The Balance (First Draft | Discontinued)

Chapter 9 (Morana)

NBR members: Ah... well, hello, I guess. Thank you for taking your time to read this and comment on it; it's something that's been near and dear to me for... hm, couple years or so now. As such, don't hold back on it. Thick skin here, I promise, even if I am ridiculously nervous about this. Fight scenes aren't my strength, so I'm hoping to improve here.

"Coward!" The word came thundering from behind her, cold and edged as steel.

Morana was standing stock-still in the snow, muscles rigid and heart pounding. Coward. Coward. Coward. Slowly she turned, watching as Aleksander approached her noiselessly. His head was slightly tilted, eyes focused on her, and it took everything she had not to rush at him and finish the job right then and there. She had planned to double back and wait, wait for another opportunity to catch him off-guard, but... Coward. From him, a man who had murdered sleeping soldiers and fled, it burned. He dared to call her coward, after everything he had done?

The man who had killed Davor. The man who had slaughtered dozens of their troops. The man who had massacred children. And he looked the part, too: dark brown hair curled over his forehead and obscured one of his eyes, but the other was a burning, blazing grey, feral in its intensity. His whole body was tensed, primed for the chase like a hunting dog. His teeth were bared, his hands were balled into fists, and every single movement he made, from the tightening of his jaw to the small, deliberate steps he took, screamed fighter. Killer.

Not since her first battle had she felt this way, like her heart would burst from her chest and the blood from her veins. But she lifted her chin and forced herself to stay still, to stand tall and proud as befitted her. She was a soldier.

He said, "I recognize you... Laniková. Another one of their prodigies." His lips twisted into a bitter smile.

"And I know you," she said, somehow keeping the tremor of rage out of her voice. "Murderer."

Something flickered in his unconcealed eye, dark and ugly. He stepped forward, closer and closer, but she did not back away. She wouldn't let herself.

In the stillness, Morana could hear rifle fire split the air, followed by faint screams. She hoped— prayed— that the screams were not from her soldiers, but she was too far away to tell whose they were. Aleksander didn't seem to care; he was still focused on her, coming closer with every step.

He was an arm's length away when he stopped, turning his head away slightly as if something pained him.

She took her chance. Darting behind him, she wrapped her arm around his neck and squeezed. He was much taller and much bigger than her, something that he took full advantage of. He used his weight against her and let himself fall backwards.

Her breath exploded from her lungs as he landed on top of her. One of his shoulder blades dug into her collarbone. This was nothing like training with Rolan and Ivo. There were no gentle smiles or hands pulling her to her feet.

Aleksander was on his feet now, and she scrambled backwards, only managing to pull herself up a fraction of a second before he lunged at her. She dodged away, aiming a punch at the side of his face. His head snapped back and he spat out a globule of blood.

Had she hit one of her own soldiers, their head would have been crushed as easily as a wheat cracker. Even most Rikensk soldiers would have at least crumpled from the blow, but Aleksander, other than bloody teeth, seemed wholly unaffected. Any fight she'd had in the past was not comparable to this. She stepped back and swallowed hard as a horrible twist of nausea ran through her. He was stronger than her.