Tigerheart (21 page)

The crew of the
Skull n’ Bones
scrambled about, with Mary Slash shouting all those nautical things that captains always shout when preparing for battle. The pirates sprang into action, raising and lowering sails in rapid succession while rolling out the guns. This time Mary Slash was going to make no mistakes.

The man-of-war bore down upon them, and through her spyglass she was able to make out the ship’s name, etched on the side in proud, gilded letters:
Toy Boat Toy Boat Toy Boat.
Her eyebrows knit in confusion. The name made no sense to her, and she supposed it was an attempt at humor. She didn’t find it remotely funny—as I’m sure you didn’t either—but The Boy did, and that is all that matters.

Meanwhile, aboard the man-of-war, The Boy was bounding about, the incarnation of excitement. He waved his sword around with such gusto that he nearly sliced through one of the sails. Irregular and Porthos, pressed into service as gunnery mates, were preparing another round of shots for the cannons. Paul was at the helm, which he would have thought would be a far more difficult job than it was. But the
Toy Boat
was a gloriously responsive ship, reacting to his slightest touch. It was as if all he had to do was think about where he wanted the ship to go and it would move in that direction…which wasn’t far off from the reality of it. Gwenny was standing in the prow, shouting updates to The Boy and Paul.

“We’re closing the gap!” she said. “But I think they’re…yes! They’re coming about! Bringing their forward guns to bear!”

“Let them!” said The Boy, confident in his abilities and invulnerability.

Paul didn’t sway from his course, but he called worriedly to Gwenny, “Is this ship impervious to cannon fire?”

There were three distant booms, and Gwenny said, “I think we’re about to find out.”

Sure enough, three cannonballs were flying through the air, coming straight toward the man-of-war in a graceful arc. It was a formidable piece of shooting, and it appeared to Paul that they were going to be struck directly. His first instinct was to cut the ship hard away from the oncoming projectiles.

“Stay the course!” said The Boy as he rocketed through the air toward the missiles. He met them halfway and bounded from one to the next to the next, bouncing off them in rapid succession like a child leaping across rocky islets across a river. In each case, The Boy brought his feet down and sent the cannonballs splashing harmlessly into the water. The waves were kicking up furiously, thanks to the storm that was rolling in directly behind the man-of-war, pushing it even faster.

Paul glanced over his shoulder and saw that the Indians were still engaged in their rain dance, with Princess Picca in the middle, shaking a spear and imploring the storm gods to keep doing what they were doing. Paul wondered briefly if it was the same storm deities who had sent that gigantic wave crashing down upon the Indians and nigh flooding out the entire island. He wondered how the Piccas could have suffered at the hands of those whom they were now imploring for help. But then he considered all the “acts of God” that fell upon people who then went right on praising that same God in the highest, and decided that it was probably a wiser course to practice forgiveness and humility when it came to beings who could wipe you out with a shrug of their shoulders.

Closer and closer they drew, and Paul was now able to see the pirates scrambling about on the deck of their ship. A second barrage of cannon fire fared exactly the same as the first, thanks to The Boy’s deft footwork and reactions. Then the long guns of the
Toy Boat
cut loose, sending their own assault flying at the
Skull n’ Bones.
It was a carefully placed launch, aimed at taking out the sails, because they didn’t want to risk sinking the vessel. After all, Fiddlefix was still aboard somewhere.

And then something moved through the air in front of the pirate ship. Paul recognized it instantly, and The Boy’s breath caught in his throat as the shadow of Captain Hack advanced to defend his vessel. As opposed to leaping aboard the cannonballs, Hack simply moved from one cannonball to the next as soon as they came within range of the ship. His speed was far greater than The Boy’s, since he was capable of moving at the speed of light (or dark, as the case may be). Nor was he vulnerable to the impact of the balls themselves. Instead, he smacked them aside with the blade of his hatchet.

Then the shadow pointed at The Boy in an unmistakable gesture that, even though offered in silence, spoke volumes: It said,
Come and get me, if you dare.

The Boy pointed back in return. “I’m for you, Hack! We finished it once! And we’ll keep finishing it until there’s no returning, even for you!”

