Born of Defiance

  Her nephews looked at him suspiciously.

  "You don't believe me?" Talyn asked. "After dinner, we'll go to the gym in back and I'll show you."

  Brach's eyes widened with joy. "Seriously?"

  "Seriously."

  "That's going to be awesome!" Gavarian dug into his food. "So how do you prepare for a fight, Hammer?"

  Talyn shrugged. "It's no different than what your paka does. You drill, every day. Study your enemy. Carefully. You have to know what you're getting into before you accept the challenge. And recognize that some fights aren't worth it. The real skill lies in deciding which fights to take, and which to walk away from."

  Lorens reached for his wine. "How do you mean?"

  Talyn gently declined the wine when the server tried to pour some for him. "There are a lot of fighters who are out for blood. Like Death Warrant. I know going in that he's there to kill me if he can. Normally, I'd have passed on the fight."

  "Then why did you take it?" Brach asked eagerly.

  "End of the day, fighting is a business. While I know he's after my throat, the payout on the fight is substantial compared to most. Plus, he's only lost two fights. I take him down, and it'll be a while before I have to defend my title again. A match like this keeps the posers at bay. And makes them think twice about calling me names in public."

  Gavarian wiped his lips. "You have a lot of those?"

  Talyn nodded. "There's always a new kid out to prove himself. Comes in cocky and ill-trained. They're actually more dangerous in a fight than someone like Death Warrant."

  Lorens cocked his head as he tried to understand that. "How so?"

  Felicia passed the bread to Brach, knowing Talyn wouldn't eat it.

  Talyn took a drink of water. "Death Warrant is a calculated, cold-blooded killer. You can study his moves and know where and how he'll react to every blow. How he's going to strike. He's practically choreographed. There will be a new move or two that he hasn't used before, but he's reliant on his previous fights where he picks those up. So again, you study his last few fights and you can still predict what he's going to do with pretty good accuracy. But the new fighters are wild cards, usually emotional and highly volatile ... They get angry or they can't handle the pressure and adrenaline, and just start pounding their opponent. They're the ones who are going to break your back and leave you crippled, if you're not careful. So before you step into that Ring with one of them, you have to know beyond a doubt that you're willing to kill them if you have to."

  The boys sucked their breath in.

  "Have you ever killed anyone in the Ring?" Lorens asked.

  "Not that I know of ... That's not why I fight."

  Gavarian frowned. "But isn't that the point of serious Ring fighting? To kill the enemy?"

  Talyn shook his head. "That's the point of war. Not sport. And it's not easy to kill someone, especially when they're so close to you that you can feel their breath on your skin. Andarions respect strength and we are natural-born fighters. But we are sentient creatures, and we have a conscience. In battle, you know that you're protecting your family and our homeworld. In that Ring, you're fighting only for personal glory. In my opinion, that's not worth my opponent's life. No matter how much I might want to close his mouth forever."

  "Here, here," Lorens said, raising his glass. "Truly, there are some battles not worth fighting. And not every insult is worth a broken jaw. We're not Phrixians. As I often tell my boys, sometimes you just need to shrug it off and let it go."

  Talyn lifted his glass of water to return the salute. "Very true."

  "Even if they insult your mother?" Brach asked.

  Talyn flashed a grin. "That's different. A mother's reputation is a sacred thing. Notice, that's one public insult no fighter ever hurls to another. We know better." He took Felicia's hand into his and held it tight. "Nor any of their females. For we are Andarion. Family honor and lineage, the honor of our females and children ... that we will all take a life over. You never threaten or assault, even verbally, those we hold in our hearts."

  Smiling, she pressed his hand to her cheek. "I would still rather you walk away from all fights than ever be harmed." She looked to her nephews as she kissed Talyn's hand and released it. "And your mother would agree with me about the two of you."

  "As would your paka." Lorens took a deep drink. "So Talyn, what got you into fighting?"

  "Honestly? Got tired of having my butt handed to me in school. Figured if I was going to get that bloody, that often, I should be paid for it. As my mother often says, don't ever bring a fight, just make sure you finish it."

  Her brother scowled at the food Talyn was given. "Is that really your dinner?"

