Swept Away: An Epic Fantasy (The Last Elentrice Book 3)

by S McPherson

  Flushed, Yvane pushes her hair behind her ears. ‘Trevor had a breakthrough.’

  Mops smirks and eyes her friend. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘What brings you here, Mops?’ Trevor asks, already sounding bored.

  ‘I thought you’d like to know Victoria has just beaten Howard in xyen-to-xyen and hand-to-hand combat.’

  Yvane snaps her head in Mops’s direction, forgetting all her earlier embarrassment, though it hadn’t been the embarrassment of being in Trevor’s arms but more how much she’d liked it.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she shrieks. ‘In Fuerté form?’

  Mops nods. ‘Yep. It was brilliant.’

  Trevor laughs, seeming to forgive Mops’s intrusion. ‘How annoyed is Howard, on a scale?’

  ‘A bajilion,’ Mops cackles and Trevor and Yvane follow her as she leaves the room. Yvane glances back over her shoulder as Trevor stops to retrieve his cane. She considers saying something but has no idea what to say. Instead, she smiles to herself and hurries after Mops.

  The Court is alive with gossip, Coltis and Corporeal alike, all delighted that Victoria, a mere Corporeal recruit, somehow managed to beat Howard: the self-proclaimed best Fuerté around. Lexovia grins when she hears the news. Howard must be livid. She skips into the garden where the battle took place, eager to witness the aftermath. A large crowd is around Victoria as she doubles to Fuerté form and then effortlessly reverts back. She dazzles them with the tricks of her xyen and demonstrates the winning blow she delivered to Howard. Howard is propped against the wall, his arms folded tightly across his heaving chest. His xyen is on the ground at his feet and he glugs angrily from a chalice. Lexovia guesses that whatever’s in it is something stronger than Prifitrot juice.

  She manoeuvres round the gathered crowd and waves with a consoling smile at Howard. He shifts, relaxing his arms but his jaw is still tense and his eyes brooding.

  ‘So it’s true.’ Lexovia leans against the wall beside him. ‘I never thought I’d see the day.’

  ‘She got lucky,’ he grumbles.

  Lexovia considers saying nothing—it’s not right to kick a man when he’s down—but unable to resist, she asks, ‘Did the sun get in your eyes?’ and snickers, almost toppling over when Howard shoves her.

  ‘Try not to enjoy this so much.’

  Lexovia cackles, ‘I’m trying.’

  Her laughter halts when Victoria wanders over and extends a hand to Howard. His arms immediately fold over his chest once more.

  Victoria raises an eyebrow. ‘Sore loser?’

  Lexovia steps aside, sensing a round two in the offing. Howard seems to wrestle with an inner demon. His eyes twitch and his tongue churns around his mouth. Eventually, his arms drop to his sides but his fists remain clenched.

  ‘I was holding back,’ he snarls.

  Victoria’s lips draw into a sneer and she takes a menacing step towards Howard, almost eye level with him. ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘If we were to fight again, trust me, you wouldn’t get so lucky.’ He squares his shoulders, taking a step towards her. Lexovia struggles to decide if they are about to maim each other or fall into a passionate embrace.

  ‘You just can’t accept that someone might be better than you, can you?’ Victoria’s tone is icy, to match her glare.

  ‘I’d accept it, if it were true,’ he hisses through gritted teeth.

  ‘Lexovia!’

  Turning to the sound of her name, Lexovia sees Mops and Yvane waving to her from the steps up to the entrance. Grateful for the get-out, she rushes to join them.

  ‘What’s going on over there?’ asks Mops, eyeing the pair with unveiled curiosity.

  ‘I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to.’

  Mops chortles. ‘Speaking of which, Yvane also has some explaining of the inexplicable to do,’ and she smacks Yvane good-naturedly on the shoulder.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Yvane asks but avoids Mops’s taunting stare, and it’s clear she knows exactly what Mops is referring to. Lexovia is immediately intrigued. It feels nice to have something other than battle, death and war to think about. To feel ordinary, no matter how fleeting it might be.

  ‘Yvane?’ she urges.

  Yvane squirms. ‘I don’t know what she’s talking about.’

  ‘Do you want me to say his name?’ Mops teases.

  Ruffled, Yvane slumps onto the steps, and Mops and Lexovia sit beside her.

