by A. W. Exley
The girls all jostled to find the best positions amongst the boys, who already congregated along the railing. Eloise pulled her along to one end of the court where there was slightly more room, while Allie took in the action.
The net was made of thin rods of metal woven into a tight grid pattern. The players held metal-strung rackets with insulated handles as they took aim at a shuttlecock made of spun bronze. The projectile pulsated under the intense sun pouring through the glass ceiling. A high pitched ‘zing’ noise emitted as the shuttlecock flew back and forth.
There were four players, two at each end. Stripped to the waist, the young men played in only breeches and boots. Allie now understood why the girls escaped from their chaperones and practically rampaged to watch the game. All four players were covered in a light sheen of sweat, which only served to highlight the movement of the tight muscles under their skin. They stretched and reached to hit the small flying projectile as they danced from foot to foot on the court.
Allie immediately recognised Jared as one of the players, even with his back to her. His blue-black flop of hair was distinctive, and he displayed the same grace in the game that he did while holding a weapon. He defended his end of the court with his affable cousin, Duncan.
Eloise explained the alterations to the game. “Zeb came up with the improvements to the game. They used to play with an ordinary shuttlecock but the boys are too rough. They were going through so many in each game, it became impractical. Plus they thought it was too tame.”
She started gesturing excitedly as she spoke of Zeb’s work. She was his loudest and most vocal advocate. “The shuttlecock contains some sort of coil that builds up electricity as they play. If it strikes you, it earths out and gives the player an electric shock. If you miss a shot and it falls to the ground near you, it still earths out and gives you a shock through your feet.”
“Ingenious,” Allie had to admit. It certainly increased the tension for the players and spectators alike. Boys and girls were crammed around the railing, jockeying for a better view of the court and the action.
As Allie and Eloise talked, Duncan gave a hard smash to the shuttlecock. He sent it hurtling into one of their opponents, who failed to either return the blow or duck in time. The lad gave a cry of pain as the metal impacted his bare skin and there was a blue flash as it discharged its payload through his torso. Allie winced in sympathetic pain as a roar of approval went up from the watching crowd.
“Bloodthirsty lot,” Allie commented, noticing the large red welt which developed in seconds on the unfortunate player.
“You should see them when it gets twisted. If it rotates in flight the metal feathers get embedded in their skin as well as delivering a shock.” Eloise said. Allie thought she sounded disappointed blood wasn’t drawn more often.
Allie shook her head at the male ingenuity for turning a harmless game into a blood sport. “What does the school think of its precious students trying to electrocute each other?”
“It’s a low charge, no one is likely to get killed.” Eloise paused. “Well at least no one has yet.” She did wear a slight frown as she considered the possibility.
Allie scanned the faces of the massed students and spotted Madeline level with Jared. Her hungry eyes followed his half-naked form and the well-defined muscles on display. Duncan wasn’t short of admirers either. Allie noted several girls swooning over on his side of the court as he flexed his biceps for them while waiting for the opposition to serve.
The serve came and another volley commenced, each hit of the metal rackets making the shuttlecock zing with a slightly higher pitch. This time Duncan leapt for a slam and missed and it hit the ground near his feet. He leapt back into the air but not quick enough to escape the discharge. It shot liquid blue fire along the ground, licked at one boot and deadened the sensation in his extremity. He gave a Gaelic exclamation and stomped his foot to regain the feeling. He reached down and picked up the dangerous object as though expecting it to bite him a second time. He tossed it toward Jared, for him to serve.
Jared caught it one handed, turning as he did and catching sight of Allie behind him. He did a quick double take before returning his attention to the game at hand. Allie watched, fascinated as she saw the muscles in his back rotate when he swung his right arm as he tossed the shuttlecock, to send it plunging over the net.
“It’s like a living anatomy lesson isn’t it?” Eloise whispered from beside her, her voice alive with excitement. “Trapezius, to Deltoid—” she rattled off the names of the various muscles and tendons.
