Vampirates: Tide of Terror

by Justin Somper

  By lunchtime, they had the fight nailed. Cheng Li took back the swords and locked them away in their cases. The two combatants would not see them again until they entered the “lagoon of doom” that evening, in front of their audience — the entire student body and faculty of the Pirate Academy.

  “Are you nervous?” Connor asked Jacoby as they sat down to lunch. “Nervous? Are you kidding? I’m petrified. I might hurt you.”

  “Funny,” Connor said. “Very funny.”

  “It’s good to see that being petrified hasn’t spoiled your appetite,” said Jasmine, smiling as she indicated Jacoby’s fully-laden plate. Jacoby looked up at them. “Hey, Coach Li said to load up on carbs. That’s all I’m doing.”

  “Oh, that’s what you’re doing, is it?” Connor laughed. He continued with his more modest meal. He felt too sick with rising adrenaline to eat much. He’d have to make up for it at the post-fight feast.

  The fight was due to commence when the Academy clock struck six, but by five-thirty the atmosphere in the harborside amphitheater was electric. The students began taking their seats, ranged in their year groups, the tutors joining them at the end of the rows. Flaming torches lit the walkways up the steep stone stairways, along the front of the lagoon and the small pier leading out across the turquoise waters to the practice ship.

  In the lagoon itself, the ship had been lowered and brought forward so that the deck became a stage, visible to the entire audience.

  Right now, the deck was filled by some of the older kids who had formed a rock band. They had been given the opportunity to warm up the crowd.

  “This music is making me feel very old indeed,” Commodore Kuo said to Cheng Li, in the seats in their very front row.

  “You are very old, John,” she said with a smile. “You just choose to ignore that fact most of the time.”

  He gave her a wounded look, then broke into a smile. “How are our boys doing?”

  “Very good,” she said. “At last the Toledo Blade is in the hands of a rightful warrior.”

  “Touché,” said Commodore Kuo. “You know how to inflict a body blow.”

  Connor and Jacoby waited in their own seats close to the pier. Connor glanced back at the crowd, feeling as if he was about to be thrown to the lions.

  “Hey,” Jacoby said, “don’t sweat it, Connor. This is just a little showcase to get the Academy rocking on a Saturday night. This is one of the reasons they made a stage here. Happens all the time.”

  Connor nodded. He knew that. He’d competed in sports events too many times to let his nerves get the better of him. This was a bit different, though. It was more of a performance than a competition. He had to balance executing the perfect moves, without harming Jacoby. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his new best mate.

  At last the rock song faded away and was followed by a roar of cheering from the crowd. The kids cleared their instruments from the stage and began walking over the pier toward Commodore Kuo, who had stepped up to greet them. Now he welcomed them back onto dry land and turned to the crowd.

  “Thank you to... The Vagabonds of, erm, Death,” he said. “I’m usually more of a trad jazz man, but really that was most...impressive. Most refreshing.” He glanced at Cheng Li who mouthed “old” at him.

  As the clapping started to subside, Commodore Kuo turned to address the audience.

  “Tonight, we have a special treat for all of you ...for all of us. As you know, it is our custom here at Pirate Academy to have an annual Swords Day. On that day — the very last day of the school year — all the swords which hang in the Rotunda are brought down and the most accomplished of our students here get to use them in exhibition fights, which honor their illustrious forebears — the captains who once used these swords for real.”

  He cast his eyes from the row of tutors to the kids. “Sometimes, I think of these swords as the treasure of the Academy. Not because they are made of the finest metals — often enriched with jewels — by the best crafts-men the world over. No — I think of these swords as treasure because each of them has so many stories to tell. Each of these blades has fought in a hundred or more battles. If only they could talk, if only they could share their experiences with us. But, you know what? In a way, they do. When an ancient sword comes into the hands of a young pirate, I’m convinced that there’s an electric charge between the energy of the young combatant and the en-ergy within the blade.”

