Vampirates: Tide of Terror

by Justin Somper

  “I had gone to her room to talk to her. The shutters had been closed all day. I suppose I wanted to try and talk some sense into her. To get her to try to take part in life at the Academy. So I got to her room, but there was no answer. I knew she had to be inside — where else would she have gone? When she didn’t answer, I panicked. The door wasn’t locked so I went inside and then I saw the note. The storm was so bad that the latch on her shutters had broken. They were flapping in the gale. The moon was bright on the harbor and as the shutters opened I saw a silhouette on the harbor wall. I knew it was her. And I knew what she was going to do . . .”

  He was shaking again. Commodore Kuo stood up and moved swiftly to Connor’s side of the desk, placing his hands on Connor’s shoulders for support. “It’s okay,” he said, “there’s no need to tell us any more.”

  There was silence in the study as Connor struggled to regain his composure.

  “Except,” said Cheng Li, “why you think she did it?”

  Connor could sense a look passing between the head-master and Cheng Li over his head.

  “You’re more likely to know that than me,” he said, the words tumbling out before he had time to censor them. “You’ve spent far more time with her than I have since we got here.”

  Cheng Li nodded. “That’s true. And, I confess, I do feel partly to blame for what happened.”

  Connor was surprised. Such an admission was uncharacteristic. He looked up, eager for Cheng Li to continue.

  “As you know, Grace was profoundly affected by what happened to her on the Vampirate ship,” said Cheng Li. “She feels a strong bond with its crew.”

  This was not exactly breaking news. “It’s not good for her,” Connor said. “Look where it’s led her.”

  Cheng Li nodded. “I agree. It’s not good for her, but it’s natural enough.”

  Commodore Kuo left Connor’s side and returned to his seat. Once seated, he addressed Connor. “Perhaps you are aware of Stockholm syndrome?”

  Connor shook his head. The headmaster slipped his spectacles down his nose and took their stalks in his hands. “In simple terms, Stockholm syndrome refers to the strong emotional attachments we can form with the very people who threaten our lives. It’s a survival mechanism — a way to endure terrible violence. It only takes a matter of three or four days to occur. It is precipitated when we are placed, like Grace was, in a life-threatening situation where the threat of death is then removed. The victim is then flooded with feelings of relief and comes to see her captors as the ‘good guys’ — as people who have not threatened her but in fact saved her.” He paused. “We rather think that this is what Grace is suffering from.”

  “Since her arrival here,” Cheng Li said, “I’ve been letting her talk through her experiences on that ship. I’ve encouraged her to do so. I know that you felt uncomfortable hearing about such things — and who could blame you? — but I felt it was important that Grace had somepirateone to tell them to.”

  “Getting them out of her system,” said Commodore Kuo, “was the first step in curing her.”

  “But,” Cheng Li continued, “things took a very different turn last night. Grace’s state of mind was clearly more fragile than I realized. And, as I say, I feel that by encouraging her to talk about the Vampirates, I may have unwittingly led her to take extreme action.”

  Connor nodded. “You mean like trying to kill herself?”

  The headmaster and Cheng Li were clearly surprised by the starkness of his words. But then they nodded.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think she was trying to kill herself,” he said. Commodore Kuo leaned forward, fascinated.

  “I did at first,” Connor continued, “it was the obvious explanation. But I’ve been thinking it over. It just isn’t something Grace would ever consider. I know how much my sister wanted to return to the Vampirate ship. I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I know it’s true. Perhaps you’re right and it is that syndrome you mentioned. Whatever, she feels she has unfinished business there. I think that, last night, she was simply trying to get back onto the ship.”

  Cheng Li and Commodore Kuo looked at him curiously.

  “By jumping into the harbor in the middle of a storm?” said the headmaster after a pause.

  Connor nodded. “Of course. That’s how she ended up on the ship in the first place. We were shipwrecked in the middle of a storm and one of the Vampirates, a guy named Lorcan, fished her out of the water. I think that Grace was hoping that history would repeat itself.”

  “That seems a little far-fetched to me,” Commodore Kuo said.

  Connor noticed that Cheng Li was silent. She had spent time with Grace. She knew that it wasn’t far-fetched, he could sense it.

  “When she came to after I rescued her,” Connor continued, “she was calling for Lorcan. In fact, for a moment, she thought I was Lorcan.” He smiled. “Grace wasn’t trying to end her life. Like she wrote in this note, she was just trying to continue on her journey.”

  Commodore Kuo shook his head slowly. “You’re made of stronger stuff than I thought, Connor. You’re really fine with this?”

  Connor nodded, smiling. It was as if, while he had been talking, something had clicked into place inside his brain. He hadn’t been fine with it — not at all. From the moment he and Grace had been reunited on the deck of the Vampirate ship, he’d been trying to erase all thoughts of what had happened to her there. He’d avoided hearing her talk about it, denied her the chance to get it out. And, all the time she’d been closeted with Cheng Li he had just kept his head down and busied himself with life at the Academy. But now, suddenly, he saw the situation for what it was. Since the shipwreck, they had both embarked on journeys. And, just as he could not turn back the clock and walk away from piracy, now he understood that her journey was equally unstoppable. He hadn’t wanted to let Grace go. But now, at last, he could.

  “So where does this leave us?” Commodore Kuo asked him. “Do you still want me to work out an agreement with Captain Wrathe — to free you from his articles so you can stay here? And begin both your Academy and Federation training?”

  Connor nodded. “Nothing has changed.”

  “Of course he must stay here,” Cheng Li said. “He can’t leave Grace now.”

