by James Raney
Jim slowly made his way across the deck. His face itched and his heart beat hard in his chest. He hated the way the merpeople glared at him so angrily. But worse still, he thought he knew why. If Janus Blacktail’s story was true, it had been his father who had broken King Nemus’s heart by stealing his treasure.
Jim stepped onto the plank, which was just wide enough for him circle around Dread Steele. When he came to the edge, he stood looking down into the eyes of the Merpeople’s Queen. For a long moment Queen Melodia said nothing. She only held Jim in her unwavering gaze. When she finally spoke, her voice rang harder and colder than it had before.
“You are indeed the son of Morgan,” she said. “I can see him in your face.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jim said. He felt Dread Steele flick him on the back of the neck to remind him he was speaking to a Queen. Jim remembered to bow his head, which he did rather clumsily. “Yes, your majesty,” he corrected himself.
“You could not have known your father well, could you? Nor your mother, I imagine, if at all.”
“No, your majesty.”
“Did he ever show it to you, though? The Treasure of the Ocean? Did your father ever display it to you proudly and tell you what he planned to do with it – that which he took?” Jim gritted his teeth and put his hand behind his back to clench his fist. Queen or not, he loathed even the thought that his father was a thief.
“No, he did not.” Jim replied, leaving off the ‘your majesty’ on purpose. “But I did see it once, in the Pirate Vault of Treasures. I stood in the same room with it. Close enough to touch it.”
“But you did not even lay a hand upon it? Why did not take it for your own? I find this hard to believe. What foolish trinket lay in the Vault that would have distracted you from such magic as the Treasure of the Ocean?”
“It was just an amulet. An enchanted amulet I needed to rescue my friends.”
“Rescue?” the Queen said. Jim thought he heard a hint of surprise in her voice. The Queen’s eyes drifted then for the first time from Jim’s face to his friends at the railing behind him. When she looked back to Jim, he thought her hard gaze might have softened ever so slightly. When she spoke, the bell chimes sounded faintly again behind her words.
“Your father’s face does indeed live in yours, Jim Morgan. But perhaps that’s not all that lives there. Perhaps you resemble another as well. We shall see. So I shall give you at least this warning. Beware the Veiled Isle, which lies behind the Devil’s Horns. More than that beware the Treasure of the Ocean. Dark magic guards it. The path that leads to it is fraught with danger. And as for the Treasure itself…death and destruction surround it.” The Queen pulled on the seaweed reins and the sharks began to pull the chariot away. At the last moment she turned over her shoulder and looked to Jim again.
“Be careful, Jim Morgan,” she said. “Perhaps…perhaps it might be good to look upon your face again.” Jim could not be sure, but for a moment, mixed with the ocean water, he thought there had been tears in the Queen’s eyes.
The Queen and her warriors neither bade farewell nor waved goodbye. They dove silently beneath the waves and melted into the darkness of the deep. The Queen’s caution rang in Jim’s mind. He wondered at the anger and sadness that had welled up in her eyes. It was all so very confusing. But in spite of everything else, Queen Melodia had left Jim with a warning: danger and death lay ahead. Jim put his hand in his pocket to touch the box. He could feel the rose thorn’s magic thrumming there within.
TWENTY
anging in the sky above the high seas, like a great white eye, the pale moon lit a path for the black-hulled Sea Spider. Below and above decks, the Corsair Pirates laughed, cursed, sang songs, and boasted of the wicked ways they would soon spend their great wealth. Count Cromier - the Red Count, they called him - had already paid the pirates handsomely in advance. He had also promised them more gold than they could count once the deed was done. And the deed’s completion was ever so close at hand. But the Corsairs were not the only ones burning with desire for glittering prizes just within reach.
Inside the captain’s quarters, a rack of candles burned bright. The flickering flames threw wavering shadows over the faces of Bartholomew Cromier, the Count, and Splitbeard the sorcerous pirate. On the table beneath the candles, where great drops of wax fell like tears, sat Lindsay’s Morgan’s enchanted map. The drawings on the page still shimmered with blue magic. Bartholomew found himself entranced by the moonwater’s light, still burning upon the parchment. But the glow twinkled brightest in the black eyes of his father, the Count.
