Pyos Fights

The Olika test Pyos' ability to fight.

Chapter 5: Pyos Fights

 

Shada poked his head into the room. “Are you ready?”

 

“Yeah!” Pyos leaped from lying flat on his back to his feet and slipped out the door around Shada. Gone was the scrawny waif he had been when he first set foot on Lachan soil; now he practically vibrated with energy. “I do good, then I get to stay?”

 

“You’ll get to stay anyway,” Shada said. A smile crept involuntarily across his face. The kid was a marvel; he was always cheerful, and he never complained about anything he was asked to do. And he learned quickly�"just months ago he had spoken only Leskiy, but it seemed his Lachan improved daily. “We just want to see what you can do, kiddo.”

 

Pyos answered with a grin.

 

 

 

Two levels down there was a big room with a soft floor. It was where the Olika taught their Fuevok recruits how to fight, and where older members came to practice. Baneka himself had trained here when he was young. Now, Shada gave Pyos a gentle push and stepped aside.

 

Pyos trotted to the middle of the room. Nitabrin was already there, cracking her knuckles idly. She had met Pyos once already, several weeks ago, but her only greeting was a quirk of an eyebrow.

 

“Just do your best,” Shada called. “And�"go.”

 

Neither Pyos nor Nitabrin moved. “You want I go first?” Pyos said politely.

 

“By all means.” Nitabrin offered a smirk.

 

Pyos smiled back.

 

Then Nitabrin was on the ground.

 

“F*****g s**t.” Shada spoke without realizing it. He took a step forward, eyes flicking between Nitabrin and Pyos. Nitabrin seemed just as confused as he was; she spent several long moments blinking at the ceiling.

 

Pyos stood by, still grinning.

 

Shada ran a hand through his hair. “Again,” he said.

 

Nitabrin rolled to her feet and this time she didn’t wait for Pyos’s attack. She lashed out several blows in rapid succession, teeth gritted in concentration, and met nothing but air. Pyos slipped around her defenses like water. He caught another blow and turned it back�"and suddenly, for the second time in less than a minute, Nitabrin found herself flat on her back. And she had no idea how.

 

Even Shada wasn’t sure. “Pyos, what the hell was that?” His eyebrows had furrowed into one unbroken line of incredulity.

 

Pyos’s grin vanished. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

Shada backtracked with a wave of his hand. “No, no, it’s just�"surprising,” he said.

 

“It was a fluke,” Nitabrin snarled from her place on the ground. “Let’s go again.”

 

Pyos stepped forward to help her out, but she snapped his hand away.

 

They squared off. They fought�"and Nitabrin went down. Again�"same result. Again. Again.

 

“It’s not a fluke,” said someone behind Shada. He spoke too quietly for the others to hear. “He’s good. Better than we thought.”

 

Shade tossed a glance sideways. Baneka was appraising Pyos much as he had the first day Shada brought the kid to the house, but now there was a shadow of something else on his face. Satisfaction, perhaps. “Better than we thought,” he repeated.

 

Then he raised his voice. “No, Nitabrin.”

 

Nitabrin, regaining her feet, looked up. She swallowed her anger. “One more, boss, I’m sure I ca�"”

 

“No,” Baneka said. “Not you. He’s beaten you six times in a row, I don’t think there’s any ambiguity left to clear up. How about we let someone else have a turn.”

 

The door opened and everyone turned to it in unison.

 

“What’s this?” Harkla leaned against the doorway. “Testing out the little stray? Why didn’t anyone tell me, so I could have a go?” She crossed the room to stand beside Baneka and Shada. There was amusement in her raspy voice.

 

Shada shuffled in place for a moment, then said, “Look, with all due respect, kid’s got enough cuts on him already.”

 

Harkla raised her eyebrows at him. “What, you don’t think I’ll be nice?” she said, feigning hurt. Her eyes were the color of the sky at midday.

 

“Go on,” Baneka replied. He ignored Shada’s grimace.

