The Pirate’s Jewel

by Casie, Ruth A.

  “He was like a father to you and how did you repay him? You terrorized everyone around you, including my mother. You made unreasonable demands and took advantage of Father’s friendship with Lord Ewan. You even took liberties with his young daughter Maria.”

  “That whore wasn’t so young. Sixteen. She slept with everyone, why not me?”

  “The fact that she didn’t want to should be reason enough. I’m done with this vendetta and with you.”

  “And what will you do? Where will you go?” Fynn expanded his chest and scowled as he swaggered closer. “You’re the one whose life is in danger once Ewan, Maxwell, and the lovely Darla find out how you planned the downfall of the Association and to steal Maxwell’s jewels, to say nothing of attacking the village.

  “No one will believe you when I tell them you wanted your father’s money and would go to any lengths to secure it, how you planned to ruin Maxwell’s reputation and livelihood.” He took the fake necklace from his coat.

  Wesley grabbed it out of Fynn’s hand. He threw it on the ground, and smashed it with the heel of his boot.

  “And plotted with Justin to terrorize Darla, call her a witch.”

  “My plot? You mean your plot. Once Lord Ewan speaks to Justin, he’ll tell him everything.”

  “Justin is my man. After all, the orders came from the captain of the Black Opal and we all know who the captain is.” Fynn’s nonchalant attitude changed. “The fool destroyed the tiller and caused the ship to go a ground. He was supposed to disable it and we were going to take her for our own. I wouldn’t need your Black Opal. With a ship like the Sea Diamond, I would rule the waters. I was lenient with him, but we have an understanding.”

  “Intent is one thing, action is another. They may not forgive me, but I’m willing to take that chance. You lied and bullied your way long enough. You want to be some great pirate, then go. Go to Scarba with MacAlpin.”

  Fear, stark and vivid, flared in Fynn’s eyes as lightning lit up the cave. The brief glimpse of his eyes was enough for Wesley. He witnessed that look other times when MacAlpin saw through the tricks. Perhaps the Pirate King had had enough. The answer sounded right to him.

  He leaned close so his cousin would have no doubt he was serious.

  “MacAlpin found you out for the opportunist and thief that you are. He banished you and you thought you could get back into his good graces by … wait, no. You don’t want to be part of his crew. You want to be the Pirate King here. And what were you planning to do about me?”

  Fynn grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close.

  “You are the least of my concerns. All your conniving with the Association speaks for itself. As soon as the storm passes, my men will be in the water to recover the gems. When Lord Ewan and Maxwell dive to reclaim them, they’ll find nothing and will torture you to give them up, but you won’t have them. Add that to Justin’s confession of how you paid him to start the fire in Ellenbeich and threaten your beloved Darla. How you courted her, wooed her, and planned to leave her broken-hearted. Justin will tell them how you also paid him to damage the tiller on the Sea Diamond and planned to drive it aground.”

  Wesley squeezed the small bones on the hand that held his shirt until it went into a spasm and opened.

  “You’ll be lucky if they banish you. I think, Cousin, that you should leave this place before Lord Ewan sets his soldiers after you, under penalty of death.” Fynn pulled his hand away and laughed as he started to walk out the grotto.

  Wesley blocked Fynn’s way. He had the whole story now, as awful as it was. There was nothing he could do to restore Lord Ewan’s, Maxwell’s, or even Darla’s faith in him. At the moment he didn’t care.

  “You’ll have to walk through me to leave.”

  Fynn’s face exploded in a sadistic smile. “With pleasure. I’m tired of being in your shadow. You’re weak like your father. He should have challenged the great Lord Ewan when he banished us, but no, he let Lord Ewan take everything.”

  “Lord Ewan didn’t banish the family. He banished you. My father stood by you, claimed you as his own, and when you were told to leave, we all left Dundhragon together,” Wesley said.

  “And what was Collin Reynolds’ reward for a nephew he defended?”

  He and Fynn spun toward the opening and faced Lord Ewan, Maxwell, and Darla. “His brother’s bastard son thanked him with deception. Collin should have let me take care of you. Perhaps it’s not too late.”

