Captain James Hook and the Siege of Neverland

by Jeremiah Kleckner

  The bombardment lasted thirteen verses of the Dread Song. One after another, cannonballs crashed into the stronghold. The stone walls gave way and crumbled, then the keep followed. When I called for the cease fire, only a dark splotch of rubble marred the sheer mountain face.

  I ordered a barrel of wine opened and the men cheered. I moved to the quarterdeck and watched them sing and work. Even in celebration, each man had a job and carried it out with machine precision.

  Some time passed before I noticed Morgan le Fay standing next to me. She gripped my arm in her hands and leaned her head against my shoulder.

  “They’re not lost,” she said. “Not to you.”

  “Not one of them asked to use the fairy dust to get us back home.”

  “Their minds are not there now,” she said. “And yours shouldn’t be either.”

  Billy Jukes stopped for a moment and looked up at the stars. A question seemed to form in the eyes of my oldest friend, but it was soon washed away.

  “He won’t remember her.”

  “No, but you do,” Morgan said, her voice cooling slightly. She sighed. “Which is good. You need women like us.”

  “You are nothing like her.”

  “You are right,” she said, shifting her stance. “I would have laid waste to the man who shot at you instead of withering to death like some trampled flower.”

  My mind flashed with a hate so complete that no death I could bring would be a suitable justice for her words. Had I command over the sun, I’d have consumed her with it.

  She laughed and, in that laugh, I found a softness in my regard for her.

  Long moments passed between us in silence.

  “Stay out of my history,” I said finally. “There is nothing for you there.”

  “She was brave,” Morgan said. “That was all I ever meant to say about her.”

  “Aye, but you said much more, didn’t you?” I sneered.

  “Fine,” she said. “Then we will talk of the future. News of what you did must have reached Oberon by now. He’ll bring the full weight of his army down on you. Soon, and without warning, there’ll be a thousand War Sprites, each with the power to do as they believe.”

  “Let them come,” I said. “We’ll need more gunpowder.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Hook has become the word for death among the fairies, but my son is powerful and dangerously simple.”

  “I have no interest in getting involved in your family dispute.”

  Morgan le Fay examined me with a look that had been honed for centuries. She took my hand and placed it over her stomach. I felt her heat and firmness through the fabric of her dress. “What will he be?” I asked.

  She smirked. “She will be powerful.”

  I held her hand tightly to me. “And Peter Pan?”

  “From that which I have wronged will come an end to all suffering.”

  “I’d heard that before, the part about ending suffering, from the girl and her tribe.”

  “They only know what the fairies tell them,” she said. “Half-truths and fantasies. It speaks of me, who I have wronged.” She paused. “And I have wronged one most over all others.”

  “So you brought Arthur’s son… your nephew… Peter… here to end suffering.”

  “Half-nephew and yes, to end her suffering,” she said. “To revive her, bring her back from the shadows of death.” Her face lowered to the railing and she sighed. “But that did not go as it should have.”

  “Because the fairies took him,” I said.

  “Yes, and he laughed,” she said. “When a child laughs, a fairy is born and their spirits are forever connected.”

  “And when that fairy dies?” I interrupted, thinking of the pile of little bodies on the deck of my ship.

  “The child grows up,” she said. “It goes the other way as well. If the child grows up first, before his time, his fairy dies.” She rubbed a hand on my back, then continued. “In the moment Peter laughed, he was lost to my needs.”

  “But now, with Arthur long dead, you’re stuck,” I said.

  “Not so. The child doesn’t have to be directly his, just from his line. From that which I have wronged… Fortunately, there were other sons of Arthur.” She looked at me expectantly. I didn’t know why at first, but I soon began to build meaning from her riddles. My face must have shown the confused tangle of thoughts that raced in my mind, because she laughed softly and added, “They don’t trace lineages when you’re from, James Hoodkins?”

  “Men in my career don’t engage in those luxuries.”

  Morgan le Fay leaned in and told me a secret, one that would set England in a blaze. She then faded into the dark, leaving me to weigh her words against the limits of my faith.

  Three hundred quatrains later into that chill night, I stood alone on the quarterdeck of the Jolly Roger, yet felt no discomfort in the cold. The power of Morgan le Fay’s truth swelled in me, warming my thick blood with each beat of my heart. It pulsed from my center outward, like waves of a tide, coursing my veins until it nestled in the space behind my forehead.

  I had taken my rightful place in Neverland. None will stand before me in Pan’s eyes. He will know me, not as a knight and not as just a pirate, but as the Enemy. And no one is a better enemy than family, however removed.

  A new plan formed, one not restricted by a single lifetime.

  My eyes flashed a bright and sinister red.

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  About the Authors

  Jeremiah Kleckner is a Language Arts teacher in a New Jersey public school. When not grading papers or coaching wrestling, he enjoys singing, reading, writing, drawing, and spending time with his family. @J_Kleckner JeremiahKleckner.com

  Jeremy Marshall works at a private special needs school in New Jersey. Jeremy has always had a love of writing. In his spare time you can find him creating another story idea, riding his motorcycle, or spending time with his wife, Lori Marshall.

  Acknowledgments

  We are incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by such supportive and invested friends and family. Our developmental editor and philosophical consultant, Bill Koch, has been a staggering influence and deserves a special mention. Be sure to check out his Drake series, soon to be released. In addition, our students are a constant encouragement to keep pushing forward. For all of you, we are eternally grateful.