  “This has nothing to do with Grace,” Connor said, surprised at his own steel. “Of course, I’ll do what I can to help her recover. But we have to start making our own decisions. We want different things from life. We’re set on different paths. She can stay here with me or she can go back to The Diablo. She can even go back to the Vampirate ship — if she can find it. It’s up to her to decide.”

  Outside, a bell began to chime. Through the window, Connor could see Jacoby and Jasmine getting ready to return to class.

  “Afternoon class,” said Cheng Li.

  Connor stood up, feeling strangely powerful. “I’d better catch up with the others.”

  The headmaster nodded, chewing on the arm of his spectacles.

  Connor excused himself and exited through the terrace door, closing it securely behind him. After he had gone, the headmaster and Cheng Li looked toward each other.

  “I must confess,” said Cheng Li, “he surprised me.”

  Commodore Kuo smiled. “You must learn to trust the tide, Mistress Li,” he said. “Sometimes all you have to do is sit back and wait.”

  The final lesson of Connor’s day was Combat Workshop. At four o’clock, he and Jacoby arrived in the gym dressed in their tracksuits, along with the rest of their class. Captain Platonov was waiting for them, but he was not alone. At his side was Cheng Li.

  As the students assembled, Platonov clapped his hands. “Attention, everyone. Attention. In a moment, we will resume our usual practice. But today, we must make do without Mister Blunt and Mister Tempest.”

  Connor and Jacoby turned to each other in puzzlement. Their fellow students were equally surprised.

  “Mister Blunt, Mister Tempest, perhaps you would go with Mis
tress Li?”

  Shrugging, Jacoby and Connor stepped to the front of the class. Cheng Li smiled and led them out of the gymnasium door. Behind them, Connor heard Platonov barking out commands to Jasmine and the others.

  “What’s up?” Jacoby asked Cheng Li. “Where are you taking us, Mistress Li? Are there some secret Academy dungeons we didn’t know about until now?”

  There was a broad grin on his face. Nothing seemed to faze him, thought Connor.

  Cheng Li seemed equally amused. “What a feverish imagination you have, Jacoby. Perhaps one day you will write a book? No, there are no dungeons — not to my knowledge, at least.”

  Indeed, she was leading them upstairs rather than down. They emerged into another corridor, and then Cheng Li pushed open a door and they found themselves in a second, smaller gym.

  Connor was puzzled. It was dark in here. Then, as Cheng Li hit the lights, he saw, in the center of the room, two sword stands and, on each one, a glass case.

  The three of them walked across the matting on the floor to the stands. As they did so, Jacoby gasped and Connor felt his heart begin to race.

  “It’s the Toledo Blade,” he said. “Commodore Kuo’s Toledo Blade.”

  Cheng Li smiled.

  “And Molucco Wrathe’s Sapphire Rapier,” said Jacoby. “It’s even more beautiful up close!”

  Connor was confused. “But the headmaster said that these only ever come out of their cases on Swords Day.”

  Cheng Li nodded, as she took a pair of keys from the chain around her neck and unlocked the two cases. “That is correct, ordinarily. But it has hardly been an ordinary few days, has it? The headmaster wished to make a gift to you.”

  “The blade?” Connor could barely speak as Cheng Li opened up the case, revealing the sword in all its magnificence.

  “No, not the blade itself. But the chance to use it, once.”

  Both Jacoby and Connor focused on Cheng Li’s every move as she took both swords from their cases and laid them on a velvet-covered rest on a nearby table.

  “Tomorrow night, there will be another dinner in your honor. It was to have marked the end of your stay, but now it will mark the beginning of your becoming a full-time student here.”

  This, of course, was news to Jacoby. He let out a cheer and slapped Connor on the back. But Cheng Li did not wait before continuing.

  “All of the captains will attend. And, prior to the dinner, the entire student body will gather to watch you and Mister Blunt perform an exhibition of swordplay with these blades. This will take place on the practice deck...on the ‘lagoon of doom.’ ”

  “Wicked!” cried Jacoby. “I claim the Toledo Blade!”

  Both Connor and Cheng Li glared at him.

  “I’m joking, I’m joking! I’ll take Molucco’s rapier.”

  “That’s quite enough of your clowning,” Cheng Li said. “We have barely twenty-four hours until you perform in front of the entire Academy. It has fallen to me to choreograph your swordplay. And I have to show you some very complicated moves.” She put on her gauntlets. “Connor, you chose to join the Academy as a full-time student? Well, this is where your real Academy training begins!”

  “I think I’ll sleep for a week after that,” said Connor, as he emerged from the showers after sparring with Jacoby for two hours solid.

  “No rest for the wicked,” Jacoby said, vigorously drying his hair. “Didn’t you hear Mistress Li? She wants us back in that gym at seven sharp tomorrow morning. You know what that means?”

  “No Saturday morning lie-in?”

  “Worse than that, mate. No swimming class — ergo, no chance to ogle Jasmine in her bikini.”

  Connor laughed. Jacoby Blunt was incorrigible.

  After their extended sword workout, Connor was dog-tired that evening. By the time he’d eaten dinner, he was ready for bed. Incredibly, Jacoby came to life again after eating and suggested a pool tournament. Connor couldn’t face it and was thankful when Aamir and a couple of their other classmates took up the challenge. They all wished him good night and headed off to the games room, leaving him on the terrace.

  Connor looked down to the harbor. It was so tranquil tonight — amazing what a change twenty-four hours could bring. He yawned and stretched out his legs. They were as heavy as lead. He could fall asleep right here, right now — only, there was one last thing he needed to do before bed. Drawing himself to his feet, he walked across the terrace and down the steps through the gardens.

  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.