  Talyn shrugged nonchalantly at his plain meal. "Told you, a fighter's life isn't glamorous. My diet is very specific. Especially when I have a big fight coming up."

  Gavarian stuck his tongue out. "All right, Paka. You win. I'll never fight! Not if that's what I have to live on. Thank you for forbidding it."

  Brach nodded in agreement. "How often do you have to eat that . ." He cut a sideways stare to his father. "Crap?"

  Talyn glanced to Felicia and laughed. "Always. I have to stay in shape, and can't afford to cheat."

  Eyes wide, she duplicated Brach's nodding. "He's not joking. First time I saw him eat, I wanted to weep. Especially at the quantity. You don't ever want to know how much food he goes through in a day. It's insane."

  Lorens laughed. "Judging by what's on that plate, for one meal ... yeah. Glad I don't have your grocery bill."

  "There's a reason they time us in the mess hall, and why we eat really fast." Talyn took a bite of his vorna breast.

  "That explains the mad rush at dinnertime that made me so glad I got a command position early in my career."

  Talyn snorted. "What? You don't miss getting shoved aside by the giant gunners?"

  Gavarian laughed at his words. "Yeah, I'd like to see one of them try to shove you aside."

  "Believe me, they've tried." Talyn flashed a devilish grin at her nephews. "Food is another thing you're allowed to shed blood for. Especially when you've just come back from maneuvers and are starving. There's always the one moron who wants to be cute. But remember, the more time you waste pounding on him, the less time for eating. So drop him with one punch, grab your food, and go."

  Felicia winked. "And now you know why his call sign is Pit Viper."

  Lorens snickered. "Yeah, we've all done that. Nothing like a herd of hungry Andarions."

  "The real reason humans fear us." Talyn thanked his server for the plain, steamed vegetables she set down by him.

  Felicia didn't miss the hot look the female passed to him before she went back toward the kitchen. Lucky for the server, Talyn did miss that look.

  She glanced to Gavarian.

  "Planning her funeral?" he asked her with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  "No. Just a new hairstyle."

  "Hairstyle?" Lorens asked, scowling. "What?"

  Felicia jerked her chin toward the kitchen. "If she gives Talyn another beckoning look that says she wants him on her platter, I'm going to snatch her bald."

  Talyn choked. Reaching for his water, he swallowed before he spoke. "What?"

  She patted his hand. "It's okay, Major Oblivious. I'm extremely happy and proud that you took no notice of her overt ogling."

  "Yeah," Gavarian chimed in. "She's been pretty obvious about it every time she comes out here."

  Lorens snorted. "How long have I been married that I didn't even realize our server was female?"

  "Given the fact that Felicia handles my food out of my eyesight, glad I didn't either. Spit sauce is not something I enjoy." Talyn kissed her hand.

  Lorens eyed them for several minutes before he spoke again. "Talyn, you really study every fighter you go up against?"

  "Yes, sir. When you're going to battle, you have to know your enemy. I have extensive dossiers on everyone I've ever fought against."

  "So what's Death Warra
nt's biggest handicap?"

  Talyn wiped at his mouth. "He took a bad blow to his right eye two years ago that dug his mask into it. It left him with limited peripheral on that side. He also has a bad tendency to kick instead of punch. When he does that, he throws his balance off and is easy to plant. That being said, his stinger is that vicious right hook. He hits with approximately fifteen hundred PSIs, provided he's properly grounded, weight evenly distributed. No one can survive that kind of hammering for long. But if you keep him off both legs, and kicking, his punch PSI is halved. Still not fun. However, you can survive and win against that. Just don't let him hit your chin or kidney."

  "Wow ... you really do know your opponent."

  Talyn shrugged. "I don't want to lose. And I definitely don't want to die or end up maimed. They didn't name him Death Warrant because he sings in a band."

  Chuckling, Lorens sat forward in his chair. "Out of curiosity, Major, why the hell are you a pilot? Why didn't you ever go into command?"

  Talyn cocked his jaw and let out a tired sigh as he toyed with his water glass. "It was never from lack of trying on my part, sir. I put in for a Command position every year, as soon as I'm eligible, but it always gets kicked back with a rejection."