Allie’s brain paused, watching the intensely fought game and the movement of muscles under skin. The suspense grew the longer a volley lasted, as it meant the shuttlecock was building a larger charge. The penalty for the ill-fated player who missed substantially increased.
With a powerful slam, Jared sent the shuttlecock plunging into his opposite number. It came in too fast and too close for the boy to react and it slammed him full in the chest. He cried out and reeled backwards as the blue sparks sizzled over his upper body. A tremendous roar went up from the gathered students and the umpire declared that the match belonged to the McLarens.
Duncan and Jared slapped each other on the back in congratulations and Duncan gave a bow to his gallery of female admirers. Jared strode to where Madeline leaned. She picked up his clothing from the railing and tossed it to him. Using the shirt, he briskly wiped some of the sweat off his torso before shrugging the waistcoat over his bare shoulders. He balled the shirt up in one hand and Madeline leaned over the railing to give him a victory kiss, much to the approval of her watching friends.
Jared pulled away as an orange tide flowed into the room and encircled the young women and cut them off from the youths.
“Come on.” Allie turned. The sight of the embrace made her stomach uneasy. She tugged on Eloise’s arm. “The game’s over, let’s go prod your frogs or something.”
Tuesday, 26th July.
nother early start and Allie trod the halls to the gymnasium. She found Jared sparring with Duncan under the watchful eye of Marshall. She knew she would fight Duncan today, but suffered a moment of self-doubt on seeing how much bigger and broader he was than Jared. When she stopped to watch and analyse his movement, she soon saw how his bulk resulted in him moving slower. She started to calculate how that would give her an edge in their upcoming match. The cousins’ bout concluded with Jared victorious and Marshall waved her over.
“Duncan, this is Allie Donovan. Allie, this is my cousin, Duncan McLaren.” Jared introduced them as though they were at a social gathering, instead of about to fight one another.
Allie removed her jacket, revealing the slender fitting outfit she wore underneath for sparring.
Duncan’s jaw hit the floor. “You said I was sparring with a new student. You never mentioned it was a girl,” he said.
“Well spotted,” Allie said as she stretched her arms up over her head, a move that only accentuated her figure.
“I don’t fight girls.” He frowned, his remark directed to his cousin.
“So do you just let girls beat you up, then?” Allie arched an eyebrow.
Duncan looked confused. His head swung from Jared to Marshall and back again. He appeared to be waiting for an explanation, though none was forthcoming. Both Jared and Marshall were trying to contain their growing mirth, and not doing a very good job of it.
Jared handed Duncan a dagger and slapped him on the back. “I’d think fast if I was you, she’s quick.” He handed the other dagger to Allie and moved back, next to Marshall.
Duncan didn’t heed Jared’s advice and while he stared at Allie, the dagger and then back to his cousin, Allie took the opening advantage. Duncan found himself on the mat, Allie’s knee on his chest and her dagger at his throat while he still tried to protest to Marshall that she was a girl.
“Hey!” he exclaimed from his prone position. “How did she do that?”
Jared and Marshall laughed openly as rea
lisation slowly dawned on Duncan.
“Are you sure he’s your cousin?” Allie asked, looking up at the grinning Jared. “He doesn’t seem as quick on the uptake.” She stood, removing the pressure of knee and dagger and allowed Duncan to right himself.
He sprung to his feet and eyed her with open curiosity. “Yeah, he may have got the brains but I got all the looks,” Duncan explained, shaking himself loose before lunging at her.
She dodged under his blow and kicked out her feet. She swept his legs out from under him, sending him back to the mat with a thud.
“You seem to like it down there,” she observed while looking down on him, a smile on her lips and dancing in her eyes.
“You could come join me?” he quipped, patting the mat next to him in an inviting manner.
Jared stopped grinning and narrowed his eyes as he watched the two verbally spar as they fought physically. He stood poised on the balls of his feet, as though ready to join the fray if Allie got into trouble. Although minute-by-minute, she proved she was more than capable of looking after herself and could dispatch the McLaren cousins.
