Immortal War

by Justin Somper

  “Don’t you like my gift?” Mimma said. “It’s freshly severed. I had a little suck on the arteries on my way over.”

  Lorcan glanced with revulsion from the severed hand to the equally repellent Mimma.

  “Let’s play a little game, shall we?” Mimma said. “It’s called guess whose hand it is… or, rather, was!”

  “No games,” Lorcan said, preparing to charge at her.

  “Johnny told me you were a no-fun zone, and he was right,” Mimma said, leaping into action. “Well, if you won’t play, I may as well just tell you. It’s your mate, Cate’s. See what I did there, Furey? Your mate, Cate! I’m a poet!”

  “That’s not Cate’s hand,” Lorcan said with a shudder.

  Mimma shrugged. “Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t! And maybe I just dispatched her to a better place and maybe I sent off that Moonshine bloke along with her.”

  “You’re full of talk,” Lorcan said. “Why don’t we see if you can walk the walk?”

  Mimma winked at him. “You’re on! I’ve heard all about your fancy moves. Let’s see if you live up to all the hype!”

  Not far away from where Lorcan fought, Grace opened her eyes and found herself inside her cabin, looking up into Oskar’s face.

  “Thank goodness!” he cried. “Grace, I’ve been so worried about you.”

  Grace seemed disconcerted. She raised herself up on her elbows and looked curiously about her surroundings. Below her, she saw the open book. As she lifted her hand, the writing swiftly dissolved.

  Breathing rapidly, she looked up at Oskar once more. “Did I succeed?” she asked. “Have they arrived?”

  Oskar shook his head slowly. “You’re not making sense,” he said. “You’ve been out cold for almost an hour.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ve been on a journey—a mission to fetch reinforcements.”

  Oskar shook his head. “You fell,” he said. “And I think you may have concussed yourself. Wait! Don’t get up too quickly. Let me check your head for wounds.”

  43

  THE LOST BUCCANEER

  “This is the last of them,” Captain Quivers told Captain Grammont as she shepherded the junior class through the wooden doors into the Rotunda. Lisabeth Quivers looked back across the lawns of Pirate Academy, out past the harbor arch, to the mass of ships locked in conflict. She realized that she could no longer tell which belonged to her comrades and which to the enemy armada.

  “Quick now!” Captain Grammont addressed the students, leading them across the floor of the Rotunda. “Onto the platform! Okay, that’s enough for now.”

  The impromptu elevator began its descent to the subterranean bunker. There were excited looks on the young kids’ faces; it seemed that even during times of stress, there were small pleasures to be derived. The rest of the class lately ushered in by Lisabeth Quivers stood by, eagerly awaiting their own turn on the elevator.

  As the platform returned to draw level with the mosaic floor, Captain Grammont beckoned over the next group of students. As he did so, there was a sudden clinking noise overhead. Looking up, Grammont saw that the cases of swords were vibrating. He couldn’t help but wonder what might prompt such unusual movement. Dark thoughts of incendiary devices on the roof crossed his mind but he gritted his teeth and maintained his sangfroid.

  Captain Quivers’s eyes had also been drawn up to the glass cases. Their movement was becoming more and more agitated. Determined not to alarm her young charges, still she exchanged an anxious glance with Captain Grammont. They were all standing directly beneath the rattling cases. The cases had begun to strike one another now. Glass chimed on glass, sending out a discordant sequence of notes, which made an ugly music with the ever-present wail of the “under attack” sirens.

  “Should we…” Captain Quivers began. Before she could complete the thought, the cases suddenly shattered and shards of glass rained down from above.

  “Run, everyone!” Grammont cried. “This way!”

  The kids screamed, racing for cover. The falling glass was the least of it. As the cases broke, the hundred or more swords contained within them began their own descent. Razor-sharp steel and silver began hurtling down toward the students.

  Captain Quivers pulled two of the youngsters within her grasp out of the danger zone. She saw Grammont do the same from the other side.

  But then, the strangest thing of all happened. Before the swords could reach any of the pirate apprentices, the weapons vaporized before their very eyes.

