by Sarah West
The competition hovered ominously over everyone’s heads for the next several days, so Amber was not the least bit surprised that when she woke up on the anticipated morning, dark clouds hung low in the sky; nature’s manifestations of their own anxiety. She forced herself to eat, though her stomach was twisted in knots. Logan gave her a reassuring smile across the table and patted her hand. “You’re going to do fine.”
She swallowed, the bread a hard lump that inched down her dry throat to settle in her gut. She pushed the plate away. “I’m not worried.” He cocked a dark eyebrow. “All right, fine, I’m scared as hell. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Of course you have, just last night I watched an intense sparring session with William.”
“But that’s different.”
“How so?”
“That was just a game, and it was fun.”
“There isn’t a single reason why this shouldn’t also be fun. Well, apart from the potential for injury or death.” He saw her flinch. “I’m joking of course. Everything will turn out, you’ll see. But for now, just relax, take deep breaths, and start stretching. Run around the ship once or twice, it will energize you.” She headed towards the door. “But before you go, would you mind filling me in on the format for the fights today? I hope it simplifies things, because last year was a catastrophe.”
“I haven’t come up with anything.”
His face fell. “Amber, you asked me if you could plan it, and I haven’t got any last minute ideas.”
“Don’t worry, I delegated the responsibility to someone much more capable.”
“Who would that be?”
“Johnny.”
He laughed. “Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”
“I’m not.”
“Let me see if I understand this. You put an organizational task in the hands of an easily distracted, impulsive child?”
“He’s hardly a child, Logan. Have a little faith in him—he’s smarter than you think!”
An hour later she had joined the crowd of restless men, discussing strategy with Deacon and eager to begin. She fell silent as she saw Johnny drag a crate over to the mast and climb on top of it.
“I’m only going to say this once, so you lot better shut up and listen!” The crew, who up until then had been double-checking their weapons and trading last minute advice, were stunned into silence by his loud voice. Seeing that he had everybody’s attention, including a startled looking Logan, he held up a hat. “In here there are enough slips of parchment for each of you to draw one without looking. Written on the paper is a letter, and you will find the man who has the same letter as you. This is who you’re sparring first. If you win, you find the man who has the next letter: A with B, C with D, and so on.”
“What if we can’t read?” came a shout from the rear.
“Then I‘ll show you where to go,” Johnny said, smiling at Amber. She winked back and snuck a glance at Logan, who was leaning against the mizzenmast looking dumbfounded. He caught her eye and she ducked her head, pretending to listen to Johnny. In fact, she had gone over the plan with him the previous evening.
“If you lose a round, you have to stick around and act as a judge should there be a call,” Johnny was finishing up. He turned to Logan. “Anything you wanna add, Cap’n?”
Taken aback, Logan stuttered before he regained his composure. “Though I’d prefer you didn’t kill each other, I want you to bring everything you have to these matches. I don’t want to hear you whining about “fair,” this is fighting. There is no fair. I say this not to inspire animosity between you, but to prepare you for the real world. Mendoza’s men won’t hold back, and neither should you.
“But if you lose, I want to see you recover quickly and move on to watching the other fights. Use them as a chance to learn, maybe figure out where you went wrong in your own match. Now, good luck, and may the best swordsman win.”
When it came turn to draw a letter she reached her hand into the tricorne hat and felt around, extracting a crumpled ball of paper. She unfolded it and read the G, written in Johnny’s shaky handwriting. Lifting her head she listened as her letter was called, her eyes following the voice to Henry. His face paled when he saw her. “Just promise me you won’t kill me,” he pleaded.
She laughed. “I wouldn’t worry, you’ve been doing this longer than I have.”
Logan’s voice rang out through the crowd, instructing them to draw their weapons. Henry’s hands shook visibly as he unsheathed his sword and held it up, more as protection against Amber’s blade than as a means of attack. At the sound of Logan’s pistol Amber lunged towards her younger opponent. Seconds later she pushed through his defensive stance and ran the tip of her sword across his shoulder, leaving a clean streak of blood. Henry stepped back to survey the damage, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw the minimal cut. “Thank you,” he whispered as he tucked his cutlass away and hurried over to the station Piers had set up to clean and stitch wounds.
She chuckled as she examined the edge of her sword, seeing not a drop on it.
“Easy win?” Logan asked from behind her.
“Considering that we are the only ones finished, I would say, yes, it was an easy victory.”
He slid his arms around her waist. “Couldn’t it be because you’re so skilled that no one stands a chance against you?”
“You’d best cut that out, or your men will think you’re playing favorites.”
He nuzzled her earlobe. “Oh, but I am.”
“Stop that.” She nudged him away.
“You can’t still be worried, can you? Your first victory was easy enough.”
“Too easy,” she explained. “Henry was too frightened to fight back.”
“Ever since he saw what happened to Pax he’s been terrified of you, Miss Amber,” Johnny said, approaching them with the air of someone older and more mature. He lowered his voice. “He told me his uncle got conked on the head one too many times during bar fights and died, so I figure that’s why he’s so scared.”
“It was an accident,” she stammered, her face reddening. “Pax knows I didn’t mean any harm or ill will.”
