Allie's War Season Two

by JC Andrijeski

  Jon watched the monitor as the Adhipan leader stopped about midway into the tank, still about ten feet outside the protective circle drawn around Revik.

  He stood there, silently, waiting for Revik to acknowledge him.

  Jon saw the Elaerian's eyes focused on Balidor, unwavering.

  But he didn’t speak. Not before Balidor addressed him, anyway.

  “Nenzi,” the Adhipan leader said. His voice was toneless, as if he were instructing a class. “I’m going to unchain you. You will have as long a time unchained as you can earn for yourself. In whatever way you earn it...”

  Revik stared at him, his clear eyes narrow.

  If he hadn’t worn the collar, Jon would have thought for certain he was scanning him.

  Revik glanced at Tarsi and Vash, who didn't move.

  “They sent you to unchain me?” Revik said then, his voice openly disbelieving. “Just how fucking stupid do you think I am?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  Revik didn’t lower his eyes.

  After a pause, Balidor clicked softly, his hands on his hips. His voice remained matter-of-fact. “Vash and Tarsi seem to think the usual methods are no longer working to reach through that cloud of fantasies and delusions you call your mind,” he said. “Therefore, I’m going to untie you. You may try to kill me...if you can. But I believe the purpose here will be an education for you, brother." He paused, his expression and his voice unmoving. "Make no mistake...I think they are wasting their time. I think there is nothing of you to reach. If it were my choice, I would simply gut your mind altogether...leave you with only enough to keep your wife alive.”

  His voice grew openly contemptuous, enough to make Jon wince a little.

  “...I will do you the favor of recommending you exercise some caution, Nenzi,” he added. “You have been sitting there for quite a long time. I would not be so sure you can best me so easily without some reasonable effort on your part...all arrogance aside...”

  Revik’s face hadn't moved, not once throughout the course of Balidor's speech. Jon saw something in his eyes at Balidor's last words though, a thread of harder caution. He didn’t shift his gaze, but Jon could almost feel him sizing the other seer up, even as he continued to look for a lie in the other's face.

  “Yes,” Balidor said, softer. “...You are trying to remember if you have ever seen me fight before now. If maybe you haven’t miscalculated, assuming so quickly that you would have the advantage over me. You wonder if maybe you aren’t the only seer in existence who might have some skill at this sport...or at the very least, some formal training beyond scuffle fights in the yards at Seertown...”

  Revik’s eyes narrowed further, but his expression didn’t shift.

  Balidor held his gaze, studying him right back. He hardened his voice 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 awhile since you have had to fight for your life. You are remembering that before you became the mighty Syrimne, it had been 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 good fight, eh? Against a seer with some real training under their belt? 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, quiet.

  “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 he wanted a smoke. But more than anything, he was watching the Adhipan leader look at him, wondering how much of what he’d just said was pure bullshit, meant to rattle him. Jon knew such head games himself. It was part of fighting 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...or not. Believe me when I tell you, I am in no hurry to see you unchained. I do this only as a favor to my elders...and 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. “...I promise.”

  “You’d better hurt me,” Balidor said. “...When the chains are off. Or you won’t last long.”

  “Looking for an excuse to put me down, brother?”

  Balidor didn't return the smile. His eyes remained flat, filled with loathing.

  “I don’t need any more excuses, Nenz.”

  Revik face tightened slightly. It struck Jon that he didn’t like being called by his birth name, not by Balidor anyway.

  Balidor 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 said, smiling, his eyes hard. “Perhaps he simply didn’t have time.”

  “Shall we do this thing then?” Balidor said, his voice bored. “Will we dance today? Or not? Would you rather I came back tomorrow?”

  Revik moved forward from the wall, holding his arms out behind him, so that the chains stood out in a 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...until I run out of patience?”

  “No. I am ready.”

  Balidor smiled. Glancing at the window, he 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, quieter, 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 slowly instead, stretching out all of his limbs.

  “Going to do a bit of yoga, first?” Balidor said, smiling faintly.

  “Just making sure everything is intact, brother,” Revik said. “You know how it is.”

  Balidor clicked a little, 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 a little, when Revik swun
g his arms in a few circles, then focused on Balidor. He began walking towards him, barefoot.

  Jon watched his feet, then his hands. He 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 for him. “Yeah, I know. He should have gone after him as the cuffs were coming off him.” Jon glanced down at the seer. “Have you seen Balidor fight before, Dorj?”

  Dorje shook his head. “No. I was not Adhipan before...I was in the Seven’s guard. I imagine they did their initial training in the Pamir.” He glanced back at the seers lining the wall behind him. "They don't seem worried though..."

  Jon followed his eyes to the Adhipan seers, and 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 on how long the fight would last, who would pin who first, who would get in the first hit...who would be the first to draw blood. Most of those bets had been exchanged with laughter. In fact, the whole 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...I wouldn't know.” He glanced up at Jon. “The Adhipan train in secret, Jon. It’s their way. That’s been true for thousands of years.”

  Jon nodded, his eyes back on Revik as he circled Balidor slowly.

  The Adhipan leader motioned towards him again, his 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 still trying to figure out why you’re doing this, Adhipan Balidor.”

  “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...”

  But Jon saw the wariness remain on Revik’s face. He glanced 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 slightly. 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. Watching 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, the motion brusque. “I’m surprised she didn’t take you with her, Balidor. Protection, you know. She always did seem to like 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 smile at him easily, still studying the other’s face. “She kissed me before she left,” he said. “...it was a good kiss, Dehgoies. A really good kiss. I kind of wish now that I’d let it be more than that...”

  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, Dehgoies.”

  “What do you want from me?” he said, angry. “Why are you doing this? I’ve cooperated with Vash...with Tarsi. Why won’t you leave me the fuck alone?”

  “Because I don’t like you,” Balidor said. His voice remained hard, yet close to indifferent. “I think you’re a sick, dangerous animal, Dehgoies. 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. “...So 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.

  He 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. His 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, and 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, kidney, 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. It nearly knocked the older seer off his feet, but his stance was well-grounded; he only slid under the next hit, moving behind him once more.

  Balidor’s mouth was bleeding after that. Jon saw money exchange hands behind him, and heard a few laughs and additional bets, but none of the infiltrators seemed fazed. Watching the fight once more, 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, Bal
idor 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 swiftly 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 he was behind 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, and 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.