  “What the…” began Grammont, from the sidelines.

  “But how?” asked Captain Quivers, her arms tightly hugging the students she had rescued.

  Mercifully, miraculously, they had escaped with only minor cuts and grazes. Now they all looked on in wonder.

  “Where did the swords go, Headmaster?” asked one of the young students.

  Captain Grammont was unable to answer. He just shook his head.

  On the deck of The Tiger, Bo Yin and Jasmine were fighting side by side at the rear of the ship. As they each dispatched their latest victims, Jasmine turned to her young protégée. “You’re doing great!” she exclaimed.

  “Thanks!” Bo flushed with pride. She was having fun, momentarily pushing aside all thoughts of the stakes of tonight’s battle and enjoying implementing all her expert training.

  Bo Yin and Jasmine looked along the length of the deck. During the course of the fighting, it had thinned out because of the casualties, but now it was suddenly full again.

  “Do you see what I see?” Bo Yin asked.

  Jasmine nodded. Her first response was alarm. Where had this new crew sprung from? She wasn’t aware of any new ship pulling up alongside.

  “Jasmine!” Bo Yin said. “Look around the deck.” Her tone was full of wonder.

  Jasmine soon understood why. The deck had suddenly been infiltrated by new combatants. But the new fighters had not arrived from any ships, conventional or otherwise. They were utterly familiar.

  “There’s Osbert,” Jasmine said, “who died five months ago. And Bima. We lost her when we took back The Diablo, remember?”

  Bo Yin nodded. “That’s right, but she’s back again—and she doesn’t seem to have lost any of her combat skills.”

  Jasmine’s eyes were wide and her heart was racing. “I don’t know how this happened, Bo, but our dead have come back to join the fight.”

  They watched as a Vampirate’s sword passed clean through one of the new arrivals. The dead pirate swiftly staked the Vampirate for his troubles. Jasmine turned to Bo Yin, awestruck.

  “It’s as if the swords of our dead crew members are even more lethal than ours!”

  “Yes,” Bo agreed, elated. “But it’s not just our ship’s dead, Jasmine. See that guy over there? He’s Chang Po. A complete pirate legend. He once ran the Red Flag Fleet with Cheng I Sao. Look, she’s fighting alongside him! I read all about her in my dad’s history books—she has much in common with Captain Li.”

  Jasmine gasped. “You read about them in history books? Can this really be happening? Have the dead come back to help us win this battle?”

  Just then, Jasmine saw a familiar figure materialize right before her eyes.

  “Commodore Kuo!” she exclaimed.

  “At your service!” said the commodore with a smile. He rested his hand on her shoulder. Jasmine’s eyes turned to his hand. How could the swords of the enemy plow uninterrupted through the bodies of the dead pirates and yet she could feel John Kuo’s hand as if it were live flesh? He smiled at her now and it seemed that he had read her thoughts.

  “Only our enemies cannot touch us,” he said. “Now don’t let me put you off your game, Deputy Peacock. I’ve been hearing such good things about you.”

  Renewed with energy and purpose, Jasmine and Bo raced back into the fray, supported on all sides by their comrades, old and new.

  On The Diablo, Cate was concerned. She hadn’t seen or heard Moonshine for some time. Not since he’d been drawn into combat by Mimma
. Cate feared for the fate of The Diablo’s captain but there was nothing she could do while she was still embroiled in her duel with Stukeley.

  She felt a sudden stab of pain in her leg. Glancing down, she saw blood pooling through a slit in her leggings.

  “You took your eye off the ball, there,” Stukeley reprimanded her. “Rookie mistake.”

  He was right. She was angry with herself. “It won’t happen again!” she said, launching into another intricate series of moves, devised in partnership with Lorcan.

  But this time, though the moves themselves were impressive, somehow Stukeley guessed the angle she was coming from and cut off her attack before she had launched it.

  “Is that the best you’ve got?” he taunted her. “After all the time, effort, and money you’ve put into developing a revolutionary combat strategy, I expected more.”

