Inside one of the glass rooms, two swordsmen, each dressed in a white safety suit, one streaked with red and the other with blue, slashed at each other with speed and menace. The fight was savage, but beautiful and hypnotic. She had seen sword fights before, but they were always practiced. Methodical. The swords were the same, and the match became a dance. This time was different.
The larger sword was being wielded by the player streaked with red. It would have hit Taymar at the center of her rib cage if it were standing on end, and it ended with hooks on either side that arched back toward the long, straight hilt.
The other weapon belonged to the smaller blue-streaked competitor, and Taymar decided it would have been her sword of choice. Not only was it shorter than the first blade, only reaching her waist, but it was also narrower and lighter. The entire weapon swept into a long arc with an edge on only one side.
Again and again, the swords met in a reverberating clang that reached through the thick wall. Taymar could feel the repercussion of the metal down her arm as they collided and withdrew, only to collide again.
The smaller blue player was the quicker and more aggressive of the two. Blue’s strategy seemed to wear the red player down through injury and speed. With long, sweeping slashes for which the arc of the sword was perfect, Blue attacked relentlessly, but more often than not the strikes were blocked.
In contrast, the larger red fighter focused on trying to disarm his opponent. Red’s sword was perfectly designed for it. Nearly every countermove Red made involved a backward sweep of the sword trying to catch the smaller weapon in the thornlike claws of his blade. Red was also noticeably stronger, with a longer reach. Although Red’s strikes were fewer in number, they were far more damaging when they connected.
Taymar shoved her way to the front and stood pressed against the glass, totally engrossed in the ensuing battle. Adrenaline coursed as Blue connected with Red’s fighting arm, and another red stripe appeared on the white suit. It seemed that Red was actually feeling the pain of the pseudo wound. Red became slower and visibly tired, even going so far as to change sword arms.
Just when Blue seemed to have won the battle, the table turned. Blue made a long, arching swing for Red’s midsection, but instead of blocking the attack, Red stepped back and followed it through. Then, just at the end of the swing, Red twisted his sword around Blue’s, hooking it into the claw of his own. With a backward jerk, he yanked the sword from his blue-streaked opponent’s hand. At the loss of Blue’s sword, a buzzer split the air and Red was announced the victor.
Even as the players began removing their suits, the red and blue stripes were disappearing. When they pulled off their helmets, Taymar’s suspicion was confirmed. Red was a man and Blue was a woman, and they were obviously a couple based on their long, deep kiss at the door. Behind her, a low growl made her jump.
“Emotional displays have no place in a Tarlak,” said Kellin.
“Do you always sneak up on people?” she demanded, slightly embarrassed that she hadn’t known he was there. That wouldn’t have happened without the klonide.
“If you did not hear me, the fault is yours,” Kellin returned calmly, still glaring at the embracing couple. “Being married does not excuse this behavior.” He turned to confront the swordsmen, but before he got to them, they separated and strode hand in hand from the room, taking their swords with them. As they did, the crowd dispersed as well, and soon only the glaring Kellin and Taymar were left.
Taymar stepped away from the wall so as not to have it at her back. “I thought it was a good fight,” she protested. “Does Red always win?”
Kellin looked at her with a blank stare.
Realizing her mistake, Taymar clarified. “Does the man always win?”
“No,” Kellin answered. “They are evenly matched. Larin is quicker and probably the more skilled of the two, but her husband, Yar, is stronger. He has a longer reach, and he fights with a deadly and difficult weapon.”
Taymar nodded, turning to watch the next two players suit up. Something about the way the new men moved told her they were not nearly as skilled as the last two had been. They lacked confidence and poise. In fact, they seemed almost embarrassed.
“Are you ready to battle?” asked Kellin. His tone betrayed his contempt of the next competitors.
“Sure,” she said, already feeling the fade from the adrenaline rush.
“How would you like to fight?” Kellin asked. He was dressed in a tight-fitting black bodysuit. The legs only went down to the middle of his thighs, and the top was nothing more than two straps extending from the waist and stretching over his shoulders. Overall, given the hair, the teeth, and his massive muscles, Kellin was a ferocious sight.
