Their Hearts' Desire

by Starflight1701

SEQUEL to "BATTLE FOR NEVERLAND" - (I changed the pen-name from Lywhn to Starflight). Five years after 'Battle...', an almost grownup Wendy returns to Neverland. As her suitor follows her for reasons other than 'rescuing' her, it threats Peter and his world. Hook is forced to act - not only to save the day but also 'his' storyteller for whom his heart burns. Full summary inside.

75. Confrontation at The Manor, Part 2

Hi, my dear readers!

I've to apologize for the new longer time that was needed before the new chapter went online, but at the moment is simply jinxed. Time really flies by when you're too busy (*sigh*). Yet I hope you're still curious how the story progresses. And if you think in the last chapter was action, then read the new one. Very much will going on.

Have fun

Yours Lywhn / Starflight

Chapter 73 – Confrontation at The Manor, Part 2

Dalton Ashford heard the first shot from outside the manor and whirled around. Then there were more, and they sounded like: "Flintlocks!" he whispered, then realized what happened – for Shalford had warned him that his men would come. And again that damned crippled bastard had been right! "Hook's crew is here!" Ashford huffed, horrified. He looked at Morton Wickham and Kenly Fulsom, both alarmed. Then Wickham tightened his grip on his rifle.

"We'll have to use Hook to bargain with. Those rascals outside will retreat when we threaten their captain."

"Hah, of course," Dalton replied sarcastically. "He's downstairs and obviously not alone! More of those hateful bogeys, it sounds like! And we're upstairs." He glanced at Brynna. "Anything you might suggest without blowing up the manor?" he asked pointedly.

"Don't exaggerate," Lunette hissed. "That was nothing compared to what I can do." She rubbed her hands together and they could see sparks. "You want Shalford? You'll get him."

Dalton held her arm, forcing her to pause. "I need him alive!" he said firmly. "For now, of course."

The suddenly blackened eyes of his former nanny glared at him. "Faugh!" She took a deep focusing breath and lowered her head. As she looked up again seconds later, an indigo glow enveloped her figure. Shocked, Dalton released her as if she were hot. With a sinister smile, she started down the stair, bits of light dancing on the tips of her fingers.

Fulsom gulped and exchanged an uncertain gaze with Wickham. This was no longer parlor tricks; this was black magic – and the worst kind. And, he – quite justifiably – felt fear creeping up his spine. Warily he watched the viscount press himself beside the door at the wall, pistol ready in a sweaty hand, while he shot Morton a glare. The hunter nodded and planted himself on the other side of the door; rifle at the ready …

Below, Hook and Cadan saw someone descending – someone in boots and a skirt. And even without the pixie general's hiss – "Witch!" – James knew who was coming. Without hesitation he swept Peter behind him with his right arm and frowned toward Wendy. "Stay where you are, beauty! I need you alive!" he ordered beneath his breath.

His protectiveness, while appreciated, was getting on her nerves. "Just try to stay alive yourself," she whispered back.

"Who, Hook?" Peter remarked quietly, hand on his knife beneath his jacket. 'If that pirate thought that he could have all the fun, he could think again!'

"Two peas in a pod," Hook murmured, testing the weight of the pistol. "You all, stay down there! They don't yet know you're here!" he warned them softly, then he straightened. His eyes were slits as he peered at the woman slowly descending; approaching the door she had blasted only moments ago. Her figure seemed to be surrounded by a obscuring glow. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he braced himself, then he shouted: "Witch! Go back – or die here!"

"Surrender, Shalford, or you and those pitiful squeaking insects with you are dead!" Lunette snarled.

Hook aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. His bullet gouged the wall a hand's breadth in front of her. "Last warning, witch! The next one will kill!" the pirate said sharply. The answer was tiny bolts of lightning that raced down and through the room, hissing and blistering along the walls. "Are these sleights of hand all you can do?" James challenged. He had to get her closer for a decent shot, because he knew one thing: The next shot would have to kill her, or that magic would kill him.

"You'll see, Shalford," Lunette answered. He could see her left hand now, full of green fire.

