by E. C. Jarvis
Cid popped up again and rushed to each side, giving the rotors a thorough inspection, then he headed to the modified wheel and rudder. “Deflate the canopy,” he said to no one in particular. Larissa and Kerrigan looked at one another. They still hadn’t established which of them was in charge and therefore which of them should be giving the orders to their rag-tag crew.
“Sergeant Boswell,” Kerrigan said, nodding to the Sergeant.
The man gave a swift, “Sir,” in response as he headed to vent the gas from the balloon.
Larissa held her breath, acutely aware of what it felt like to crash a ship into the ocean. They’d destroyed and lost far too many airships throughout this journey. Holt moved to stand at her shoulder, his presence comfort enough, though she had to resist the urge to bury her head in his chest and not look until it was all over. If she wanted to maintain the title of Captain, that sort of behaviour wouldn’t help her cause in the slightest.
The canopy deflated, the material sinking in on itself as the gas escaped into the atmosphere. The ship didn’t move; it didn’t even dip slightly. The rotors held it perfectly in position. A flurry of activity erupted around her. Without orders, the men worked to catch the collapsing material and fold it neatly into a pile on the deck. Larissa watched in awe as a group of people who had no business working together acted in perfect harmony for a few minutes. Finally, when the canopy had been stowed and the newly refitted airship was ready to go, Cid pushed on the wheel and they swooped forwards in the sky at speed.
“Nice work, Mendle,” Holt said. The compliment sounded odd coming from him. Holt was not a man who gave compliments naturally. Cid returned the awkward compliment with an equally awkward, sneering smile.
Larissa shook her head, wondering how long they had to spend in each other’s company before the awkwardness would fade. Perhaps that was an unachievable vision with those two in particular.
“Can I speak with you?” Cid asked.
“Of course.”
They headed below deck. Larissa was confused when she turned toward her cabin only to see Cid continue down the stairs to the lower deck. She followed after him, and he led her to his makeshift workshop, where he’d spent most of his time apart from the odd shift at the wheel or in the furnace room. The engine hummed quietly, pistons jumping up and down, cogs turning. She had no idea how the thing worked and was one again impressed by Cid’s engineering skills.
He bent over and collected a handful of tools spread across the floor, then cleaned them with an oily rag before laying them neatly back in place inside the toolbox.
“Handy having those tools lying around,” she said.
“They were a gift.”
“Elena?”
“Indeed.”
“It seems she’s quite enamoured with you,” Larissa said, knowing how awkward Cid was with women and trying to tread carefully.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“She…uh…we…um…”
“Are in love?” Larissa said, feeling her heart lighten.
“I suppose you could call it that, though Gods only know what that woman sees in me.”
“Agreed. You have all the charm of a potato.” She bit her lip. She was supposed to be helping and encouraging, not knocking the poor man. “But I’m happy for you, and I’m sorry that we didn’t have time to figure out a way to let you stay behind. Although I am grateful that you came with us. Your adjustments will help us to catch up, I’m sure.”
“And if we do… Let’s say we achieve all these mammoth things you seem to have convinced everyone you can do… What then?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Well, whatever you do, will you need me?” he asked as he placed a spanner into the box and looked down at his toes.
“You want to go back to Eptora? Back to Elena?”
“I sort of promised her I would.”
“I don’t own you, Cid. You can go back.” She felt a lump catch in her throat. She had no right to demand anyone stay by her side through the perilous journey which lay ahead, least of all Cid, yet the thought of letting him go made her heart ache. They had been through so much together. She owed her life to him; he had been a loyal friend from the beginning. “You don’t have to stay with me, Cid. When we get home, if you want, we can drop you off at the nearest port. You might find a merchant ship to sail you straight back.”
“You’d let me go?” His eyes lit up as he looked at her.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Hmm.”
Larissa stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around his chest, leaning her head against his shoulder. At first, he did nothing, but after a moment, his muscles relaxed and he placed one arm across her neck in his form of a hug. It would break her heart to lose him, but if it meant he could have a chance at happiness, she wouldn’t deny him that opportunity.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” he said back. He kissed her forehead softly, and she couldn’t help but squeeze tighter in response.
After a while, she let go. She smiled up at him and he nodded slightly, returning to his tools.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
A week passed slowly. Larissa had spent her days worrying about all the things they needed to achieve and not actually coming up with a plan for any of it, combined with worrying about Holt.
One minute Holt was perfectly cognisant, his usual strong yet curt self, the next he seemed to be at death’s door. Each time, it looked worse and lasted longer. So by the sixth day, when she woke to find him writhing in agony on the floor of her cabin, she went straight for the small chunk of Anthonium they had left and broke off a piece to melt.
“Don’t,” he snapped through gritted teeth. His body shook, sweat pouring down his pale face.
“You need it,” she said, keeping her concentration on the flame as it melted the piece of stone. Holt tried to argue back, but all that emerged was a string of nonsensical words.