Taymar shrugged. “You’re the one seeking revenge. You choose. But, I would rather not use a laser weapon again. I don’t know if you can avoid dying if I have to kill you twice.”
“Will you fight me in hand-to-hand combat, no weapons?” Kellin asked formally.
Taymar eyed him askance, but nodded. She really didn’t care what they did. She could tell that Kellin had noticed her lack of enthusiasm, but she wasn’t interested in his opinion, either.
As Kellin led her to the back of the room, he explained the various sections as they went. They paused at one chamber, where two teams clashed in a savage game that had bodies hitting the wall and sliding across the floor. Each team member held a cupped racket with a cover that they wielded like weapons. It was being used as both a bat and a shield, and to throw a small ball into one of four holes. Taymar stopped trying to figure out the rules and resolved herself to the fact that there must not be any.
“It is called piticul on Elgire, where it came from, but now it is more often called bruteball. No one will play it with me anymore.”
Taymar didn’t wonder why.
At last, they arrived at a chamber with white mats covering the floor. Two people were already using the room, so Taymar and Kellin waited. The fighters were practicing a form of combat involving continuous arm contact that looked to be as boring to do as it was to watch.
The room reminded her of the recreation compounds in Newete. Not in appearance, but in principal. At almost any hour, the massive compounds would be alive with activity since they were the only places on Drani where an Arlele and a Dran could fight on the same terms. Except under extreme circumstances, Dran were not allowed to tap Arleles. Arleles still couldn’t possess a bladed weapon, but they could physically destroy anyone who challenged them, or get destroyed trying, without any legal consequences.
Taymar and Nevvis had spent many hours in the Central Newete compound. Like Red and Blue from earlier, they were evenly matched. Nevvis was stronger and more skilled, but Taymar was fast and relentless, with better endurance. And thanks to Nevvis’s home gym holo program, she was becoming more skilled by the day. Or at least she had been, before she left.
When Kellin asked if she was ready, Taymar wasn’t even aware that the room had been vacated. As if by some unwritten universal law, they both removed their shoes before stepping into the padded room. “Are you sure you can fight effectively in that?” Kellin asked, giving her long, baggy clothes a skeptical glance.
“Yeah,” Taymar assured him, privately wondering if he hadn’t meant “like that” instead of “in that,” referring to her attitude rather than her clothes. To make him feel better, she reached down and put three cuffs in each of her pant legs, and then turned her lagging attention back to the hulking gray man before her. Even on a good day, he would be a formidable opponent, especially without the aid of her telekinesis. This wasn’t a good day, though, and Taymar was fairly sure she was in for a beating.
He was already crouched and ready. Sucking in a deep breath, Taymar fell into something close to a fighting position and waited for Kellin to make the first move. Ordinarily, Taymar preferred to be the aggressor, but today her heart wasn’t in the fight.
Kellin noted her halfhearted stance and moved in quickly. His foot c
ame up for a kick, but he snapped it back and grabbed her blocking arm instead. She played into his ploy so perfectly it may as well have been choreographed. There was no way to counter it, and as expected her back hit the mat.
Without comment, Kellin positioned himself again. Taymar pushed herself up and moved to circle him, but again her mind was too slow and he swept his leg under her feet. Her delayed attempt to jump only aided Kellin in sending her crashing to the mat a second time.
Taymar lay sprawled on the white floor, gazing into Kellin’s expressionless face. Slowly, annoyance began replacing depression and she silently resolved to make a better effort. Kellin had a different idea, and before she made it halfway up he knocked her back down. Annoyance melted into anger as her head bounced off the mats, and before she had even stopped moving, Taymar arched her back and pushed her weight onto her upper body. She thrust her feet forward, planting them hard in Kellin’s groin. He staggered backward. If there was one thing Taymar could not tolerate, it was being toyed with, which she knew already was exactly what Kellin had been hoping for.