However, Cadan was also watching, and knew that it was now or never. He gave the signal. The next moment he and his warriors hurled themselves as one at the old woman. This took Brynna by surprise, but her dark shield protected her. It seemed impossible for the little pranksters to break through the aura. Only Cadan and Kailen – purposing to distract the witch, gifted with strong hearts – pushed through her protection and attacked. Lunette screeched in rage as the pixies pulled violently at her hair and ears. Then Tink was there. Collecting all her fairy light she had gotten from the stars, she hurled herself at the sorceress, throwing handfuls of fairy dust through the shield into her face which made Lunette sneeze and cough – the magical purity of the dust was like wasp stings.

Spitting curses, Lunette retreated and stumbled back up the stairs – colliding with Dalton and Wickham on their way down. Both men vigorously swatted at the pixies and the fairy, but for naught. It was like trying to swat hummingbirds. And because neither wore protective magic, the other pixies now attacked them. Thrashing uselessly, all three retreated – and Hook took the opportunity to act. He knew his crew had come; he had to make certain that they got into the manor – preferable without destroying his family home in the process.

Dashing to the stairs, he shouted, "NOW!" to the boys; pistol ready. It reminded him briefly that this time it was not Peter giving the signal for the hidden boys to attack, but Hook. And as before, the older Lost Boys leapt forward. A second later, they were hot on his heels, followed by Nissa and Bumblyn, up the stairs, and jumping over wreckage of the door. Peter flew above them. "Pan, open the door for the crew!" James ordered; also hoping to keep the boy safe. Then he arrived at the entrance hall to face his enemies.

* PP *

After hearing the first sounds of gunfire from the gates, George Darling dropped all caution, and ran. He knew exactly what had happened: Hook's crew had heard the shot from the dungeons and invaded the estate. They were facing resistance now. But what he saw as he came around the west wing gave him pause. Shocked, horrified even, he saw a few smaller figures among the pirates and recognized them as Michael, the Twins and Tootles. 'How did they get here?!' They had all been in Bloomsbury when he left with Daniel Kempton and alerted Hook's crew. How had these rascals gotten to Surrey?

'They flew, of course,' he intuited the obvious reply, and frowned. Of course, Peter Pan had been at the house, too. And that fairy. Which was answer enough. And George also supposed that the leaf-clad troublemaker, his sparkling sidekick and the older boys were somewhere nearby as well. AND, of course, Wendy. Never would his daughter remain in safety where adventure was in the offing – especially when she knew that beloved pirate to be in danger. He would give them an earful – all of them, no matter how old they were!

But that would come later. The immediate issue was keeping all those sons safe – easier said than done. The buccaneers had taken cover behind a few bushes along the driveway, firing their flintlocks at someone behind a bush on the other side of the drive; toward the banker. Yet - the panic Mr. Darling expected to feel didn't come. Just the opposite. His mind had grown calm as he perused the scene before him; he stepped behind a few rhododendrons; their old green leaves offering him concealment, if not protection. Pursing his lips he watched the action before him a moment; calculating his next move.

There was only one of the viscount's men: The large Dane – 'Anders?' He had a modern rifle with a magazine. The old pistols hadn't a chance against it, needing time to reload. The problems were already there given the pauses between the shots the pirates fired at their enemy. Anders could keep them at bay like this; a no-win situation for everyone involved. 'Unless someone intervened.' And there was only one person available for that.

George Darling took a deep breath. What he intended was dangerous. One misguided shot, one wrong reaction from the pirates and he'd be done for. But his sons' lives were at stake and he would protect them, whatever the cost. And to keep the pirates from mistaking him for another enemy, he had to take the chance …

* PP *

All of them dropped down at the sound of the rifle's shot. Smee had quickly turned, then felt Anders' bullet graze his ear. His hand came up, and he looked down at the blood. They quickly spotted their enemy's location. "A crow's curse on ya!" Smee growled. "Tha' bloody landlubber isna open fer a gud shot!"

"'Is rifle's got more shots!" Jukes nodded, frustrated.

"Maybe Aurora can distract him," Michael offered, which earned him a pointed glare from the rose-fairy, who was stopping the blood-flow from Smee's ear with her fairy dust.

"Hell bells, ain't tha' yer da?" Cookson blurted, indicating the direction where Anders was partially concealed. Then Michael saw that the ship's cook gestured to someone behind the Dane. Michael frowned, then his eyes widened as he saw who was creeping up behind the hunter. Tootles gulped while the Twins murmured: "Shiver me timbres!" – "That's father!"

Smee raised a command: "Brutes, hold yer fire!" The other pirates obeyed, but some had already reloaded and had Anders in their sights, ready to fire again should George need help.