  ‘I don’t know what it was, all right?’ she says at last. ‘I was training Trevor. He seemed to have a breakthrough and then…’

  ‘Then somehow his hands were all over you,’ Mops giggles.

  ‘Not all over me,’ and Yvane buries her face in her knees.

  Lexovia nudges her playfully. ‘Trevor, huh?’

  ‘My ears are burning,’ purrs a voice from behind them: Trevor.

  Yvane cringes and audibly moans, but Trevor grins, seeming to revel in the moment.

  ‘Yvane tells us you had a breakthrough today,’ Lexovia offers despite it being obvious that that wasn’t what they were discussing.

  Trevor simply nods, a smile still playing around his lips. ‘I see sounds…in a way,’ he explains. ‘Everything’s dark, utter darkness, but I sort of see flashes of what I suppose are colours, outlines of things,’ and his eyes settle on Yvane, ‘particularly when they sing.’

  Yvane springs up, as if she’s been stung. ‘Shall we go see how the Spee’ads are doing?’

  Lexovia stands. Her eyes pass briefly between Yvane and Trevor but neither give anything away. ‘That’s great news Trevor,’ and she adds with a smirk, ‘you and Yvane will have to put in extra hours now that you’ve unlocked your potential.’

  ‘Unlock your potential. Change the world.’ Mops snickers as she also stands.

  ‘Spee’ads,’ Yvane urges. ‘Let’s go see the Spee’ads.’

  ‘Let’s,’ Trevor agrees.

  Lexovia doesn’t miss Yvane’s grimace as he follows after them. The four drift through the gardens, past a howling crowd. Howard and Victoria at its core, pummelling each other once more. Shaking her head, Lexovia continues through the iron gate surprised to discover a crowd there too. A throng of people stand around as Spee’ads and Spee’ad-recruits line up beside one another, as if preparing for a race.

  Sakiya emerges from the crowd, Trig in tow. She’s buzzing and possibly the happiest Lexovia has ever seen her.

  ‘Place your bets,’ she hoots and waggles her fingers at them, a small pouch in her other hand jingling with the sound of shocklas. ‘New recruits versus regular Coltis. Who will it be?’

  ‘Let me save you the trouble,’ and Mops holds up a hand, stopping anyone before they can voice an opinion. ‘Vote for me.’ She struts off to the start line, all eyes following her.

  Lexovia frowns as she pushes her way to the front of the throng, Trevor, Trig, Sakiya and Yvane on her heels. They watch as Mops sidles up beside Swift. He guffaws at the sight of her and Nathaniel quietly asks her if she’s mad.

  ‘Not trying to be cocky, just…realistic,’ he shrugs.

  Mops scoffs. ‘Watch me.’

  Swift is in stitches. He nudges her and pushes her forward offering a head start. ‘It won’t do you much good,’ he croons.

  Mops only rolls her eyes and re-joins the line. Orwin frowns then shrugs, chuckles and claps his hands, gathering everyone’s attention.

  ‘Well done recruits for your resilience and progress throughout training. It saddens me to say that we have almost come to the end of our time together,’ his voice booms over the crowd that then groans at the reminder of the departure to come. In a short time, it seems the Coltis and Corporeal have formed some long-lasting friendships. ‘I am sure I speak for all here when I say you will be missed, but we look forward to fighting alongside you one day.’

  Sakiya cheers, not deterred that she’s the only one.

  Orwin continues, ‘We will defeat our enemies, in this world and the next until that day we can reunite. Until we all, despit
e our differences, can live harmoniously as one. And though some may not agree with our methods, and some may say we’ve got our heads in the clouds, we know that the sky is the place to be. Where the climb is harsh, the fall is terrifying and the possibilities endless.’

  ‘Here’s to us,’ Sakiya roars, thoroughly caught up, and she tosses her pouch in the air, shocklas raining down over the gathered crowd. ‘To those who dare to dream and play amongst the clouds.’

  Now everyone cheers, claps their hands and stomps their feet, although some dive on the ground, collecting the fallen shocklas. Others whoop, embrace and jump in the air.

  Orwin’s face favours a beetroot as he flushes with pride. His shoulders are pushed back, his foot tapping. Lexovia doesn’t doubt it’s taking all his restraint to resist leaping into the cacophony of group hugs. She doesn’t resist when Jude scoops her up from behind and props her on his shoulders.

  ‘To us,’ he says with a lopsided grin.

