Vampirates 6: Immortal War (42 page)

As the rest of the crew continued moving down the ship, Grace and Lorcan reached their destination—the captain’s cabin. The door was ajar. Either Obsidian Darke was about to emerge or he had anticipated their arrival.

“Captain?” Lorcan said tentatively.

There was no answer.

Grace realized with alarm that there was a third possibility: The captain’s cabin had been breached. She turned to Lorcan in alarm. He squeezed her hand and called more loudly. “Captain!”

Still no answer. Grace felt her heart hammering, wondering what might be waiting for them inside the captain’s cabin. She had a deep sense of foreboding about this night, and with every step she took—with every beat of the music—that sense of foreboding only grew more intense.

“Come on,” Lorcan said to her, his voice deep and calm as he drew his hand free and pushed open the door to Obsidian Darke’s cabin. Her heart still beating wildly, Grace followed him inside.

The first section of the cabin—containing the captain’s polished wooden table and chairs and the fireplace—was deserted. In the center of the table was an oil lamp, illuminating a number of charts. It was a sight that Grace had glimpsed before, many times. It took her back to the very first time she had dared to enter the captain’s cabin.

Lorcan turned to Grace curiously, asking softly, “Where is he?”

Grace thought she knew. Ahead of them lay a pair of thick curtains. Grace moved toward them and parted the material, beckoning to Lorcan to follow. As she had expected, Obsidian Darke was standing on the balcony outside, his hands resting on the ship’s vast wooden steering
wheel. This was where she had first seen him, almost a year ago now. Then he’d been clad in a mask, cape, and gloves and had cautioned her “not to be alarmed by my appearance.” Now it was his human face that turned to meet them.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he said. There was something in the way he said it that confirmed and intensified Grace’s ominous feelings about the night.

“We need to talk to you,” Lorcan said.

“I know what you want to say,” Obsidian answered. “But it’s out of the question.”

Lorcan hesitated. “I know how powerful you are, Captain, so it doesn’t surprise me if you have read my mind, but I’m still going to voice the words.”

Grace looked from one to the other, willing Lorcan to draw upon all his remaining strength. Looking at him now, he seemed weary to her. She couldn’t be sure if this was the outcome of a war of attrition with Obsidian Darke over the best way to steer their forces or simply his own urgent need to take blood from his donor, Oskar.

Lorcan stole a quick glance at Grace, then turned back to Obsidian. “It’s our opinion that tonight should be the last Feast Night,” he said.

Obsidian nodded but was silent. Even if he had predicted their plea, he would grant them the courtesy of listening to it.

“
At least
until this war is over,” Lorcan continued. “I know the importance of Feast Night to you, but I think the
crew needs to feed more often in order to keep strong in case of attack. And I just don’t think it’s appropriate for us to give such time to this ritual with everything else that’s going on around us right now.”

Obsidian waited, as if to ensure that Lorcan was finished. Then he nodded and began his answer. “I knew this was what you were coming to suggest, but I cannot agree. With everything else that is going on, the ritual of Feast Night has never been more
appropriate
, nor more important.” He paused. “Feast Night has been at the heart of the way this ship has run since it first set sail. It symbolizes the difference between our way of being and that of those who oppose and seek to undermine us. The only time Feast Night has been disrupted has been when they have sought to do so. I will not—
I cannot
—countenance this kind of change. We might as well sound the bell of surrender and let go of all we have held true for so long.”

Lorcan tried once more. “You recognize that these are changing times. The threat we face from Sidorio’s troops is unprecedented. You have embraced change before, when you stepped out from behind your mask and showed a human face to the world. Others would have thought that was inconceivable, but you knew you had to do it.”

Obsidian’s voice was heavy as he replied. “There are others who would still challenge that decision. But you’re right. I had to change. I had to become a different kind of leader. I acknowledge that and I take responsibility for it, whatever the consequences. But I do not view Feast Night
in the same way. As long as I am captain of this ship and commander in chief of this quadrant, Feast Night remains.” His long hair rippled in the night breeze. He turned his dark eyes toward Lorcan. “I trust that, while you disagree with me, I still command your loyalty, Commander Furey?”

“Of course!” Lorcan said, eschewing the Federation salute and bowing formally before his longtime commander. “You command my loyalty and my love.”

Obsidian turned his eyes now to Grace. “What about you?” he asked. “Is your loyalty still with me?”

“Yes,” she said. “You don’t need to ask either of us. The fact that we feel we can bring matters of disagreement to you shows the strength of your command.”

Obsidian nodded, smiling softly. “A good point, as usual,” he said, stepping away from the wheel, which continued to turn back and forth precisely as if his hands were still guiding it. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Come, my friends, let us go down together to the Feast.”

Grace knew Obsidian Darke was doing everything in his power to reassure them, but, despite this, her sense of unease was deeper than ever.