Dark Owl clutched his knife; ready to aid the brave man. A soft hoot caught his attention, and, looking up, he saw the owl sitting above him on a branch and staring at the large, bad man.

The sudden silence warned Anders. Hearing a footstep in the grass behind him, he whirled. The banker was right behind him! With a shout, he swung his rifle about, and Mr. Darling took his one chance. With a shriek, he threw himself at the Dane, snatched the rifle with both hands and tried to wrench it away from the larger man. But Anders was trained and a head taller. He tried to push the banker away, but George clung to the rifle in fury. "Not my sons, you bastard!"

One might guess how this uneven struggle would have ended – the large experienced hunter versus the desperate banker father. The few seconds they wrestled seemed like a week to George, then huge silent wings suddenly surrounded them, and sharp claws gouged Anders' head and neck, a sharp beak snatched at his forehead. He screamed in shock and pain and released the rifle, frantically attempting to fight off his aerial attacker, but for naught. The night hunter sank his claws into the man's temples and face, painfully drawing blood. George slammed the butt of the rifle into the man's stomach.

Then Dark Owl was there with Jukes, Herbs and Mullins; the others came running. The three pirates tried to grasp the Dane, but the wild flapping of the owl's wings kept them at arm's length. Indeed, Anders, now bent from the blow at the waist, screamed, trying to get rid of the bird.

"My brother, come to me!" Dark Owl called softly in his own tongue. The bird released the man and took to the air. Offering the owl his left forearm, the bird flew to the human. Carefully it landed on Dark Owl's arm, "My thanks, brother," the young Indian warrior whispered. And as if the owl had understood him, it hooted back.

Jukes and Herbs used the opportunity to wrestle Anders down, who whimpered and cursed.

"Argh, shut yer trap!" Mullins snapped, ripped the away the man's shirt pocket and shoved the cotton into his mouth, as Akeele bound the Dane's arms.

"Can't we kill 'im?" the big African pirate wondered aloud.

Smee, who had joined them – still carrying something wrapped in a piece of canvas – shook his head. "Nay, ye heard th' capt'n. No blood-lettin'." He looked at Mr. Darling, who stood there, breathing heavily and surprised by own courage. The old Irishman grinned. Approaching George, he clapped him on the shoulder. "I knew ye had it in ye, Georgey-lad! The li'l missy got yer and yer wife's courage, na doubt there!"

Mr. Darling grimaced at the appellation, and as a few other pirates also clapped his shoulders, he closed his eyes for a moment in a sigh. Yesterday evening he had been a law-abiding banker with an enviable reputation. Tonight, he was traveling with pirates, involved in a brawl, and blackmailing a nobleman who … who himself was behaving worse than the buccaneers, the ones who now cheered him, George Llewelyn Darling, Bank of England!

"Father! That was sooo brave!" Michael had run to him, and now threw both arms around him. A small golden-pink personality followed the boy; hovering above them in the air and clapping.

"Yeah! You showed that coward…" – "how a Darling can fight!" the Twins beamed at him; fists lifted. Tootles nodded and cheered his adoptive father.

"Thank you, boys." George looked at them sternly. "And how is it that you four are here?" he continued firmly. "Didn't I tell you -"

The rebuke was interrupted by a commotion from the house – shouts, thumps and sounds of a fight. Startled, Mr. Darling asked, "Are the other boys and Wendy in there!?" His answer was the guilty expressions of the four youngsters.

Smee was ready. Pointing at Canary Robb and Whibbles, he ordered: "You two stay 'ere t' watch over tha' bastard, th' rest wit' me! Protect our capt'n!"

Pistols, cutlasses and knives ready, the pirates ran up the drive. There was no reason any longer for stealth. There were battle cries on their lips, deep frowns on their faces, fury in their eyes – a bunch of half-savage men, on the mission to save their leader.

"We're comin', Capt'n!" - "Hold on, sir!" - "We're here!"

The four boys turned to run after them, but Mr. Darling caught two collars and barked, "You. Stay! All of you! It's enough that your brothers, your sister and of course that flying pest are risking their necks!" He started toward the manor.

"But-" Michael began.

"No 'but'! How am I supposed to tell your mother that you were injured in a battle I could have prevented?" George shouted over his shoulder, then ran after the pirates who had just reached the entrance, now beating on the heavy door.

