Revik’s eyes narrowed further. His expression didn’t shift.
Balidor held his gaze. His voice hardened more.
“You are wondering if fighting humans and untrained punks has really made you as good as you think you are. In any case, you are remembering it has been a while since you have had to fight for your life. You are remembering that before you became the mighty Syrimne, it was you who had his face in the dirt, more often than not. That you were hardly born such a god as you imagine yourself to be now.”
He smiled, his eyes predatory, an infiltrator’s eyes.
“Perhaps you should try a real fight, eh? Against a seer with a few more years on you? Perhaps this would be a fun challenge for you? Or a way to get some much-needed exercise, at least?”
Revik shook his head, clicking softly.
“You do like to listen to yourself speak, Adhipan,” he said.
“Do you wish me to unchain you?”
Revik watched him warily. “And the collar?”
Balidor laughed, shaking his head. “Now you take me for a fool, Illustrious Syrimne. No, I’m afraid the collar stays. In fact, I would not expect to lose that anytime soon.”
Revik nodded, his face impassive.
His forearms rested on his knees. It crossed Jon’s mind, looking at him, that Revik wanted a smoke. More than anything, though, he was watching the Adhipan leader look at him, wondering how much of what he’d just said was pure bullshit, and how much a legitimate threat.
Jon knew such head games were nothing new in fighting––they were part of the sport, really, part of any martial art.
When Balidor continued to stand there, Revik gave him a wry smile, inclining his head and hand in a polite form of invitation for him to approach.
“Come then… brother Adhipan.”
“We will fight,” Balidor warned. “No games. No bullshit, thinking you might get out. They will not release you for me. If you try any of that crap on my people, brother Nenzi, you will be gassed. At once. I will leave you in your cage with your chains, and my elders will have to find some other way to keep you alive. Believe me when I tell you, I am in no hurry to see you unchained. I do this as a favor to them, only––and to my Ancestors.”
Revik continued to measure the other with his eyes. Then he gestured him forward again, this time using his fingers, a faint smile on his lips.
“I won’t hurt you, brother.” He smiled wider. “…Promise.”
“You’d better hurt me,” Balidor retorted. “Or you won’t last long.”
“Looking for an excuse to put me down, ‘Dor?”
Balidor didn’t return the smile. His eyes remained flat, filled with loathing.
“I don’t need any more excuses, Nenz.”
Revik’s face tightened. It struck Jon that he didn’t like being called by his birth name, not by Balidor. The Adhipan leader noticed the same thing.
“Do you prefer your nickname, runt?” he said. “Or the name bequeathed you by a dead seer? One who never managed to commit any of the harm you did?”
“He was a child.” Revik smiled, eyes hard. “Perhaps he simply didn’t have time.”
“Shall we do this thing then?” Balidor said, voice bored. “Will we dance today? Or not? Would you rather I came back tomorrow?”
Revik rose to his feet, stepping as far out as he could. He held his arms out to either side, so that the chains stood in a straight line from the wall.
“Do you need to be close?” he said.
“No,” Balidor said. “Not if you cooperate.”
“Pity,” Revik said.
Balidor only smiled, his eyes still on Revik’s. “Are you ready, runt? Or would you rather banter some more? Are you hoping I might run out of patience?”
“No. I am ready.”
Glancing at the window, Balidor signaled to Dorje, who looked up at Jon.
“Do it,” Jon said, his jaw hardening. “Balidor acts like he knows what he’s doing. Let’s see if he does.” Muttering under his breath, he added, “Just be ready with the gas. It’s going to be an awfully short fight, if he doesn’t.”
Dorje hit in the sequence.
They all watched the cuffs fall open on Revik’s wrists and ankles. Jon winced a little when he saw the red marks there. He knew the cuffs weren’t like metal, despite how strong they were. They were supposed to minimize chaffing and the normal sores one would get from wearing metal for so long. Even so, his wrists and ankles looked raw, like a welt had developed there from the weeks they’d held him in the tank.