It was rapidly becoming clear what sort of climax events were coming to. This was not a battle that would be settled through force of cannon fire no matter how much weaponry the ships might have been respectively packing. This was going to be face-to-face, hand-to-hand.

Lightning cracked in the sky behind the
Toy Boat,
and the fearsome gusts of wind propelled it forward even more viciously. Rain began to pelt down, and Paul struggled manfully to keep the ship on its course. The Boy was perched atop, still pointing defiantly at the shade of his archenemy, who pointed back in return. The Indians were howling fury all the louder. Gwenny could make out the faces of the Bully Boys and pirates, twisted in rage and barely recognizable as anything human.

And a fearful thought crossed her mind unbidden:
This is going to end badly. We’re not all going to make it.
But there was no one for her to share her concerns with; and even if there had been, it wouldn’t have made much difference.

Suddenly the
Skull n’ Bones
was coming right at them.

The abrupt change in the ship’s course had been deft and swift. The man-of-war was indisputably the more powerful of the two; but the pirate ship was faster, more maneuverable, and under the helm touch of Mary Slash was simply the better piloted as compared to the novice hands of Paul Dear. All the crew of the
Toy Boat
knew was that the
Skull n’ Bones
was coming right toward them, dead set on a collision course.

“Hard to starboard!” said The Boy from on high, but the wind carried his words away. Not hearing any countermanding orders, Paul kept the man-of-war straight on toward the pirate ship.

Gwenny ran to him and shouted in his ear, “What are you doing? We’re going to ram them! Turn off!”

“They’ll turn first,” Paul said grimly, his voice a tiger growl. “They’re pirates. They’re cowards.”

Clinging to the rigging above, The Boy waited for Paul to cut hard to starboard. But there was no movement save dead forward, and The Boy looked down to see that Paul hadn’t altered his direction in the slightest. “Hard starboard!” The Boy called once more, and still their course didn’t change. He started to leap down toward Paul, but his foot snagged in the rigging, and The Boy dangled upside down, trying to pull his foot free from the rain-soaked ropes.

The storm had now spread beyond the man-of-war. The skies were solid black; and bizarrely the winds were coming from two different directions, one pushing the man-of-war, the other the pirate vessel. It was as if two different groups of storm gods had chosen sides and were curious to see who would triumph.

At the helm of the pirate ship, Mary Slash held firm to her course. She was convinced that the man-of-war would try to get out of the way; and when it did, then the
Skull n’ Bones
would ram her amidships. With any luck, it would be enough to break apart the man-of-war and send both halves to the bottom of the sea. She was even more convinced of the viability of her plan when she saw that the youthful Paul was at the helm. “Come on, then,” she snarled. “It’s one thing to have your fun at our expense when you’re hiding in the high weeds! Let’s see what you’re made of when confronted with impending destruction!”

They hurtled toward each other, two determined juggernauts, neither one backing off. Gwenny was shouting to Paul that perhaps he should reconsider what he was doing, but Paul’s jaw was set in determination, convinced that he wasn’t going to turn away in the face of bullying behavior. Captain Hack, meantime, was gesturing wildly to his sister to turn from her course, but she naturally couldn’t understand what he was saying; and, besides, she would be blasted to perdition if she allowed herself to back down in the face of an attack by a slip of a boy, of all things.

Closer and closer still, and both Paul and Captain Slash came to a mutual realization at about the same time: namely that neither was going to turn away. At the last second, both of them decided to cut hard; but there was a split-second hesitation as to which way to go. In that fraction of a second, the final gusts of wind from either side shoved them forward faster than either anticipated.

As a result, with much accompanying alarmed shouts from both crews, the two vessels crashed head-on. There was a thunderous splintering and crunching of wood as the ships collided. Gwenny was thrown backward, tumbling behind Paul; and Paul barely managed to hold on to the wheel. The Indians and the other boys were sent staggering as well. As for The Boy, he was jolted free from the rigging and, before he could gather his wits to fly, wound up tumbling down the rigging and hitting the rain-slicked deck.

Over on the pirate vessel, Mary Slash slammed up against the steering wheel and almost managed to put out one of her own eyes with her sword blade. The pirates rolled about the deck like pinballs, crashing up against one another. The only one who wasn’t thrown about was the shadow of Captain Hack, who simply floated there, shaking his head.

