Page 2 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

“Y

ou did wonderfully today, Emmy,” Emeline’s mother said from beside her as they placed empty crates onto the wagon. She cast her daughter a look of pride that made Emeline smile.

“I wish we could do more.” She glanced about the town that had instantly transformed into a foreign place with the descent of the sun. A young lad hoisting a torch atop a tall pole ran from streetlamp to streetlamp, setting them ablaze. Yet the modicum of light offered by the lanterns did naught to dispel the shadows that crept out from hiding as soon as the day ended. Even the poor and downcast scattered away as if they knew the evil that lurked in the night.

“We can only do what we can, my darling.” Her father hoisted a barrel onto the wagon bed with little effort. “Then we pray God does the rest.” Removing his hat, he raked back his dark hair, approached his wife, and took her in his arms. She gazed up at him with a love that had been tested and tried for many years but seemed only to grow stronger. At least in Emeline’s eyes. She never grew tired of hearing the story of how they met twenty-five years ago in Port Royal, the year of the great quake that sank that wicked city into the sea. Her father had played the dual role of the Pirate Earl and Lord Munthrope, the town buffoon, in order to win her mother’s heart.

“Cease you two!” Caleb sauntered toward them, a huge grin on his handsome face. “You act as though you are newly wed.”

Alex tenderly brushed hair from his wife’s face and kissed her forehead. “I feel as though I am.”

Caleb shared a glance with Emeline and rolled his eyes.

“You would be lucky to find such love, Caleb,” Emeline retorted. “With the way you flirt with anything wearing a skirt.”

He spread out his arms. “Can I help that God made me handsome and charming?”

“And arrogant,” Esther added as she set a stack of clothing in the wagon. Looping her arm through Emeline’s, she grinned. “We have our work cut out for us, dear sister. Keeping our brother humble.”

“We’ll let our Lord take care of that,” Juliana said as she approached her children. “He has His ways of humbling us when we need it the most.” She shared a glance with her husband, who returned her smile.

Warmth filled Emeline’s heart. She loved her family. Though they had their quarrels now and then, they were united with a bond of love for each other and for their Savior. These outings wherein they shared the Gospel, helped the poor, and even healed the sick when God ordained, were such blessed times.

But Caleb was right about one thing. He was the spitting image of his father, all charm and manly good looks. Both of which attracted much female attention. In addition, he possessed the gift of miracles, a rare power from God that he oft used for His glory.

A group of sailors sauntered down the street, pirates by their attire, their lustful eyes fastened on Esther. Who could blame them? With her golden hair, lustrous sea-blue eyes, and curvaceous figure, she was a rare beauty like her mother. But ’twas her heart that shone the brightest, a heart filled with love for the weak, feeble, and sickly. God had gifted her with the power to heal, and Emeline had seen the lame rise and walk after Esther prayed for them.

In truth, where her siblings were exceptionally pleasant to look upon, Emeline was rather ordinary. Where they were brave and outspoken, Emeline was quiet and timid. Where they possessed mighty gifts from God, Emeline had no such gifts, no special talents. She was definitely the runt of the litter. Oh how she longed to be more like them, to live the exciting life her parents lived and to have a storybook romance just like they had.

The eerie sound of a violin spiraled on the salty breeze, followed by a shout and the chime of blade upon blade. Movement deep in the shadows of a storefront porch across the street caught her eye. A group of men crowded before the closed mercantile, their attire as dark as the night.

“We must get back to the Ransom .” There was an urgency in her father’s voice that sent a spark of fear through Emeline. Perhaps they had lingered too late in this nefarious pirate haunt. He slammed the back of the wagon shut and gestured for them to climb aboard. Both he and Caleb drew their blades, if only to discourage any would-be assailants, as the women hoisted themselves into the seats.

“Wait,” Emeline said. “There’s that poor woman and her children.” She pointed to a lady in rags standing in the distance beneath a streetlight.

Reaching behind her, she grabbed a leftover sack of food from the wagon bed and hopped down the other side.

“Wait, Emmy, wait for your father,” Juliana said, but Emeline ignored her. Her father and Caleb were close by and well-armed. Obviously, this woman needed help. Perhaps more than food this time. Perhaps she wanted to know more about Jesus.

b

Finding the lovely lady had been easy. Getting close enough to retrieve the Ring was quite another task. Especially with her father and another man, whom he assumed to be her brother, beside her the entire time. Aye, Blake knew who her father was. There wasn’t a pirate in all the Caribbean who didn’t know who Alexander Merrick Hyde was, son of the infamous pirate, Captain Edmund Merrick Hyde, Earl of Clarendon. And there wasn’t a pirate who was foolish enough to cross him.

Except Blake. If only to get the Ring.

Why, oh why, did he have to hide the Ring in the skirts of the daughter of Captain Alexander Hyde?

Though he had bigger problems at the moment. The four foreign strangers dressed in black also had their eyes upon the lady. How did they know? They must have seen Blake tussling with her skirts earlier but hadn’t realized what he’d done until they couldn’t find the Ring on him. Hang it ! What to do now?

The foolish lady hopped off the wagon and made her way toward a lone woman and two children standing several yards away beneath the light of a street lantern. Unaware, her father and brother remained on the other side of the wagon, adjusting the reins of the horses with one hand while clinging to their blades with the other.