Revik didn’t move quickly, like Jon had expected.
He straightened to his full height slowly instead, stretching out all of his limbs.
“Going to do a bit of yoga, first?” Balidor said, smiling faintly.
“Just making sure everything’s intact, brother,” Revik said. “You know how it is.”
Balidor clicked in mild impatience, gesturing him forward with a brusque movement. “Come on, Rook. I haven’t got all day.”
“Jesus,” Jon muttered. “Are they serious?”
Dorje looked up at him, smiling. “Haven’t you witnessed seer machismo before?”
“Enough to last me a lifetime, cousin,” Jon retorted.
He was still watching them, frowning, when Revik swung his arms in a few circles, then focused on Balidor. He began walking towards him, barefoot.
Jon watched his feet, then his hands. Revik seemed relaxed, but watching him, Jon could tell he wasn’t really. His muscles were as taut as guitar strings. He nearly bounced on his feet as he approached the other seer.
He was still testing his body though, too, Jon realized. He was figuring out where he would be weaker from the captivity, how he might have to compensate.
The methodicalness of it kind of unnerved Jon.
“He’s done this before,” Dorje agreed, next to him. “He’s had to fight straight out of captivity before. He’s not stupid enough to think he’s physically the same as he was before he went in. He’s making sure Balidor doesn’t knock him off balance with it.” He frowned a little, clicking softly. “What I don’t understand is––”
“Why Balidor is letting him,” Jon finished. “Yeah, I know. He should have gone after him the second the cuffs were coming off.” Jon glanced down at the seer. “Have you seen Balidor fight before, Dorj?”
Dorje shook his head. “No. The senior Adhipan train separately. They do not fight ‘for fun’ the way many in the Seven do. It is not permitted. And I have not been on a mission with him that occasioned much hand-to-hand.” He glanced back at the seers lining the wall behind him. “They don’t seem worried though.”
Jon followed his eyes to the senior Adhipan seers lining that wall.
Studying their faces, he realized Dorje was right. If anything, they looked slightly smug.
Jon had seen money exchanging hands earlier that day, in the mess hall and in the common rooms. Bets were placed on how long the fight would last, who would pin first, who would get in the first hit, who would draw first blood. Most of those bets had been exchanged with laughter. In fact, a good chunk of the Adhipan seemed to approach this exercise with a renewed good humor, most of it at Revik’s expense.
Jon hoped their confidence was warranted.
“He would have had to keep it up, right?” he asked Dorje, still looking at the other seers. “His training, I mean. They keep it up, even down here?”
Dorje shrugged. “They have their own training area here, too, Jon. I wouldn't know.” He glanced up at Jon’s face. “I’ve seen Balidor down there a lot, though.”
Jon nodded, his eyes back on Revik as he circled Balidor slowly.
The Adhipan leader motioned towards him again, eyes impatient.
“Come on, runt. I’ve given you your space. Do you not know your body well enough to have assessed it by now?”
“I’m ready,” Revik said, his eyes still on the other’s. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re doing this, Adhipan Bali
dor.”
“Are you afraid of me, now? I thought you were going to kill me when you got free of those things. You threatened it often enough.”
Revik frowned. Jon saw the wariness sharpen on the Elaerian’s face. He saw him glance at the segment of organic wall where the one-way window lived. He obviously sensed a trick, and didn’t like it.
“She’s not there, Dehgoies,” Balidor said. “She left, remember?”
Revik flinched. Even Jon saw it.
He covered it with a shrug.
“Who’s out there?”
“Everyone else.” Balidor smiled, making a vague gesture with one hand. “They wanted to see a good fight, too. Gets boring down here, you know. Listening to you whine and moan about what an evil prick you’ve been.” He mirrored Revik’s steps, moving just as casually.
“But not your wife,” he added. “Your wife left, remember?”
“I remember,” Revik said. He gestured towards Balidor, brusque. “I’m surprised she didn’t take you with her, Balidor. She always did have that thing about fucking her bodyguards.”