 

As Harkla passed, smirking, she trailed her fingers across Shada’s shoulders. Her nails were filed to razor points.

 

Reluctantly, Nitabrin retreated, lips pressed together in thinly-veiled irritation. Pyos remained where he was in the middle of the room. He was fiddling idly with his hair, which was cut back around his ears for the first time in more than a year.

 

Harkla stepped onto the field of play and, with no transition at all, leaped at him. She closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye; Pyos barely had time to look up before she struck.

 

The blow missed by a fraction of an inch. Unlike Nitabrin, Harkla was not playing at fighting; her attack was meant to break bones. Pyos spun and returned with a hammer blow to the face, pulling back a split second before impact.

 

Harkla backed off. Circled. She and Pyos were both grinning now.

 

She drove forward again, lashing out with snakelike speed. Pyos parried, riposted. Harkla ducked away. She struck again and Pyos blocked her. He snatched her hand out of the air and, with a deft flip of his wrist, twisted her fingers until she could feel the bones inside screaming. Then he released her.

 

She was fast. He was faster.

 

Pyos launched a kick Harkla barely evaded. Her retaliation drew a red line across Pyos’s arm�"the keen edge of a nail. Pyos took it without a blink or a twitch, grinning his piano grin. He struck back so quickly no one watching was quite able to follow his movements; Pyos moved in a blur, and then Harkla stumbled.

 

Pyos struck twice more in half a second and kicked her again. This time it connected.

 

For the first time in many, many years, the members of the Olika watched Harkla Shakato knocked off her feet.

 

She landed on her side, exhaling hard through gritted teeth. For a moment she was still; then, catlike, she shifted to a crouch. Harkla assessed Pyos through a curtain of tangled brown hair, eyes narrowed to slits. Her expression was one-part smile and one-part teeth-bared animal snarl.

 

Suddenly, like lightning, she drew a knife from her belt and threw it.

 

Pyos jerked sideways, just as fast. The knife passed over his shoulder and buried itself in the wall.

 

“Hey! What the f**k!” Shada rushed forward, past Pyos, and grabbed Harkla roughly by one arm. He hauled her to her feet. “The f**k you think you’re doing?”

 

Harkla laughed. “I was just playing with the kid,” she said. “He’s good.”

 

Shada answered in a roar. “Get out!” He shoved her  away. “Get outta my sight, you�"”

 

“That’s enough,” Baneka said mildly. Shada clamped his mouth shut so quickly his teeth made an audible click. Unable to finish his sentence, he settled instead for glaring at Harkla.

 

She got the gist.

 

Baneka turned his own gaze on Harkla as he continued: “But really Harkla, get out. You can make as many Fuevok junkies dance as you like, I genuinely don’t care, but we don’t ‘play’ with our own.” His voice took on a bitter arctic chill. “Get out of my sight. Go do something productive with yourself.”

 

Harkla sidled out of the room in silence.

 

All the while, Pyos stood patiently by. He did not seem remotely phased by the confrontation, nor the knife throw that proceeded it. As the others turned their attention to him, and he gave a genuine smile. “She said I did good, yeah?”

 

Shada tried to suppress a chuckle and failed. “Yeah, damn good, kid,” he said. “F*****g s**t, Pyos, yeah. Yeah you did good.” He shook his head. “S**t.”

 

From across the room, Nitabrin said, “I don’t even feel bad anymore, yeah? That was f*****g amazing.” She joined the rest of them, slinging an arm around Pyos’s shoulders. “I’ve never seen anyone take down Harkla. That was some top-level Kodas s**t, where’d you learn that?”

 

Pyos was practically beaming now. “Lenka,” he said.

 

While they were talking, Baneka leaned close to Shada’s ear. “Have him tutored more frequently from here on out,” he murmured. “I want him up to an acceptable level as soon as possible. Something tells me his assignments are going to be a little more complicated than we expected.”