face. He heard a crunch as the cartilage in his opponent’s nose shattered. Blood ran like a river down Abbas’ face. If Sheridan thought that was the end of it, he was sorely mistaken. Abbas wiped the blood to one side, got up on his knees, and pulled a curved blade from behind his back.
    Sheridan saw the knife he had jammed into the dead guard’s hand and grabbed hold of it. He yanked it out and stood up.  
    Both men were breathing heavily.
    Like a pair of weary prizefighters in the ring, Sheridan and Abbas circled one another looking for a weakness, for the opportunity to strike.
    Abbas struck first. He swung his knife down aiming to cut his adversary’s right arm wide open.  
    Sheridan saw the move and at the last moment tried to pull his arm back. Abbas’ sharp blade still sliced through his jacket all the way down to his skin. A burning pain shot up Sheridan’s arm making him wince. He jumped back, trying to put some space between him and his attacker.
    Abbas twirled his knife around in the air. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunted.
    “You’ll find out soon enough.”
    “I doubt it. You don’t rise to the top of the Clans by being nice. Now stand still and I’ll promise to make this fast.”
    “Screw you!” snarled Sheridan, thrusting his blade at Abbas’ face, forcing him to step back.  
    From the pit, a bear let out a deep roar, followed by its partner. “They’re hungry,” said Abbas. “You were supposed to be their supper.”
    “Sorry to disappoint them.”
    “It’s not too late,” replied Abbas as he flipped the knife in his hand up in the air until he took hold of the tip of the blade. With a lightning-fast move, Abbas dropped to one knee and threw his knife straight at Sheridan’s chest.
    It all seemed to happen in slow motion to Sheridan. He saw the knife coming straight for him. He started to turn, but realized that he wasn’t going to be fast enough. He lowered his left arm to block the blade. A split second later, the knife struck home, slicing through his jacket before lodging itself into Sheridan’s forearm. He let out a gasp. It felt as if someone had just jammed a red-hot poker into his arm and was sadistically twisting it around.
    “Time to die,” said Abbas as he reached for another concealed knife.
    Through the pain, Sheridan knew he had to do something or die in the next couple of seconds. He closed his mind to the pain, turned toward his adversary, and ran straight at him. Abbas had not expected an attack and was defenseless when Sheridan hit him head-on and thrust his knife deep into his fat stomach.  
    Abbas gasped. His eyes widened in surprise and fright. He reached over and grabbed the hilt of the bloody knife. On unsteady feet, he staggered back a few paces and turned to look over at Sheridan before collapsing to the floor. He knew his wound was mortal. Abbas lay there moaning, unable to stop his coming demise.  
    Sheridan felt his head grow woozy. His feet gave out underneath him. He tumbled to the ground, looking over at his dying opponent. From out of nowhere, an arm reached down and grabbed hold of Abbas and started to drag him toward the open pit.