The forest that surrounded Lake Mirae yawned out ahead of me.
The profile of a person stood out against the edge of the tree line as they stepped from within it, curly brown hair framing a strong hulking body. Dread seized the pit of my stomach like a viper’s poison.
Nikolach.
How? Why now?
He saw me. It was too late to hide.
Run!
I slowed down. The Voyager combat training would be enough to protect myself. It would have to be, because I wouldn’trun from his shadow anymore. I was sick of running, sick of being afraid.
Another two months in the Reformatory had grizzled his features, new scars and toughened muscles peppering his form. It had also worsened his dust habit; violet stained the edges of his lips. His left hand held a fearsome hand axe which he spun in idle circles.
“I was beginning to get impatient.” Nikolach canted his head to the side, squinting at me. “You remind me of the other one. Nevermind, doesn’t matter.” He slapped his palm against the flat of the axe, making a whistling chirp with his mouth and snickering. The blade’s edge gleamed in the gloom.
He gave a test swing of the axe toward me. I stumbled backwards out of reach on instinct.
My pulse was louder than the storm.
He tilted his head to the side again, listening to something only he could hear. He snickered again.
Was he high?
“You really shouldn’t have framed me,” he chided, wagging the axe at me. He took a clumsy step forward, spitting onto the ground.
I took an instinctive step away from him. “I didn’t.”
He made the chirping noise again, lunging at me with the axe with surprising speed. Dodging to the side, adrenaline narrowed my focus down to just him and I. And surviving the next few minutes.
Reasoning with him was right out.
He swayed when he missed me, spinning and taking another swing. I ducked and darted away before he had time to change the trajectory of the blow.
If he was high on dust, I had a chance.
Lightning and thunder detonated above.
He grabbed my scarf as it trailed behind me, momentarily suffocating me as he yanked me back. I jerked it off, tumbling out of reach of another swing. Mud splattered into my face when I landed. It gave me an idea.
While he was turning to face me again, I threw mud at his face, giving a savage smile as he screamed when it hit his eyes. I kicked at his solar plexus as he swiped the mud from his face, pleased when he gave a winded grunt.
Without waiting for him to recover, I landed a heavy punch to his ear. He shook his head, blinking as if disoriented before he drove a wild swing of the axe toward my side. Dodging back, I studied his stance for an opening.
His posture was not nearly as honed as Zevrials, hunched over the weapon like a troglodyte. Circling him, I saw an opening on the side where the mud stunted his peripheral vision, and moved in to sweep his feet from under him. He landed with a wet squelch. I hammered a flurry of kicks into his ribs before he rolled away and clamored back up.
When he rose, he’d put several feet of distance between us and held one dirtied arm defensively over the side of his ribs I’d pummelled. “Did I crack something?” I asked, hopefulness plain. He glared at me, spitting blood onto the ground. Forcing my breathing to even, I listened to him snicker and pant. I wasn’t about to wait for him to catch his breath.
Rushing forward, I feinted a kick to his right shin, only to drop at the last second and slam one into his left shin. He slashed out with the axe, and I hissed as it opened a shallow cut across my hairline despite my bending backwards to avoid the strike.
The wound stung, but not enough to distract me.
I rushed backwards, wiping blood off my eyebrows and eyelashes before it obscured my vision. He was circling meagain, axe dripping with rain and bits of blood from my forehead.
“It surprised me, hearing you screwed over Yeshar even worse than me,” Nikolach said. He was stalling for time, but I needed a moment too after that last exchange, to figure out how to get the axe away from him.
“I didn’t do anything to either of you,” I said.