  He paused, giving the audience a moment to reflect on his words. “But the real treasure of the Academy isn’t the ancient blades which hang over us. The real treasure is you. Each of you. The swords represent our past, but you...you are our future. Each and every one of you is destined for greatness. You will each continue the fine and noble traditions of piracy. Some of you are distinguishing yourselves already as expert navigators. Others are showing themselves to be fine leaders and strategists. And then there are those of you who are dazzling combatants.”

  There were some whoops from the crowd. They knew the fight was about to commence.

  “Tonight, I have lifted the rule that our ancient swords are taken out of their cases only on Swords Day. Tonight, I have decided to celebrate the fighting talent here at the Academy. Tonight, two of our finest combatants will take to our stage and show you some dazzling moves, taught to them by the tutors here and, in particular, by Mistress Li.”

  This was greeted by applause and, nodding, Commodore Kuo extended his hand toward Cheng Li. Blushing, she finally stood up and acknowledged the cheers.

  “Yes,” the headmaster said. “Mistress Li has only been teaching here three months, but she’s already made a huge impact on Academy life. And, on that subject, we come to someone who has been here just one week but who, I am pleased to say, will now be joining the Academy as a full-time student. I’m delighted that he’ll be fighting tonight with my very own Toledo Blade. . . . Put your hands together and give a rousing Academy welcome to Connor Tempest!”

  Connor and Jacoby exchanged a handshake they’d evolved over the past few days. Then Connor walked over to join Commodore Kuo. As he reached the headmaster’s side, the headmaster extended his hand and shook it in a more conventional fashion.

  “Connor has proved himself to have exceptional skill in combat situations,” said Commodore Kuo, “and so we had to look to the very best of Academy students to take him on. You know, of course, who I am talking about.” The crowd cheered and some of them shouted out his name. “Yes,” continued the headmaster, “you all know who I mean. What you won’t all know is how this boy performed in his very first Combat class. But I was there, as was Captain Avery and Captain Singh. We remember the skill that this boy — then just six years old — demonstrated with those little bamboo sticks. Well, a few years have passed since then, and tonight he’ll be using Molucco Wrathe’s Sapphire Rapier. His name may be blunt, but he’s as sharp as they come. ...Let’s welcome Jacoby Blunt!”

  Now Jacoby took a deep breath in and out, then jogged out to join Connor and the headmaster. He, too, shook the headmaster’s hand.

  “I’ve said enough,” said Commodore Kuo. “All that remains is for me to say that, whether you are a gifted fighter or not, I want you to watch this battle and appreciate the pure skill these two display. And remember — whatever your talent is, strive to be the best that you can be. That’s all we ask of you here at Pirate Academy. And now, gentlemen, let me present you with your swords.”

  The swords in question were resting on stands erected at the front of the pier. Connor and Jacoby each knelt on one knee before the stand bearing their sword. The head-master lifted first the Sapphire Rapier. He took it in his left hand, extending it toward Jacoby.

  “Use this sword with wisdom and precision,” he said to Jacoby. “Honor your forebears and make your mark upon history.”

  “I will,” said Jacoby, receiving the sword in his own left hand and remaining kneeling while the headmaster moved to the second stand.

  Kuo ceremonially wiped his hands with
a silk cloth that had been set there for this purpose. It was a symbolic cleaning so that the same hands had not touched both swords. Setting down the cloth, he took the Toledo Blade in his left hand, pausing for a moment as he gripped his long-time ally.

  There was a spontaneous burst of applause in celebration of Commodore John Kuo’s long and illustrious career. He waited for it to subside, smiling softly.

  “Use this sword with wisdom and precision,” he said to Connor. “Honor your forebears and make your mark upon history.”

  “I will,” said Connor. He took the sword in his left hand, his fist enclosing the stingray bindings of the handle. He thought of the blade’s long history.

  At a signal from the headmaster, four students came forward and removed the sword-stands from the arena.

  “Gentlemen, take your starting positions,” said Commodore Kuo, before walking back to his seat.