  “I’ve got plenty more tricks up my sleeve,” Cate said bullishly. Hopefully, he’d buy it. The truth was, she was short on tricks, imagination, and raw energy. Jez Stukeley had always been an exceptional fighter, and it seemed that now that he had supernatural abilities to throw into the mix, he was in another league altogether. One completely beyond her own.

  Gritting her teeth, she threw herself back into the fight, but, once again, he swiftly neutralized her attack. “Someone’s running low on gas,” he said, smiling through extended fangs. “Not long now and I’ll be tasting your blood, Cate.”

  The repellent thought made Cate shudder. She readied herself for his attack, but something had thrown him off his mettle.

  “Impossible!” he rasped. His gaze was directed beyond Cate. She didn’t dare turn and follow his stare. It was too dangerous.

  But she felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder and heard a familiar voice in her ear.

  “Thought you could do with some help, Catie!”

  Bart! Could it really be Bart? She must be imagining it—perhaps a sign that she was close to the end. But then he stepped past her and drew his sword against Stukeley—one buccaneer against the other. Stukeley was as dazed as she was. Impossible as it was to conceive, Bart Pearce had come back from the dead to fight one more duel.

  Barbarro and Trofie were just about holding their own against Lola, though she was now backed up by Nathalie, Angelika, and Camille.

  “Face it, pirates!” Lola crowed. “You’re outnumbered.” As her comrades fell into a tight formation around her, Lola reached out her hand and grabbed Trofie by the golden wrist, her other hand lifting her sword toward Trofie’s swanlike neck.

  “No!” Barbarro cried.

  Lola laughed at the frail mortals. She was still laughing as a pair of hands reached from behind her and threw her roughly to the side. Simultaneously someone pushed forward and, in swift succession, knifed Angelika and Camille. The two dead Vampirates fell to the deck, contorting as their bodies began to burn. Lola was stunned—what weapons could have such an effect?

  As Trofie stumbled forward, Barbarro reached out to catch her. He found himself gazing up at his two dead brothers. Both Molucco, who had dealt with Lola, and Porfirio, who had dispatched her two aides, looked decidedly pleased with themselves.

  They both extended their swords toward Barbarro’s. The tips of the two pirate captains’ swords struck against each other. They stood there, waiting—it seemed—for Barbarro to join them. At first, he stood rooted to the spot, mouth agape. Then, still unable to form words, he raised his sword and felt the metal’s connection with the two other blades.

  “Just like old times!” Molucco declared.

  “Yes,” Porfirio agreed. “We always did depend on one another to get us out of scrapes! One for all…”

  “… and all for one!” Molucco said, laughing loudly.

  The familiar sound, which Barbarro had never thought to hear again, delighted him more than he could put into words. “But how can you be here?” he asked.

  “If anyone has a score to settle with these bloodsuckers, it’s the Brothers Wrathe!” Porfirio said.

  “Too right!” agreed Molucco. “I’ve got a particular cowboy Vampirate in my sights!”

  “Don’t forget the harpy!” Trofie said, staring into the empty space where Lola had stood only a moment ago. “Where did she get to?”

  “She can’t have got far, min elskling!” Barbarro cried, grabbing his dear wife’s hand and gazing in wonder at his beloved brothers. “Come on, let’s finish off these demons—together!”

  Johnny wasn’t sure quite why he felt compelled to tell Olivier everything. It was as if the older Vampirate had administered a truth serum, though he had had no opportunity to do so. Maybe it was simply a reflection of Johnny’s guilty conscience. There was something of the priest in Olivier’s demeanor. Perhaps it was this and this alone that elicited Johnny’s willing confession.

  “It was Stukeley’s idea,” he continued. “He wants to break Lola’s spirit and eliminate the threat to our position in the Vampirate hierarchy.”

  Olivier nodded, seemingly unshocked by Johnny’s confession. “I understand,” he said. “Heaven knows, I’m familiar with the frustrations of playing second fiddle.”

  “You are?” Johnny said, wondering how he could take Hunter from Olivier.

  “Why, yes,” Olivier said. “You could say I’ve made a career out of it.”