Balidor smiled, but his eyes remained even.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” he conceded. “But maybe she wanted to start fresh. You know, get some new blood.”
Revik shrugged with one hand, the parody of a seer apology.
“Sorry, brother,” he said. “Better luck next time, I guess.”
Balidor continued to watch him, a faint smile on his lips. “She kissed me before she left,” he said. “It was a good kiss, Nenz. A really good kiss. I kind of wished I’d asked for more now…”
Revik paused in a step. The falter was barely perceptible, but Jon saw it.
“Christ. Here we go,” he muttered.
Balidor gauged his eyes, but Revik’s expression didn’t shift.
“She told me she loved me, runt,” he added. “Did she tell you that, before she left you?”
Jon saw Revik’s jaw tighten. More than that, a flicker of tautness went over his expression, enough to tell Jon that he was in pain. Balidor noticed it, too. He probably felt it, since they shared the construct of the tank.
“That separation starting to hurt yet, runt?”
“You want me to kill you, ‘Dori?” His voice came out thick, almost low.
“So far, I’m just hearing a lot of words, Nenz.”
“What do you want from me?” he said, angry. “I’ve cooperated with Vash… with Tarsi. Why won’t you leave me the fuck alone?”
“Because I don’t like you.” Balidor’s voice remained hard, yet close to indifferent. “I think you’re a sick, dangerous animal, Nenz. I think you’re a rapist… and a murderer. And I think you’ll bring nothing but pain to anyone unfortunate enough to give a damn about you, no matter what you tell yourself. So no, I won’t leave you alone.”
Pausing a beat, he went on without changing inflection. “What did she say to you before she left? I know she wrote you a note. No kiss though, I guess?”
Revik darted forward, so fast, Jon started when he moved.
The seer threw his weight forward and to the side, twisting his body in a hard arc behind a punch. He slid out of range of Balidor’s hands even as he threw it, hooking another at his ribs. He didn’t pause, aiming a kick at the knee of his opposite leg, trying to trip up his legs.
Balidor somehow managed to escape all but the hit to the ribs, and that he slid away from, missing most of the force.
He moved differently than Revik, Jon noticed at once.
Balidor’s moves were slight, more like shifts of weight and angle. But those moves came fast––faster than they appeared. Before Revik had finished his combination, Balidor had moved his body around his and back, sliding half behind him, forcing Revik to turn. Revik did turn, seemingly without a pause, using his weight to knock into Balidor before grabbing his hips. He tried to trip-throw him, but Balidor smashed him in the head with his elbow, moving quickly enough that Jon flinched.
Revik disengaged, but only for a heartbeat.
It was long enough for Balidor to get further away from the wall, where Revik wanted him.
Jon watched, his eyes riveted as they exchanged blows, some of them faster than his eyes could follow. Revik got in a few good hits, but he was still testing him, Jon realized, trying to get a feel for how he fought. Some of it was misdirection, but he fought with the same, economical, single-purpose style Jon remembered.
He went for shins, knees, ankles, using low kicks even as he hit out with his upper body at sensitive areas––throat, temple, mouth, eyes, kidneys, solar plexus.
He moved fast, using combinations that varied quickly, that could be any from three to sixteen hits at a time. He’d hit high and kick low, then hit high maybe five more times, until Balidor got him good enough to force him to back off.
Balidor still seemed relaxed, even when Revik got him hard, directly in the face, with a sideways, descending blow that reminded Jon of things he’d learned in San Francisco, studying kung fu. It nearly knocked the older seer off his feet, but he kept his stance.
He slid under the next hit, moving behind Revik once more.
Balidor’s mouth was bleeding. Jon saw money exchange hands behind him, heard a few laughs and additional bets, but none of the infiltrators seemed fazed. Turning back to watch the fight, Jon noticed Balidor hadn't slowed at all.
He wondered suddenly, if Balidor had given him that hit.
