Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

like quicksilver in the moonlight. Jack parried it, even as he retreated,
making sure that he again stepped slightly to his left.
Jack feinted, then when Christophe fell for it and parried, he
lunged for the first time in the fight. He deliberately went wide to the left,
and Christophe’s attempted parry missed. If Jack’s form in the
intagliata had been better, he’d have had enough extension to run
Christophe through the belly, but he only managed to nick him above
his belt with the tip of his cutlass. Still, Jack forgave himself when he
then managed to be fast enough to negate his opponent’s riposte by
striking the pommel of the cutlass against the colichemarde’s blade,
deflecting it—even as he leaped back, out of harm’s way.
“That one’s for…Marie,” Jack yelled, seeing blood spreading
across the middle of the rogue’s shirt, black in the moonlight. His own
breath was coming fast now, but he wasn’t gasping like a blown horse,
and he realized with satisfaction that Christophe was.
“Who…is…Marie?” Christophe gasped, with, Jack realized,
genuine puzzlement.
The rogue drove himself, thrusting repeatedly, those lightning,
deadly moves. Jack was forced back, back, having to retreat so
quickly he barely avoided the spokes of the capstan at the last
moment. He zigged left, then continued retreating, still angling left,
aiming for the ladder leading to the quarterdeck. If Christophe was out
of breath now, imagine how winded he’d be after having to fight his
way up the ladder.
Christophe pressed his attack, thrusting, lunging, parrying Jack’s
thrusts and usually following each parry with a riposte. Jack was now
breathing hard himself, but he could hear Christophe almost sobbing
for air.
The next time Christophe lunged, and Jack retreated, as before,
back and slightly to his left, Jack had the satisfaction of seeing that his
opponent was now lunging with the anticipation that Jack would go left.
The angle of his blade had changed, to compensate. Good, Jack
thought. Strategy…
Jack thrust, and Christophe parried, then the rogue jumped back,
panting loudly. He waved his left hand, and blood droplets spattered.
“Stop…a moment, Jacques…just need a moment…to rest…catch my