“Probably. She was unconscious when I saw her. There was a lot of blood.”
We reached a rocky cliff, treacherous in the fog. One misstep and we’d be the ones in trouble.
Yeshar hurried ahead of me, I could barely make out his dark outline with Perception. There was no time to leisurely follow. I scrambled forward, balancing precariously on the ground I could barely see through the marine layer. I couldn’t see it, but I could smell the acrid burn of miasma nearby below.
Something nagged at me. My steps slowed. “How did you see where she fell through this fog?”
Yeshar’s face appeared like a wraith from the mists, turning to face me. His eyes were cold. “Oops.”
Before I could register what was happening, his leg swung toward my hip. On instinct I dodged, managing to narrowly avoid the blow without tumbling over the cliff edge.
His second move was a downward sweeping kick that caught me on my weaker ankle on the side. Pain erupted in my foot and I yelped, hobbling backwards to put distance between us.
“What the hell?” I asked. My ankle sent scalding red-hot pain radiating up my leg as I tested its weight. Clenching my teeth, I tried to ignore it, dropping my pack down beside me to reduce the burden.
Yeshar flexed his fingers, lowering his voice. “I warned you not to stir shit up.”
I was so stupid. Sarina wasn’t in danger, Yeshar had taken me far away from everyone else still collecting Starshells. Where the fog prevented anyone from witnessing it if he beat or killed me, and no one could hear me scream.
I couldn’t run with the injury he’d dealt to my ankle. I had to stall and come up with a plan.
“What are you talking about?”
Nikolach was stronger and larger than Yeshar, and had carried a weapon, and I’d beaten him. But unlike Nikolach, Yeshar had learned the same techniques as me during Voyager training. He wasn’t high on dust, and he’d already wounded me. If he wanted me dead, he might succeed.
It would be difficult to fight while injured but I had few options.
Yeshar’s voice grew almost sibilant, lowering. “I thought ensuring you received the Luck glyph would be enough encouragement to keep you in line, but you can’t help yourself. Publicly embarrassing one of my best clients, even after I warned you.” Yeshar let out a put upon sigh. “You’re at four strikes now, out of chances. With nature providing such a great opportunity, I had to seize it.”
He rushed toward me with another high kick, and I ducked and shoved him sideways, trying to use his momentum to maneuver him closer to the ravine with limited success.
I threw a punch at his neck, darting back in a half-limp away from the edge of the cliff. He followed with another hard kick that connected to my midsection. I grunted from the blow, ducking as he tried to punch my face, grabbing and hurling my pack, heavy with Starshells, at his face.
He howled in pain, clutching his nose and swinging blindly with his fist in an aborted punch at my head. Blood gushed past his fingers.
He said I had four strikes against me. Wanted four shots of sweetstalk nectar for his game of honesty. He had four King Protea flowers during evaluation. Tapping four beats with his fingers.
Four kicks in a row, followed by two punches. If the pattern held, his next move would be another punch.
Weaving beneath his one free arm as he swung, I grabbed his arm and yanked it into the grappling hold we’d learned, throwing him over my hip. My injured ankle shrieked in agony from the added weight.
Yeshar hit the rock hard, yelling on impact. I pressed my elbow around his neck, trying to knock him out. He strained, rolling me as he flipped our positions. I didn’t release the pressure on his neck. His nose looked crooked, a jagged gash running along the bridge. Seeing it brought me savage satisfaction.
Grabbing my arms, he pinned them above my head as I struggled, trying to knee him. “You might’ve survived, if I hadn’t received Strength,” he taunted.
I headbutted him.
He cried out, reeling back. I used it to my advantage, bucking him off and scrambling away.
Before I could rise, he kicked me and I was airborne.
Pain detonated along my spine as I collided with something. I screamed, hunching in on myself. I gasped in a shallow breath, it felt like he’d broken one of my ribs.
Something creaked, and that was all the warning I had before one of the frozen geysers of obsidian toppled behind me, brittle shards splintering and scattering along the ground as it collided. Eddies of fog spilled out from the impact, billowing like a funeral veil.
Yeshar was walking toward me, scowling as he swiped blood off his chin.
I had to get away. Crawling, I turned and tried to flee. Every movement was torture.
