Right Hand

DISCLAIMER: They ain't mine. You don't see 'em like this, do ya?

AN: Hi! Thanks for the new reviews! They're almost as much fun to read as it is to write this!

WARNING: This chapter contains VIOLENCE!

CHAPTER FOUR:


The air in the great soldiering Hall was thick with anticipation. Vaako, standing just behind the Lord Marshal’s right shoulder, took a deep breath of it and went on full alert. He’d expected this. He looked at Troan, trying to communicate his concern to the younger, less experienced man. Lord Troan frowned back at him, realizing something was going on but not sure what. Troan had never seen the soldiering halls after a high-level fight. They were rare and none more high-level than a battle for Lord Marshal. A battle won by the challenger - this was not going to be an easy inspection.

Riddick was silent for a moment, gazing out over the assembled troops. Finally, “One of you want to tell me what’s going on?” Lord Troan looked slightly lost and Vaako spoke quickly to save his friend some face.

“It has been a week since you Challenged for Lord Marshal.”

“I didn’t ‘challenge’ for anything. Just wanted to kill that...”

“Yes.” Vaako didn’t care if he was interrupting. “But they see it as a Challenge. And it was won by the Challenger, so they are charged.”

“Charged?”

Vaako smiled, a slightly hungry gleam coming into his eyes. The vast wave of emotion coming off the troops was getting to him. “Yes, charged. If you could win your fight, then perhaps they can win theirs. And with the Lord Marshal watching? Today is a day for Challenges. Even more so, since their ritual Purifying would have been yesterday. They have had a month to relearn their basic emotions.”

Riddick grinned, his eyes sweeping the troops again. He took out his goggles, settled them into place. “So there’s going to be fights today, hmm? Anyone going to Challenge me?”

“Unlikely.” Troan spoke this time. “They don’t know enough of you to risk that yet. Still, it may happen - I would recommend you staying on guard.”

“Always on guard.” Riddick’s voice was more chuckle than words. He moved forward, down the broad steps and into the troops. Vaako and Troan flanked him as he walked, their eyes alert for danger. The rank Commanders stood at the front of their units, bowing respectfully as he went past. For the first few moments nothing unusual happened. It was the same as any troop inspection. Riddick had already done three. He was beginning to look disappointed when there was a sudden burst of motion among the troops ahead.

A member of the ranks had Challenged his Sergeant - the two men settled into the middle of a suddenly-formed circle of soldiers. Riddick stopped and watched, his face expressionless and the black goggles hiding any emotion in the silver eyes. Vaako realized he was watching his Lord more than the fight and mentally chastised himself, forcing his wayward attention back where it belonged. The fight was brutal and bloody, the two men fairly well matched. It was over quicker than he expected, a knife blow to the heart ending things. A newly-made Sergeant stood gazing down at his opponent, then jerked off his insignia and added them to his own uniform. The troops around him murmured the appreciation normal troops would have shouted and he moved into his new position with his expression smug.

“Now it will increase.” Vaako said softly. Riddick didn’t look at him, but he knew the man was listening. “The Challenger won in the first battle. The rest will take it as a good omen.” His words were proven true even as he spoke them - three fights burst into existence around them, more spread across the Hall. Riddick watched the battling men with his lips curled into a feral smile. Troan exchanged a quick glance with Vaako - both realized their Lord Marshal would love to get in on the action himself. Troan swallowed and spoke, his voice cautiously low.

“Lord Marshal - you cannot Challenge. They must come to you.”

“I figured that. Doesn’t leave me a lot of fun.”

Vaako’s eyes were on the men milling around them and he spoke his next words absently. “It can be arranged for you to spar, if you wish.” He frowned at a big Captain who was eyeing them in return and nearly missed the reply.

“I wish. Who’s going to spar with me?” Damn the man, he was doing it again! Those words were warm against his skin, the lips almost touching his ear. He nearly yelped.