  ‘To us,’ she smiles down at him.

  ‘All right,’ and once again Orwin silences the crowd. ‘Spee’ad and Spee’ad-recruits in position.’

  Mops clears her throat. ‘And Teltreporthi-recruit,’ he adds.

  Swift snickers and Yvane shakes her head questioningly at Mops, who simply smirks as she shuffles into line.

  ‘On my order,’ but Orwin lingers, straining the suspense. ‘Now,’ he barks.

  The Spee’ads take off, the race done in a matter of seconds, and even Mops is gone.

  ‘Who won?’ someone asks in the crowd, and speculation circulates.

  ‘This is where I come in,’ Derek says, waggling his eyebrows as he leaves the crowd and allows Orwin to grip his arm. They race off in a blur.

  Not wanting to miss the rerun—this is how all races between Spee’ads are settled—Lexovia asks Jude to lower her, then joins hands with him and Yvane and teleports to the finish line, where Coltis and recruits stand around Swift and Mops who are now yelling at each other like bickering children.

  ‘You’re a cheat,’ Swift cries.

  ‘Don’t sulk just because you’ve been beat,’ Mops retaliates.

  ‘You should be disqualified.’

  ‘Allow me,’ and Derek’s eyes instantly glow a pale yellow as he directs them at the finish line.

  ‘Remember to slow it down,’ Orwin instructs.

  The race rewinds around them. Derek inhales deeply, dredging up his new-found skill, and time slows down. Though they’re still blurred figures, smudges in time, they can all clearly make out Mops’s golden shimmer manifesting at the finish line as Swift lunges forward, Nathaniel and a few Coltis close behind. The scene plays out like stuttering images. Swift’s foot touches the finish line as Mops lower half comes into view, her top half still a haze as if sealed behind rippling water. Then in slow motion, Swift lifts his hands in victory as Mops does the same, now fully formed. Swift’s eyes widen and his jaw goes slack. It’s almost comical. Then, once again, time resumes and the memories fade.

  ‘It was a tie,’ Orwin murmurs, seeming somewhat surprised by the verdict. No doubt he expected Swift to be crowned victor. Lexovia wonders if a race between Spee’ad and Teltreporthi has ever been done before or if Mops has just made history. Quickly recovering, Orwin cups his hands around his mouth, and with the aid of Decibolitry, announces, ‘It’s a tie.’

  The crowd in the distance breaks into a roar of cheers and approval. Swift demands Mops’s disqualification but she’s no longer listening. She laughs and teleports back to the exuberant yells of the waiting crowd.

  A BALL FOR ALL

  Lexovia smiles and looks out at the dazzling dining hall, now transformed to accommodate a thriving ball thrown in celebration of the recruits and to mark the union of their worlds. The lengthy wooden benches and tables have been removed and in their place, small round tables circle an extensive dance floor. Gilded decorations and flowered garlands levitate about the hall and the words “Congratulations Recruits” sail across the entrance in holographic letters. Golden chandeliers cry crystal teardrops and the light from the candles flickering in their crooks bounce off the jewels, their grandness reflected in the polished stone floor.

  Everyone’s dressed up for the night in clothes gifted to them from the Court in thanks for their service. Every girl is in a radiant gown that drapes off the shoulder or hangs around the neck, all in fabrics softer and lighter than Lexovia’s sure any of them have known. They come in startlingly bright and faded shades of a rainbow. The boys wear suits of black, indigo and emerald. They sport braces beneath their waistcoats or jackets, each face trimmed and groomed to perfection. Jude, ever the outcast, has slipped on a fedora and his suit is a light grey pinstripe. But Lexovia cannot deny his allure as he sits beside her, chatting animatedly with the Dragons and Trevor. She has to admit that all the boys have a certain draw tonight. They each look older, more rugged, and their already brimming confidence now seems to overflow.

  The girls are just as ravishing. Mops looks stunning in a figure-hugging rose number that swirls around her ankles and has one long sleeve that strains under her bicep. Yvane is in a chartreuse gown with thin straps and a plunging neckline, and even Sakiya has managed to look like a lady tonight. Her thin hair is scooped up on top of her head and she’s donned a simple cream dress forged from Coltis silk, one that shimmers like pearls.

