This is a fan translation of The Faraway Saikat (Далёкий Сайкат) by Mikhail Akhmanov, currently only available in Russian and, because of the author's passing in 2019, unlikely to ever be published in English. This is the second book in a series called Trevelyan's Mission (Миссия Тревельяна), which is a spin-off from the author's Arrivals from the Dark (Пришедшие из мрака) six-book series.

I claim no rights to the contents herein.

Earlier we mentioned that the violation of one's personal space (cono) is only permissible in three cases: when medical aid or the services of servants is required (such as during a meal), or when a close individual invades the cono (sex, intimacy, etc.). There is, however, another situation involving the penetration of personal space: a duel. The ancient custom of resolving arguments through combat has persisted among the Kni'lina even to this day, even though it does not officially exist; moreover, duels are forbidden by both the Poharas and the Ni. But, as it so often happens, tradition is stronger than the law, and duels (or taking the enemy's blood, as the Kni'lina call it) still happen. They differ from the ancient Earth analog in that the opponents fight without seconds and until one of them is dead.

Daxiumi, I. Dvorkin

Kni'lina: History, Customs, Beliefs.

Interlude 4

Rivals

They met in a remote deserted hallway, where there were no cameras, so no one could watch them and stop what had to happen. Both of them, Naya Acra and First Depth knew that one of them wouldn't be leaving this place and that a long time would pass before the people or the cybers found the body. Perhaps its throat would be cut, heart punctured, or head caved in… But it didn't scare them. Hatred was stronger than the fear of death.

Standing fifteen paces from one another, they were giving each other piercing measuring stares. Each was holding a paralyzer and blade: a ritual knife in the hands of the priestess, as thin and sharp as a razor, and a wider and heavier weapon in Depth's grip. She looked to be a lot tougher than her puny opponent, being a tall long-legged woman in her prime, with a cold reserved face. But it seemed that Naya Acra had advantages of her own; gaunt, bony, short, and clearly older, she seemed as dangerous as a venomous snake. One could sense the training of the warrior in her, who had lived through no fewer battles than the years lived, possibly even more.

The priestess's dry lips parted.

"I know who you are, and I know what you've done," she said. "Yezdan has enlightened me, so don't think for a moment that I believed that Zinto's fairy tales. It's a story for fools, for that little bitch Ifta Kee and for Pilot and Evening. I'm smarter than them and know the signature of knife throwers well."

"And yet you accused the human," Depth said mockingly.

"Yet another fool, who you slept with and then tried to frame. You're indiscriminate in your methods, scum… then again, it's the same with all of you." Naya Acra took a tiny step forward. "Yes, I accused the hairy one! After the massacre on Tago, I don't like them, and the circumstances were convenient… yet another stroke to add to Jeb Ro's plans… But this doesn't mean that the Zinto has tricked me. I still have eyes and ears."

"We're about to test that." First Depth, holding a paralyzer in her left hand and a knife in the other, also stepped towards her opponent. "I think your experiences on Tago and three hundred years in cryosleep have affected your speed. Or was it more than three hundred, frostbitten one? If not for Jeb Ro, you'd still be a block of ice… Why did he pull you out of the sarcophagus?"

"None of your business! You, mshak manure, were rolling around with a hairy one! You don't see me asking you why you're here and what you're doing! I'm not asking you why First Blade brought you here! Is he a bastard like you? But that doesn't matter anymore: prayers have been spoken over his body, and his ashes are resting in an urn. Soon you'll be joining him."

A cold smile appeared on Depth's lips.

"First Blade was a little dumb and had no idea who I am. To him, I was just an experienced geneticist, loyal and ready to do any task. Plus a geneticist from Tizana, who hates the Poharas, especially Zend Una. A counterbalance to the Eye of the Horada… That's what he thought, and he died thinking it. But I'm alive and will do what must be done."

"I doubt it," came the priestess's hoarse voice in reply. Lifting her paralyzer to point it at the ceiling, she said, "Why do we need these? I'd like to see the color of your blood, and you want to see mine… I think blades will be enough."

"You're right."

Tossing the thin rods aside, they leapt towards one another. Naya Acra's narrow blade sliced the saigor under Depth's left breast, leaving a bloody trail on her skin. She didn't have time to block this rapid lunge but jerked back after feeling the pain; her heavy knife sliced through the air, hitting nothing. The priestess kneed her, aiming between her legs, but ended up hitting her abdomen. This turned out to be enough, though, as Depth doubled over from the pain, flew back to the bulkhead, and stretched on the floor.

"It seems I still have my skills!" Naya Acra cawed with a pleased look. Her eyes went cloudy for a moment. "There, on Tago, the hairy ones were chopping us down with shovels… it's a terrible weapon, a small shovel with sharpened edges… if I had one like that, you'd already be dead. The Ni from my targad got scared. They wanted to surrender, but I pushed them into battle and cut down two of them myself."

"That's why they froze you, old creature!" Depth whispered, getting to her feet. Her saigor was covered in blood, her cheeks had gone pale, but her eyes were burning with indomitable anger.

"That's why," Naya Acra agreed, approaching her opponent with tiny steps. "Yezdan sees that those Ni really wanted me dead! But my targad was the last to surrender, and I took the lives of not only my cowardly warriors, but also three hairy ones. Trust me, it wasn't easy. A lot harder than killing you."