“A-anyone you desire.”

That got him a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? Well then, how good are you at sparring?”

Vaako never got a chance to make his surprised brain form a reply - the burly Captain suddenly roared out a wordless Challenge and flung himself at them. They automatically assumed he was after Riddick and as a result Vaako was knocked completely off his feet when the man dove at him instead. He twisted and rolled and barely managed to avoid a knife thrust, getting to his feet in the middle of a hastily formed circle of soldiers. He registered the fact that Riddick and Troan were part of that circle and exactly where they stood. Then his attention was firmly fixed on the big man coming at him.

‘Very big man.’ He thought, amused for some reason. The Captain was a full head taller than him and broader than Riddick. He was armored and had a long dagger in his hand, more strapped to his arms and legs, while Vaako was wearing thin silk, no armor and had a single small blade on his hip. He slid it out and wrapped his fingers around the familiar hilt. As the man charged at him again he spared a quick thought of gratitude that he’d slept so long - if this Challenge had occurred the day before he would have been an easy kill.

He dodged the knife blow and landed a hard hit with his fist against the man’s unprotected jaw. The Captain snarled at him and swung his knife around in a vicious arc. Vaako moved like quicksilver, eluding the deadly edge and coming up under the man’s arm to land another blow. This one hit the nose and shattered it, drenching the man’s face and chest with blood. He gave a roar of rage and pain. Moved for him again, trying to catch the slim, elusive figure with the sharp edge of his dagger.

Vaako slid aside, landing a blow against the thick wrist that sent the knife clattering to the floor. The Captain jerked another out of its sheath and lunged again. Vaako twisted away from a blow aimed for his heart and the blade cut a shallow path across his chest, leaving a thin line of blood. He smiled at the man, hazel-green eyes contemptuous. “Is that the *best* you can do?” He asked softly, taunting the man into deeper, more thoughtless anger.

He avoided yet another wild blow and circled the man, cautious and measuring. There was little chance he could end this fight with his knife - the soldier was too heavily armored for him to get the small blade into a vital spot. Well, there were other ways to take care of this. As the bigger man moved towards him again he ducked and rolled, coming up behind him and landing a sharp blow on the back of the neck that sent the Captain to his knees. He hit him again, knocking off the heavy helmet and sending the man forward to catch himself on his hands.

“Yield?” Vaako asked quietly, giving him an honorable way to end the fight without dying. The man glared at him with an ugly expression in his eyes, but nodded. Vaako accepted the surrender with a graceful nod of his own and turned away. He found himself looking straight at Troan, saw the First of Commander’s eyes go wide and instinctively dropped to the floor. The Captain went sailing over him, the knife that would have torn through Vaako’s back clattering against the floor as the man slid across it in an awkward heap.

Vaako leapt back to his feet, his eyes flashing fire. ‘Dishonorable!’ His thoughts screamed the word but his mouth stayed closed. He didn’t have to say it - the other soldiers were backing away from the Captain with sneers on their faces. The man had tried to attack after an open submission. Even among Necromongers such a thing was disgraceful.

The Captain lumbered to his feet, his face twisted in fury. “I *will* defeat you!” He shouted, moving faster than Vaako had thought a man of his bulk could. Caught slightly off guard, the smaller man managed to avoid the knife but not the fist that followed it. It landed hard against his chest, knocking him several feet back. He landed solidly against someone, someone who didn’t stagger at the blow but caught him, strong hands balancing him easily. Someone not wearing armor - Vaako didn’t even have to guess who it was.

He didn’t have time to look - the Captain was heading in for another try. Vaako hoped it would be forgiven as he used his sturdy Lord Marshal for a makeshift springboard, throwing himself right back at the charging man, spinning slightly as he leapt and driving his knife home between the plates of his armor. It sank through the man’s right shoulder in a completely disabling blow - the arm went limp below it, red dripping from the gloved fingers as he jerked his blade free. Both men hit the floor hard and both came right back up, panting and glaring at each other.