Neither ship was damaged so calamitously that they were in danger of sinking, for what had really engaged were the bowsprits of both vessels. The large spars, projecting from the prow, collided not head-on but just to the side of each other. As a result, they ran the length of each other, like two swords coming together and sliding down their respective blades. The figureheads of the two vessels then crashed into each other, the fearsome skull of the pirates smashing directly into the rather attractive mermaid that decorated the bow of the man-of-war. They both shattered under the impact. Meanwhile, the forward sails that had been anchored to the bowsprits broke apart, sending piles of canvas collapsing to the respective decks.

Rain poured down all the harder, and for a moment the two mighty vessels bobbed in the water like corks. The only sound to be heard was the creaking of wood as the two vessels remained there, enmeshed and entangled.

And then The Boy was on his feet, and he pointed his sword at the pirates and said, “Teachers of betrayal and mistrust, have at thee!”

And then Mary Slash pointed her sword at him in response and shouted back, “Students of the naive and credulous, prepare for thy final lesson!”

The Indians massed behind The Boy, while the fearsome pirates came running at the behest of Captain Slash, and, charging across the engaged bowsprits, the two forces of good and evil crashed headlong into their final battle.

Chapter 18

Death at Sea

A
s Yorkers lay below deck, he was barely aware of the crashing together of opposing forces above him. Instead, his attention was entirely inward as he contemplated the length and breadth of his life and came to the conclusion that he had wasted it.

This was a crushing realization for him, because here’s the truth of it: When young men misbehave, they do so in the belief that eventually they’ll have the opportunity to correct their behavior. Youth is the time for wrongheaded actions. As long as they straighten out by the time they become adults, they will wind up good husbands, good fathers, and good men…a goal held by far more nasty young men than you could imagine.

The advantage of residing in the Anyplace is that the time for misbehavior can be extended indefinitely, at least in theory.

Where the theory falls down is that people can die violently in the Anyplace as readily as elsewhere.

Yorkers was beginning to understand that such was the case with him. A wasted life, a wasted death, and nothing else to come was all that awaited him.

He lay there, clutching at his chest and sobbing piteously. Slowly he became aware that there was some sort of major battle going on overhead. But it had decreasing relevance to him.

He heard the distinctive shouting of The Boy, which was surprising since he had supposedly been eaten by a tiger, and Captain Slash shouting back at him, and the clashing of swords. There were war whoops from Indians, which was even more surprising to Yorkers, since Captain Slash had been convinced that they’d been wiped out and he’d had no reason to doubt her. There was the pounding of feet overhead—people running back and forth—and Yorkers tried to bring himself to standing so that he could be a part of it. Except he realized at that moment that, even were he capable of joining the battle, he couldn’t be entirely sure which side he would fight on. After all, the captain to whom he’d sworn fealty had stabbed him, possibly to death—that remained to be seen. On the other hand, The Boy was not noted for his compassionate and forgiving nature; he was just as likely to run Yorkers through as look at him.

Finding a bulkhead to lean against, Yorkers forced himself to stand, even though his legs were shaking violently. He licked his lips, which were suddenly bone-dry, and then he heard the light footfall of someone coming down the companionway. Yorkers had his short sword tucked in his sash, and he pulled it free and held it with both hands, even though they were both covered with his own blood.

A lithe figure landed directly in front of him. They both gasped upon seeing each other.

“Gwenny,” he managed to say.

For it was indeed Gwenny. Her hair was slicked down, her clothes plastered by the rain to her body. She was holding a broken belaying pin in her hand, for she had shattered it on the head of the fearsome pirate Agha Bey. She’d hit the pirate from the side while he had been facing off against Paul. Paul had voiced a brief protest, his pride not allowing him to admit that he was relieved at her intervention.

Having taken it upon herself to try and find the missing Fiddlefix, Gwenny had come below deck and was quite surprised to discover Yorkers facing her. Her surprise was quickly replaced by alarm when she saw the spreading red stain upon his shirt. “Yorkers! You—you need help!”

Yorkers shook his head, keeping his sword up so that Gwenny couldn’t proceed. “Nothing can help me,” he whispered, surprised at the hoarseness of his voice.