“You have an affinity for kicking men there, don’t you?” Kellin groaned, struggling to straighten himself for her next attack.
Taymar didn’t answer. She just let the sweet taste of adrenaline replace the bitter gloom of moments ago. In rapid succession, she loosed three brutal kicks to his abdomen and then turned to lash out at his face, but was blocked.
The ferocity of her attack left Kellin momentarily stunned, but not for long. He used his block to capture her leg for a throw, but he was dealing with the new Taymar, the one who had been fighting her entire life. The one who wasn’t hampered by fear or depression. His moment of uncertainty allowed her to twist away and somersault to the ground. In an instant, she was back on her feet and ready.
Before attacking again, Taymar took a moment to regroup. Her typical strategy was to target her opponent’s head and legs. With Kellin that wouldn’t work. He was tall. Very tall. Any moves to his face would be easy to anticipate, and his legs were more like tree trunks than limbs. Every man had a weak spot in his groin, but Taymar was certain he wouldn’t be pulled into that trap again. All of that meant she was left with the soft area under his rib cage, his lower back, and his knees. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do, because Taymar was out of time. Kellin was moving in.
His foot hissed through the air. Taymar dropped to the floor to avoid another head shot. She rolled toward him and lashed out as hard as she could, catching Kellin in the back of his left knee. It would have been a devastating blow had she not been lying on the floor at the time, but it still dropped him to one knee. Almost immediately, both were back on their feet, but he favored the leg.
A crowd of onlookers had begun to form outside the transparent chamber, but Taymar blocked them out. She had to focus. Kellin took two steps back and threw himself into the air, planting the foot of his bad leg squarely alongside Taymar’s head. She found herself dazed on the mats, with no recollection of her trip down and no time to remember it. Kellin was moving again.
Taymar shifted her weight, rolling to all fours. Heel first, she struck out behind her and once again plummeted Kellin’s left knee. Following the motion around to get one leg under her, she clasped both of her hands together and hammered them into his side. The sound of his breath rushing out was like a drug. He still showed no signs of going down, but he was hurting.
Sweat streamed off of both their bodies as they continued their relentless attacks. Again and again, someone crashed to the mats only to pull themselves back up. The pace was beginning to slow, though, and the merciless pounding was starting to take its toll on both of them. Blood trickled down her temple from one of the kicks to the head. Her left eye was swelling closed, and she couldn’t breathe from her nose. But it wasn’t all her. Kellin’s leg was streaked with blue and purple stains visible even through the sleek gray hair, and he kept off of it as much as possible.
Kellin made another arching swipe at Taymar’s head, but she had had enough of that and ducked to avoid it. Only too late, she realized it was a trick. Instead of following through with the kick and opening himself up to another blow to his midsection, Kellin planted his forward leg and swung back around, catching Taymar in the stomach.
With a grunt, she slid across the mat until the wall finally brought her to an abrupt and painful stop. Stunned, she pushed herself up on her hands and knees as quickly as she could, but she wasn’t fast enough. Before Taymar could recover her footing, Kellin was on her. Grabbing her just under her shoulder, Kellin flipped her onto her back. When Taymar looked up, she found herself staring at a huge, hairy hand lethally poised above her neck. Kellin didn’t smile, but Taymar saw the joy of victory in his black eyes.
“Now, we are even,” declared Kellin between gasping breaths.
Taymar did smile. The sweat running off of her body felt as refreshing as rain on a hot summer day. She hadn’t had a fight like that since the time she had squared off with Nevvis in the rec-com after destroying his third laser key. She hadn’t won that fight, either.
“Luck,” she declared, wiping blood from her sore nose.
“I think skill is the word you were meaning.” Kellin relaxed his stance slightly as they both struggled to catch their breaths, but he didn’t get up.
“No. I really meant luck, and if you’d like, I will tell you why.”
Kellin looked annoyed. “Tell me why you would say it is luck.”