The Captain clutched his last knife awkwardly in his left hand. Vaako held his own slippery blade tightly as they circled yet again. ‘Doesn’t this man know when to quit?’ Vaako found a slight bit of admiration curling in his chest despite the scandalous move the man had tried earlier. They dove at each other as if at a signal, slamming together and rolling across the floor. The men watching could barely tell what was happening - suddenly Vaako was holding the man down, one knee on his wounded shoulder and the edge of his knife cutting a thin line of blood across his throat.

“Yield?” He spat the word this time, giving the cur an almost unheard-of second chance. Vaako admired courage wherever he saw it - that the man would continue to fight as badly wounded as he was made him more redeemable in the Commander’s eyes.

The deep-set blue eyes staring back at him were full of rage and he thought the answer would be no. Then they flickered over him and the rage changed to a sudden dawning respect. He opened his mouth and the reply nearly made Vaako slit his throat in surprise.

“I serve you.”

“No!” Vaako shouted, jumping back from the man and staring down at him.

“Freely spoken, Vaako.” Troan said calmly, moving up beside the startled warrior.

“No.” Hissed this time, Vaako still staring at the big Captain, who gazed back at him with now- quiet eyes.

“Freely spoken and proper, Vaako.” Troan’s voice was warning - Vaako swallowed hard. He had to accept this, he could do no less with all these soldiers watching. It would be as dishonorable as the false surrender had been. He nodded his head curtly to the sprawled soldier.

“Go to med bay.” He said cooly and turned away. He stalked through the soldiers, who gave way respectfully around him and took his place at the Lord Marshal’s side again.

“You could use med bay yourself.” The words were spoken easily. Vaako looked down at himself, seeing with surprise that his shirt was plastered to his left side with wetness. He had been wounded and never realized it. It was part adrenaline, partly the slight numbness that still remained from the Purification. “He got you while you were rolling around on the floor with him.” There was a trace of amusement in the other man’s voice now and Vaako scowled.

“I will go later.” Riddick shrugged and finished his inspection with astonishing rapidity. Vaako’s fight seemed to have calmed the atmosphere - there were no more battles. As soon as the inspection was finished Troan went to make his report and Riddick started stalking down the hall, giving Vaako one telling look that he took to mean ‘follow me or else.’ He decided against risking it and went along obediently.

Riddick led him straight to med bay, where a medic ‘tsked’ over his side and cleaned the small knife wound. “No real damage, no vitals hit.” The man said cheerfully, addressing his words to the Lord Marshal, who was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, apparently completely unconcerned. The medic sealed the wound off and spread a cream across it that Vaako knew from experience would have it half-healed by morning. The gash across his chest had bled rather freely but was little more than a scratch. More cream, another ‘tsk’ at the spreading bruise from the punch that had been landed on him and Vaako was free to go.

Riddick led him back to the High Chambers, where Lord Garen was waiting with blithe greetings and a meal. They ate in silence for a moment, then, “What did it mean?”

“My Lord?”

“‘I serve you.’ What did that mean?”

Vaako scowled down at his plate and didn’t reply. Lord Garen grinned at him.

“Did you get a dog, Vaako?” The Commander shot him a venomous look that seemed to amuse him.

“What’s it mean?” Riddick growled, losing patience.

“I assume there was a fight?” Garen got a nod in reply. “And the man said ‘I serve you’?” Another nod. “Then he has surrendered, completely. Vaako ‘owns’ him now. A completely loyal guard who will protect him at the cost of his own life. You must have made a good impression, Vaako.”