  Her brother's face was a mask of disbelief. "Why? Do they ever say?"

  Talyn glanced away sheepishly. "I didn't go to the right schools."

  "From where did you graduate?"

  "Brunelle Academy."

  "Is that in Eris?"

  "No, sir. It's a Hyshian school."

  Lorens passed a shocked stare to Felicia before he returned his attention to Talyn. "Hyshian? Why in the name of the gods were you in a Hyshian academy?"

  Talyn cringed inwardly as he saw this disaster coming and couldn't avert it. He hated answering this question more than anything. "It was the only one that would take me."

  "I don't understand. What's your lineage?"

  Heat suffused his cheeks as he cringed over that inevitable question. "My mother's the third daughter of the Winged Blood Clan Batur."

  "Impressive. And your father?"

  Here it comes....

  "He's an Outcast, sir."

  "Oh." Yeah, there it was. That sound of horror and condescension.

  Talyn glanced to Lorens's sons. "I can understand if you need to leave now."

  Lorens hesitated. "If either one of you breathes a word of this to your mother or grandmothers, I'll beat you till you bleed."

  They held their hands up in quick surrender.

  "To the grave, Paka," Brach breathed.

  Gavarian reached for more bread. "I don't know what you're talking about. We're all good here. I didn't hear nothing."

  Lorens grinned. "That's right. Just having dinner with my baby sister. Don't know of the harm in that."

  But an awkward silence hung in the room while they finished eating.

  "Is your father why you don't give interviews?" Lorens finally asked.

  Talyn nodded. "It's not something others need to know about me."

  "Where's your father now?"

  "Don't know, sir. I've never met him."

  Her brother paused to consider that. "He was disinherited before you were born?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Lorens, is it okay if we change the subject?" Felicia asked graciously. "Talyn is an Andarion of high honor and an extremely capable fighter pilot. I would run him up against anyone on Andaria."

  Reaching out, Talyn squeezed her hand in gratitude.

  "I'm sorry I was nosy. You're right. It's none of my business. And I hope I didn't offend you, Talyn."

  "No offense taken, sir. I'm used to being judged for my father's shortcomings."

  Lorens looked ill as he must have realized how inconsiderate he was being to his host. "Talyn? Would you be adverse to my seeing what I can do to move you into a command position?"

  Talyn's eyes lit up with a hopeful joy that tightened her throat for him. "I would love nothing more, sir. Honestly. Just don't ask me to throw a fight for it."

  He laughed. "No. I won't do that. And I don't expect anything for it. We could use an Andarion like you. The gods know I'm sick of the subsentient creatures they keep sending me. You wouldn't believe what passes in the academies today. I had this one officer, a colonel no less, actually asked me where Arundel was located."

  Talyn's jaw dropped. "Our northernmost outpost?"

  "See! You know right where it is. Oh, and there's a commander I met who still thought Huwin Quiakides was the prime commander for The League."

  Talyn winced at that stupidity. Huwin had been assassinated by his own son a decade ago. "Ouch."

  "Yeah. You see what I have to deal with? And here's my quiz for you. Who's Nemesis?"

  "Rogue assassin wanted dead by The League, who, along with four others, leads The Sentella."

  He looked at his sons. "And that, my boys, is why you pay attention not only in school, but watch the news." He held his glass out for more wine. "Seriously, I have got to get you into command. I can't take the idiots there anymore. I'm over it."

  Felicia laughed. "You sound so much like Paka that it's frightening."

  "I know, right? The very thing I swore I'd never be is what I morphed into the minute I had kids and took a command position. What was I thinking?"

  Felicia shook her head playfully at his feigned angst.

  As soon as they finished eating, Talyn led the boys to his gym. They stripped down to their pants while he showed them how to strap on the gloves and padded head protection. When he stripped down to his pants, their jaws dropped.

  Gavarian laughed nervously as he scanned Talyn's body with an envious stare. "I thought they doctored those pictures of you in the magazines. Shit, you're ripped."

  "Gavarian!" Lorens snapped. "Watch your language!"

  "But Paka ... look at his body. How do you get that kind of definition?"

  Talyn snorted as he finished putting his gloves on with his fangs. "I work out a lot, and you see what I eat. You willing?"