“Again,” Marshall barked when there was too much chatter and not enough action.
Duncan soon got over the fact Allie was a girl and the more she sent him down to the mat the more determined he became to better her. He never quite achieved it. Allie learned from the previous day with Jared and knew despite her guild training, she couldn’t sustain long bouts with Duncan, so the quicker she took him down the better.
Eventually Marshall was satisfied for the morning. “Enough,” he called. “Well done, we’ll concentrate on hand to hand for the next few weeks. I suspect Allie needs more experience without a blade in her hand.”
“Ha!” Duncan exclaimed. “I’m bigger than you, I’m so taking you down.” His good humour and grin were infectious.
Allie smiled and punched him in the arm. “We’ll see. I reckon you’ll still fall like a tree. You’re awfully fond of that mat.”
Allie enjoyed the verbal banter with Duncan just as much as expending the physical energy. He was far more open than his guarded cousin. Her muscles ached, but she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. Under Marshall’s watchful eye, she had found a place where she could be herself.
Perhaps I’ll survive this year after all.
Late that afternoon Allie trailed the other students from History, the last class for the day. They gathered in the hall, gossiping and blocking the path, in no hurry to go anywhere. The matrons ensured the girls did not linger too long in their snatched conversations with the boys.
Sidestepping a group, she saw Eloise slip from the door of her class. Her friend raised her hand and gave a cheery wave, threading her way through the assembled bodies.
Passing behind Madeline, she stopped to greet Allie. “All done for the day?”
“Not if you count the assignments that have to be completed by tomorrow.” She let out a sigh; she’d rather go ride. Who cared if she made it through this year anyway?
On hearing Allie’s voice, Madeline flicked her gaze around.
“I don’t like the stench in the corridor, let’s go outside.” She took a step forward and stopped, her forward momentum halted by the weight standing on the fashionable short train of her skirt. Turning, she hissed at Eloise.
Eloise looked at the source of the noise and then looked down. She stepped off the skirt and flashed a smile at Madeline. “Oh, I am so terribly sorry! I’ve been quite tired lately, silly old me.”
“You’re a bumbling imbecile.” Madeline shook out her train, trying to dislodge the footprint crushed in the velvet.
“Allie coming and going at all hours keeps interrupting my sleep,” Eloise continued as the other girl’s insult sailed over her head and thudded against the wall. “She and Jared are scampering all over the place. I imagine Jared likes having a girl around who shares his more active interests.”
Madeline froze and her eyes narrowed. Fixing Eloise under her gaze, she ground her jaw loud enough for Allie to hear the crunch of enamel. A cold gaze swept over Allie.
“Keep away from me. Both of you.” Grabbing the long skirts in one hand, she spun and headed down the corridor so fast, her friends were forced to skip to keep apace.
Allie waited until the girls rounded the corner. “You did that on purpose.”
“Oh yes.” Eloise beamed at her. “I have discovered I don’t need my electrodes to give someone a brain twitch. I am testing a hypothesis that the more I needle Madeline, the more irate she will get at you.”
Allie stared at her friend. “Thanks. Why exactly am I your friend again?”
Eloise tossed her strawberry blonde curls; her hazel eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “Because your alternative was being on the wrong side of my hidden, but so very evil, intellect.”
Allie swung her books onto her hip and grabbed Eloise’s hand. “Yip, that was it.”
Friday, 29th July.
ays fell into a rhythm. Allie stuck to the back of the classroom and avoided the other students. As her second week ended, she gave a deep sigh at surviving thanks in no small part to her friendship with Eloise. Academic classes finished early and she headed to the library, where her grandfather dropped an unpleasant announcement upon her.
“No, Poppa. I will not.” Allie planted her feet. Blindsided, she chose to root herself to the spot in front of his desk. She imagined herself a mighty oak, immovable and unyielding. Weasel rose up on its hind legs, reacting to her tone and giving a low hiss.
