Linua’s training took over and she instinctively dropped to the carpet, rolled sideways and came up with just enough distance between herself and the intruder to use a front push kick. The intruder was taller than her, and she had an impression of bulk, although it was hard to tell if that was just clothing or whether they actually had a lot of mass. She wanted to keep them at a distance if possible—the library wasn’t a small room, but it wasn’t a big room either. None of these were consciously planned thoughts. It was a matter of instinct and muscle memory, drilled into her after eight years of wushu training.

The kick connected with a satisfying thud right in the intruder’s chest, and there was a grunt. It was a man. She danced back a little to keep herself out of his reach. He came towards her again and she went for another kick, a roundhouse this time.

This time, however, he was ready, and he managed to catch hold of her ankle, trapping it between his arm and his side. She kicked herself out of the hold and moved around him again.

Okay. He had some wushu training.

In most fight scenes she had read in books, where it involved a smaller combatant facing a bigger, stronger enemy, the smaller one would run around the bigger one letting him exhaust himself before moving in to finish him off.

That wouldn’t work here. Linua didn’t have unlimited room to move around in, and the longer the fight went on the more chance he would have to use his greater reach and strength to overcome her. She needed to be very fast and very aggressive. She imagined her rivers of Qi as small mountain streams—small, quick and always coiling unexpectedly in new directions.

He was already crowding into her again, trying to get her to back up against one of the bookshelves where she would be more vulnerable. She dodged forwards and to the side, far enough inside his range that she was too close for him to hit her effectively, and jabbed him, getting a solid hit on his jaw.

She hadn’t called for Helged or Grandmother because she was afraid that, if she did, he might attack them instead. She needed him to be unconscious or running away.

He made a wordless snarl of frustration and jabbed at her. She ducked and struck his side, dancing sideways and out of his range again. This time he came at her in a rush, striking straight at her face, which she realised too late was a feint. His fist hammered into her ribs, hard enough to make her feel winded and panicky.

But he’d overreached. His attack had left his side open to her, and she had already struck him another couple of times before she even consciously realised he had given her an opportunity.

As she attacked, he tried to grapple her but she managed to recover in time. She circled around—she had to keep him at a distance, because if he landed a punch that heavy in the wrong place he might knock her out. This time she went for another kick, trying to use the length of her legs to offset the length of his arms, negating one of the key advantages he had against her.

Whatever fighting style he was using had well-practiced defences against kicks, however, and he managed to grab her leg again, this time using his leverage to throw her to the floor. She broke her fall, exhaling just before she hit the ground to prevent herself becoming winded. The floor was the last place she wanted be, but he was already diving towards her, going for a choke hold.

She locked her legs into a butterfly guard just in time, then managed to use the leverage that gave her to sweep him over onto his back.

He rolled onto his hands and knees in a turtle pose, so she immediately slithered onto his back and applied a rear choke hold. He bucked against her and they fell sideways, but she kept her legs locked around his.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Now what? They’d never practiced what you were supposed to do after you’d won a fight. She couldn’t let him go but it was taking everything she had to hold him.

She didn’t want to do anything that would risk killing him, even accidentally, she just wanted to make him go away. He wrestled against her grip. He was strong enough that she couldn’t let up her hold on him, even for a moment. She tightened the choke, desperately trying to think, then realised he was making choking noises.

She released him, alarmed, and slithered backwards, but he just lay crumpled on the carpet, wheezing. He was still alive.

She staggered to her feet, and realised she was breathing heavily and that her ribs ached where he had hit her. She went to the light switch.

The man didn’t look as big as he had in the dark. He wore black tracksuit bottoms and a black hoodie. He had creepy-looking black and green face paint on, in swirling camouflage patterns that served both to break up his features and disguise them. She didn’t think she had ever seen him before.

Police. She needed to call the police.

She ran out into the hallway and dialled. Should she have tied him up first? She remembered how, last year, the members of the Astronomy Club had tied up their opponent with electrical cables. But it was too late now, the operator was asking her which service she wanted.

“Linua?”

Oh Nimras, Grandmother was awake, and standing on the landing in her nightie, looking uncertain.

“Police,” Linua said to the operator.

“I heard something, what are you doing?” Grandmother called.

Linua gestured at Grandmother to stay where she was, but then she was through to the emergency dispatcher.

“Someone broke into our house,” she said rapidly into the phone. Grandmother was coming down the stairs, holding onto the bannisters. Linua turned to her. “Grandmother stay there,” she ordered, “he’s still in the library.”

Then she was giving the address of the house to the dispatcher. When she had done that, she saw with irritation that Grandmother hadn’t obeyed instructions and was now standing in the hallway looking bewildered.

“Grandmother, don’t come any closer! He’s unconscious now—I mean, he was a minute ago—but he might wake up at any moment.” Still holding the phone, Linua lunged to the library door and put her hand on it to prevent Grandmother going through. Maybe she should have tried to tie the intruder up first.

Meanwhile, the dispatcher was asking questions.

“Ma’am, officers are on their way. Are you injured? Are you in a safe place right now? Is there somewhere safe you can barricade yourself?”

“We’re okay for the moment,” Linua said. There was a thump from the library and Grandmother gasped and started back. “He’s moving.”

“Ma’am, is there anywhere you can get to right now that would be safe?”

“We’re okay where we are,” Linua said into the phone. “Grandmother, go to the bathroom and lock yourself in.”

“But what about you?” Grandmother said. She looked around wildly and grabbed a vase from a side table.

Really? Linua held up a finger and strained her ears at the library door. She couldn’t hear anything.

“Grandmother, take the phone.”

Grandmother took it automatically, and stood there with the handset in one hand and the vase in the other. Linua mimed putting the handset to her ear.

“Talk to the dispatcher. I’m going to check the library.”

“Linua, don’t!”

Ignoring Grandmother’s protestations, Linua pushed the door gently, letting it swing all the way open. There was no sign of the intruder on the floor, although the pot plant had been knocked off the computer desk, and the window to the library was open.

“He’s gone,” Linua reported. She sidled into the room and checked behind the door to be sure, but the room was empty, and with the light on there was nowhere for him to hide. The curtains were moving in the slight breeze, and it was clear there was no-one lurking behind them.

Grandmother repeated this into the phone, but ended by saying peevishly; “But what happens if he comes back? How long will it take for your men to get here?”

Linua went over to the desk and stared thoughtfully at the computer. What had the intruder been looking for? He would have been able to log in easily enough, since Grandmother kept all her passwords in a little black book in the top drawer of the desk. In the distance Linua heard the growl of a motorbike as it started up and then faded away.

She went back to Grandmother, who was clutching the vase with one hand and arguing with the dispatcher with the other. Linua sighed, gently detached the vase from Grandmother’s grasp and placed it back on its side table.

“He’s really gone now.”