  He looked down at his much smaller frame. Screwing his face up, he glanced to his brother. "We have noble titles for female magnets. We don't need muscles. Marshmallow pecs and high lineage are the new ripped."

  Talyn rolled his eyes before he walked them to one of his training mannequins. "All right. Pointers. You don't just start swinging. It's not about power. It's all control. Power without control is absolutely worthless. You don't just throw a punch or kick. You have to know when to pull them, too." He demonstrated by stopping his powerful blows just short of striking the dummy.

  "How you do that?" Brach gasped.

  "Like I said. Control. You have to be aware of every muscle in your body, every second you're in a fight." Talyn punched the dummy so hard, he lifted it up and rattled the chain. "Now, you try." He stepped back for Gavarian to punch it.

  Smirking, he did, and then cursed again. With a fierce frown, he cradled his hand to his chest. "Mommy! I think I broke my hand. How heavy is that thing?"

  "Three hundred and twenty-five pounds. It's what an average Zoftiq fighter weighs."

  They gaped again.

  "Seriously? How did you move it?"

  Talyn kicked it and lifted it up again. "I weigh three hundred and twenty pounds. As of his last weigh-in, Death Warrant is four hundred and eight pounds. And I practice a lot. As I said, you haven't been punched until you stand toe-to-toe with a pro."

  They both tried to kick the bag and neither could move it at all. It just hung there, taunting them with its rude inertia.

  Felicia moved to stand by Lorens while Talyn coached the boys on how to hit and kick so that they could actually move the bag.

  "You all right?"

  Her brother glanced down at her. "Having a weird moment while I reevaluate my way of thinking about things I once held sacred and true."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Talyn's not what I expected. At all."

  "He's amazing, isn't he?"

  Lorens nod
ded. "Thank you so much for this. You have made Gavarian's life."

  "Thank you for saving Talyn's with that transfer to the palace."

  "Yeah," he breathed. "Now that I've spent an evening with him, I know how doctored his report files have been. Anatole must really hate him. I just can't figure out why."

  "His mother went to school with Anatole. She thinks it's a personal grudge from back then."

  "That actually makes a lot of sense. The gods know Talyn isn't the disrespectful, reactionary moron his evaluations claim. Believe me, I'm around those idiots daily. Damn, I hate that I gave him over to the palace after I read his file. I really meant what I said earlier. We could use someone like him in my division."

  "Can't you transfer him again?"

  "It's not that easy. If he was above an O-4 in rank or -12-6 in lineage, yes. There wouldn't be a problem. But he's just high enough in rank to stay in protective detail and not rise to command level."

  "Can he not buy a promotion?"

  "Again, it's not that easy, Felicia. Anatole's bullshit has really done a number on the kid's advancement potential. And while I can pull strings for Talyn, Anatole can pull just as many, if not more, against him."

  "That's what his mother said. I was hoping she was wrong."

  "She wasn't. You wouldn't believe the favors I had to call in to get him transferred to the palace. No one wanted to touch him because of his negative reports and disciplinary strikes."

  "Hey, Paka! Did you hear that?"

  Lorens arched a brow at Gavarian's shout. "Hear what?"

  "Talyn said that we can come to his fights anytime we want. Ringside!"

  Lorens smiled. "That's really nice to offer, but I know those seats are limited and I don't want to shove his family out."

  "It's no problem," Talyn said as he handed water bottles to the boys. "We always have seats to spare. My mother and Felicia refuse to watch me get punched--no idea what's up with that. You'd think after putting up with me, they'd be paying my rivals to kick it for them. And my trainer rarely has his friends come--he's afraid one of them might poach me from him. As for his daughter, she hates Ring fights. So just let me know at least two hours in advance, and I can get you added to the list for the seats any time you want them."

  Lorens gaped at her. "You really never go?"

  "I'm there. I just stay in the locker room. Like Talyn said, I don't want to watch him get hurt. It pains me to see him get hit. Even in old video clips." She shivered at the memory of when she'd mistakenly thought she could watch a former match of his from years ago. Unable to deal with what he took without flinching, she'd turned it off forty seconds in.