Larissa’s hands shook as she filled the syringe with the silver liquid. She managed to stop herself from crying—barely—but she couldn’t prevent the physical tremors running over her body.
When she turned back, Holt was curled into a ball on his side, his teeth bared. He breathed heavily through his nose, as though he couldn’t get enough air, and his eyes had turned almost translucent. She knelt beside him, pushed his shirt sleeve up, and stuck the needle into a vein on his arm, plunging the liquid Anthonium directly into his blood.
A moment later, he stilled. She carefully removed the syringe, a line of dark red blood mixed with silver liquid oozing from the vein, and she placed her hand over it to heal the wound. Holt no longer reacted with agony. His breathing returned to normal slowly and his eyelids drooped. Finally, his muscles relaxed from their tense state, and his body flopped forwards as he passed out. A shimmer ran over him, then he faded from view entirely.
Larissa sat back on her heels, the syringe clattering to the floor. She stopped holding back the tears and let them flow freely as she stared at the spot where he should have been. Her shoulders heaved and shook as she took wet, shuddering breaths.
“I’m still here,” Holt’s voice rang out. Larissa responded with an unattractive and unladylike, wet sniffle. “That’s no incentive for me to return, you know.”
She half-laughed at him, then rolled over onto her side, putting her back to him. She felt, but couldn’t see, an arm wrap around her shoulder and across her chest, pinning her arms close.
“I don’t care about the war,” she said.
“I know.”
“I don’t care about the President, or my father, or anything else. All I want is you, but you’re the one problem I can’t seem to find a solution for.”
“I know,” he said again, his voice filled with regret. “I don’t know how much longer I will last, but I will hang on as long as I can. For you.”
After they h
ad lain together for a time, she looked down between her damp eyelashes. His arm was now visible. She wriggled, extracting herself from his grip just enough to roll over and face him. They lay, nose to nose, staring at one another for a while. His face was still set into a generally expressionless gaze, but he held her stare, eyes alert and alive.
“I love you,” she said.
“I know.” He brushed the tears from her cheeks with the back of his finger.
“You look so much better already.”
“The Anthonium boosts my strength temporarily.”
Larissa sat upright, her body still shuddering. Holt rose up to join her, frowning. “You feel well?” she asked.
“Well enough. Why?”
“It’s still early. It’s not time for a shift.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I just think it would be a shame to waste that strength.” A sly smile spread across her lips. She wasn’t sure if he would understand her meaning. After all, she’d been sobbing like a child only minutes ago and her cheeks were still wet from the tears. It wasn’t a particularly attractive display, she supposed. They’d had so few moments together where they were both alert and well that it made sense to cherish the time they had—to make proper use of it.
“You’re sure?” he asked, brushing another tear from her cheek. She responded with action, pushing her lips onto his, tasting him with her needy tongue. His mouth tasted bitter, slightly metallic, like blood, but it didn’t stop her wanting more. She rose up and moved her legs to sit in his lap, wrap her fingers in his hair, to show him just how sure she was that this was what she wanted. It didn’t matter who showed up; the whole bloody crew could barge in right now and she wouldn’t stop. As she rocked her hips forward, she found just how much he wanted this too. She pushed aside the thoughts that only moments ago he’d been on the verge of death and that they didn’t seem to have too much time left before that end would become a reality. She shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind as she pushed harder still, losing herself in his kiss and rocking her body against his.
His lips moved, tracing lightly along her jawline, down her neck. She let her head roll back, opening up, inviting more of the same. It didn’t matter that she’d not bathed in days and wore the most unappealing long winter coat—one which had belonged to her father. All sense of embarrassment at such banalities slipped away as he pulled the coat buttons apart and buried his face in her chest.
She clasped her hands around his neck, found his earlobe with her tongue, eliciting a moan of pleasure from him that sparked her desire further. A lot of muted, hasty fumbling followed, arms and legs unwrapping clothing and casting it aside. She returned to sit in his lap, his hands landing on her hips. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, her body trembling with a different form of energy. His hot, calloused fingers stroked up and down her ribs, causing her to squirm and bite her lip to prevent a giggle, and she pushed forwards, finding him ready and waiting.
As they joined, he raised his knees and she leant back against them, sitting silently for a moment, sharing the sensation of being locked together, savouring the feeling of flesh against flesh. She knew she was blushing and could even see her own chest turning dark red and feel the heat on her face. The corner of Holt’s lip curled upwards, and she smiled back, arching her back and raising her hips, slightly withdrawing just a touch. His smile deepened and she saw him release a slow breath through his lips. His hands added pressure to her hips to guide her back down, and she followed, giving him just what he wanted, what they both desired.
