The Drahk unsheathed his claws and began to circle slowly to the left. Azhiedal waited and watched, his twin daggers sending off sparks of light from the afternoon sun. Bálok came on again, feinting to the right and striking out at his shoulders with a ripping swath of claws.
Dji tung!
Azhiedal accelerated his cells and catapulted out of range while the reptile and his lethal claws appeared to be swimming in molasses. Shifting back down, he crouched and waited out of range, pinning his opponent with honed focus, watching him like a hawk to anticipate the next attack. The instant Bálok sprang into motion and lunged in his direction, he stepped up his frequency and darted out of range before bringing himself back in order to keep pace with Bálok’s actions.
He repeated the dodges again and again, studying Bálok’s patterns and evaluating his range of movements. The reptile was intelligent and fast, his strategies carefully thought out, no doubt sharpened by a lifetime of conquests in the ring. Little wonder he was reputed to be the best fighter in the Drahkian world. Azhiedal was absolutely certain that he would have been torn to pieces or dead after a shockingly short time had he not been able to employ the uncanny abilities drummed into him by his brilliant teacher.
The overlord maintained his focused drive without any outward sign of emotion. Only once did he shake his head sharply, apparently baffled by what his senses were registering in front of him. The drop in volume of the crowds told the admiral that Bálok was not alone in his puzzlement over his adversary’s unusual ability.
Azhiedal watched and waited, drawing his high-speed evasions out another ten minutes until he picked up the first signs that Bálok’s attention was completely ensnared. The Drahk’s opaque yellow eyes gleamed with the anticipation of a strike and the looming realization that he wouldn’t see it coming. He was primed and alert, raptly scanning for Azhiedal’s first offensive.
As Bálok lashed out with a lethal swipe aimed at the Denáran’s chest, the admiral shifted into high gear and raced around the Drahk’s slow-moving form. Throwing his weight into a hard kick to the side of Bálok’s ribcage, he simultaneously slashed the tip of a dagger across the back of Bálok’s right hand, effectively disabling the Drahk’s lead set of whirling razors.
The moment he landed and anchored himself into his natural state, Bálok’s cry rolled across the stadium, drawing a collective roar from the masses in the stands witnessing their first sight ever of the great lord’s blood.
Bálok stared at the crouching man in front of him, heedless of the hot liquid dripping to the ground from the deep cut across the tendons in his hand.
“You drew first blood,” he grated above the tumultuous shouting. A slow smile spread across his finely pebbled features as he raised his crippled hand above his head in a display for the crowds. Blood streamed down over his arm, covering his shoulder with rivers of crimson. “No one has done that in a long, long time, human. There’s not a Drahk alive who can get close to me or isn’t afraid to.”
The overlord’s eyes gleamed with the intense pleasure and excitement coursing through his veins. Azhiedal watched him warily, acutely aware that his adversary was now fully engaged and at the peak of deadly menace. His timing over the next few moments had to be impeccable if he was to stay ahead of the reptile’s barrage.
Bálok flung himself at the Denáran with blinding speed, lashing and swinging in a controlled series of movements, forcing Azhiedal to shift time and time again. As soon as he landed at what he thought was a safe distance, the huge reptile was on him once more, pushing him across the field with the concentrated assault. The admiral panted hard with the strain of shifting, but the Drahk gave him no respite before he hammered him again.
Dji tu—
A hard fist slammed into his gut before he completed his shift and he fell to the ground with a painful groan. Rolling quickly away, he rose to his feet in one lithe motion, but not quickly enough to escape rips across his chest from Bálok’s swiping claws. Shit!
In spite of the searing pain, the admiral darted sideways as Bálok came on again. The five gashes through his skin and muscles bled profusely as he jumped away and ducked the feet of the flying lizard aimed at his head and groin.
The instant Bálok touched the ground, Azhiedal flipped himself around and spun behind the reptilian giant, slicing a dagger down across Bálok’s left hamstring muscle, bringing the Overlord of the Perseun Cluster crashing to his knees with a thunderous scream. A deafening roar rose from the masses as Bálok swung his left arm out in an effort to catch the Denáran as he passed.