“The quest for the Treasure of the Ocean is the quest of my life,” said the Count, as much to himself as to the men beside him. “I was so close before. So close to total victory, before those fools, Morgan and Steele, intervened. But now, at long last, the end of my journey is at hand.” The jagged purple scar on the Count’s cheek twitched beneath his unblinking eye. “Soon, the power of the sea, and the sky above it, will be at my command. If a navy sails against me, I will send a wave to crush them to the ocean floor. If an army refuses to submit to my will, I shall smite them down with lightning. I will scatter them with the winds. The kings and queens of the world shall kneel before me and pay me homage, or I will cover their lands with a cold darkness that will last a hundred years. Can you even imagine, Splitbeard, what it will be like to hold such power in your hands?”
Bartholomew could. In truth, he could more than imagine it. He could remember it. It was a memory from a long time ago, when he was but a boy, younger even than Jim Morgan. Bartholomew tightened his hands into fists behind his back. Even so he could only lessen the shudder than trembled his body. The memory still terrified him – but he would never admit that to his father. Never.
“I am but a man of the sea, oh great red one,” said Splitbeard. “What have I to do with such ambitions as yours? But is it this Treasure you seek that lies at the end of the map?” Splitbeard pulled at the shark’s teeth braided into the split ends of his beard. The arrogant smile lingered on his face, but his black eyes were fixed upon the parchment.
“Not according to Lindsay’s map,” replied the Count. “But what awaits us in the cavern is the key to discovering the Treasure’s final location. Once I have the Hunter’s Shell, all else shall fall into place. The shell is a seeker more powerful than any other in the world. The Treasure of the Ocean’s hiding spot will be revealed to my eyes. Whatever secret path leads to it will be uncovered in my mind. Such is the purpose and power of the Hunter’s Shell. Lindsay was wise to retain such a tool. Soon, nothing will stand in my way.”
“Not even Dread Steele, oh magnificent one?” said Splitbeard. At the sound of Steele’s name, Count Cromier finally blinked and a sour grimace twisted on his face.
“A plague on that fool, Dread Steele! And a plague on Lindsay Morgan and his infernal scheming!” Cromier spat. “We shall reach the Devil’s Horns in but a matter of hours, and beyond that the Veiled Isle. But we must wait an entire day for another sunset before we may pass through the gates. In such a time, with the Spectre at full speed, Steele may indeed catch us.”
“But he does not have the map, father,” Bartholomew said. “How could he possibly know where to find us?”
“Do not underestimate the Pirate Lord, boy,” said the Count. The harsh emphasis he placed on the ‘boy’ caused Bartholomew to clench both his fist and his jaw. “Such a miscalculation could be the death of us all. Dread Steele has many friends upon the sea. Some of them are wise in the ways of magic. Not all of them are entirely…natural.”
“Leave the Lord of the Pirates to me, my Count,” said Splitbeard with a laugh. “Dread Steele may have many magical friends, but I, Splitbeard, am a master of magic itself. I shall set a trap for Steele at the rocks around the Devil’s Horns.” Splitbeard grabbed at the flames burning on the candlewicks. Three of the dancing tongues disappeared within his palm like captured fireflies. “If the Spectre does arrive – we shall be ready to spring the surpris
e!” Splitbeard opened his hand and the three flames burst to life again, all to the sound of the pirate’s laughter.
“I, for one, hope that Steele arrives,” Bartholomew growled. The candle flames glowed hot in his icy blue eyes. He could still feel the lump on the back of his head where Steele had clubbed him during the battle in the fog. He slowly wrapped his fingers around his sword’s handle and squeezed. “More than that I hope he brings that fool Jim Morgan with him. I long to put him beneath my blade!”
“No!” Cromier all but shouted, snapping Bartholomew from his vengeful fantasy. “How many times must I tell you? I’ve decided we need Jim Morgan alive for as long as possible. He may be of some use before the end.” A flash of heat rushed into Bartholomew’s pale cheeks and he snapped back at his father before considering his words carefully enough.
