The War of Elevens| Book 1 of the Space Thief Chronicles

Chapter 13| The Fight for Earlobes and Father-Son Relationships

The tension that settled over the room after Lilly spoke was like a blister: agitated, red, and swollen. One poke and the wound would burst into a disgusting mess.

There was quiet and there wasn't quiet; no one spoke and yet her ears were roaring, her heart thundered, she ground her teeth together. She waited for Stevia to burn her alive or to send monsters stampeding into existence, for something, anything. After a slow, syrup-thick ten seconds, Stevia nodded and said, "Everyone out. Except for Lilly and Max."

There was a moment of stunned silence, after which Stevia roared, "OUT!" and the kids scurried from the room like cockroaches running from light, muttering horrified whispers as they went. Lilly glanced at Max. For the first time that day, she saw raw discomfort written all over him. His brows were furrowed, a hand was positioned on his bloody chin, his chest rose and fell with his wretched breaths...based on the way Max was looking at her, Lilly figured she was a sporting a similar disposition.  

Stevia crossed the room to one of the supply closets, opened it to reveal rows of glittering weapons on the glossy black walls—tomahawks, curved blades with red hilts, katanas, double-edged swords—and said simply, "Make it a fair fight," before picking one of the curved blades and bringing it back to Lilly.

Lilly couldn't quite catch her breath.

"I can't," she said, at the same time Max gasped, "She just tried to rip my head off and you're trusting her with a sword? She'll kill me!"

"He's right, I'll kill him," Lilly replied with none of the anger before. Fear steeped in her voice. She weighed the sword in her hand...it was heavy and the hilt was cold, slightly too big for her hands. She could see herself reflected in it, flushed and sweat-soaked. 

"Unlike my fellow instructors, I don't mind bending the rules a little. Kill each other for all I care." 

"You can't be serious," Max griped, raking a hand through his hair. He bit his bloody bottom lip. "Tell me you're not serious."

"Private Ci, get a tight grip on that hilt. Swing using your arms, but move using your wrists, not the muscles in your hands." 

"I think she's serious," Lilly breathed. "Instructor..."

Stevia spread her hands out in front of her. "Thirty seconds. We call this flash-fighting here in Elliott Way. Whoever loses gets their earlobe cut off."

Fire burst forth like a radiant beacon from her hands, and numbers began to form from the flames. 30, the numbers read in twisting red shapes. 29...

Max thrust his clenched fists forward, and the ground beneath Lilly's feet shifted. Mud gurgled out from the ground beneath her boots, pooled around her ankles, and sloshed up to her calves. Lilly jerked to the side. The mud was cold and thick, no doubt an inhibitor to keep her from charging at him again. 

She looked up at Max and said, exasperated, "I'm annoyed." 

"Good," Max snapped. "Give up."

Oh, she was so not getting her earlobe cut off because she lost a fight with this wasp.

Lilly flicked her gaze towards the flames flashing numbers above their heads: 20, 19...

She dug her sword into the quickly hardening mud and pressed it to the ground, using its momentum to wrench herself free. One leg came free, then the other. She jerked the sword out of the mud and raised it above her head.

Max sent an armada of branches from his wrists. Before they had a chance to detach from his skin, Lilly lunged at him. 

She had no earthly idea what she was doing when she tackled him for the second time that day.