  The only way Wesley could avenge his parents’ suffering and repent for his own misjudgment, was to take care of this himself.

  “Lord Ewan. He is my responsibility. I will see to Fynn. He is a thief, a man without honor who would let another take the blame for his actions.”

  “And what about you? You wanted revenge.” Fynn turned to Maxwell. “He set about to avenge your betrayal of his father, ruin you, and your daughter.”

  Lord Ewan, Maxwell, and Darla stared at him, their faces empty of emotion. They said nothing.

  Fynn turned to Wesley, his fists clenched.

  “Don’t get all high and mighty. You’re no better than me.”

  “Yes, I wanted revenge, but not built on your lies. You lied to yourself about your innocence and put all your sins on me. For my family, I would give my life, but not for a liar or a thief.”

  The rumble of thunder and flash of lightning exploded in unison, the same time Fynn flew at Wesley.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fynn’s jab hit Wesley squarely on the chin. The pirate dipped to the right. Stunned, Wesley shook his head to clear it. A surge of pain reminded him who he dealt with. He noticed too late the punch was a distraction when a right uppercut doubled him over and he fell to his knees.

  Towering over him, fists clenched at his side, the pirate’s face switched from anger to delight.

  “Just like your father.”

  Wesley’s anger became a scolding fury. The pirate would confuse caring for weakness. God forgive him, Wesley wanted to defeat him in both mind and body. To do that he’d have to let Fynn believe he was winning, then he would make him wish he had never been born.

  Wesley got to his feet.

  “You never did know when to expect the next punch. I thought after all these years you’d learn.”

  Fynn came at him. Wesley slammed his fist into the pirate’s side and sent him staggering backward. Fynn tilted his head to the side. “You think you can fight.”

  Wesley said nothing. Fynn pasted a satisfied smile on his face and waved the man on.

  He ran into Wesley sending him into the pile of wood. Splinters stabbed his arms. Dirt and ash from the doused fire pit exploded into the air.

  The pirate pulled him up by his jerkin, their faces inches from each other. “You can’t fight. I’m not going to kill you. But, after I’m finished, you’ll wish I had. I’ll leave you to Lord Ewan’s justice. I’ll tell them how your father found out your plans to ruin the Association and tried to stop you. How you argued and when he threatened to bring you to Lord Ewan for justice, you tossed him off the cliff.”

  The truth of his father’s murder hit Wesley hard. Fynn killed his father and had every intention of putting the blame on him. His rage built until he could no longer contain it.

  “Is that what Father tried to tell me but was unable to speak? Each time we promised him revenge his eyes begged us.”

  “You were the one who assumed he wanted us to avenge his death.”

  “Only after you told me those were his last words.”

  “His last word was Wesley. Not me, your mother or anyone else. Wesley.”

  The pirate drew his hand back and jabbed at Wesley, but his fist never connected. He stared at his fist caught in Wesley’s hand.

  “My turn.” Wesley’s voice was firm and final. He pushed Fynn away.

  The pirate stared at him with bulging eyes.

  Wesley threw his weight behind the first punch. “This is for Lord Ewan,”

  And the next, “This is for Maxw
ell and Darla.”

  And the next, “This is for Father.” Until Fynn’s face was a bloody mess.

  The pirate staggered back, his eyes glazed with a sheen of fear. Slowly, he drew a knife from his boot and rushed forward. His father’s murderer dipped and weaved to the right, slashing his weapon at him.

  Wesley picked up a large piece of driftwood and using it as a shield, parried. He blocked with the makeshift weapon, the knife embedded in the wood, but the pirate plucked it out.

  The two circled and lunged at each other. Wesley worked them away from the others, out of the grotto and into the pouring rain.

  Fynn came at him. He led with his knife.

  Wesley sidestepped just enough for the blade to pass a hair’s breadth from his face. Off balance, Fynn slipped on the slick rocks.

