I probably should have been doing some stretching of my own. Gladys had patched me up after my sessions with Silt, but I was tight and sore all the way from my hamstrings to my neck. My shoulders were the stiffest of all, but that was just tension. This was my last chance to prove I belonged in Combat class.
I couldn’t see Nikolai or the other first-years in the observation room, but I gave a nod to one of the three cameras trained on us from above. I took a long breath, drinking in the familiar smells of blood and dust and sweat and fear. I held the air until my head was swimming and my lungs felt ready to burst, and then I exhaled.
When the oxygen left my body, all my fear, stress and doubt went with it, replaced by the empty void of my power.
Nikolai’s call to start the match had barely sounded before the grey-clad Stalwart was coming forward in a blur. In our first few fights, Orca had used her speed to analyze my movements and measure my response time. After so many easy victories, she no longer bothered.
Guess I’m not the only one who falls victim to expectations.
Nadia’s movement was still too fast to see, but with my brain disengaged, my body translated impulse to action instantaneously. I twisted to one side, feeling a blast of wind as her lead jab slid past me. Her second fist was already on its way, but an angled step forward took me inside the arc, robbing her blow of any real force.
From there, I unleashed my own punch, all triceps and bad intentions, and for one sweet moment, time seemed to come to a halt. I had what felt like years to watch my hand rocketing toward Nadia’s face, to see the widening of ocean-colored eyes as she strained to avoid a strike she’d thought me incapable of throwing. Then time caught up with itself, and my fist impacted right above the cheekbone, the blow resonating all the way up to my shoulder. Her head spun, just a shade faster than the rest of her, and the Stalwart staggered and fell.
I pressed my advantage, but Orca somehow turned her fall into a crouched, spinning leg sweep, the bone of her shin blasting into the meat of my calf. I watched my leg buckle—part of me noting that it was the same one I’d injured fighting Silt’s pet—but pain was distant and hollow, locked away like emotion itself. My weight shifted automatically to the other leg, and I brought my damaged knee forward and up, straight into the crouching Stalwart’s face.
Impossibly, she got one hand up fast enough to brush my knee aside. A breath later, her second hand struck like a spear to my extended thigh, staggering me again. She used the moment to break away, throwing herself backwards almost the full length of the pit.
When she rolled to her feet, she was smiling.
I almost lost my carefully crafted bubble of stillness then and there. Eight months of school, eight months of sparring, and that was the very first time Nadia had ever smiled at me.
It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.
She spat out a mouthful of blood, promptly killing the moment, but her pale eyes were sparkling, like ocean waves in the mid-day sun. Her voice vibrated with excitement.
“Finally!”
•—•—•
This time, Orca’s approach was measured, displaying none of her earlier recklessness. She circled slowly, testing my defenses with lightning-quick attacks, but I had little difficulty spinning with her and avoiding the blows. With my power flooding my body, banishing exhaustion and pain, Nadia had as much chance of wearing me down as I did Dominion. The small part of my mind that retained conscious thought was happy to declare a stalemate.
Which is when she finally went back on the attack.
I spun away from Orca’s punch as she danced forward, but my answering elbow found nothing but air. She had already ducked down to hammer her open palm into the side of my injured leg. The knee-cap popped grotesquely to one side, but I completed my spin anyway, driving my off-hand down towards Nadia’s face.
By the time that punch arrived, she was gone yet again, springing smoothly past me and back to her feet. Ligaments in my arm stretched and strained as I pulled it back into position at a speed no merely human body was built to support, but as fast as I was, the Stalwart was even faster. Long-fingered hands clasped onto my wrist and shoulder like steel manacles, stopping the motion dead. With a quiet grunt of effort, Orca rotated my arm and pulled.
I didn’t feel a thing, but the pop as my shoulder dislocated must have been audible even on the observation deck.
Orca threw three hammer-like blows to my midsection, but despite the sharp snaps that heralded cracked or broken ribs, I was still moving. I saw that realization enter Nadia’s lovely eyes as she again stepped smoothly away. Then, those same eyes darted from my misshapen leg to my dislocated shoulder and the arm that dangled limply at my side.
Her smile widened.
A smarter man would have seen that smile for the danger sign it was.
A less desperate man might have just tapped out then and there.
I moved forward, one leg unsteady beneath me, my only working arm raised.
And then Orca showed the first-years of Combat class exactly how to stop someone who doesn’t feel pain.
You take them apart. One limb at a time.
I almost wish she’d followed Alan’s months-old advice, and just decapitated me instead.
•—•—•
It was afternoon by the time Gladys let me leave the med ward. I was used to missing Control on sparring days, but for the second time in a month, I’d missed Perception too.
