Silence didn't come immediately. At first, there was just ringing in his ears. High, continuous, as if a bell was striking somewhere inside his skull. Then heavy, wet breathing that just wouldn't even out. Then scraping. Chitin rubbed against stone, crumbs crumbled, and somewhere behind him, the second shadow was already turning, preparing to flee or attack.
The centipede was still thrashing in the passage. Its body was wedged between the rocks, but it didn't give up. Segments shifted, legs scratched the ground, kicking up fountains of dirt and debris. Its head thrashed from side to side, mandibles clicking, and in every click there was rage.
-I'll take its attention, - Arktia said, and in her voice appeared something he hadn't heard before. - Wait for the right moment and finish it.
Verd nodded. He couldn't speak. His throat was dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he just watched as she moved forward.
She didn't run - she walked, smoothly and silently. Verd watched her, and time flowed differently. Each second stretched, turning into an endless ribbon on which details were strung. How her fingers clenched into fists. How her shoulders dropped, becoming lower, as if she was preparing to leap.
The centipede jerked. Its head shot toward Arktia, mandibles opened, and Verd saw something dark, wet, alive moving inside them. A meter from her face.
She sidestepped. He didn't see how she moved. Didn't see how her hand slipped from her pocket. Didn't see how the blade appeared in her palm. He only saw the result. A silver flash. And one of the centipede's mandibles separated from its body.
Blood gushed onto the stones. Black, thick, it filled the cracks, pooled in puddles, smelled of iron and rot. The creature thrashed, screamed, and whipped its tail. Stones flew in all directions, dust rose to the sky, but Arktia was already on the other side.
Another flash, and the creature lost several legs.
Verd watched, and images flashed through his mind. How she moved. How she dodged attacks. How her blade entered exactly into the joint, where the chitin was thinner, where blue veins pulsed. How she stepped back exactly one step so the creature couldn't reach her.
'No way' - he realized. - 'She's showing me where I should strike.'
Soon Arktia stopped delivering blows, and Verd was finally convinced.
'Joints' - he thought. - 'She always strikes the joints. Not the head, not the body. The joints. Because that's where the weak point is, because that's where the creature is vulnerable.'
The centipede twisted, trying to reach her, but couldn't. It was too slow. Too heavy. And on top of all that, wedged between the rocks. And Arktia moved like water. Not a single unnecessary movement, not a single hesitation, not a single mistake. She didn't look at the mandibles clicking near her face. Didn't look at the legs scratching the ground a centimeter from her feet. She looked at the joints. Only at the joints.
'I'm already tired of circling around this creature...' - yawning, Arktia thought. - 'However, it seems he understood everything and started analyzing. I thought he'd develop much worse. Looks like everything will be much simpler.'
The centipede was weakening. Its movements became slower, more chaotic. Its head thrashed from side to side, but its strikes became weaker, shorter, more meaningless. It no longer tried to reach Arktia - it just thrashed in agony, crushing rocks, raising dust.
Verd stood, gripping his spear, and watched. Every strike of Arktia's was perfect - short, precise, deadly. She didn't waste energy on what wasn't needed. Didn't hack, didn't slash. She just found a joint, entered the blade exactly into the gap, and a leg separated from the body. Again. And again. And again.
He shifted his gaze to the creature's head. It thrashed against the rocks, mandibles clicking, but no longer aiming. Its eyes - black, empty - stared into nothing. Its neck was exposed. There, where the chitin didn't fit tightly, leaving a gap.
'There. I need to strike there.'
He didn't know how much time had passed. A minute? Two? Ten? Time stretched, turned into a viscous, sticky ribbon on which details were strung. A drop of blood that broke free from a mandible and fell on a stone, leaving a dark stain. A speck of dust that swirled in a ray of light breaking through the rocks.
Arktia stepped back. Her blade disappeared into her ring, her hands empty again. She stood three steps from the creature's head, not even out of breath, not even fixing her hair. As if she hadn't been fighting a minute ago, as if she hadn't been severing the legs of a monster twenty times her size.
Waiting for the moment when the monster's head got stuck in the rock for a second, Verd lunged at it. The ground flew from under his feet. Stones slipped, debris crumbled, but he didn't think about that. Didn't think about falling. Didn't think about the creature jerking. He just ran, feeling the wind whistling in his ears, the spear pulsing in his hand, his heart pounding somewhere in his chest. The world narrowed to one point. To the centipede's neck. To the gap between segments. To where the blue veins pulsed.
He jumped.
Not onto the ground - onto the centipede. His feet hit the chitin, slipped on the blood, but he held on. He saw every detail. The entire length of the monster separating him from its neck. Gathering his strength, he ran along the monster as if on a tightrope, trying to balance so he wouldn't fall.
When the monster finally managed to free itself and turn its head, Verd was already close and, mid-jump, barely managed to hit the gap. The blade entered the soft flesh between segments. The resistance was strong, so the spear didn't go deep.
The creature howled even louder and began to thrash, throwing the boy off. At first he didn't understand anything, but in the next second he felt weightlessness and how fast he was falling downward.
The still-conscious centipede noticed Verd and, shifting its attention, lunged at him.