  Quickly, before the pirate could recover and make his next move, Wesley went on the attack. He tossed aside the wood, stepped forward, threw his body weight behind his fist and smashed the pirate in the stomach. He grabbed Fynn’s knife arm and twisted it until it fell out of his hand and the knife skidded across the ground. It teetered for a heartbeat on the edge of the cliff before it went over into the sea forty feet below. Fynn stood stunned for a moment.

  The fight had taken them dangerously close to the edge.

  Fynn’s arms drooped and he stumbled.

  “You’re not accustomed to a real fight, are you?” Wesley said his heart hammering, his breathing ragged. Panic danced across Fynn’s face, but Wesley wasn’t done.

  Fynn reeled from the hard punches. His defenses down, he was vulnerable. Wesley wanted to finish the bout. He thrust his leg to the side and caught Fynn in the stomach. Fynn collapsed, doubling over. His teacher, Magnus’ words echoed in his head. Don’t think. Fight. Wesley threw a right cross and hit him in the side of the head, then planted a quick uppercut directly under his chin.

  Fynn’s head snapped back, sending a fine spray of blood all over Wesley and arcing in the air.

  Don’t think. Fight.

  The pirate recovered and with an animal anger in his eyes, lunged at him.

  Wesley grasped Fynn’s head with both hands, brought it down hard as he raised his knee. The sound of a blunt crack reached his ears. When he let go, blood leaked from both his nostrils, his nose twisted to the side.

  Fynn drew back his fist and plowed it into Wesley’s stomach. Fynn bent down to grab the discarded driftwood. Both men scrambled on the ground for the stick, each one shoving it out of the other’s reach.

  Wesley fingers clawed the ground and touched the stick, he reached a bit more, and just as his fingers scrambled to secure it, Fynn knocked it away and sent it over the side amid the sheets of rain, pounding thunder, and flashes of lightning.

  They scrambled to their feet and circled each other. Fynn let go a right hook striking Wesley in the side of his face.

  He staggered at the edge of the cliff and slipped on the wet surface. Loose rocks skittered over the edge.

  Fynn, his mouth set in a grim sneer, stared at Wesley.

  The others stood in silence. It was as if time itself held its breath.

  The flashes of lightning in rapid succession were followed by rolls of thunder. The pungent smell of the storm filled the air.

  Don’t think. Fight.

  Wesley stumbled forward and swung at Fynn, but missed. Fynn’s face, illuminated by the lightning behind him, was a marble mask of contempt.

  A lightning bolt and a deafening boom of thunder struck the rocks several yards away. Shards of rocks exploded and rained down, battering the cliff while large pieces of the promontory dropped into the sea.

  Startled, Fynn stepped backward and slipped on the loose stones. His arms wind-milled as he tried to regain his balance. Wesley reached out and grabbed him. Fynn gave him a sly smile, arched his back, and took them both over the edge.

  Darla and the others raced to the edge in time to catch sight of the men plunging into the water. She searched the raging sea, unable to find either man. Darla took off at a run, slipping and sliding her way down the slope to the narrow strip of land surrounding the deep pool. Her father and Lord Ewan were close behind.

  Her father grabbed her close as rocks and mud slid off the promontory and crashed into the sea.

  “We can’t stay here,” Lord Ewan said.

  Darla ignored them both, her focus on the water. She had no intention of leaving without Wesley.

  As above, so below. As within, so without. Come to the surface from beneath, where both Fynn and Wesley can freely breathe. So mote it be. She repeated the silent chant in her head and waited.

  “There,” she said pointing to the middle of the pool. Both men surfaced amid the falling rocks.

  Fynn took a breath and ducked under. A moment later, Wesley gasped for breath as he was pulled beneath the surface.

  The rolls of thunder echoed in the distance while the lightning continued to light the area. The rock slide eased. The water was less agitated, but there was no sign of either man.

  Ready to dive in and find him, she touched her waist. Nothing. Her hands patted her dress. Her belt with her pouch was gone. Her heart raced as she tried to remember. It came to her in a rush. Wesley had cut it off when the belt and skirt caught on the crate.