“Of course I do, love,” Pax exclaimed, sheathing his sword with a smile. Buck, looking irate, shadowed Pax as he walked towards them. “And besides, no harm done, see?” He rapped his knuckles against his skull. “Like a rock. It’ll take more than a little bump to addle my brains.”
“That’s assuming you have any to start with.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a sore loser, Buck? You had plenty of time to block that vertical strike, but you were too slow.”
“You just watch yourself tonight while you sleep, pal.”
Logan stepped between them. “Buck, go do something productive and have Piers examine your ear. I’m not positive, but I’m fairly certain it should have stopped bleeding by now.”
“And show some sportsmanship!” Pax called at his retreating back.
“Yes, because taunting the loser after you nearly sever their ear is a mature response. Why don’t you go see if you can find your next opponent?” Pax shuffled off and Logan turned to Amber again. “You might want to join him; there are a few pirates out there who still have their dignity. Between you and Pax, you should remedy that in an hour or two.” He winked at her. “Good luck.”
Three hours later Amber had bested Creed, Daniel, David, and several other disgruntled men. After eating a brief lunch, she stretched the tight muscles in her neck and met Deacon in the middle of the deck. The men were torn between watching them and watching the fight between Pax and Anton on the opposite end of the ship. Both matches paired a smaller fighter with a much larger one, and everyone was eager to see the outcomes.
Unaware of the other skirmish going on, and even of the crowd circling and cheering them, Amber focused on the man across from her. As they were instructed to withdraw their swords he smiled at her, retracting it the moment Logan fired his pistol. He lunged forward wit
h his blade raised, forcing her to jump to the side to avoid his blow. She struck at the exposed portion of his midsection but he quickly parried her strike and regained a defensive position, leaving her few openings.
They fought for thirty minutes, and still neither had made any ground. Amber was growing tired, and judging by the sweat dripping down Deacon’s face, she guessed he was too. They were matched in style and skill, as he had taught her much of what she knew about the sport. The only discernable differences between them as fighters were their height and their sex. Having no desire to disrobe mid-fight, Amber rushed at him with her sword raised for a vertical strike, Deacon raising his in kind for the parry. With his blade above his center body line she twisted out of his reach and swung hers down to nick the back of his unprotected legs, drawing a curse from his mouth. But when she stood to shake hands he was smiling.
“The student becomes the teacher,” he chuckled.
“Nonsense, you always said to exploit your opponent’s weakness, and in your case it’s your height. You can’t help the fact you have a lot of body to protect.”
“Very true, which is why I wear my tall boots when I go into town or know I’ll be fighting. Gives my enemies one less target to aim for.”
“Why didn’t you wear them today?”
He smiled. “Because I underestimated you. You don’t think like an inexperienced fighter, which is impressive considering the short time you’ve been practicing.” She thanked him, and ignoring her insistence that he see Piers, he led her into the crowd surrounding the other men. They inched their way forward in order to see.
A few seconds of observation and Amber could see that Pax had the upper hand. Like her, he was quick and athletic, and able to dart around people. Anton was using his size and strength to try to overpower Pax, but the smaller man was able to avoid the crushing blows that could easily take his arm off.
“You’re still bleeding down the back of your heel,” Amber whispered to Deacon.
He hushed her and beckoned her closer, pointing at Pax. “See what he’s doing there? He’s circling faster than Anton can keep up, because his bulk slows him down. As long as Pax can stay out of reach he can tire him out and then go in for the killing strike.” As they watched, Pax leapt into action and rushed the heavily panting giant, who didn’t have the energy to block the stinging blow across his abdomen. Blood began to trickle from his bare chest, and Logan called the fight and instructed Piers to bring over a chair before Anton collapsed of exhaustion. Deacon turned to Amber. “I hope you’ve got some energy left, because that boy is teeming with it, and you’ll need to stay one step ahead of him at all times if you want to win.”
Logan called for a break for supper, giving both Amber and Pax time to relax before the final fight, and the men something to look forward to. Following Logan into the cabin, Amber collapsed on the bed with a groan. “I’m dying.”
“You aren’t.”
“I am so. I’m dying.”
“You’re just being melodramatic.” She rolled over and pouted. “If you were dying I doubt we would be wasting time having this conversation. Now sit up and eat; you’ll need your strength and energy or Pax will run circles around you like he did Anton.”
With a reluctant sigh she pulled herself up and hobbled over to the table. “What are we having, more turtle soup?”
“Not tonight. This evening I have arranged especially for you a meal that will give you the stamina to get through the next few hours.” He pulled the cover off the tray and presented a plate overflowing with pastries, croissants, tarts and biscuits of every variety, many of them topped with mounds of jam or marmalade. “Be prepared though, the sugar will only work for a few hours, and when it wears off expect a sudden onset of lethargy.”
“Where did these come from?” she asked him between bites.
“Abe baked them while everyone was distracted on deck today.”
“How much time do I have until I have to be back out there?”
Logan swiveled his head to look out the window. “The sun will set in an hour, and by the time the men finish eating dinner and illuminating the deck, it will be another three quarters of an hour.” He turned around. “Why, did you have something you wanted to do in that time?”