Alfred looked up from his papers at the stubbornness in her tone and stance. He regarded her from over the top of his glasses. His bushy grey eyebrows left little room for his field of sight, edging his vision as though he permanently stared through foliage.
“I assure you, Allie, I am deadly serious about this.”
“You cannot force me to go. It would be inhumane.” She kept her voice neutral, while she raged at him internally. There’s no way I’m serving myself up for their entertainment. You just try budging me from this spot.
The older Donovan flicked his papers down to the desk. “Well such is the brutality of my regime, you shall be going.”
Allie leaned forward and placed both her hands on the desk. She stared down her grandfather, while her eyes pleaded for him to understand her fragile position. “You don’t know what it’s like for me. I will go to the academic classes, I will sit up the back and do my best, just… please… do not make me do this. Not in front of them all. They will be watching, waiting for me to fail.”
He picked up his papers again and merely glanced at her. “It’s part of the curriculum and you will attend. Plus it will stand you in good stead in the future.”
“I will not go.” She folded her arms across her chest in defiance, the ancient oak firm against the force of the storm.
“Allie,” he sighed. “I am on the faculty, you have to attend, otherwise it will reflect badly on me.”
That’s a dirty card to play.
Eloise bowled up the library’s central aisle but faltered and rocked back on her heels when she saw the standoff between Allie and her grandfather.
Weasel remained unsure where the threat was coming from, so it pressed its body against Allie, the sliver thin tail waving back and forth.
Allie turned to her friend, like a drowning person bobbing in the ocean, expecting the rescue boat to throw a life preserver. “Eloise, kindly explain to my grandfather that he cannot inflict this torture upon me.”
Eloise looked unsure of what she had walked into. “Torture?” Her eyebrows shot up. “What on earth are you being forced to do?” She glanced from Allie to Alfred and back again, waiting with baited breath to hear of the impending horror.
Allie threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “Poppa expects me to attend dance classes—”
Eloise burst into laughter of relief. “Is that all?”
Allie shot daggers at Eloise. Rather than throwing a lifeline, she seemed content
to watch her drown. “Some friend you turned out to be.”
“Yes,” Allie’s grandfather said. “I am insisting she attends dance class, like every other student does on a Friday afternoon. Such is the horror of my dictatorship.”
Eloise looped her arm through Allie’s. “Don’t worry, sir, I’ll make sure she gets there.” She gave Donovan senior her sweetest smile as she spun Allie back around toward the doorway. The oak felled and hauled away to be chopped into firewood.
“See Allie, your friend will happily waltz you to your impending doom,” he called. With the matter resolved, he turned his attention back to the papers scattered over his desk, leaving Eloise to drag a reluctant Allie from the library.
Weasel trotted to the doors before seating itself, unwilling to venture beyond the confines of the library. It gave a lone cry, before scampering under the stacks.
“Why are you so keen on dance class anyway?” Allie resigned herself to the oncoming humiliation but she was suspicious of Eloise’s motives.
“Because I get to dance with Zeb,” Eloise sighed. As they walked, Eloise kept her arm firmly locked through Allie’s, in case her friend decided to turn tail and run.
“Is he a good dancer?” Allie asked.
“Oh no, terrible actually.” A slight worried tone crept into Eloise’s voice. “He always ends up treading on my feet.”
She gave Eloise a bemused look. “Then I’m lost, what is the attraction of dancing with him?”
“Because he has to hold me,” Eloise breathed with a wistful air.
“Oh.” Allie comprehended the entire situation in those six little words. “Does Zeb feel the same way?”
Eloise turned a troubled brow to Allie. “No, if he thinks of me at all, he thinks of me as a chum and occasional Alchemy partner. But, just like you, he is forced to endure dance class. So for one hour once a week for the last three years, he holds me and talks to me. And maybe one day, he will realise I have always been his constant partner.”