  Lexovia tries not to squirm in her own strapless gown, a slimming black dress with lines of silver beads that climb from her thighs and follow the curve of her figure up to her breasts. She would feel much more comfortable in her combat attire but notes with a grin how the dress draws the eyes of boys who would never normally dare look at her.

  There’s a cheer as the musicians up the tempo of the music, and Lexovia’s fingers twitch as she watches the man at the back of the stage play the vilasacheey, feeling as if she were playing along with him. Her eyes swoop to the dancing crowd, Jeff and Ibrahim amongst it. Ibrahim pulls Jeff close, their noses pressed together, then twirls and dips him in time to the music. A smile finds her lips.

  ‘Dreaming of Vladimir?’ Jude murmurs in her ear. She jumps, willing her crimson cheeks to return to normal before anyone else notices. Jude chuckles, a sound like falling pebbles.

  ‘No, actually, I was not,’ Lexovia hisses, though now she can’t help wondering what tonight would be like if Vladimir were here. A large part of her wishes he could see her all dressed up for a change. ‘How about you?’ she asks, deflecting his attention. ‘Who are you dreaming of?’

  His eyes flicker to Yvane but quickly pass over her. He says nothing. The band slows and couples pair off.

  ‘Why don’t you ask her to dance?’ Lexovia says. Jude’s lips twitch. He doesn’t meet her eye. Lexovia thinks that’s the end of it until he reaches his hand across the table, to where Yvane sits between Mops and Trevor. ‘Yvane?’ and he gets to his feet, ‘care to dance?’

  Yvane seems tongue tied, her lips parting but no sound coming out.

  ‘Blink twice for “Yes”,’ Jude jokes, only Lexovia seeming to recognise the strain in his smile.

  ‘Sorry,’ Yvane splutters, and finally pushes her chair back. Lexovia wonders if she is the only one who notices Trevor’s fists clench or how Yvane glances back at Trevor as Jude takes her hand and guides her onto the dance floor.

  ‘I’m the one with a bloke and yet Yvane gets bloody asked to dance first,’ Tanks reproaches, whacking Mutt across the head. He grimaces and shovels in a few more mouthfuls of ponimer.

  ‘Sorry,’ he finally says, hastily wiping his mouth on a napkin, and offers her his hand. ‘Shall we?’

  Grinning from ear to ear, Tanks accepts and is whisked off to the dance floor.

  Lexovia isn’t asked, simply yanked from her chair by an enthusiastic Nathaniel. ‘Can’t let them have all the fun,’ he concedes, pulling her after him.

  She cackles as she trips over his feet and stumbles when he dips her, but Nathaniel doesn’t seem to mind and continues to guide her through the
steps.

  ‘I’m going to get myself a drink.’ Trevor slides out of his seat, gripping his cane so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

  Howard stills, belatedly realising just he and Victoria remain at the table. He smiles awkwardly at her as she runs her finger along the rim of her glass. His heart beats irrationally fast, as if he’s run a sprint, and his insides turn like a drill. He and Victoria have battled each other regularly since the day she first beat him and have even grown comfortable with each other, sitting in silence or sharing stories long after everyone else has left them in the arena.

  One afternoon, Howard had even taken her on a tour of the Court. He wasn’t a very informative tour guide, though, but Victoria didn’t seem to mind. Yet now, for some reason, the silence between them is as tense as a racing car zipping between two lorries on a two-lane road.

  Howard watches her from the corner of his eye as she now absently trails a finger up and down her glass and fiddles with the clips in her hair, plainly trying to stay busy. He sighs. He cannot explain the way his heart stutters, the way his hands and feet have gone cold with anticipation.

  ‘I suppose we should get out there,’ he mumbles.

  ‘No,’ Victoria replies, coolly.

  The stuck-up cow, he immediately thinks, anger promptly replacing his earlier unease. Anger at himself for bothering to offer and anger at Victoria.

  ‘Not if that’s how you’re going to ask me,’ she then says.

  Howard looks up to find her staring straight at him, the same mischievous glint in her eye she gets when challenging him to a fight. He bunches his lips on his own smile.

  ‘Vicky—’

  ‘Victoria,’ she snaps though he can tell by the curve of her lips that she may be growing fond of the nickname.

  ‘Vicky,’ he says, ‘would you like to dance…with me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, firmly, and allows Howard to take her hand and guide her from her seat.

  Feeling brave, he adds, ‘And when we meet again, when all this is over, I’d very much like to take you on a date.’