All three of them wander in front of the opening. I see them before they see me. I square my shoulders and step around the Dividian’s ashes protectively, hoping to make it look like they’re mine. The movement has them pausing. Their faces stand half in shadow, but their intentions are more than clear. I raise my switch and point at the clear leader of the pack.

“Evening, Thyma.”

They spread, taking a few steps forward, widening their stances. It’s clear they’ve all been trained for engagements like this one. They know how to fight in formation. They know how to use their numbers. There’s no way to win this, but the point of the first night was never to win. The point is to cut away. Take out one enemy at a time.

“Going to kill me?”

Thyma laughs. “You’ve forgotten your place. We are here to teach you.”

“Good of you to bring so many instructors.”

The circle’s closing. Muscles flex and grips tighten. It will come soon, and it will happen fast, but my goals are straightforward tonight. The two flanking Ashlords keep their switches in baton form. Thyma has shaken hers into a whip.

“You never should have entered the Races,” she says.

She lets the lash cross the distance. It’s damn near textbook. A flushing blow that’s meant to move me right or left. It doesn’t matter how I dodge the strike, the others will move to hem me in with reaching blows of their own. But I don’t do what she expects. I don’t dodge. I let the whip catch me across the shoulder as I step into a brutal strike of my own. Thyma’s eyes widen, but she can’t transform her switch fast enough to get up a defense. My blow crushes the side of her knee, and there’s enough force behind it to shatter everything.

Her screams tear the night in two, but there’s no time to savor them. The other Ashlords press me, undistracted by their fallen partner. My first strike leaves me vulnerable, and both of them punish me for it. Two shots to the ribs, another glancing blow off my shoulder.

But I’m bigger and stronger than they are. I parry a fourth shot, strike low, and spin away. I catch another lash to the kidneys before smashing the knuckles of the Ashlord on my right. It’s a cheap shot, but he cries out, fumbling his switch. Behind him, Thyma’s started struggling back to her feet, even though I know her knee’s a nightmare of pain.