And behind them all, a single white figure stood between the trees, hope in her old eyes. Dark Owl, who was weighing his options to follow the others or remain outside, saw her. Recognizing her as a restless soul taking shape and feeling the gentle energy coming from the apparition, placed his palms over his heart and bowed deeply; paying his respect. The owl climbed from arm to shoulder and hooted gently, and the white figure gave him a soft smile …

* PP *

Cora Bailey stopped her motorcar and exchanged glances with Mary Darling. They were driving up Charles Hill and thought they were hearing thunder. But moments later they could tell the sounds were gunfire. Ahead of them.

"Are these … shots?" Millicent gasped, hand to her throat.

Mary took a deep breath. "Yes," she said quietly. "It seems Ashford didn't acquiesce to George's persuasions."

"And the fight is on," Mrs. Bailey said, "and the children are in the middle of it." She engaged the gear again. "No time to waste."

"WHAT?" Millicent gasped. "You want to drive toward a battle?"

"Have you a better suggestion?" Cora replied. "Your son is there. And my … my … well… let's call him a relative. Granduncle sounds too majestic for a boy of twelve." She sounded almost … casual, as though she faced gun battles every day. She steered the motorcar up the hill, feeling a genuine thrill at the sight of the parked lorry beside the open gates; the windows of the manor at the end of the drive were brightly illuminated. A group of men, all looking like pirates of a children's book illustration, were charging the entrance; shouting bloody murder …

* PP *

As Hook, the bogeys, Peter and the boys rushed up the staircase, Wendy started to follow them, but heard something behind her. Looking back, she saw how the door where the fireball disappeared was pulled open again, revealing a tousled Professor Archibald Hutchings. Wendy felt a rush of relief as she recognized the older scholar, still unhurt. She nodded at him and was about to continue up the stairs when she spotted a familiar red head behind Hutchings. "Vicky!" she gasped, going to her friend. "Are you all right?"

Victoria looked much like the old scholar, disheveled and dirty and … and she held something large in her arms, half wrapped in a tweed jacket. Wendy stopped for a moment seeing what her friend was carrying. "Gor blimey!" she breathed a phrase she'd heard often at her school.

The dragonling, who clung with all fours to Vicky, even wrapping wings and tail around her, lifted his head and glanced back at Wendy. Oversized golden-brown eyes assessed the girl, then its fine senses felt her purity and warmth. As Wendy patted him gently, he pushed his snout against her fingers and licked them. Despite their desperate situation, Wendy had to giggle. "Oh, how sweet!" she whispered, and gently stroked the creatures back. She was answered with a happy purring.

Archie smiled at the dragonling's response, and the girl in the clothes from another age. The leggings and the doublet caught his attention. He had never seen such fabric; the embroidery was intricate, fantastic, yet somehow familiar. Yes … in her diaries she told of their Elvish origin – Tuatha dé Danann. The mysterious race of tall, fair warriors and healers, with enchanted swords, arrows that never missed and an understanding of nature no human being had yet approached. The tales said they belonged to the first people to arrive in Ireland, then retreated into the hills which were called 'Sídhe'. In later tales they even were called 'Aes Sídhe', people of the hills, who fled to Tír nan Og, the land of eternal youth. 'Neverland? Could it be?'

Hutchings had read Wendy's second diary carefully. The Sídhe – Elves – lived in a different realm than Neverland, yet they had come to the island to protect it. Maybe because they had first lived there after fleeing Ireland? Only a week ago he hadn't even known that fairies, dragons, mermaids, bogeys and Elves truly existed. And now he not only had met the first four races of those; now he saw undeniable proof of the latter's existence. As a man who strongly believed the old tales, he was deeply touched.

They heard shouting from above, screeches from the pixies and shouts from the boys, making the newborn squeak before it buried its snout under the coat. The three others looked up, startled. A black … fog … floated down but began to disperse in the air. The dragonling must have smelled it and began to hiss, while two thins curls of smoke came from his nostrils. Even freshly hatched and not much larger than a cat, he was a dragon.

"Wha' be tha' madwoman doin' up there?" Hutchings murmured.

"Working her magic – and it's time to stop her," Wendy said firmly, starting to the stairs; hand on her dagger. And she wasn't surprised that her friend and the scholar followed.

* PP *

Dalton, Wickham and Lunette had returned to the entrance hall. They were still quite busy avoiding the attacking pixies. Fulsom – practical as ever – crept away and hid beneath the stair. Warily he watched as the pirate-captain appeared from below, followed by four grown boys and – of course – Peter Pan. And from outside the shouts showed that Hook's crew was nearing the manor.