Dji TUNG! Flashing just out of reach of Bálok’s claws, Azhiedal dashed in front of the slow-moving Drahk and threw all his weight into a fist he brought straight up under Bálok’s jaw, shifting himself back to normal just as his blow sent the overlord flying into the air and onto his back.
Springing forward onto the fallen Drahk before he had a chance to move, the admiral pinned his arms and chest down with the weight of his body and thrust the edge of his right dagger firmly against the reptile’s throat. The crowd screamed wildly in anticipation of the kill.
Bálok’s eyes were brilliant with the exhilaration of balancing on the edge of death as he panted for breath, staring up into Azhiedal’s grimacing face mere inches from his own. “Why do you wait, human?” he taunted. “One more stroke to freedom, Azhiedal. Freedom!”
Panting, Azhiedal glanced up toward the balcony where Izar’s figure could be seen and made a quick decision. Whipping the dagger away from Bálok’s throat, he flipped it in his hand and moved the needle tip swiftly with sharp precision over the skin above the Drahk’s heart, tracing the lines of his family sigil “lesson in peace” into the flesh which covered over instantly with blood.
“Three,” the Denáran admiral rasped. He jumped up off of the prone Drahk and stood over him with narrowed eyes. “You owe me, Bálok.”
For a moment, the overlord was too stunned to move. The noises of the throngs were loud, demanding, confused. Azhiedal tossed the dagger from his left hand into his right and offered a hand down to Bálok to help him get up. Slowly the bleeding Drahk raised his uninjured arm and grasped the man’s hand firmly, pulling himself up off the ground in a rapid leap to his feet.
Bálok grabbed Azhiedal by the arm and jerked him close to his face. “Why, human? You held my life in the palm of your hand. You could have had more for your people than two years of waiting for my return.”
The admiral stared unflinchingly into the Drahk’s glistening orbs. “My game is with you, Bálok. Izar would kill me in a heartbeat and keep my system in his pocket.”
“You trust me?” the overlord sneered, his deep voice laced with contempt and disbelief.
“I’ve marked you, Bálok, with your own blood,” he replied evenly. “You’re bonded to me until one of us dies—or we both give up the game.”
Bálok made a strangled sound in his throat and shook the man in his grasp once, hard, quivering with a wave of fear and excitement. Azhiedal held Bálok’s gaze steadily, relentlessly. The reptile froze, recognizing strength staring him in the face.
“I could kill you where you stand, Azhiedal,” Bálok snarled, baring his teeth and digging his claws into the man’s arm where he gripped him tightly. “You’ve made the mistake of letting me close to you.”
“You’re not going to kill me.” With a subtle shift of his body, the admiral brushed his side against the reptile’s groin. His eyes locked with the overlord’s as he spoke with low, deliberate syllables. “You want more from me, Bálok. The thrill of the game you’ve started.”
The yellow eyes narrowed as if the reptile was grappling with something internal. “You draw me to you with every word you speak. I’ll come for you in two Baháran years and the game will begin again, only your people will pay the price. I’ll hit you with everything I’ve got.”
“I’ve got two years to get ready for you, Bálok. That’s what I bought for my people today. A lot can happen between now and then. You
won’t know what you’ll find until you come for me.” Azhiedal relaxed in the reptile’s grip and smiled up into his face, knowing his implanted bond had already worked its way into the jaded Drahk’s system.
Bálok stared. A low, deep ball of laughter formed in his chest and worked its way up through his body to his throat. His crested head flew back as the loud, thunderous sound escaped him, cutting through the chaotic shouts of the Drahks in the stands and carrying to the heights of the Colosseum. Slowly Bálok lowered the bleeding human and released him.
“Well met, Azhiedal T’mirurok, Starship Admiral of Denár. A worthy opponent. Use your time wisely. I’ll be very disappointed if I find no surprises when I arrive.”
“That … I can guarantee you,” Azhiedal muttered, very deliberately throwing the two daggers across the field away from him.
“Perón!” Bálok screeched to the captain at the far end of the floor, never taking his fascinated gaze off of the tall man standing in front of him.
