A Warrior on a Harsh World: Part 10
Where Kandi faces her mentor
A Warrior on a Harsh World is a story resurrected from our archives. It’s a prequel to The Lyra Cycle, telling the tale of how Kandi — Kandira Sakherani, dutiful daughter, promising soldier — ended up joining the ragtag crew of the Lyra. If you’re just joining us, hop back to part 1.
Kandi scowled at the viewscreen. The station hung before them, looking a lot like one of the spinning toys she and Bash had played with as children.
Through the open door to the rest of the ship, she glanced at her brother, who held court with their hostage and his pretty companion. The other man was still unconscious. Bash raved about aliens and their cloud cities and ships the size of Antarii V full of magical tech and priceless treasures.
Occasionally, Gar glanced sidelong at his paramour, who stared at Bash with a rapt expression, his fingers grazing her brother’s knee. Then he’d return his attention to Bash, his eyes narrowing in a way that made Kandi uncomfortable. At least, it kept him from making trouble. And his sleek ship had gotten them to the station ahead of Pilhadi’s.
For a few minutes after leaving the spaceport, she’d had a wild idea that Pilhadi would abandon pursuit when they left the atmosphere. But as soon as they broke free from the planet’s gravity, the ship’s AI had informed them a military ship headed towards the port. The AI didn’t need to tell her the ship was stopping to pick up Pilhadi. Though, of course, he did. Now, her only hope was to get Bash onto that station and into the Sister’s hands before the other ship reached them.
“What’s the hold up?” She glanced at Lorca as she tapped her fingers on the hard greaves on the thighs of her battle armour.
He shrugged. “It’s autopilot.”
“It’s your friend.”
Kandi jumped at the sound of Gar’s voice. “My friend?”
“Whoever followed us off your pissant, little world.”
“She’s not my friend.”
“Lover then,” he said as he leaned between her and the priest. Before she could stop him, he pressed a few buttons. She grabbed his hand and yanked it away just as the ship-to-ship — or ship-to-station — comms crackled to life.
“Eya Gar,” a deep and melodic voice said, almost making ‘Gar’ two syllables.
“Eya Natto. I need to dock asap.” Gar kept his gaze locked on Kandi’s as he spoke. Her eyebrows pulled together: he’d called Gate Keeper Natto Inta direct.
“There’s some Antaran mucketies wanting us to lock down.”
“One more ship before you comply with that request? I have a bar of the finest fire-ant chocolate with your name on it.”
The giggle on the other end sounded like it came from a completely different person. “Hee, throw in some of your Quirellian whiskey, and it’s green light go.”
Gar frowned, then huffed. “Fine.” He punched the button before pointing his finger at her. She swatted it away. “Lucky for you I want to get on that station too.”
“Who are you?” Kandi peered at him askance. The Gate Keeper was the most powerful person on the station, getting authority from the Dominion Minister of Astralcartography — only a few steps below the Emperor themselves. And this man had Inta’s personal comms.
“That person’s word was good.” Lorca’s voice was quiet. “We’re being told to dock. AI’s bringing us in.”
Gar glanced at the priest before returning to her. “I’m a businessman. Profit and loss. And we’re even. You saved my life. I got you here. If I see you again, I will kill you for getting me shot in the first place.”
“But what if I have a business proposition?” She swayed as the ship clunked against the docking assembly.
His lips pressed together, and the corners seemed to want to twitch into a smile. “Message me first. Now get off my ship.”
Kandi peered over Bash’s shoulder at the map of the station. His lips moved in a murmur she couldn’t quite hear as his fingers tracked the lines and dots. She jerked as she felt something bump her ankles, and she shifted her gaze to her feet as a grey shadow snaked its way between her legs.
It stopped and peered up at her with its green eyes. A cat.
“Merrup?”
She nudged the animal with her foot, trying to shoo it away. It stood its ground and started purring instead, rubbing her leg again with its grey fur. She sighed and returned to the map display, struggling to focus despite the adverts that flickered along the sides.
“Where are the Sisters?” she asked Bash, but he ignored her, continuing to whisper instead. One of the ads caught her eye — Wanted: contestants to join the cage fights in the Belly. Whatever the Belly was. She shook her head and refocused on the map. Forcing her brain to think in Standard, she picked out the letters for “Elazir”. She blinked — the hospice was on the same level as they were. She’d expected them to be in the swank upper levels. “I’ve—”
“Bleeding Hades.” Lorca whispered the curse.
Her eyebrows rose at hearing the priest swear. “What?”
“Your friend.” He pointed towards the docks they’d just left.
“Not my friend.” Kandi’s jaw clenched as she followed his pointing. Sure enough, a ship that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago was parked outside, and the docking assembly lights indicated they were good to come aboard the station.
She glanced around, hoping to find a Dominion official to claim sanctuary with, though she suspected they’d sniff at getting involved in ‘internal Antaran affairs’. Regardless, all she saw was one customs officer and a single guard.
“Go ahead.” She shoved Lorca and Bash in front of her, past the two Dominion representatives in docking area 2, and into the concourse. She grasped the priest’s arm. “Get him to the Sisters. Please. I’ll try to hold her back.” He nodded then headed towards the hospice. It was easier going since the crowd was rapidly thinning. Kandi snorted, realizing she still wore her body armour. She’d run too if she were them.