Lunette screeched a few unpronounceable words and something like a dark fog exploded from her; hurling the pixies away. Hook ducked and Peter dropped beside him, thinking it prudent to stay low as the dark mist wafted over him and the others. Ashford and Wickham took that chance to collect themselves, but not for long. Barely had the mist diffused when a group of the boys hurled themselves at the men. Shocked, Dalton recognized John Darling and three of the former Lost Boys using that brief opportunity to wrestle him and Wickham to the floor.

This tumult hadn't gone unnoticed in the rest of the manor. At the first shot, Olivia Smith had ducked beside the oven. Hearing the shouts and noises of hand-to-hand combat in the entrance hall, she gathered all her courage and left her domestic retreat, carrying an iron skillet. Yet she was shocked to see her employer and one of the 'guests' fighting with four boys, while the housekeeper generated dark smoke around herself, teeth bared in a snarl, dark hair even greyer now. She looked to all the world like the witch she had turned into. And there Olivia recognized the one-handed captain – Hook! – and the boy the viscount had sent away to an orphanage. For a moment the maid paused, then she gasped as beside her Nissa appeared and reached for the pan. Olivia handed it to the brownie. "Be careful," she whispered at the bogey, who only nodded grimly.

Next, Wickham shoved Curly and Nibs aside and regained his feet, but instantly another boy was upon him. Gasping he recognized the pretty, but furious face of Peter Pan. And he wasn't the only one.

"I KNEW IT!" Lunette shouted in triumph, almost cackling. "I KNEW YOU WERE STILL HERE!" She pointed at Peter, who seemed to stumble in the air, pulled backwards by invisible strings – straight toward Lunette.

Tink dashed toward the witch and let the starlight attack her again. Roughly, Peter landed on the floor, rolling aside as Lunette ceased her conjuring and flung her hands in front of her face to protect her eyes. Peter shook his head and regained his feet, assessing the action around him. John and Slightly had caught Ashford; Nibs and Curly had attacked Wickham again together with a few pixies who had avoided the smoke. Yet the hunter did not surrender, landing a punch at Nibs' jaw. "Hey, leave my friends alone!" Peter snarled, and threw himself against Wickham. From outside he heard shouts from the crew, banging against the thick, old oaken door.

Lunette blindly batted Tink away and whirled around, hands again filled with magic fire; but she'd never considered the power of the Good People. The pixies were good fighters and Tinker Bell was a warrior as well, but never – ever! – turn your back on a bogey in a fight. And in this case, two bogeys.

Bumblyn dashed between the many legs and jumped at Lunette from behind with a cry of battle. Bryanna snarled in fury and flung back one hand back to rid herself of the little attacker, but only managed to set her own skirt afire. She doused with a rush of water she congealed from the air. Distracted as she was, she didn't notice Nissa. The Brownie had climbed on a table, hidden by the flower-arrangement, and with a scream that would curl your hair, hurled herself at Lunette. The iron skillet struck the witch's shoulder and Bryanna cried out in pain and wrath. Nissa dropped to the floor and used the pan again, this time bringing it down on the woman's right foot. The boots were not enough protection against the heavy pan. Lunette screeched and hopped on her left foot. But Brynna wasn't the only one who could play naughty. An enraged Brownie is quite dangerous, and Nissa was determined to protect her Master Jamie. She repeated her action on Brynna's left foot and Brynna lost her balance. With a shout she went down, and Nissa swung the pan a fourth time, aiming for the woman's temple. She aimed well, and Brynna slumped to the floor, stunned. Nissa and Bumblyn both gave triumphant howls.

But by now, Nibs was trying to rise, and Curly was there to help him, while Hook came to Peter's aid. Pushing the protesting boy behind him, Hook fought Morton Wickham; for the first time since he left Neverland, he used his metal claw to keep the hunter busy. And if the man managed to wound himself on James' hook – well, so much the better. By now, the pirate in Hook was looking to shed some blood. The captain's double attacks distracted Wickham, yet the hunter knew knife fights, and gave Hook as good as he got.

Ashford had gained the upper hand over the two boys, unhindered by any gentlemanly sportsmanship regarding a fist toward John's spectacles. He kicked brutally at Slightly. Regaining feet, he was about to reach for his pistol, aimed at the pirate-captain, then Nissa jumped on the viscount's back; screaming like the banshee she'd learned it from.