The dark shadows of three ships, drawn from the Vampirates’ hundred-strong fleet, made their way across the ocean toward
The Nocturne
. Each of the ship’s captains—
Sidorio on
The Blood Captain
; Stukeley on
The Redeemer
; and Mimma on
The Calabria
—monitored their progress from the prow of his, or her, ship. Each captain was backed up by a ruthless and battle-hungry crew. No one was in any doubt that tonight would mark a decisive victory for the renegade Vampirates and, if all went according to plan, the end of the war and the unquestioned expansion of the empire of night.

Sidorio stood squarely on the deck of
The Blood Captain
, Johnny at his right hand. They were both looking ahead. Sidorio was smiling.

“It’s in our sights,” he said, his adrenaline pumping off the scale. “This is going to be one Feast Night they won’t ever forget—those we don’t kill in order to take over command.” He put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “I used to be a lieutenant on that ship. Imagine that!”

Johnny laughed. “I
can’t
imagine you ever being a mere lieutenant,” he said. “On that or any other ship.”

“I was,” Sidorio said, feeling the might of his ship beneath him. “And no more than twelve months since. Sometimes we immortals pay insufficient heed to time. It’s amazing what can change in the course of a year.”

Johnny nodded, his eyes focused on the strange, sparking sails of
The Nocturne
, closer and closer now. “You’re going back to claim it for your own.”

“Yes,” Sidorio agreed. “Either that or to destroy it.”

The Nocturnals and donors stood facing one another across the long banqueting table, heads bowed as Obsidian spoke the words Mosh Zu had written to commence the Feast.

I am a proud voyager of the night
.

No lesser, nor greater, than a being of the light
.

I will not hide in the shadows…

Lorcan became aware of Oskar watching him from across the table. He realized his friend was trying to attract his attention. “Is everything okay?” Oskar whispered. “You look…” Lorcan brought his finger to his lips. It was bad form to talk during the Nocturnal incantation.

… For blood is a gift above all worldly treasure
.

I give thanks for this gift. I embrace my immortality…

Suddenly, from nowhere came a loud crash and the room lurched to starboard. Seconds later, before they had the chance to recover themselves, a second crash came from the stern, raising the room onto a slope. Then a third collision from the port side, causing further shock and confusion.

Even after the room stopped moving, it was chaos. Chairs slid away from the table, rolling and crashing into the sides of the cabin. The cutlery began moving along the white tablecloth, like a river gaining momentum, colliding with the crystal glassware as both headed for the floor. Oskar reached out to catch the lit candelabra, just in the nick of time. Farther along the table, another candelabra was rescued, but a third fell to the floor and flames began licking at the deck boards. A fast-thinking donor and Nocturnal pair threw jugs of water over it, quenching the fire. Slowly, the room came back into balance, but it looked as if a bomb had hit it.

“What was that?” Oskar asked Lorcan.

Lorcan was about to answer when, to his amazement, he heard Obsidian continuing with the incantation.

I relish this journey through all eternity
.

No lesser, nor greater, than a being of the light
.

I am a proud voyager of the night
.

The doors to the dining hall were thrown open and two Nocturnals ran into the room, finally silencing the captain.

“We’re under attack!” they cried in unison.

Lorcan caught Grace’s glance across the table. Her expression was grave. Everything they had predicted had come to pass.

“How many ships?” Lorcan cried at the messengers from above.

“Three!” shouted the first Nocturnal.

“We’ve already lost men and women!” cried the other. “We need help!”

Their words caused a swell of chatter in the room, which now rose to fever pitch. Still, as Obsidian Darke raised his hand, the room fell silent.

“Attack Protocol,” he said in his most commanding voice. “You all know what you have to do.”

It was true. They had been preparing for the eventuality of attack for some time now. Within seconds, Lorcan’s own team—the elite fighters—had gathered around him.

“Commander Furey!” One of his best men grabbed his arm. “We have no swords!”

Of course they didn’t! It was a convention of the Feast that there were no weapons inside the dining hall. Accordingly, the Nocturnals and donors had all left their swords in their cabins. How were they supposed to quell an attack with no weapons?

Lorcan turned helplessly to Grace. “How did we let it come to this?” he cried.

Grace did not answer. Her eyes were closed and her hands outstretched. She was chanting in a language he did not recognize. What on earth was she doing?

Then he noticed fresh movement along the table and on the floor. Once more, cutlery was moving about. Had a fourth ship pulled up alongside to cause a fresh collision? Suddenly, the cutlery began rising from the floor and table and spun, faster and faster, around the room. Lorcan and the others were frozen, gazing in amazement as knives, forks, and spoons whirled about above their heads. Lorcan’s eyes turned back to Grace. Eyes closed, arms outstretched, she continued to chant.