He was falling, and time stretched again. Each second turned into an eternity on which details he hadn't noticed before were strung. Cracks on the stones that were approaching. Dust swirling in a ray of light. His own fingers, still gripping the spear, though he could no longer feel them.
'I won't dodge!' - he thought when the mandibles were a meter away from him.
And at that moment, a shadow flashed past.
Not his shadow. Not the centipede's shadow. Something fast, elusive, it swept past from the side, and he heard a ring - short, sharp, silver. Arktia's blade met the chitin, and the impact wasn't strong, wasn't deadly - just a push. Enough to make the centipede's head jerk to the side. Enough for the mandibles, already open to grab him, to pass a centimeter from his body.
Verd felt the air shift. Felt the mandibles click right next to his ear, blasting him with hot, stinking breath. Felt her body rush past, barely missing his shoulder. He fell. His shoulder hit the ground, and he rolled across the ground, quickly getting to his feet.
The centipede swept past. Its body arched, trying to turn around, but inertia was too great. It shot past, leaving a deep furrow behind, and only stopped after ten meters.
Verd stood, breathing heavily. His side burned, his shoulder ached, his mouth tasted of blood. But he was standing.
'Damn...' - he thought with frustration. - 'If not for Arktia, I'd be dead right now.'
Arktia stood beside him. Verd had already exhaled and relaxed, thinking it was over, when suddenly she hit him on the head.
-Idiot! What were you thinking?!
-Why are you hitting me?! - Verd shouted in surprise, rubbing the back of his head.
-You jumped, - she repeated. - Without thinking. Without calculating.
Verd opened his mouth to object, but the words stuck in his throat. Because she was right. He jumped. He saw an opening and jumped. Without thinking about what would happen if he missed. Without thinking about what would happen if the creature jerked. Without thinking about what would happen if he didn't make it.
-I was showing you strike after strike, - Arktia said. - I was severing its legs so it couldn't move. So it couldn't run away. So it couldn't attack. I was making it helpless.
She stepped closer, ignoring personal space.
-You should have done the same thing! But you jumped. You saw a gap and jumped, without thinking about what would happen if you missed. Without thinking about what would happen if it jerked.
'She's right... if she hadn't made it...'
She paused, and then added:
-It almost killed you, idiot, - Arktia said. - Not because you're weak. Not because it's strong. Because you didn't think. Because you saw an opening and decided that was it. That you could just take it and win.
'I get it already' - Verd thought nervously from the insults.
-A fight is not one strike, - she said. - It's a sequence. Step by step. Strike by strike. You can't win with one move. You can only prepare, weaken, corner. And only then finish it.
She pointed at the centipede, which was still circling ten meters away, trying to turn around. Its movements were slow, heavy, clumsy. Blood still flowed from the wound on its neck, and the pulsation of the blue veins on its sides was weak, uneven.
-Look at it, - Arktia said. - It's wounded. It's weakened. It can't run. Can't attack. It's just spinning in place because it doesn't know what to do. You made it that way. You struck, you weakened. And now it's yours.
Verd looked at the centipede. At its body, which rolled heavily from side to side. At its legs, which scratched the ground but couldn't find purchase. At its head, which thrashed from side to side but couldn't figure out where the enemy was.
-Just don't forget one rule for the future.
-What? - he asked.
-Better slow but sure. Than fast but thoughtless. - She looked at him, and there was no doubt in her eyes. - One strike can decide everything. But only if it's prepared. If you prepared it. If you made it so the enemy can neither run nor defend. Then strike. Not before.
Verd was silent, and then, as usual, asked another question:
-What if the moment passes? - he asked.
-There will be another. - She smiled slightly. With the corner of her lips, barely noticeable. - There's always another. Of course, if you're alive.
After a while, Verd stepped forward. Not running. Not jumping. Just walking. Calmly, measuredly, checking each step before shifting his weight.
The centipede noticed him. Its head turned, mandibles opened, legs scratched the ground, trying to turn around. However, it couldn't manage anything.
He approached from the side.
The centipede jerked, trying to reach him, but couldn't. Its body wouldn't obey. Legs slipped across the ground, head thrashed, but it couldn't even turn around.
'I didn't even believe it would be so easy' - he thought happily. - 'Of course, if not for Arktia...'
Verd carefully pulled out his spear and aimed at the neck. The blade entered the joint. Deeply, without resistance. The centipede froze for a second, as if it didn't understand what had happened. Then its body arched into a curve, and it collapsed to the ground.
Verd stood over the carcass, breathing heavily. His side burned, his shoulder ached, his mouth tasted of blood. But he was standing.
He turned his head. Arktia stood in the same place, hands in her pockets, face calm.
-Good, - she said.
Verd wanted to smile. But instead he just exhaled and sat down on a stone. The sun was setting. The sky in the west burned red, and in that light, the field seemed drenched in blood. The centipede carcasses lay on the ground, huge, dead, and from them came the smell of iron and rot. Somewhere in the distance, birds cried out. Arktia approached and sat down beside him. Silently. Didn't say anything. Just sat.
-By the way, what about the second monster? - Verd asked.
Arktia reached out her hand and handed him a piece of roasted meat on a stick.
-Forget about it, it's already gone. You can rest for the rest of the day.