Across the street, the men in black eased out from the shadowy porch.

Blake had no time.

“Meet me at the skiff,” he whispered to Maston and Finn, who stood behind him around the corner of a warehouse. Before they had time to protest, he made a dash for the lady.

b

Emeline smiled at the woman, saying a prayer that God would give her the right words to help her.

Yet unlike before, when the lady could barely look at Emeline, this time her wide eyes screamed at her in terror. Unease snaked across Emeline’s back as she continued. But she continued, nonetheless. If only to help the poor woman. Was she hurt? Were her children all right? Emeline glanced down at the two little ones just as a tall man dressed in a black camlet suit stepped from behind the lady, the sharp end of his knife pointed at her back.

He shoved her and her children aside and started for Emeline.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” the woman squealed as she gathered her children and stumbled away.

Shock stole all reason from Emeline’s mind.

The man glanced behind her, and she followed his gaze to a group of men heading her way. “Pa—” Before she could call for her father’s help, another man who smelled of rum and the sea grabbed her by the waist, swung her up on his shoulder, and dashed into the darkness.

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even fight as each bounce crushed her lungs against his hard shoulder. She heard her father’s roar in the distance.

Surely he would come for her! A dozen terrifying thoughts rampaged through her mind. What did the man want with her? Who were those other men? What would happen to her?

Oh, God. Please help. Why is this happening ?

The man was strong. He kept up a fast pace, leaping over crates and fallen logs, twisting and turning around buildings as if she weighed no more than a feather.

Bootsteps thundered behind him, followed by shouts, some in a foreign language she didn’t know. A pistol fired. Her cheek slapped against the man’s leather waistcoat, and she finally built up the strength to pound him with her fists.

“Let me go, you beast!”

It neither stopped him nor slowed him down.

“Emeline!”

Her heart lurched. ’Twas her father’s voice.

“Pa…pa!” Her scream came out a mere whimper.

Her kidnapper only ran faster, darting down alleyways, circling warehouses, crossing streets and then back again, no doubt trying to lose his pursuers.

Blood rushed to Emeline’s head, threatening to knock her unconscious.

God, please ?

Finally, the man burst into a wooded area, leaping around trees and hopping over rocks. Thorny branches reached for her between shafts of moonlight spearing the canopy. The scent of the sea engulfed her, along with the man’s sweat as he emerged onto a small beach where two men waited by a boat.

Breath heaving, he slowed, waded through the incoming surf, grabbed her waist, and plopped her on the thwarts beside a third man. Then, jumping in after her, he took a rope and tied her hands behind her.

“Shove off!” he shouted to a man on shore who promptly heaved the boat and leapt in, nearly toppling it.

Emeline could see none of their faces. The starry sky spun above her. What was happening? Before she could scream, the man who had taken her tore a scarf from around his friend’s neck and promptly stuffed it in her mouth. A putrid, salty taste sent bile down her throat.

She moaned as loud as she could, but the sound came out muffled, and she doubted anyone would hear. Her mind spun, seeking a reason for this madness. Terror numbed every inch of her as the men took up oars, and the small craft sped through the water of Nassau Harbor—black, choppy waters capped in silver by a half-moon. The men said naught until they were away from their pursuers.

“Didna think ye were that desperate fer a wench, Cap’n.” One of them laughed.

“She’s not a wench,” the man who took her responded. “And I had no choice.”

The third man swung the oar, sending them sailing over the dark waters. “Ah, that’s where you put the Ring, Capitaine ,” he said in a slight French accent. “Clever.”

Emeline could make no sense of their ramblings as she numbly stared at the inky waves rippling against the boat. She should jump. She knew how to swim, but could she with her hands tied and her skirts dragging her down? Don’t be a coward, Emeline ! What if she drowned? What if a shark ate her? What if she couldn’t make it back to shore? Fears assailed her. But wouldn’t any of those be preferable to becoming the mistress of a filthy pirate?

The boat thudded against the hull of a ship. The moment of her escape had passed. She cursed her cowardice as the pirate took her arm and once again tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of rice, then climbed a rope ladder.

At least a dozen men crowded the main deck, some whistling at her while others fired questions at their captain. The stench of unwashed bodies, rum, and tobacco pinched her nose. Her heart rammed against her ribs.

He finally set her on her feet, keeping a firm grip on her arm as his two companions leapt on deck.

She wanted to ask what he wanted with her, but she gagged from the grotesque scarf crammed in her mouth. Tears filled her eyes, and her knees nearly buckled beneath the horror.

Chattering sounds rang out, and she glanced above to see a monkey swinging down the ratlines.

“Cap’n!” one short pirate shouted from the railing. “There be a cockboat headed straight fer us.” He lowered the scope. “An’ they don’t look friendly.”

“Hang it!” The man dragged her to the railing and took the glass, pressing it against his eye.

Emeline allowed a seed of hope to plant in her heart. It must be her father and brother. Oh, Lord, let it be them!

The man uttered a curse, then spun and issued a slew of orders that sent his crew scrambling to lift the boat aboard, weigh anchor, and raise all sail.

They were leaving? She tugged against the man’s grip, moaning her complaint, but he handed her to another sailor and ordered him to lock her in his cabin at once.