Slowly, they gained rhythm. She bit her lip again and dug her fingernails into his arms as she rocked back and forth, angling her body to rub against the most sensitive spot inside on each stroke until she let go of holding back and he dropped his knees, lying back on the floor. Larissa forgot herself. The shy girl who blushed at a compliment, the store clerk, the inexperienced woman disappeared from the world as she took over, rocking her body against his, head thrown back, hands splayed against his thighs, gaining speed and momentum with every thrust.
She begged and prayed quietly through every breath, the stir of nerves inside growing intense, and somewhere below she could hear Holt muttering the same, his deep tone muted by heavy breaths, his façade descending into animalistic noises. She felt his hot hands on her hips, guiding her movements as she bounced harder, faster, riding the exquisite pleasure which rocked her whole body down to the core, and she let out a soft scream as she found release.
They remained for a while in that position, unwilling and unable to let go of the moment even though the peak had passed. She stared down at him, wanting to remember, to catalogue the sight of him, to lock away the memory for the rest of her days.
“No tears,” he said as he stroked her thighs. She nodded and blinked away the wetness that had formed. There would be time for tears. There was no sense mourning him while he was still alive.
A knock at the door made her heart sink, dragging them kicking and screaming back to reality. “Who is it?” she called as she extracted herself from Holt’s lap and started to dress.
“It’s Cid. It’s urgent.”
In a heartbeat, Holt was dressed. Nothing about his appearance would give away what they’d just been up to. Conversely, Larissa spotted her reflection on one of his shiny, polished brass buttons. She smirked as she realised she looked well and truly fucked.
“We have a slight problem,” Cid announced as she opened the cabin door. There was something in the tone of his voice, the frown on his face, and the fact that he hadn’t sworn for a change that made her worry. Larissa and Holt followed Cid to the deck, where they found everyone standing along the bow of the ship, looking out.
“What’s going on?” Larissa asked. Kerrigan turned and handed her a spyglass. A natural parting in the group of people formed.
She didn’t need the spyglass. The vision which greeted her was clear enough, even from a distance. Far off on the horizon, the low and undulating green hills of Daltonia came into view. It would have been a wonderful and comforting sight if it weren’t for the mass of warships, air and naval, lined up and pointed directly at them. Larissa’s heart stopped and her legs went wobbly. She reached out with one hand, grasping for Holt, and the other dropped the spyglass as she reached to the rail for balance.
“How many?” she asked with a tremble in her voice.
“Thirty naval, thirty-five air,” Kerrigan answered. Holt bent down and collected the spyglass with his free hand. Larissa kept a deathly grip on his other. “You doubt my ability to count, Holt?”
He didn’t respond to Kerrigan. Instead, he simply collapsed the glass and turned to Larissa. “What’s the plan, Captain?”
Kerrigan gave a sneer and grunt of disapproval at the notion of Larissa being the one to give orders. In spite of his condemnation, all eyes turned to Larissa expectantly.
The few ideas she’d managed to come up with were sketchy, to say the least, filled with holes and half-notions of what to do and where to go. Not one of them involved having to deal with the might of the military staring them directly in the face. Once again, feeling out of her depth with the pressure of failure looming on her shoulders, Larissa took a shaky breath. Perhaps she was over-reacting. Perhaps she was over-thinking. As the ships ahead moved towards them, she found herself gripping Holt’s hand while looking into Kerrigan’s eyes. Perhaps she could turn the situation to their advantage somehow. If not, she was about to lead a large proportion of her crew and herself to their deaths.
“No pressure,” she said out loud.
“We’ve faced worse odds,” Holt whispered into her ear.
“Not sure I agree with you there, Holt, but I do have an idea.”
“Hmm, I thought you might.”
TO BE CONCLUDED…
About The Author
E.C. Jarvis is a British author working mainly in speculative and fantasy fiction genres. For most of her working life, Jarvis has been working he
r way through the ranks of the accountancy profession in various industries. At the same time she has also been writing.
“It was always a hobby. I’d knock a poem out every now and then, or enter something into a short story competition, with very little success, but that never stopped me. There has always been an underlying need to write. It comes and goes with varying intensity, but it’s always there, like an itch that needs to be scratched.”
Her first success at publishing was a poem in a collection titled Fear Itself published by Forward Poetry in 2012. Following a three year hiatus where she “couldn’t even bring myself to write a shopping list”, 2015 saw a turnaround that has seen her complete three full novels, and is on track to complete her first series.
She was born in Surrey, England in 1982. She now resides in Hampshire, England with her daughter and husband.
Find out more at:
www.ecjarvis.com
www.facebook.com/E.C.JarvisAuthor
https://twitter.com/EC_Jarvis
Other books by the author
The Blood and Destiny series
The Machine, book 1
The Pirate, book 2
The War, book 3
The Destiny, book 4 – coming soon
The Consort’s Chronicles series
Desire and Duty, book 1
Lust and Lies, book 2
Passion and Power, book 3 – coming soon