Vaako grumbled a little and bit into an apple viciously. The other men grinned at him and he scowled harder. The last thing he wanted was a guard like this, someone who would follow him around, always in the distance and forever vigilant. They usually ended up troublesome, those men, deciding what was dangerous for their ‘Master’, frightening the people around them - oh, who was he kidding? It was the obligation that was turning his stomach. He didn’t want to ‘own’ a personal guard! Everything the man did or said would be his responsibility, his charge and his concern. He would have to provide for the man as well, clothes, shelter... the man wouldn’t eat unless he remembered to give him permission.

~I do not need this.~

He continued to glower at the table while Riddick and Garen discussed the fights, some of which Garen had watched on a monitor. Vaako’s own fight was purposely not spoken of. They then moved on to the reaction of the nobles over the announcement of how tomorrow’s battle would be conducted. Some of the words Garen repeated seemed to cause Riddick no little amusement. Vaako held his peace until Lord Garen finally excused himself, then he spoke in a rush.

“You will have to watch your back.”

“What now?” Riddick arched an eyebrow at him. The goggles were gone again.

“The nobles - they will be plotting hard against you. They are not all weak. Some of them were soldiers once, others are trained to fight so they could Challenge higher nobles.”

Riddick smiled and leaned toward him again. “You’ll have to watch my back, too, huh?”

Vaako’s adrenaline was still running high after his battle and he spoke without thinking. “What exactly do you want of me, my Lord?”

Riddick leaned back in his seat and eyed him, humor flashing through the shining eyes. “Want what I got today. Someone at my back, telling me what I need to know but everybody else forgets or thinks I know it already. Someone not afraid to give me their opinion. Want someone who’s a good right-hand man.”

He couldn’t have been expecting Vaako’s reaction.

Those words drained the adrenaline from Vaako’s veins, sent his heart plummeting like a stone to the bottom of his stomach. ‘He can not mean that - he can not know what that means!’

“M-my Lord... please do not call me that.” He was supremely thankful that Lord Garen was gone - he could imagine the glee the man would jump on those words with. Riddick looked startled, staring at him.

“Never thought you could get any whiter than you already were. What did I say?”

“...”

“Vaako. What did I say?” The voice was edgy now.

“Right Hand.” He was reluctant, but Riddick could have the data pulled up if he didn’t tell him. He might as well get it over with. At the man’s questioning look he kept going. “The Right Hand of the Lord Marshal. It’s a title that hasn’t been used in a long time. It means - it is a sort of... combination... position.”

“Combination of what?”

Vaako sighed. “Guard. Advisor. Companion. Someone who takes care of everything that you do not need to be concerned with, from orders to the tailors up to commanding the nobles. It is... only used for a man.”

Riddick’s eyes were fixed on him with a strange expression. “And you don’t want it?”

“...no.”

“Why?”

Vaako tried to look at him and found he couldn’t. His eyes slid away from that intense gaze. “It is more responsibility than I desire.”

“You *desired* to be Lord Marshal!”

“I did not! I desired a strong leader for our people! I was just as pleased when...” He cut himself off. ‘Idiot! Shut up while you can!’

“When I killed Zhylaw?” Riddick was looking amused again. He leaned forward, gleaming eyes fixed on the ashen face. “I think you’re leaving out something. What is it?” Vaako squirmed a little under that gaze but shrugged, shaking his head. “C’mon, I know there’s something.” A light seemed to go on in his head. “Title’s only used for a man, huh? What would they call the position if I wanted a woman to do all that?”

Vaako sincerely wished he could hide under the table - he *knew* he had to be blushing.

“H-high Consort.”

Riddick laughed, threw himself back in the chair. “Left out something *major* there, Vaako.” The other man flushed harder and stared steadily at the table.

“You see why I do not wish you to call me that?”

~Really?~

“Really?” Gods, the man *was* a mind reader! He was reading Vaako’s irritating inner voice! He just sighed and fell forward, letting his forehead *thunk* against the table. Riddick snickered and leaned close again, once more bathing Vaako’s ear in warm air.

“Too bad, Cylus Vaako. Because that’s exactly what you’re going to be called.”