The officer started across the field, but before he could make it to the center, a gust of wind swirled down in a spiral from the sky and ripped around the pair of giants, effectively separating them with a wall of rushing air from everyone else in the arena. A voice hissed on the stinging wind, shaking the ground beneath the two men’s feet.
“T’nari blood claim. We mark you.”
As suddenly as it had come, the air dropped to utter stillness and the shouts of the throngs washed over the two figures once again. Azhiedal blinked once in quiet amazement. He hadn’t felt that kind of contact in a very long time. The corners of his mouth turned up in an understanding smile which seemed to unnerve the huge reptile looking down at him.
“What was that, human?” Bálok whispered urgently. “Did you do that?”
The Denáran slowly shook his head in denial and shrugged his shoulders. “It looks like someone is interested in our game, Drahk.”
“Who? WHO?!!” the overlord pressed vehemently as Captain Perón ran to his side to receive orders.
Azhiedal stood in silence, placidly looking up into the Drahk’s penetrating eyes.
When Bálok realized he wasn’t going to receive an answer, he sniffed in annoyance and addressed his subordinate. “Perón, feed and clothe this man and take care of his wounds. Otherwise I don’t want him touched, understood?”
“Yes, Lord.”
“See to it that he is returned immediately to the Denáran system and send a message to Commander Dura that I want him out of there, completely, down to the last saur, and back on Bahár in two days.” Bálok paused, narrowing his eyes with a final look at the Denáran admiral. “Two Baháran years, Azhiedal T’mirurok. I’m coming for you.”
The Drahkian overlord turned on his heel and stalked away, heedless of the screams of rage emanating from the thwarted crowd as well as the trails of blood left behind in the dirt from his gashed leg and hand. Azhiedal’s gaze followed the massive Drahk, watching until the crested figure disappeared into the tunnel at the far end of the field.
Turning to the captain standing next to him, the admiral found the Drahk staring at him with intense scrutiny. He realized in a flash that the man’s core beliefs had just been given an extreme kick in the gut and he was struggling to come to terms with what he had witnessed. But, surprisingly, instead of the hatred from their earlier exchange, Azhiedal now saw something akin to begrudging respect smolder within the amber eyes.
Without a word, Perón waved a hand toward the end of the stadium where Bálok had disappeared and headed off toward the tunnel, leaving Azhiedal to follow silently behind.
As the admiral walked past the stands full of shouting Drahks, the noise seemed to melt away, leaving him in a dreamlike suspension with only the sound of his own steady breathing to keep him afloat. Only a short time ago he had fully expected to die, a failure to Yalina and Denár, but the tables had turned and he vowed to himself to flip them over completely by the time he was finished with Bálok.
The words on the strange wind repeated themselves in his mind like a calming mantra. He wasn’t alone. He had no idea who had spoken, but he’d sensed a clear connection to vast intelligence just waiting for him to wake up.
Well, he was wide awake now and he had every intention of finding out who exactly had peered into his reality, today of all days. He took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. It felt like a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders and that a long road had opened in front of him that he’d never imagined existed. Only time would tell what that road would bring, but he knew without a doubt that it would be shaped by his own dedication to finding a new game for himself and for the millions of people at home in Denár.
Author’s Note
This story walked straight out of the pages of Blood of the Prime where the fight between Azhiedal and Bálok takes place and is told from Bálok’s point of view. I have always been keen on retelling the pivotal encounter from Azhiedal’s perspective to explore what it would feel like to be a captive in the reptilian world facing a horrible death. Azhiedal and Bálok both play primary roles throughout the series T’nari Renegades—Pleiadian Cycle.
Azhiedal’s last name “T’mirurok” indeed comes from two Russian words, “мир” or “mir” which can mean “peace,” and “Урок” or “urok” which means “lesson.”
—Erin
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Other Publications by This Author
T’NARI RENEGADES—PLEIADIAN CYCLE
To Steal a Moon (Prequel Novella)
Descent of the Maw (Prequel)
Flare Shifter (Prequel Novella)
T’nari Blood Claim (Short Story)
Blood of the Prime (Book I)
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