Jim Morgan and the King of Thieves (36 page)

Jim stared after them as they went, when he suddenly felt four pairs of arms wrap tightly around him.

“Jim!” George, Peter, and Paul and Lacey cried out in unison as they pulled their friend close.

“Didn’t doubt you for a second, mate!” George said with a smile, clapping Jim on the back.

“Right!” Paul agreed. “Not for a minute!”

“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of Jim’s mouth. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the treasure.”

“Don’t worry, Jim,” Peter said. “You came back for us.”

“And you gave up your box for us,” Lacey said, and as happy as her eyes were, there were tears at their edges. “It was the only thing you had left, Jim. And now it disappeared with the King of Thieves.”

“Well,” Jim said, a small grin forming on his own face. “Not exactly.” And from within the folds of his jacket he withdrew his small wooden box.

“Jim!” George cried, eyes wide in amazement. “I didn’t even see you snatch it! It was the fastest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“It’s all about distraction remember?” Jim’s smile widened across his face. “And I did have a pretty good teacher, didn’t I?”

“But now that the Amulet is destroyed…” Lacey patted Jim’s shoulder softly.

“I thought about opening it for a second, I really did,” Jim said, that lump in his throat forming just for a moment as he looked at his box that may never open. “But something happens when the magic starts to work. It’s like you can see inside yourself. The same thing happened to me when I was in the Vault of Treasures. I looked inside, and I saw me, and then I saw you all with me, and I knew that I couldn’t live any other life without you all as a part of it.”

“You’re our friend forever, Jim,” Peter said.

“Yes,” Lacey agreed, laughing. “We all are, forever!”

Once again, the five friends clasped together in the street, no matter to Jim or the others that pirates and soldiers battled beside them, or that he had just nearly escaped death in the Vault of Treasures. His only care was that he had his friends and that they had him. And that’s when Jim’s hand felt suddenly quite hot.

“Ouch!” Jim cried as the heat grew more intense. With another yelp he dropped what he was holding, grabbing at his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Lacey cried.

“My hand –” Jim started to say, but George interrupted him.

“Jim!” he shouted. “Your box, look!”

The moment Jim’s eyes found his box, he realized what had burned his hand. His box rippled with blue flame, melting the snow around
it. A voice whispered in Jim’s ear, a rough, dry voice, crackling at the edges. “
When the chains are removed from your heart, at the time appointed by fate
,” said the voice, before cackling merrily, silenced only by a loud crack that snapped in the night, the sharp snap also snuffing out the flames engulfing the box. Then Jim’s box did something he never thought he would see it do again. It opened.

THIRTY–FOUR

im fell to his hands and knees in front of the box, his mouth and eyes wide open, his heart slamming in his chest. He reached out with one trembling hand and touched the corner of the box. It was still warm, but cool enough to hold. He picked it up and looked inside. It was all there: the unread letter from his father, written on a tattered and folded scrap of parchment, and resting atop the piece of paper, his father’s shell necklace.

Without knowing exactly why, Jim reached inside the box and withdrew the chain with metal shell on the end. When he touched the charm, Jim had to capture a startled gasp. The necklace was also warm to the touch, but its heat seemed far from fading, as though the metal shell hummed with its own energy.

“Jim, it’s beautiful,” Lacey said from over his shoulder.

“It was my father’s,” Jim said, his eyes fixed on the necklace. A strange idea suddenly struck Jim, and without even knowing if it would work he reached up and opened the shell and found a flawless and beautiful pearl resting within.

“I’m glad that I at least have this left of your treasure,” Jim said to himself, thinking about his father.

“The treasure?” George asked, wonder filling his voice. “What happened to the rest of it?”

Jim was about to explain further, when he looked up and found a pair of icy blue eyes, set within a pale face, staring at him from across the battle-strewn street. Bartholomew Cromier had seen the bright blue flame that had burned around Jim’s box, and also the beautiful pearl resting on the shell in Jim’s hand. And from the startled spark in Bartholomew’s face, Jim knew that the deadly, black-haired captain wanted even what little remained of Lord Lindsay Morgan’s treasure for his own.

“Jim Morgan!” Bartholomew cried over the din of fighting soldiers and pirates. “The Treasure will be mine!” Bartholomew ran straight for Jim, and for a heart-pounding moment, Jim thought the black haired captain would soon finish what he started in his father’s study. But as a brave man had come to Jim’s aid then, so another came now. Though Jim could still hardly believe who it was: Dread Steele.

“You’ll not lay a hand on the boy or anything left to him,” Steele declared, throwing himself between Jim and Bartholomew. “You’ve taken enough.”

“I’ve only just begun to take from him,” Bartholomew seethed. “But the boy can wait for now. I shall first take from you, Steele – starting with your life!”

Bartholomew charged Steele, and man against man they entered a private duel. Jim couldn’t tear his eyes off them, circling each other, slicing and arching steel between them. The piercing rhythm of their twisting and turning blades echoed in the cold night air. Bartholomew Cromier was faster than Jim believed a man could be, making Jim’s old fencing instructor look like an actor playing with toy swords. But
even the wicked captain was unable to solve Steele’s subtle movements. The pirate lord seemed to make only half the defenses and attacks Bartholomew did, and without a doubt, it was he who was in control of the battle. Steele was hardly winded, while the younger, dark-haired captain of the royal navy grew steadily more exhausted.

It was almost over now, Jim thought. Steele was moving in for the final blow when the sound of stomping feet rumbled nearby.