Gwenny’s mind raced, trying to figure out a way past him, and suddenly she said out of nowhere, “Fiddlefix can help you.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “She—she can?”

“Of course. She can cure that wound with pixie magic. Didn’t you know that?”

Yorkers shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely sure. Don’t you remember all the times she cured us of various wounds and ills? Certainly you must!”

He didn’t recall a single incident, but he was loath to admit it. “I—I guess I remember…something like that….”

“Take me to her! If you do, and we free her, she can cure you. Fix up that wound in your chest in no time.”

For a long moment his determination wavered, and then Yorkers saw all hope of future redemption sliding away from him, and he said, “Come with me.”

Gwenny followed him as he took her directly to the cabin of Captain Mary Slash. It was ornately decorated; and, left to her own devices, Gwenny might never have located what she was looking for. But Yorkers, leaning against the captain’s reading desk, pointed with his sword toward a cabinet and said, “In there. Second drawer down.”

She pulled open the drawer and removed a tightly locked box. “Fiddle?” she called softly. “Fiddlefix? Are you…?”

She didn’t need to finish the question as a spirited chatter issued from within the box. Gwenny sagged in relief. “Thank heavens we found you!” She turned toward Yorkers and started to say, “The key! We need the key to open—”

Yet again she did not finish what she was saying, but in this case it was out of surprise. Yorkers had collapsed to the floor, lying motionless. She took a step toward him and then stopped, for standing in the doorway, looking as fearsome as ever, was Agha Bey. He had his saber in his hand, and his face was twisted in a terrible scowl. There was blood on the side of his face, but otherwise he seemed none the worse for wear.

“Put that down,” growled Agha Bey.

Gwenny stood her ground. “Get out of my way,” she said defiantly, hoping that spunk and bravery would win the day.

Her hope was short-lived. It lasted for exactly as long as was required for Agha Bey to advance upon her, the edge of his sword gleaming and looking thirsty for a new victim. Gwenny didn’t flinch but instead held the broken belaying pin up in as threatening a manner as she could muster.

Agha Bey let out a coarse, confident laugh and drew back his sword in clear preparation to retrieve the box by chopping it right out of Gwenny’s hands. Suddenly he gasped and looked down in surprise at the sword point that was protruding from his chest. Agha Bey looked over his shoulder and saw Yorkers directly behind him, desperately holding his sword as if it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. As it turned out, that was exactly the case: When Agha Bey, with a final curse in his native tongue that neither Yorkers nor Gwenny could understand, collapsed to the deck, he took Yorkers with him. They lay there in a tangle of arms and legs; and now we must tragically say farewell to Yorkers, for the truth was that Fiddlefix had no such power as Gwenny ascribed to her, and Yorkers’s fate was already sealed. But at least he achieved some degree of redemption in his final actions and thus was satisfied with the way things turned out.

Gwenny, spared from having to admit to Yorkers that she had been lying, and knowing it would be a sin that she would carry upon her soul forever, stepped over their unmoving bodies and clambered back up the companionway. She emerged upon the deck and saw chaos everywhere.

The Boy was battling furiously and with greater energy than ever against the shade of Captain Hack but was regrettably having no more luck against his unreal opponent than he’d had earlier. Paul, meantime, was battling Mary Slash; and, although he was proving a deft opponent, he was still clearly not in her league as she effortlessly turned aside every one of his thrusts.

Scattered throughout the rest of the pirate ship were the Indians in savage battle with the pirates. Lightning danced overhead, as if the gods of storm were applauding their entertainment.

“Let me out!” Fiddlefix cried from within. “Let me out! I can save the day!” Gwenny didn’t know what she was saying since she didn’t speak the language of pixies, but Fiddle’s urgency was impossible to misinterpret. She looked desperately around for something that she could use to break open the lock upon the box. Finally she spotted a knife a short distance away. Tossing aside the useless, shattered belaying pin, she moved quickly toward the knife, holding the box firmly in one hand.

Not firmly enough, as it turned out.

