Page 237 of Alchemised
“Like I said,” he said without turning, “elbows. Target the nose and eye sockets. Or go limp long enough that they get careless and let go of your wrists. Once you have a hand free, do whatever you want, liquefy their brain. Just don’t—squirm.”
She was following now.
She immediately sat up. “Noted.”
“Again.” He’d turned back and attacked her before she’d gotten her knives back.
When she left the Outpost, her whole body was aching. She paused on the bridge to heal the bruises so that she could walk normally before reaching a checkpoint.
She found a few books on hand-to-hand combat in the library and read them diligently. She reviewed all her notes about Kaine, their interactions, his words, his tells, the things he said and all the things he didn’t, trying to understand him. All the time she’d spent with Crowther, dissecting his behaviour, and yet she still had no idea what any of it meant. What could Kaine possibly want that could ever be worth this much risk? She didn’t see the ambition or hunger for power that Crowther and Ilva were so convinced he possessed, but she had no alternative explanation for his choices.
Everyone who’d returned to Headquarters for solstice had gone again, the heroes off to reclaim more of their city. There was no one to notice the strange hours Helena spent flitting between the hospital and the lab like a ghost.
Each time she went back to the Outpost, they continued with hand-to-hand combat, her armed and him empty-handed, as he demonstrated technique after technique for disabling and killing the Undying. She wished he’d stop.
“Is there any point in training you if you aren’t even paying attention?” he said, irritated at last after he’d disarmed her for the tenth time without effort.
Helena retrieved the wooden knife from the floor automatically. “I just don’t see the point, if I’m being honest. If I’m attacked by one of the Undying, I doubt I’ll survive it. If I do, I’ll probably be so badly injured there won’t be any point in it.”
He shifted his stance, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m tired,” she said, staring at the floor. “I’m tired of this war. I’m tired of trying to save people and watching them die anyway, or saving them only to watch them die later—in a worse way. It’s the same cycle, over and over. I don’t know how to get out, and I don’t know how to keep going, either.”
“I thought you’d do anything for Holdfast.” He was pacing the room.
“The price keeps getting higher,” she said quietly. “I don’t know if I can keep paying it.”
He stilled. “I suppose even martyrs have limits.”
She glanced up, glimpsing for a moment the intent way that he watched her when she wasn’t looking.
She wasn’t imagining it. It was there, just below the surface. There was a want in him that practically shone in his eyes. But he refused to give in. Whenever she tried to beckon, to tempt him across the line he’d drawn, his malice surfaced, vicious as a serrated blade.
He was always cruellest when he was vulnerable.
Lately he’d hardly been cruel at all, which told her everything about her chances now.
Perhaps if she’d been more dogged, she would have found a way to push through the pain, but he always seemed to know how to hurt her most.
She had to do this, though.
She drew a deep breath, shaking her head, trying to focus. “Just an off day,” she said. “I’m fine now.”
She retrieved her knife, and he lunged without warning. She sidestepped, using her free hand to try shoving him past her, but he easily evaded her. With lightning speed his hand caught her wrist. Her first knife dropped. She pulled out the second, managing to elbow him in the ribs, and wrench herself free.
She snatched the larger knife up off the ground as she got back into a defensive position, ready as he closed in again. He grabbed her by the arm when she stabbed at him, ripping the larger knife out of her grip again. She attempted to hook her foot behind his ankle, but he swept back and dodged, getting her arm twisted behind her back. He liked that trick, it was almost predictable, and his hold always just marginally loosened as his grip rotated.
She lunged, breaking free, experiencing a flash of triumph before realising he’d let her go.
Using the momentum of her escape, he spun her, caught her ankle with his boot, and slammed her to the floor. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and she lay gasping.
He knelt over her. “You’re still trying to win by being quick rather than clever. Use that brain of yours. Again.”
Helena was tiring, but she managed to last longer. She could tell she was getting the hang of it; starting to see the patterns, the openings, to begin spotting weaknesses and opportunities. She wasn’t fast enough to exploit them, but with time, she could get there.
She managed to knock him down twice, but he always evaded. He tried to pin her down, and she spun to the side, using his momentum. They fell, tumbling across the floor until he hit the wall, and she pinned him there. His left hand was wrapped around her throat, but she had a knife across his, and her other palm was pressed flat against his chest, her resonance humming through him.
She could feel his heartbeat as though it were cradled in her palm.