Kandi heard a familiar hum — a blaster charging up. She unhitched her mother’s stave from her belt and flicked it to bring out the labrys again. It flickered for a second, and, as she turned around to confront Pilhadi, she said a silent prayer that it would continue to work. She had a flutter of hope when she saw Pilhadi stood alone. Maybe she’s come to help after all.
The sneer on her ex-lover’s face squashed that hope.
“Oh child.” Pilhadi held her stave in one hand but didn’t extend it. Instead, she lifted her blaster and fired. The few remaining people on the concourse scattered.
As Kandi dodged behind a directional bollard, anger flared in her chest. “Really, a blaster?” She sneered as she tried to peer around the edge of her cover. “After all you taught me about a brigadier’s honour? Staves, blades, or death, you always said.”
Sparks flew as a shot hit centimetres from her head. She ducked back and peeked over the other side. She couldn’t catch sight of Pilhadi, even though the crowd had scattered.
“That only applies when fighting other brigadiers. You forfeited your honour when you broke the code to rescue some stupid, insane man.”
Kandi popped up, stave swinging. “Don’t call my brother stupid.” She swooped the labrys in an arc, and triumph welled in her chest when Pilhadi cried out. But she realized it was just a cry of frustration at the blaster skittering across the floor.
Pilhadi shook her hand but otherwise appeared uninjured. “So you admit he’s insane.”
Kandi stayed quiet as her labrys crackled. Lowering her centre of gravity, she rocked side to side as she waited to see what weapon the other woman would call from her stave: sword or whip. Kandi wondered if she realized it was always one of those two. Sword, she guessed. If Pilhadi had one weakness, it was her predictable preference for the traditional sword.
In the end, it was neither.
“Fine. If you want to do this the old-fashioned way, no blasters, no staves.” Pilhadi clipped her stave to her belt and her hands went to her daggers. Kandi’s stomach sank. She couldn’t step down from that challenge, and almost everything she knew about knife-fighting, she’d learned from the woman in front of her.
The stave whined as Kandi shut off the labrys. Contracting the shaft, she clipped it to her belt. Instead, she unsheathed her daggers, noting the difference in their attire with a flicker of fear: Pilhadi wore only her uniform.
“I could kill you.” The words were hoarse coming out of her tight throat.
“No, you can’t.” Pilhadi arched an eyebrow as she flipped both her blades to wield them backhanded.
Kandi followed suit, turning the left back but keeping the right as it was. But before she had a good grip, Pilhadi slashed out, sending her lurching backward. She sidestepped around the bollard she’d hid behind. Pilhadi’s blades moved in an interweaving figure eight. Like two snakes, it was mesmerizing. But Kandi had fought against her hundreds of times in practice.
It was still an effort to block the sideways stab, meant to get under her body armour, even though she knew it was coming. She responded with a jab of her righthand dagger, which Pilhadi dodged easily. On the flow through to the next position, the blade in her left hand came perilously close to Pilhadi’s cheek.
Pilhadi continued to grip both her blades backhanded, making it hard for her to get a good hit at such close quarters. Still, she managed a crosswise strike at Kandi’s unprotected face.
Kandi pulled back, but the dagger still left a line of fire on her cheek. If she had two seconds to breathe, she’d lower the visor on her helmet. Instead, she pressed her own attack, using the gap to slice under Pilhadi's arm. The woman jerked away, but there was still blood on Kandi’s blade. Pilhadi weaved and sent her leg out in an effort to sweep Kandi’s own out from under her.
Kandi stumbled away, letting herself fall back — appear weak and your enemy will assume you’re weak, her mother had taught her. The air whooshed out of her chest as her back hit the floor. Pilhadi pounced, her foot ground into Kandi’s wrist, forcing her to let go of her dagger, while she dropped her other knee beside Kandi’s chest.
Pilhadi’s dagger glinted as she pulled back, getting ready to drive it through Kandi’s eyeball and into her brain. Kandi knew that was the death Pilhadi had planned for her — everywhere else was armoured.
For a moment, Kandi wondered if appearing weak was such a good idea. But Pilhadi had forgotten about Kandi’s other dagger. She jerked up, towards the blade meant to kill her, and drove her own dagger into the woman’s unprotected side, knocking her sideways.
Unfortunately, that was the one she’d held backhanded. Still, Pilhadi’s dagger clattered to the floor, narrowly missing Kandi’s head. The woman fell sideways, and Kandi followed her movement, driving a knee into her chest, while at the same time she grabbed the dropped knife with her free hand. Spinning the blade, she drove it into Pilhadi’s shoulder. Pilhadi tried to jump up, but Kandi saw the moment she realized it was futile: the fire went out of her eyes while the sneer returned.
“Where did you learn those moves?” Pilhadi squinted at her from under her knee.
“My mother.” She jammed her knee a little harder into Pilhadi’s chest. Pressing her blade against the woman’s throat, and peered at her former mentor, her teacher, her first love. She leaned forward — their faces almost close enough to kiss. Then she stood up and wiped Pilhadi’s dagger on the inside of her arm brace before tucking it into her belt. “She also taught me sometimes it’s worse to leave your enemy alive.”
She paused for one last look at her former life, her future past, then she turned and walked away.
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