  Connor and Jacoby walked together along the pier onto the practice deck. They had been well-rehearsed.

  They took their position in the center of the deck, back to back.

  The Academy clock began to strike six o’clock. The sixth strike was their cue. Connor waited, letting breath come in and out with the striking of the clock. One . . . two...three ...four ...five ...

  37

  THE LAGOON OF DOOM

  Six!

  Connor spun around and launched at Jacoby with the Toledo Blade. Jacoby extended the Sapphire Rapier. The swords made first contact and each combatant felt the electric connection of the blades. Now, the friends were no longer smiling at one another. There was too much to concentrate upon, as they began moving through the first of Cheng Li’s challenging sequences.

  Connor quickly shed all his nerves. Though this was an exhibition fight, he still felt that heightened sense of awareness the headmaster had called zanshin in his lecture. When his sword struck Jacoby’s, the noise in his head was louder than the school bell. When Jacoby swung the rapier toward him, Connor saw the sapphire, bluer than the waters of the lagoon. Every noise and color, every sense, was intensified. He drew on a deeper focus and energy. It enabled him to jump higher in the air, to swing the sword back and forth in a fraction of the time it would usually take. He was utterly and completely in the zone. Even as he drew on the calm well of energy in his core, he had the extra awareness that this was going well. He was aware of the roars of the crowd as the first sequence came to a close with him apparently having the upper hand over Jacoby. But it was all choreography — each would have his moments of glory as the exhibition fight continued.

  “Stunning work,” Commodore Kuo whispered in Cheng Li’s ear. “Connor has such a natural ability.”

  She nodded. “I just hope Jacoby remembers all his instructions.”

  Kuo nodded, then drew back, focusing again on the two young fighters as they moved into their second sequence. This was more complex than the first — Cheng Li knew how to work an audience. The sequence began with some fast parrying back and forth across the deck. Then Jacoby took the upper hand, forcing Connor low and apparently defenseless. It was at this point that Connor had to summon all his strength and athleticism and not only push Jacoby back but assume dominance in the fight.

  Once more, he felt that sense of zanshin — that three-hundred-and-sixty-degree awareness all around his body.

  He could see Jacoby and the extended rapier. He could see the narrow band of room he had for his maneuver. He could see the audience, watching with bated breath and, in front of them — like the two eyes of a giant beast — Cheng Li and Kuo, their faces boring into him. He saw all this without ever losing his core focus on Jacoby’s eyes. It took him back to his very earliest days of training, not here at the Academy, but on The Diablo. When Bart had told him, “Always watch your opponent’s eyes. The sword can lie, but the eyes don’t.” Connor looked into Jacoby’s eyes. And he saw something wrong there — a lie, behind the familiar eyes of his new friend. He registered it but fought hard to give nothing away. Peturbed as he was, he held his focus and executed the complex turnaround, pushing Jacoby back and taking control.

  Again the crowd roared its approval. Cheng Li and Commodore Kuo joined in the clapping.

  “Breathtaking,” said Kuo.

  Cheng Li inclined her head toward him. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  As they began the third sequence of strikes, Connor never let his attention drift from Jacoby’s eyes. He was sure he wasn’t mistaken. Jacoby was lying to him. Connor continued making his moves, using the Toledo Blade with more skill and dexterity than he had ever used with his rapier. He decided to stick to every nuance of the moves they’d choreographed, increasingly certain that Jacoby would start deviating from them. There was no time to be shocked by the betrayal or to think through the layers of those others who must have betrayed him. That would not save his life. Zanshin would.

  It happened in the middle of the sequence. Connor kept to his marks perfectly, but as Jacoby launched the next attack, the blade of his rapier came much closer than they had rehearsed. He could feel the hot steel against his ear. Then he realized it wasn’t the blade that was hot. The steel had pierced the skin of his ear. It was bleeding.

  Jacoby looked panic-stricken. He glanced over Connor’s shoulder to the audience. Perhaps he had meant to wound Connor, but not so soon. Connor was not distracted for an instant. He maintained his alertness, showing no panic or fear. If the fight was halted now, he would know that he had been wrong — that nothing was amiss and it was a simple error. But if no one intervened then he had a very different answer.