“And how many times must I remind you that we don’t need him, father? Not when you have – ” Bartholomew never had the chance to finish. The gloved back of his father’s knuckles rapped across his face. Bartholomew sucked in a startled breath. His cheek sang.
“Silence!” Cromier hissed. “You shall do as I say, boy. Do I make myself clear? If you wanted to kill the boy so badly you should not have failed so miserably in London. Jim Morgan must yet live. Especially should you fail – again, if you remember…”?
The memory surged once more to the front of Bartholomew’s mind. If he were not so ashamed of it, he would admit that the memory haunted his nightmares. But nightmare or no, it was his failure that his father would never let him forget. His cheeks began to burn more from shame than from his father’s blow.
“Yes, father,” was all he said. Then he turned on his heel and stormed from the captain’s quarters onto the main deck of the Sea Spider.
Out in the ocean air, beneath the stars and amidst the revelry and bravado of the Corsair pirates, Bartholomew Cromier marched to the railings. He drew his dagger from his belt and began jabbing at the railing’s wood.
“I’ll show him,” Bartholomew vowed to himself in little more than a thick whisper. He drew his breaths sharply as he tried to calm himself. Even his whisper rasped at the edges. “We don’t need that little fool. Not when we have me. I won’t fail. Not this time. Not now that I’m a man.” Bartholomew closed his eyes, trying to block out any thoughts of the long list of failures of which his father constantly reminded him. His father. Bartholomew thought then about Count Cromier. His father could not use the Treasure of the Ocean, could he? The Trident was nothing but gold in the old Count’s had. He needed Bartholomew to wield it – because Bartholomew was special.
That thought curled a smile at last on Bartholomew’s pale lips. He looked down at the railing beneath him. To his surprise he found that in all his heated stabbing he had carved a name into the black wood. MORGAN was scrawled across the dark grain. Bartholomew’s smile faded away. He clenched his jaw tight. Once more he welcomed the hope that Dread Steele would catch them. He longed for Jim Morgan to be there too. He had his own vision of how the next meeting between the three of them would end. Bartholomew flipped his dagger in his hand and slashed a gouge through the Morgan name.
It was an ending he had envisioned for quite some time. One way or another, only one would live to see this adventure’s end. Bartholomew would make sure of it.
TWENTY–ONE
he Spectre sailed into the deep ocean for another day and another night. The pirate crew grew ever more restless and grim with each passing hour. They no longer sang songs or told stories to pass the time. Instead, they sharpened their blades and set new flints in their pistols. Lacey and the Ratts did their best to keep spirits high, and even tried not to argue so much. But Jim stole away to be by himself more and more often, just to open his box and gaze on the rose thorn every now and again.
At last though, on the evening of the second day, the sturdy ship cut through the waves toward the Devil’s Horns. Far away to the east, the sun glowed the orange of a hot coal. It lit the sky with purple flames and cast a golden glow over the waters. The Devil’s Horns came into view. Boulders sprouted from the sea in circled rows like a massive maw piercing the waters, large enough to swallow an unsuspecting ship whole. In the middle of those jagged stones, the Devil’s Horns rose above the rest, an open gate beckoning Jim to enter.
Dread Steele called to luff the sails and the Spectre slowed to a crawl over the waves. All hands gathered on deck. The pirate crew’s sharp eyes searched the rocks for the Sea Spider, but not a sign of the Cromiers or Splitbeard’s ship could be found. All lay quiet about the Devil’s Horns.
Captain Steele approached the prow from the main deck. Cornelius sat perched upon his shoulder.
“Perhaps they already sailed through, Captain?” Cornelius suggested. “Perhaps last night?” But Dread Steele breathed in the ocean air and shook his head.
“No, they are still here. I smell a battle on the air – and dangerous men to wage it.”
“The Cromiers?” Jim asked, gritting his teeth.
“Indeed,” said the Captain.
“Well, I don’t see nothin’,” George said, squinting hard. “And me and me brothers are pretty good at sniffin’ out a trap, Cap’n, I can tell you that!” Steele never took his eyes from the rocks ahead, but gave only a grim nod.