A throaty voice cawed from above their heads. “We have a bit of a problem here!” It was Cornelius, flapping down from the night sky and landing smartly on Jim’s shoulder. “More soldiers are on their way. Too many for us to handle!”

“Jim!” George shouted, breaking Jim out of his trance. “We have to go now. They’re after you, remember?”

“We all must go! We must flee!” Cornelius screamed, not just to Jim and his friends, but to Steele and the rest of the pirates as well.

The captain looked at the bird, then to his men and the children, then finally back at the nearly defeated Captain Cromier, breathing hard but still holding forth his sword to defend himself. Bartholomew smiled, his lips trembling. “Come on, old man! End this if you have the stomach. I’m not finished yet!”

But the mysterious lord of the pirates merely flung a grin in Bartholomew Cromier’s direction. “We’ll meet again, captain,” Steele vowed. “And I promise I will finish what I’ve started then.” Then Dread Steele raised his voice so that all his men could hear. “Back to the sloop! To the sea, you dogs, for your lives depend on it!”

The pirates collected the defeated soldiers’ muskets and swords, backing away for the first few steps before turning in a mad sprint down the cobblestone street.

“What do we do?” Lacey cried.

“Is that a talking bird?” George stared at Cornelius in amazement, but Jim was too caught up in events unfolding around them to answer.

“Come on! Come on!” Cornelius urged. Without really thinking where he was going or why, Jim, along with the Ratts and Lacey, ran right along beside the fleeing buccaneers, all the way back to the
docks. As they ran, Jim heard the sound of Bartholomew Cromier raging at both the soldiers there with him and those on their way.

“Pathetic! Pathetic! You don’t deserve to call yourselves marines! Now get those other men here on the double. Regroup! Regroup and prepare to give pursuit!” The pounding rhythm of fast-marching soldiers followed Bartholomew’s screams, loud and thunderous and frightening. It followed the little clan and the pirates all the way to the piers at the water’s edge.

When they had reached the sloop, Jim and his friends rushed straight away onto the gangplank, following the pirates aboard the small vessel. Captain Steele came aboard last, slicing the mooring ropes away with his sword.

“Mister Gilly, get us out of here!” Steele growled.

“Aye aye, sir,” said Mister Gilly, practically yawning the answer in his sleepy voice.

Just as the sloop floated out from the edge of the pier, the platoon of soldiers, led by the enraged Captain Bartholomew Cromier, burst from the streets and onto the docks. Cromier, his dark hair in stark contrast to the white, snow-covered streets and buildings, formed the marines into a firing line.

“Form up and fire!” He screamed.

Bright yellow flashes sparkled at the end of the muskets, followed by two-dozen cracks and puffs of white smoke. The children and the pirates ducked for cover, but the soldier’s aim had been rushed and the musket balls pelted harmlessly off the sloop’s hull. With the flowing waters of the river rushing toward the sea, the stout sloop slipped quickly out of range of a second volley.

During the escape, the action on the deck was loud, filled with salty, pirate curses and the sounds of hard labor, but when Jim strained his ears, he could still hear Bartholomew Cromier screaming from the pier. “This isn’t over! I’ll see you in irons or at the bottom of the sea, Steele. And you, Jim Morgan! I’ll see you dead before this is all over. The last thing you see will be your father’s secrets in my hands! That treasure will be mine! Do you hear me, Morgan? Mine!”

Jim stared at the rapidly shrinking figure on the shore and a deeper chill than the winter wind made him shiver. Yet, just then, a comforting arm wrapped around his shoulder, and then another. It was George on one side and Lacey on his other. Peter and Paul leaned in close as well, and together, they kept warm on the deck of the ship.

As the sloop sailed down the river toward the sea, sliding through the waves to the sound of Dread Steele’s orders and his men’s replies, Jim slipped away from his friends for a moment and made his way to the prow of the ship. Leaning against the guardrail, the cold air pulling against Jim’s unruly hair as he watched the ripples peel away from the sides of the ship, he reached inside his pocket and took out his little box. Taking a deep breath, Jim finally withdrew the tattered parchment of his father’s letter and unfolded the note, only to stare with stunned eyes at a completely blank page.

A bloom of despair panged in Jim’s chest. Had Hudson picked up the wrong piece of paper? Had he gone through all of this just to find a blank piece of paper in the end? But slowly, as moonlight lingered on the yellowed page, swirls and curves of ink wound their way into visibility before Jim’s eyes, and a small smile cracked open on his face.

“More magic,” Jim said, shaking his head, marveling at all he had never known about his father. Finally, Jim read the last words his father ever meant for him.

My Dearest James
,

If you are reading this letter, then I have finally fallen to one of my many enemies after all these years. The poison began its dishonorable duty the moment it touched my lips, thus I have no time to write all that I would wish to my son. Yet I hold onto some small hope, for this is an enchanted parchment, kissed by the light of a full moon, and it will empower these few words to say more than my weakening hand is able
.

I will waste no time speaking of the dangers of your Aunt and her new friends – as you will undoubtedly learn that it was they who poisoned me. They
seek a great treasure gathered from the depths of the sea, James, and, if you have any of strength in your blood from me, and even more so I hope, from your mother, then the treasure will find a way of finding you, and you will be able to keep those wicked fiends from achieving their dastardly aims. For with such a treasure in their grasp, there would be little end to the miseries they would inflict on their fellow man
.