Tarkir - A Dark World Warriors Story

Chapter Three

Tarkir kul Cadeyrn, Prime Commander of the Dragon Class Assault Cruiser Slayer, stepped off the pads of the training area. Tall at just over seven feet and well-built, he stood with his muscular legs spread apart and his hands planted on his lean hips. His chest heaved as he breathed hard. Sweat shimmered on his bare chiseled abs and well defined chest. His chin rose slightly and a small smile lifted the corners of his firm lips as he nodded to the man standing across from him.

"You fight well, Rai'lyn," there was a hint of respect in his voice.

"As... do... you, Prime," Da'von panted out as he bent over, his head down trying to catch his breath. He'd been well trained in the art of several fighting styles and while he was in top shape, sparring with this huge male left him breathless and sore. He looked up with a small grin. "I... don't suppose... you would... teach me fight as you do?" He was beginning to breathe easier. With a low groan he straightened and stood, twisting one way than the other to work out the kinks.

Tarkir was silent, his eyes narrowing as he considered the man before him. The Slayer had been passing through the outer edges of the Lel'eiona galaxy travailing to the Dead Zone and had come upon the battle between Rai'lyn's spacecruser and an assault ship of the Librae galaxy. The Libraeian's were an aggressive war like race of reptilian beings that were hell bent on conquering other races. Their being in Lel'eiona space did not bode well for the Lel'eionaian people.

After destroying the Libraeian ship, Tarkir had ordered his crew to scan the small pods that had been ejected from the dead Lel'eionaian ship. When the scan showed life forms he had the pods transported to the cargo hold of the Slayer. Once on board, his first engineer and battle surgeon worked to open them. It hadn't been easy but no one died in the process.

At first the survivors had been confused, unsure if they were captives or had been rescued. They had never seen a race like these from the Dark World. The all-male crew was huge, well-built, and highly skilled in many forms of combat. Add in the fact that they seemed to know a lot about other galaxies and the home worlds of each was both surprising and disconcerting.

"I will attempt to instruct you in the basics of our form of fighting," Tarkir said. "It will not be easy, Rai'lyn." He warned with a predatory smile. "While you are a skilled warrior there are many aspects to the Dark Warrior way of combat that go beyond the physical moves. You will need to work hard." Over the last two weeks the two crews had formed something of a bond while learning about each other. For all the knowledge that the Dark Warriors had about Lel'eiona they knew very little about the day to day life and the customs of its people.

"Thank you, Prime," Da'von gave him a small bow. "I look forward to training with you." Tarkir gave him a nod as he picked up a clear bottle of the blue tinted liquid that passed for water and tossed it in Da'von's direction before picking one up for himself. Instinctively Devon caught it in one hand, flipped the top open and took a long drink of the cool liquid. He could immediately feel it's effects on his body as the soreness in his muscles started to subside. With a grin he tipped the now half empty bottle toward Tarkir in thanks.

"You have fast reflexes," Tarkir observed with approval. "They will serve you well in training."

"Yeah," Da'von laughed. "Only one faster in my family is Esha." Tarkir's head tilted to one side with a questioning look.

"Who is...," he paused. "Esha?" Da'von looked startled for a second. He hadn't meant to speak about his family or his world with any of the Dark Warriors. Tarkir saw him hesitate to answer. "If you do not wish to-" Da'von interrupted him with a sigh and brought the bottle back up to finish the drink before answering.

"Ay'esha is my older sister. Our family calls her Esha, it's a nickname."

"A nickname?" Tarkir looked puzzled. "What is a nickname?"

"It's a familiar form of a proper name," Da'von replied. "My name is Da'von but my family and close friends call me Von."

"I know of King Aa'ron Rai'lyn," Tarkir stated. "He is spoken of as a good ruler in other galaxies. I would like to know more about your world and its people." He paused thoughtfully and his eyes held Da'von's. "Will you share this information?" Da'von's eyes narrowed as he considered the Prime's request. While it was true that the two crews were somewhat on friendly terms, it was a differnt matter to give these Dark Warriors information about his world.

"You seem to know a lot already about our galaxy and our home world." Da'von replied. Tarkir tilted his head in acknowledgment but remained silent. Bring the bottle he held to his mouth, Da'von drained the last of the water. He looked at Tarkir and waited for him to speak.

The air around them chilled as they stared at each other. The only sounds in large empty, space was the faint humming of the air system and their own harsh breathing. At last Tarkir broke the silence with a grunt.

"Yes." He said and tossed his water bottle into a small bin attached the nearby wall. "Come, we will discuss what we both want to know." Da'von raised his eyes brows. Tarkir gave a short laugh. "I am aware that you crew has been questioning mine, trying to get information on our race." Da'von walked closer to the wall bin, tossing his bottle into it and looked at the other man.

"If you had have been rescued by an unknown race, your crew would do the same." he stated. A soft swoosh sounded as their empty bottles were sucked out of the bin. After a few seconds Tarkir replied.

"No. My ship would not have needed to be rescued." Not waiting for a reaction from Da'von, he turned and walked to the door, stopping to look back at Da'von as it slid open. "Come, we will talk of this in my war room." With that he disappeared out into the corridor.

Da'von glanced down at his now cooled, sweatybody as he followed Tarkir and grimaced. "I need a shower," he grumbled tohimself. Walking ahead of the Lel'eionaprince, Tarkir smiled. His race, the Teirc,had exceptional hearing and he had heard his guest's mumbled comment.