Taymar grinned. “Because if it were skill, you’d be able to do it twice, and you can’t.” With that said, she grabbed his still hovering hand, and with some effort threw him over her shoulder. Then, she jumped to her feet. Outside the chamber, a cheer went up from the crowd.
Kellin, who was far more massive than Taymar, had not yet managed to catch his second wind and consequently found himself at an instant disadvantage. Taymar was refreshed and ready to go. She leaped at his abdomen and brought the pain of his still healing laser wounds blazing back as his breath whooshed out.
The second match resumed much like the first, with a few significant differences. Kellin was tired, more so than Taymar, and it showed. Fewer and fewer of his strikes hit their target. Also, Taymar’s relentless attacks on his knees were paying off. The swelling was limiting his options. And now that she knew his abdomen was still sore from his injury, she attacked it with renewed venom.
The fight hadn’t been underway long when Taymar made another powerful kick to Kellin’s midsection and sent him staggering. She didn’t waste the opportunity. In much the same way Kellin had, Taymar cracked her heel against Kellin’s skull and then followed him down to the mats. This time, it was Taymar kneeling over Kellin with her hand buried threateningly in his soft neck.
“Like I said,” she heaved. “Luck.”
Kellin only snorted. It was all he could manage. He didn’t even move when Taymar flopped herself over to lie on the mat beside him.
She imagined they must have been a sorry sight, each lying spread out in pools of sweat. Taymar’s clothes were soaked and torn, her face swollen and bloody. Parts of Kellin’s hairy body were actually lathered, and his left knee looked badly injured. The fact that she was lying on the floor next to this stranger didn’t matter at all. When the door finally slid open, neither even looked up at who she assumed to be the next players.
Reluctantly, Taymar started to push herself up to clear the room for the waiting fighters. A soft male voice told her to lie back down. She flipped around and came face-to-face with a blue-eyed medical technician. He blinked and jerked his head back as she scurried backward. Recovering from his surprise, he held out his hand to calm her, but Taymar jerked away and scrambled to her feet. Kellin wasn’t as kind. In his shock at finding someone leaning over him, he lashed out at the woman, swearing the whole time in a language Taymar had never heard. The woman slid across the sweaty mat as Kellin announced, “I am fine! I do not need anyone tending after me.”
“Sir,” said the woman as
she pushed herself up, her tone as icy as her stare. “If you want me to leave, I will. But, I will have to let Dr. Lats know that you are injured.” She said no more. She didn’t have to. Whatever threat she had just made stopped Kellin mid-tirade.
Kellin growled, showing his pointed teeth, but the woman just stared down, her brows raised. “I will let you examine me,” Kellin said after a painfully long standoff. “But not here.”
Showing no signs of pain, he jumped to his feet and marched to the door, pausing as the technician bumped him walking past. When he turned back to Taymar, his dismay was obvious. Thanks to the klonide, she didn’t know what he was thinking, but she could guess. He was probably worried for the well-being of the medic in front of her. And he had reason to worry. The man was opening his bag, and whatever came out of it was going to get shoved in the first orifice she could find.
“Come, Taymar,” he said.
She looked over at him and then back to the medic, who was just now realizing that he was in trouble.
“If we do not let them have a look, they will call the captain and the whole damned Alliance Council for backup.”
Taymar glared at the medic, but didn’t move. Kellin did bring up a point. She was thinking about Nevvis and not his Alliance whatever, but the end was the same. She didn’t need Nevvis breathing down her neck again. “Do not touch me,” she warned as she angled toward the door, making sure to keep him in her line of sight.
The man exchanged a glance with his partner and reached for his bag. Satisfied that she had made her point, Taymar followed Kellin through the door.
The instant they stepped from the room, both Kellin and Taymar were bombarded with pats on the back and handshakes as the enthralled onlookers told them what a great fight it had been. Their sudden onslaught was overwhelming, sending another wave of adrenaline coursing through her body, but she couldn’t target any one person to retaliate against. They were like a swirl of voices and hands, and then they were gone.
Shield of Drani (World of Drani Book 1) Page 27