  No one intervened.

  Unshaken, Connor continued to focus on Jacoby, eye to eye. Neither spoke. There was no need for conventional speech. It was all in the eyes. Connor let Jacoby know that he knew. Jacoby acknowledged the fact. But Jacoby seemed far more shaken than Connor. There was another secret buried deep in Jacoby’s eyes that Connor could not yet unearth.

  Now, Connor had to make a lightning-fast decision.

  Should he stick to the scripted moves and defend himself only when Jacoby attacked or should he let go of the rou-tine and simply treat this as any other fight? He decided to opt for the former approach. Jacoby had clearly been schooled in another routine altogether but he was either having trouble remembering it or was simply unable to implement it. Whatever he was up to, he seemed disadvantaged in his role as aggressor. Connor decided to let him make his attacks and make his mistakes. He had more experience of real combat than Jacoby. A little blood wasn’t going to weaken him.

  They moved into the fourth sequence they had rehearsed. This one was supposed to be dominated at the outset by Jacoby. As his opponent initiated the fresh attack, Connor could tell that something was wrong. All of Jacoby’s assurance was fading away. Though his physical moves showed all his usual strength, it was clear to Connor that his opponent’s fighting spirit had drained away.

  Once more, Connor had to make a lightning-fast assessment of the situation and to decide his tactics. This was complex, though. If this was any other adversary, he could take the victory in a decisive fashion. But, in spite of Jacoby’s betrayal, he was not ready to inflict serious harm upon him. It had been easier defending himself when he had only to contend with Jacoby’s attack. Now, he faced the infinitely more complex situation of an enemy who appeared to have lost heart. Of course, it could all be an elaborate bluff. But, looking into Jacoby’s eyes, Connor knew that it wasn’t.

  He had to maintain his alertness and so, for the next few moves, he concentrated fully on that, taking himself back to that full state of zanshin. He kept focused on Jacoby’s eyes and the blade of the rapier. He took in the rapt attention of the crowd, separated from him by the narrow band of water. He saw the masklike expressions on Cheng Li and Commodore Kuo’s faces. They, too, must know that he had sensed their betrayal. But they were masters. They gave nothing away.

  Connor held all these sights and thoughts in his head, and then he heard a stray sound coming from the direc
tion of the harbor. He was drawn back into combat with Jacoby — an athletic and challenging sequence which took them from one side of the deck to the other. Connor could hear more noise from the dockside, but he couldn’t afford to miss a beat. Was this some new part of whatever plan was unfolding? He had to do something, and fast. He made a quick decision.

  As they parried to the point furthermost at the right of the stage, Connor slipped in an extra strike, which knocked the rapier out of alignment. Jacoby stumbled to hold tight to it and, as he did so, Connor drew the Toledo Blade forward toward Jacoby’s neck. In his panic, Jacoby dropped the rapier. The audience gasped. Connor held the blade across Jacoby’s neck, only an inch from his skin.

  “Start talking,” Connor said. “And talk fast!”

  Jacoby wasted no time. “I didn’t want to do it, Connor. They made me. They wanted to shake you up, to see how good a fighter you really were.”

  “They were going to have you kill me.”

  “No,” Jacoby said. “Believe me, that was never the case. Just to shake you up. I didn’t want to. Look, you saw how I screwed up out there.”

  Connor hesitated. One incorrect impulse now could prove decisive. He searched Jacoby’s eyes. In them, he saw a true picture of confusion and regret. He did not see anything there to suggest a killer.

  He drew the tip of the Toledo Blade away, remaining alert to a surprise attack. As he stepped back, he scooped up the Sapphire Rapier in his left hand then held up both weapons to the crowd — weary, bloodied, but victorious.

  The crowd began to cheer, louder than ever before.

  Commodore Kuo jumped up and called to them to join him at the front of the pier.