Vampirates: Tide of Terror (25 page)

The light was on over the infirmary door. Connor knocked but there was no answer, so he pushed it open.

It was dark inside. The dormitory was so big that the lamps hanging from the ceiling were inadequate to light it properly, even if the bulbs
had
been of an appropriate wattage. One lone bedside lamp was on, in the center of the room. He walked toward the light, aware of the noise his feet made on the cool marble floor.

In a moment, he stood at Grace’s side. She was still sleeping, but she looked much more comfortable than the last time he’d seen her. Before, her hands had been crossed awkwardly, like a statue. Now, one was curled under her head on the pillow and the other rested over the top of the sheet.

Connor sat down on the bed and looked at his sister’s face. She appeared content now. He was pleased to have reached the point where he could feel comfortable simply being with her again. For a time, he just sat there, watching the rise and fall of her breathing. It was deep and regular. There seemed little chance that she would wake but there was color in her cheeks and her dip in the ocean some twenty-four hours earlier appeared to have left her with no permanent damage. He was glad. He was more than glad.

“You’re right,” he said to her. “We each have our own journey to make. I’m sorry that I didn’t see it before. I’m sorry I tried to stop you. I’ll never do it again.”

He reached out for her hand. But, as he tried to touch it, his hand went straight through it and met the bedclothes. Confused, he reached out once more, but again his own fingers pushed through hers, as if she was made only of air. He must be really tired, he thought, steadying himself and, for a third time, reaching for her hand. He drew on all his powers of concentration. But, once again, his hand passed straight through hers.

He felt cold panic spreading through him. He stepped back and looked down at her, again watching her breathing, looking once more at the expression on her face. She was not only content. She seemed to be smiling at him, up from the depths of sleep. Something clicked inside his head. He decided to try one more thing. Her hair had swept down over her eyes. He reached out to brush it clear, but his fingers went straight through her head. The next time, he didn’t even try to pretend. He just put his hand straight through her ear and burrowed it down into the pillow. Grace smiled at him, eyes closed, as if he was tickling her. He stepped back, smiling now himself.

“They came back for you,” he whispered. “They came back for you, Grace, didn’t they? I don’t know how they did it, but that’s where you’ve gone.”

And in that moment he knew this was how it was supposed to be. This was what she wanted and needed. The headmaster and Cheng Li could pontificate forever about which syndrome Grace might or might not have. Whatever — for now, his sister belonged on the Vampirate ship. It was her home.

“What’s all this commotion?”

Nurse Carmichael marched down the center of the ward. Connor grinned. His whispers hardly qualified as commotion. The nurse really was living on the edge.

“Oh it’s you,” she said. “Come to see your sleeping sister again?”

Connor nodded. “I just came to say good night to her.”

“Well, you’ve said it now, so off you pop,” said the nurse. “We don’t want her waking in the middle of the night, do we?”

Connor shook his head. “No,” he said. “No we don’t. But I wouldn’t worry, Nurse Carmichael. I don’t think Grace is going to wake up any time soon.”

The nurse regarded him peevishly. He took a final look at the phantom of his sister, then smiled at Nurse Carmichael and patted her on the shoulder, before brushing past her and walking to the infirmary door. Nurse Carmichael flinched. She brushed her uniform as if a bird had pooped on her shoulders, and headed back toward her cubicle.

36

COMBATANTS

Connor’s next day at the Academy was destined to be a long one. At seven o’clock, he and Jacoby were back in the gym, where Cheng Li was waiting for them. Connor still felt tired but his body soon came to life as Cheng Li led them in some preparatory exercises, then talked them through the moves for their exhibition fight in more detail.

They spent the rest of the morning perfecting them. There was a lot to concentrate on. The Toledo Blade was heavier than Connor’s usual rapier but it felt good to hold. The handle was bound in an odd, rough leather. At least, he thought it was leather. When he asked Cheng Li, she reminded him that, like Commodore Kuo’s boots, it was made from stingray skin — much tougher and more waterproof than regular leather. He looked at the hilt and saw that the tiny bumps were actually fine scales. Even after so much use, the scales still glittered, as if the handle had been embedded with tiny starlike jewels.

There was nothing, however, to match the hefty sapphire embedded into the hilt of Molucco’s old rapier, which Jacoby had taken to as if it had been crafted espe-cially for him. As it moved back and forth before him — Jacoby maneuvering it expertly through one strike then another — Connor saw that the sapphire served not only a decorative purpose but a practical one, too. It was so polished on its multiple faces that when it caught the light at a certain angle it dazzled you, as if the sun was shining directly into your eyes. You had to squint, making you lose your focus and the core of your concentration.

The hardest thing about the fight, Connor and Jacoby agreed — during a ten-minute break on the sun-drenched gymnasium steps, was going to be not harming each other. In spite of their retirement from regular combat, the swords were kept sharpened and oiled in readiness for their use — and they were both razor keen. Jacoby was more used to exhibition combat than Connor — who had been thrown more quickly into real-life attacks — but both boys agreed that it was if these swords craved an actual body hit. As if they had a mind of their own, and resented being out of action for so long. It was as if the blades themselves had a mind for battle and a thirst for blood.

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 ...