  She looked at the water. It appeared different now, threatening, dangerous. The birth veil is a myth. She didn’t need it to help Wesley. She scanned the water for any sign of them, afraid they wouldn’t come to the surface. How much longer could they last?

  Wesley surfaced and shook his head, sending a spray of water around him. He turned around. As Fynn emerged Wesley grabbed him by the shirt and smashed his head into his.

  The rain came down heavy again and made it difficult for her to see. She strained at the edge to watch the men. Unable to catch sight of anything, her frustration grew at the sounds of grunts and splashing.

  The boom of thunder above her made her look up as the large boulder by the edge of the cliff wobbled and began to tumble down the rock wall.

  The boulder was huge. Anyone caught by it would surely die.

  “Wesley,” she shouted.

  The men fought on.

  “Wesley,” she screamed, and tried to rush to the rim of the pool, but her father held her back.

  The boulder plunged into the water creating a large surge that drenched her, her father, and Lord Ewan.

  When she looked again both men were gone. An unnatural quiet filled the small area. Lightning flashed, but there was no thunder. Rocks splashed into the water, but there was no sound. Her father spoke, but she heard nothing.

  She focused her attention on the water. The image of Wesley’s face radiated across the pool.

  She ran down the spur.

  “Darla stop,” her father screamed.

  She kept going until she picked her spot, and dove in. She swam to where she last saw the men, then dove to the bottom. She reached the bottom but they weren’t there. She swam with the current, speeding along until she came to the large underwater cliff. Visions of swimming near the cliff with the boy in her dreams lingered, then she swam for the surface.

  Her head broke through and she filled her lungs with air. She looked across the now calm water. One last deep breath and she turned and made her way to the bottom, past the cliff’s edge and down into the valley, drawn by the image of Wesley’s face.

  She skimmed the bottom of the valley. Up ahead, the water swirled with mud. She moved closer. One man swam away. The other was pinned under large rocks.

  Wesley wouldn’t leave Fynn to drown. Not like Fynn left the boy so many years ago. Though her lungs burned she raced on and found Wesley caught between two boulders. She put her palms against the stone and pushed it. The boulder moved enough for Wesley to work himself free. They both started for the surface.

  Her breath was almost gone, her arms heavy weights. Each stroke sapped what little energy she had left. Her pouch gone, her dragon deserted her, perhaps death was better than marryin
g someone you didn’t love.

  As above, so below. As within, so without. My life I would gladly give, for my beloved Wesley to live. So mote it be.

  She had done all she could. Her arms stopped pulling and her feet stopped kicking. Her lungs on fire, one breath was all she wanted. One last breath of air.

  A surge from behind pushed her up and came next to her. Dazed, she turned and tried to focus on the murky water. Her dragon, his heart aglow, sped alongside pulling her up. With a burst of energy, she swam with all her might.

  As she opened her mouth unable to bear the burning in her lungs a moment longer, her face broke through the surface. She gasped and took in large gulps of air. She turned expecting her dragon but instead saw Wesley’s face before everything went black.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wesley helped the guards lift Darla into the waiting small faering boat and heaved himself over the gunwale. Someone slipped a blanket over his shoulders. Thankful, he acknowledged the kindness. Amid the men and oars, he made his way to Darla’s side.

  Her eyes fluttered open and he breathed a sigh of relief. He took her in his arms and held her close as the men rowed for shore.

  With a gentle touch, she pulled his blanket away and moved his tattered shirt aside. She stared at a coiled dragon with a glowing red heart tattooed on his chest.

  “It was you all along,” she muttered before she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  “Is she all right?” Richards’ voice sounded low and a bit hoarse. The captain’s unusual emotion made him look up into the man’s concerned eyes.

  His throat burned, not from the lack of air, but from the tears he fought to control. She’d come after him. To save him.

  “She’s very brave. I don’t know how she managed.” Richards’ voice dipped to a whisper. He gave a nervous cough and turned toward the sky. “The weather appears to be cooperating. We may be done with all the rain. Rest. We’ll have you ashore soon.”