It struck him in the same moment, Balidor was anticipating a lot of what Revik threw at him. He slid two inches back to avoid kicks, angled his body to deflect the impact of punches. He moved around behind Revik when he feinted right, moving left so that the taller seer had to compensate. He seemed almost to be waiting for him to move, then reacting, getting out of the way and hitting him while he was extended.
Jon saw Revik shift to avoid the force of a hit, then Balidor use that same shift to punch him hard, in the side, winding him. Revik managed to compensate, deflecting part of the blow, but his timing was behind that of the other seer, just enough that Jon could almost see it.
“He’s using his sight,” Jon muttered. He glanced at Dorje. “That’s why he wasn’t worried. He knows Revik can’t see.”
Dorje nodded. “It is why Tarsi cautioned him. It is a large advantage.”
Jon was still watching Balidor, though.
The Adhipan leader was anticipating, yes, but he was doing it strategically, not defensively. He was letting Revik set the pace, saving his strength and testing the range of the other’s repertoire, maybe even trying to give him a false sense of confidence. The fact that he did so seemingly without effort told Jon another thing.
Balidor was good. Better than good.
In fact, Jon suspected the Adhipan leader would be holding his own even without the collar, if he was going all out. He was certainly better than he was pretending to be in there.
Jon doubted he was fooling Revik, though.
Even as he thought it, Revik seemed to be gauging the other’s face more cautiously.
His eyes were focused, deadly still, but he was thinking again.
He dropped the next time the other seer came near him, barely missed sweeping his legs.
It occurred to Jon that Revik wanted him on the ground, where Balidor’s sight would matter less. Balidor sidestepped the attempt, but before Revik slid out of the way, the older seer punched him hard, the hardest he had yet. He hit him high in the cheek, almost at his eye.
He hit him again immediately in the throat with the hard end of his hand, and then the ear with his other fist. When Revik ducked a fourth blow, Balidor kicked him in the solar plexus before he could adjust.
Revik staggered a little, moving back to keep his stance.
From his face, at least one of those had hurt him, if not all four.
“You all right, runt?” Balidor asked, wiping blood off his mouth. “Come on. You’re not even out of breath yet. I thought you were going to kill me.”
Revik swallow
ed, his face taut enough that Jon wondered if the older seer had hurt his throat.
“Can’t you talk?” Balidor said.
“What do you want from me?” Revik growled. “What is the point of this?”
“What’s wrong? Is all of this not fun anymore?”
“Where is Allie?” Revik said. It came out of him angrily, almost like he didn’t mean to say it. Once he had, his jaw hardened. “Where the fuck is she, ‘Dori? Half the world wants her dead, from what Jon told me. Why did you let her leave?”
“Let her leave?” Balidor gave him a scornful look. “What makes you think any of us ‘let’ her do anything? Since when do we have control over what she chooses? Or who she chooses to do it with? She is the Bridge, Dehgoies.”
Balidor shrugged then, with one hand.
“…Well, she was, anyway.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Revik growled. “Where is she, Balidor?”
“You know, Jon told me a few things, too,” Balidor said, gesturing towards him. “He told me about your whining about how she left you down here. How she didn’t incarnate in time to save you from turning into a murderous monster…”
Revik’s eyes turned to glass. He glanced at the organic window.
Jon clicked under his breath, irritated in spite of himself.
“I didn’t tell him that,” he said to Dorje.
“He watches the records,” Dorje said. “Everything is recorded, Jon. Audio and visual, including as much of the Barrier jumps as we could get. Balidor watched them all again, before this. He’s been watching them for days, all of the sessions with Allie, too… her transcripts, the notes she left for Vash and Tarsi.” He clasped Jon’s fingers with his. “He knows what he’s doing, Jon. Trust him, okay?”
Jon muttered under his breath, but his eyes didn’t leave the monitor.
Balidor continued studying Revik’s eyes. “What is it with you and women, Dehgoies?”
Jon saw Revik’s body tense, his shoulders clench.
Shadow (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #4): Bridge & Sword World Page 49