“I believe you, Master Ratt. But if there is one pirate with as great a knowledge of magic as my own, it is Splitbeard. He is a deceiver and master of illusion. When he is near, even your eyes and ears cannot be trusted. Thus you shall all stow yourselves away in my cabin. Cornelius will take you. When the Sea Spider appears, we shall wage a fierce fight indeed.”
“Hide in the cabin?” Jim tore his eyes from the ever-nearing rocks ahead to glare at the Captain a bit more hotly than he first intended. “But we want to help! Steele and Morgan, isn’t that what you said when we fought the Kraken?” Jim did want to help, that much was true. But even more so, that itch was still building up in the back of his mind. The thought of missing yet another chance to employ the rose thorn’s magic nearly turned it into a maddening burn. A single, cutting flash of Steele’s eyes, however, reminded Jim to whom he spoke.
“I remember what I said. And when we defeat these fiends and pass through the gates to the Veiled Isle, I shall permit you to come along. But until then you will lock yourselves in the cabin until you are instructed to come out. Do not disobey me again! The Corsairs of the Sea Spider will show no mercy when they attack!”
“Yes, sir,” Jim replied. But he shoved his hands into his pockets and clenched his fists nevertheless.
“Come along now, my young friends,” Cornelius said. “If we’re not going to be in the battle, I can, at the very least, enthrall you with tales of many others - and there are several, I assure you! Perhaps we might start with the battle of Twelve Tree Island, which actually has hundreds of trees, really. There’s a terribly fascinating tale of how it got its name, now that I think about it. It has everything to do with types of bananas. Bananas!”
“Good grief,” George muttered. “Now I know I’d rather be in the battle.”
Jim begrudgingly followed his friends when Dread Steele stayed him with a heavy hand upon his shoulder.
“Tarry here a moment longer, Jim.” Jim took a deep breath, for he detected another lecture at the back of the Captain’s tone. “Eager to face the Cromiers in battle, are you?” the Captain asked. He peered down on Jim through the dark gap between his hat’s black brim and his cloak’s dark collar. Jim looked down at the tops of his shoes. His hands were still in his pockets, and he felt the back of his neck warm just a little.
“They’re robbers and murderers, Captain Steele. Shouldn’t I be allowed to right their wrongs? Don’t I have the right to take revenge?”
Dread Steele released Jim’s shoulder. He turned to face the Devil’s Horns once more, but his gaze reached far beyond the sharp rocks ahead.
“Do you remember what I said about the storms, Jim? Sometimes even patience can be a storm. There is no w
orse storm than the one we could have avoided, the one we sail into unprepared. Life is difficult enough without creating more trouble of our own. You have been through many storms already, have you not?”
Jim thought back through everything that had happened to him so far - losing his father, the dangers in London, losing his home. He nodded back to the Captain. “More than I ever wanted.”
“Ask yourself this: to reach the shores you seek in your heart, how many storms would you weather? But a few? The best treasures are worth so many more. For myself, I would weather ten thousand storms to reach the far-off shores that I seek. I promise you that once again he names Morgan and Steele shall carry over the ocean waves. If you wish it, we will sail the seas together, seeking adventure and fortune until we find you a new home. But until then, your battle is with patience. Now, get to the cabin with your friends, and be quick about it.”
Jim’s throat began to ache and his nose began to sting. What good was patience when everything a person had was already gone, he thought to himself. But “Aye, Captain,” was all he said, for there was little point in arguing with the Lord of Pirates.
Jim was about to turn on his heel and go when a wrinkle caught his eye - no more than a ripple one might see in the distance on a hot day. It glimmered not from behind or about a rock, but rather, Jim was quite sure, at the heart of one of the boulders themselves.
“What was it, Jim?” Dread Steele said, catching the startled look upon Jim’s face. The Captain’s quicksilver hand leapt to the hilt of his blade. “What did you see?”
“It was there,” Jim said, pointing toward the rock where he had seen the shimmer. “It was like a wrinkle in the air.”
“You saw it from behind that rock?”
“No, I…I thought I saw it in the rock itself.”