A sudden lurch of the ship, and Gwenny was off balance. With her free hand she grabbed at something, anything that would enable her to maintain her footing, and at that instant a crack of lightning in the dark skies caused her to stand out and catch Mary Slash’s eye. The pirate queen realized what Gwenny was holding and intuited the danger that an unleashed Fiddle presented. Stepping back from Paul, she lashed out with one foot and connected, kicking the box out of Gwenny’s grasp.

“
Fiddlefix! No!
” shrieked Gwenny, but it was too late. The box spiraled away from her and over the side of the ship.

The Boy was too far away to do anything about it, but Paul did not hesitate. It was Fiddlefix who had brought him to the Anyplace, who had helped him in his endeavors, even if her reasons were entirely selfish. And it was Fiddlefix who was now in trouble as the box that imprisoned her tumbled into the sea.

Shoving his blade into his belt, Paul vaulted after the box. Mary Slash tried to bisect him as he passed, but he somersaulted in the air before passing out of her range. He saw the box just as it hit the water and vanished. Keeping his arms and legs in perfect diving position, Paul hit the water cleanly and descended after the box.

Mary Slash turned and saw Gwenny standing there, looking not only distraught but helpless. Gwenny was as plucky a heroine as they came, but she really wasn’t all that much for fighting; and, besides, she wasn’t holding anything that could match the terrifying blade nestled on the end of Captain Slash’s arm.

“Now you die,” Mary Slash said, and she came straight at Gwenny.

And something suddenly blocked her way.

Captain Slash took a step back as a vicious spearhead nearly split her face in two. She steadied herself on the pitching deck and saw that Princess Picca was facing her. The princess was holding a spear crosswise, and on her face was an expression of supreme confidence.

“Pick on someone own size,” said the princess.

With an angry shout, Captain Slash came at her with her blade. The spear whirled like a propeller in Princess Picca’s hands, batting away the sword and returning with a thrust that nicked off a small swatch of fabric from Slash’s coat. Slash jumped back, regarding the princess with far more caution as the two of them lobbied for a superior position.

Beneath the water, Paul Dear swam as hard and fast as he could. He saw the box falling through the water, falling, and there was the softest of glows from within. The box slowed ever so slightly, and he realized that Fiddlefix was trying to prevent it from sinking through sheer force of will. He made a desperate grab for it, but then it fell once more. He felt the air starting to burn in his lungs, and knew he was running out of time. He realized he was rapidly approaching a decision point, that he was weighing his own life against the possibility of saving Fiddle’s. He was keenly aware that there had to be an airhole in the box, and if that was the case, the box was doubtless filling up with water. It meant that Fiddle was going to drown unless he snagged the box within seconds.

And then, below him, he saw something looking up at him.

It was an eye.

It was a huge eye, as big as Paul himself if not bigger. Then something appeared next to it, and he realized it was a second eye, having lazily opened.

In the darkness and murk of the waters, he saw the shadows of gargantuan tentacles moving about.

The box tumbled down, down, and struck directly between the two round eyes. They blinked in surprise as the box ricocheted and landed in one of the tentacles.

Paul’s heart sank. His breath was screaming to evacuate his lungs, and those tentacles looked large enough to crush a city bus. He had no idea what he was facing—kraken, squid, octopus, or something else entirely—but there were two things he knew without question:

He could talk to animals.

He was out of time.

Staking everything on one roll of the dice, Paul opened his mouth and burbled out, “Help us…please…”

Then he closed his mouth as quickly as he could, but seawater was already working its way into his lungs. He started to sink, clutching at his chest, despair overwhelming him.
I’ve failed,
he thought miserably.

Suddenly he felt something pushing him upward. He realized immediately that it was one of the creature’s tentacles. The box was flipped into his grasp in an almost offhand manner, and he clutched it to his chest. Quickly he slapped his hands over the airhole to try to prevent even more water from flooding into the box, if it wasn’t already too late.

And then the surface of the water was there. With one final push the tentacles shoved him upward, and he was hurled up and out of the water. He still had enough ability to fly left to him that he rocketed up onto the deck, landing while coughing water violently out of his lungs.

He saw that the pirates were putting up a mighty battle, but they couldn’t begin to match the savagery of the Indians. Princess Picca was still trading blows with Captain Slash, while The Boy was making absolutely no progress against Captain Hack.