She leapt as if tossed by springs, but Depth dodged. Her knife was aiming for the priestess's throat, but again met only empty air, while Naya Acra, getting her bearings instantly, sliced at her shoulder with her narrow blade. This wound was also shallow but did cause a lot of bleeding.

"Well then, I've seen your blood, but you've yet to see mine." The priestess's grating voice again rang out in the hallway. "There's no rush, my beauty, so I'm going to cut you into little pieces. As the Gray-eyed said, who will sharpen the blade against the evil of the world? Here is that blade!" She raised her bloodied knife. "I've sharpened it well!"

They once more met next to the wall, and for a brief time the silence of the hallway was broken only by the clanging of the blades and the heavy breathing of the combatants. Depth was defending herself, hoping that her rival would get exhausted, but this hope was futile, as Naya Acra's movements seemed to be as confident and quick as at the beginning of the fight. Her wiry gaunt body seemed to be holding a limitless supply of strength, and her skill with the blade revealed her to be an outstanding fighter, at least experienced and capable enough to deal with Depth. The other woman also wasn't holding a blade for the first time, but the frostbitten hag was clearly too much for her.

The priestess suddenly took several steps back, as if wishing to give Depth a chance to catch her breath. The latter's jumpsuit was torn up, and blood was flowing from half a dozen cuts and scrapes, leaving drops on the floor. The blood started to soak through the clothing, a crimson trickle was oozing from a cut above her ear, intermixing with her sweat, but Depth's knife was clean — she hadn't touched Naya Acra with even the tip. The priestess was looking at her with a grin.

"It's a beautiful picture, by Yezdan! I'll remember it when it's time to pray over your corpse… although you'll look even better in a funeral urn." Naya Acra shook her head. "You know, I was very surprised to learn who you are. I'd thought you all were wiped out after your clan mutinied at the end of the war. But you're tenacious spawns!"

"There is no storm that breaks all trees!" Depth wheezed out. "We will paint the clothing of your children in the evening color, break the urns of your ancestors and throw their ashes out! And your charred bones, both the Poharas and the Ni, we're going to trample into mud!"

"You personally aren't going to break, throw, or trample anything," the priestess noted coldly. "Hold your knife tightly and don't even think about throwing it — I'm not Zend Una. It's easier to hit a clumsy bastard like him than a pole… the Eyes of the Horada have gotten worse… in my day they were far quicker, and they hadn't yet made such vile creatures as that Course… Great Yezdan! What is the world coming to?"

She was circling Depth to the right with this muttering, to the direction of the wounded shoulder. The other woman squinted, hefted the knife in her hand; her gaze darted to the priestess's thin neck, abdomen, knee, then the bridge of her nose. It looked like she was selecting her target.

"If you fight, you'll die quickly," Naya Acra warned her. "If you throw the blade at me, you'll be left unarmed. Then I won't end you immediately. There are many ways to die, you know… I can cut open your belly, poke your eyes out, flay your back, or start with your pretty face… What do you prefer?"

The heavy knife flew through the air. The priestess dropped to all fours, almost sprawling on the floor; the blade whistled above her, struck the bulkhead, and bounced off the tough plastic. Getting back to her feet quickly, Naya Acra stretched her thin lips in a grin.

"Your choice, nyuri… By the time I'm finished, you're not going to be as pretty as before. Your hairy male won't be interested…"

The priestess was getting closer, bending down and tossing the blade from one hand to the other. The bloodied Depth could feel the cold plastic of the wall with her shoulder blades; this bulkhead was painted the day color, and her face was just as white. She reached out a hand, as if trying to protect herself from her approaching death; the gesture seemed to be so helpless, so timid, that Naya Acra slowed her pace. But the very next moment the priestess was already near, and the narrow blade prickled Depth under her ribs.

"Let's start with the belly," Naya Acra muttered. "Do you want to see your own guts? We'll make it happen. Let me— Ahrr!.."

She choked on her own blood, as the sharp pin Depth had been hiding in her sleeve punctured the priestess's throat. Her eye started to dim, her mouth twisted in a dying grimace, the blade fell from her weakening fingers and sliced the fabric of her saigor at the knee. Then Naya Acra's legs buckled, and she sagged onto the floor. Depth stepped over her, found her blade, returned to the dead body, and started slicing it up. She was striking furiously, baring her teeth, shuddering, and stabbing the knife into the neck, the abdomen, between the ribs, so that the corpse was lying in a bloody puddle a few minutes later. Then Depth straightened her back and, staring into the defeated woman's face, hissed, "Frostbitten bitch! Beware the obvious, as your Yezdan said, but you've forgotten that! You wanted to poke out my eyes? Spill my guts? Well, I won't be doing that. It's enough that you're dead and won't get in my way. I'm even going to select the nicest urn for you, with a pattern of the evening color."

Turning away, she took out a first aid kit and started treating her wounds. She covered the deeper cuts with a biospray, inhaled the regenerative medicine, followed by a drug that removed the pain and the weariness. Her cheeks flushed, her body stopped quivering, and the alarming green light turned crimson on the tiny kit's panel. The joyful morning hue, the color of life… Putting the device away, Depth nodded in satisfaction, summoned a cyber cleaner, and ordered it to remove all traces of her blood on the floor, wall, and Naya Acra's blade.