“Yes,” she responded, reaching down to tug the hem of her heavy shirt up and over her head, dropping it on the floor. She was shimmying her pants down when she saw that Logan was doing the same thing. “What are you doing?”
He paused in his action of pulling off his shirt. “Getting ready to make love to you, of course. Why, what are you doing?”
She laughed. “I’m taking a nap!” To demonstrate her point she crawled beneath the covers and plumped a pillow.
A crease formed above his brow. “But you’re naked.”
“My clothes are damp with sweat and the shirt you’re forcing me to wear is absurdly warm, so of course I don’t plan on sleeping in it. And you’re mad if you think I’m prepared to do…that with you right now,” she said as she pulled the blankets up over her eyes. “Don’t let me oversleep, or I will be livid.”
With a smile he cleared the empty dishes, being careful not to rouse her. The room tidy, he balanced the tray on his hip and left the cabin, shutting the door behind him. It was dusk, and his men were finishing their own suppers and beginning to filter back onto the deck, restless and excited about the fight, their anticipation clouding the sting of their own recent losses.
He walked among them, checking injuries and instructing them where to hang lanterns to provide the most light. He was looking for Anton when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Pax.
“Can I have a word with you, Cap’n?”
Glancing around them to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, he bobbed his head. “What’s on your mind?”
Rocking back and forth on his feet, the freckled boy avoided meeting Logan’s eyes. “I was just wondering what you want me to do tonight.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What I mean is, do you want me to lose?”
Logan was taken aback by his frankness, and decided to be forthright in return. “I assume you’re referring to my,” he searched for the word, “attachment to Amber?”
Pax’s eyes darted upwards. “Yes.”
“I figured. As for your question, no, I do not want you to forfeit the competition by any means.” He cleared his throat. “Just act as you would if she were a man.”
“But she’s not—”
“Yes, I’m well aware of her gender, Pax. Just know that she will not be holding anything back, and she expects the same from you. Don’t disappoint her. But do me one favor?”
“Anything, Cap’n.”
Logan sighed. “Do your best to keep her alive?”
“Of course, Cap’n. I like Amber to much to really hurt her.” It wasn’t until Pax had ducked below deck again that Logan was able to unclench his fists.
“That was extremely difficult for you, wasn’t it?”
He jumped. “Damn it, Eli, why are you always sneaking up behind me?”
“For the same reason you always try to divert my attention when I bring up an uncomfortable subject. If you won’t answer me, I’ll skip ahead to saying I’m proud of how you handled that conversation. I know you’re itching to rip his head from his shoulders before he can get near Amber.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Your eye is twitching and your accent is back.” He dismissed Logan’s stony glare. “Now, it’s almost time for the fight. You’ve done well controlling yourself thus far, so maintain your calm façade for just a little bit longer.”
“I’ve never needed advice on women from you in the past. What makes you think I need it now?”
Unfazed, Eli withdrew his handkerchief to wipe a speck of dust from his boots. “Because you’ve never fought this hard to win a lass before, and you’ve never encountered one like Amber. Haven’t you noticed how much happier she is without you hovering ove
r her? You need to let her fight her own battles, literally and metaphorically of course.”
Logan growled. “I’m an arse for listening to you, Elijah. The only bit of relief I have is in knowing this bloody contest is almost over.”
“Watch your accent!” Eli hissed after him. Grinding his teeth and wishing he had never agreed to the competition, he entered the cabin to wake Amber up.
He found her quite naked in the center of the room, sword in hand, practicing her drills. A glance at the table confirmed that she had consumed the remainder of the pastries he had left for her.
“I was too excited to sleep anymore,” she confessed as she rested the blade on the floor and leaned on the hilt.
“Your excitement apparently also outweighed your need to get dressed,” he noted with an appreciative nod.
She shrugged and reached for her breeches. “Is everyone waiting for me outside?”
“Not quite, but it is getting to be time. How are your nerves?”
“I’m not scared anymore, but I am restless and jittery.”
“I would wager a guess that’s because you just consumed half of your body weight in sugar.” He walked around the table to hand her her boots and waited for her to put them on, then kissed her on the forehead. “You’re doing an incredible job, and I’m proud of you for pushing yourself so hard. It’s really quite remarkable how far you’ve come.”
She gave him a smile as she sheathed her sword and checked the position of the knife in her boot. “Now, let’s go see if I can do this without rendering Pax unconscious for the second time.”
As he led her towards the open space in the middle of the main deck, between the mizzen and main mast, he was powerless to control the emotion surging within him. A foreign mixture of pride and possessiveness, strange and disarming in its intensity, threatened to overtake him. But somehow he managed to leave her in the center with nothing but her weapons and her skill, and take his place next to Eli at the edge of the circle. Somehow he was able to deliver a speech congratulating the two fighters on their stamina and talent, and fire his pistol into the air to signal the start of the fight. And, somehow, he was able to make it through the next excruciating fifteen minutes without jumping in to pull Amber away from Pax, and run his own blade through the boy’s heart.
