Vampirates: Tide of Terror (26 page)

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 direction 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.

But neither combatant moved — each too stunned by events.

“Come on, pirates!” Commodore Kuo called, with more force.

Connor looked at him with disdain. They could just defy the headmaster and remain out on the practice deck. But actually he needed to confront him. Connor strode off along the pier, leaving his opponent behind.

“Well fought,” said Kuo to Connor as they met.

Connor glared at him in disbelief. “Don’t patronize me,” he said.

“I’m sorry?” Commodore Kuo looked puzzled.

“You set me up. You and Cheng Li. You set me up against my best friend.”

Kuo shook his head, beaming at the roaring crowd. “I wanted to see what you were really made of, Connor. Exhibition fights are all well and good, but I needed to see what you could pull out of the bag in a real conflict scenario. And you passed. You passed with flying colors. Your place in the Pirate Federation is now assured.”

“You know what you can do with your Federation?” Connor said, angrily extending both swords in the direction of the headmaster. A new roar from the crowd drowned out his words. The headmaster jumped onto the pier. Connor kept the twin blades trained on him. The headmaster looked at Connor down the length of the blades.

“Connor, I think you had better look behind you.”

Connor paused. Was that the best Kuo could come up with? It was little better than a pantomime trick.

“Connor, behind you.”

Connor shook his head. His days of doing Commodore Kuo’s bidding were over.

“Connor, look behind you!”

This time, it wasn’t the headmaster who spoke. It was an altogether more welcome voice.

“Molucco!”

Connor turned, never happier to see his old ally, who stood before him in all his finery.

“That’s
Captain
Wrathe, to you!”

“Captain Wrathe!” Connor stepped forward. He was so pleased to see Molucco, he could have thrown his arms around him — were it not for the two blades he held in his hands.

“Is that . . . it can’t be! Is that my old rapier?” Molucco said.

“Yes.” Connor extended the hilt toward him. The captain took it and weighed it in his hand. He looked sad for a moment.

“What are you doing here?” Connor asked. “You aren’t due until tomorrow.” He smiled, adding hastily, “Not that I’m not glad to see you.”

“Something terrible has happened,” said Molucco. He removed his hat and Scrimshaw slipped into view, extending himself toward Connor in greeting.

“What is it?” Connor said. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my brother,” Molucco said. “My dear brother . . . Captain Porfirio Wrathe.” He broke off as a large diamond of a tear rolled down his cheek.

“What of Porfirio?” Commodore Kuo spoke, drawing close to Connor’s side.

“Murdered most savagely,” said Molucco. “And with him, his crew . . . all but a handful.”

Connor shuddered. “What happened?”

Captain Wrathe shook his head. “There’s a time for telling tales and there’s a time for action, my boy. Now go and fetch your things. I need you back on
The Diablo
. It’s every pirate to his mettle. I will not wait for this deed to cool before I take my revenge.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll be quick,” he said.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” Commodore Kuo said. “I think we should all go into my study and talk things through in private.”

Connor shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. There’s nothing for us to discuss.”

“But Connor ...,” Commodore Kuo began.

Shaking his head, Connor brushed past the man who had once inspired such respect in him.

Cheng Li stood up and moved out into the walkway. “Connor, compose yourself.”

“Don’t
you
talk to me,” he said. Her betrayal hurt even more deeply.

“Listen to me,” she said. “You may not like me very much at the moment but there are things you don’t understand.”

“You always tell me there are things I don’t under-stand,” he said. “But the fact is, there are plenty of things that are perfectly clear to me.”

He moved past her, up to the flame-lit walkway. He was determined to get to his room and collect his stuff. The Academy students — blind to the truth of the fight — patted Connor on the back, praising his swordplay.

“You can’t go,” Cheng Li said. Her words brought him to a standstill. He turned.

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t leave Grace here,” Cheng Li said, smiling at him, sure in the knowledge she was one step ahead of him.

But not this time. “Grace isn’t here,” Connor said. “She left already.”

Seeing the dumbstruck expression on Cheng Li’s face was intensely satisfying. He wasted no more time and began running up to the top of the amphitheater and onto the hill beyond.

Connor quickly packed up his things and headed down the Academy hill for the last time. His head was hot and aching from everything he had been through and the wound on his ear could do with some attention — but certainly not from the likes of Nurse Carmichael. He wanted no more of this place or the people within it.

A barbecue had been set up on the terrace and the students were busy piling up their plates and tucking in. It wasn’t easy to slip past them unnoticed, but thankfully most were too preoccupied with the food to bother him.

He sincerely hoped that Commodore Kuo and Cheng Li would stay out of his way. The last thing he needed was another confrontation with them. They had hurt him badly and nothing good would come from hearing their excuses and rationalizations. His eyes scanned the terrace. A table had been set for the teachers at one end. Of course! He was supposed to join them for dinner. Well, forget it — there would be one empty place tonight.