  Johnny stepped toward Olivier. Olivier might ooze authority, but Johnny was young and virile, and he had a silver dagger still concealed about his person.

  But this time, things didn’t go his way. As he reached for the dagger, he found it was missing, and, glancing around in his confusion, he saw that miraculously it had made its way into Olivier’s clenched fist. Baby Hunter was still tucked securely in the crook of Olivier’s other arm. Olivier was smiling.

  “Now look, Cowboy, I’m going to talk fast because you don’t have much time. But no more tricks, you understand? I’m a dhampir, you see. Rhymes with vampire but infinitely more powerful. Your little friend Grace—she’s one, too, more’s the pity, but we’ll let that lie for now. I’m the one calling the shots here and now.” He smiled. “I’ve listened to your story and I’m sympathetic to your predicament, truly I am. These two mewling babes do present a threat to your future career and, as it happens, also to mine.”

  Johnny found himself grinning. You just never knew when the wheel of fortune was going to turn back in your favor, but it sounded very much like Olivier was going to cut him a deal.

  “I shall permit you to take one of the infants,” Olivier continued. “Lola charged me with looking after baby Hunter so I’m sure you’ll understand my reluctance to let him out of my sight.” He brought his finger to the tip of Hunter’s nose, then looked up again, smiling serenely at Johnny.

  Evil was wriggling in Johnny’s arms. Johnny held him close, his eyes still fixed on Olivier. “You’re going to let me take Evil and… get rid of him? And you won’t tell Lola?”

  Olivier made a mime of zipping his lips. “Mum’s the word!” he said with a smile.

  Unable to believe his good fortune, Johnny decided to waste no more time. He strode toward the door, hugging Evil close to his chest.

  “Whatever you plan to do with him,” Olivier said, “you might want to avail yourself of one of the lightboats currently idling in the waters just below. You’ll be much less visible than if you run across the decks.”

  “Thank you,” Johnny said, feeling genuinely in Olivier’s debt. “I’ll pay you back for this.”

  Olivier nodded. “Yes, you will,” he said. “Now, listen once again, Cowboy, as I elucidate—that means explain to you—the price of my silence.”

  Cheng Li had realized the impossible was happening and that her crew had been joined not only by their slaughtered comrades but also by some of the leading stars of the pirate firmament. There was no time to dwell on how such a miracle had occurred. Once, not long ago, she would have dismissed the possibility if she had not witnessed it with her own eyes. Now, she was hard put not to stand back and marvel at t
he sword skills of Chang Po and, in particular, Cheng I Sao. But there was no time to stop and stare. The dead pirates had evidently come back for a reason—to make the difference in this mother of all battles. She needed to capitalize on this miraculous gift and go send Sidorio to his final resting place—though, truly, rest was the very last thing she wished for the self-styled King of the Vampirates. Feeling flushed with murderous intent, Cheng Li set off toward the center of the deck, the true incarnation of evil in her sights.

  But, before she could reach him, one of his cronies leaped out across her path. She could have screamed with frustration, but if she had to fight one more duel to claim the jewel in the Vampirate crown, so be it. But, as she lifted her sword, she saw in front of her a wondrous sight.

  A face she had stared at every day of her life, whether in flesh or in pictorial form, appeared before her. And the body it was attached to leaped into action and attacked her Vampirate adversary from behind. As the demon fell at her feet with a thud, Cheng Li found herself reunited with the man who had haunted her dreams and nightmares—Chang Ko Li.

  “Father!” she said, her voice never more rich with wonder.

  “We have waited a long time for this meeting,” Chang Ko Li said. “But our reunion must be deferred a little longer, my wondrous daughter. You are commander in chief here and I only came to help clear the path for you.” He lifted his sword and pointed toward Sidorio. “Go now. Make history!”

  Her heart pulsing with light, Cheng Li raced past her father and into the duel she had been hungering for for so long.

  “Don’t cry, little fella,” Johnny told Evil as he lowered him into the lightboat, which, true to Olivier’s word, was idling in the waters beneath The Vagabond. All about them were the sound and fury of the battle, but, strangely, as Johnny let loose their moorings, it was almost peaceful down here.