At the same moment, the two girls and the scholar emerged from the cellars and paused to sort out what was going on. Wendy realized first where the greatest danger lay, and ran towards Ashford and Nissa. The viscount spun around so that the Brownie lost her balance and fell. She squeaked as Ashford kicked her aside, and then aimed his pistol at the captain.

"Dalton!" Wendy shouted over the tumult, and as the startled young nobleman turned his attention to her, he met the fist she threw at his jaw. It hurt her hand, and the girl knew that she might have injured herself, but she had to stop that blue-blooded bastard before he could use his pistol on James.

Hutchings was helping John, whose nose was bleeding, spectacles broken. Vicky, still carrying the dragonling, heard the pirates pounding the door from outside and whirled around to Olivia. "Let them in!" she ordered. She and Bumblyn hastened to the little brown creature that lay whimpering on the floor.

Ashford, who had stumbled backwards and held his painful jaw with his free hand, recognized what she was doing, and shouted at the maid: "GET AWAY FROM THAT DOOR!" As Olivia only gave him a disdainful glare, making her way to the door, he screamed: "STAY BACK, YOU STUPID BINT, OR I'LL SHOOT YOU!"

He had not reckoned on Wendy. Gripping his right arm to prevent him from shooting, she yelled: "OLIVIA, GO!" Gathering her skirts, Olivia dashed to door, but was intercepted by Fulsom. That cowardly boy knew that he could kiss any bonus goodbye should the pirates enter the manor, so he stepped into the maid's way and caught her.

Wendy yelped as Ashford used his free left hand to slap her – hard – then Peter crashed into him. The viscount lost his balance and fell, but released Wendy. Knowing that the gun was the biggest risk, Peter straddled the man and gripped Ashford's right wrist with both hands. Dalton lunged out with his left hand again; striking the boy with all the strength he could muster. With a loud "Oof!" Peter rolled aside, but didn't let go. Wendy pulled out the Elven dagger, knelt down beside Ashford and pressed the blade against his throat. "Cease fighting, Dalton!" she snarled. "You've done enough!"

Yet the viscount was past sanity. Gripping her wrist he twisted her hand down as strongly as he could and with a painful cry, Wendy let go of the weapon.

Hook heard first his boy and then his beloved cry out in obvious pain – and the ruthless pirate in him arose once again. He gave Wickham a stunning blow with his fist and the man's shoulder with his hook. Wickham screamed. Hook didn't care what damage he did, the only thing that mattered was to get rid of his opponent to help Wendy and Peter. The hunter blacked out for a few seconds, and Curly and Slightly were there to use that chance to sit down on him.

Ashford had shoved Wendy brutally aside, took her dagger with his left and moved to bury the blade in Peter's exposed back who still held the viscount's right arm down onto the floor, but the blade connected with a sharp hook. Looking up he glanced directly in furious blue eyes in which a red spark appeared. Dalton let go of the pistol, yanked his right arm free and threw a punch at Hook's jaw. Hook swayed back, avoiding the fist, then he gripped the viscount's collar with his left hand and rose; dragging the younger man to his feet.

Peter rose behind Ashford and took hold on the viscount's left arm to prevent him from using the stolen dagger, but Hook's sharp "Stay back, Pan!" made him stop. Both men faced each other with burning eyes, out of breath, then Ashford attacked. Hook blocked the dagger with his metal claw and tried to twist the blade out of his opponent's hand, but Dalton kept a firm grip on it and yanked it free. Both men backed away, circling each other.

Looking for some way to help, Peter saw Nissa, now sitting up and being helped by Bumblyn, then the boy saw that Wendy was still kneeling on the floor, rubbing her right wrist. Leaving Ashford to Hook, he hastened to his former lieutenant.

Nibs was still nursing his jaw when he saw the servant girl struggling with Fulsom. 'The red-haired villain who had lured Peter into the trap in Neverland! The villain who had driven the car that chased them through London!' Dizzy, but setting his jaw, he rose and half stumbled, half ran into the driver. "Let her go!" he shouted, hauling Fulsom backward off the girl.

Olivia ran to the door, heart beating wildly. She released the bolt on the heavy English oak door and opened it. She gasped as she was flung behind the door as it crashed open. Wild-looking men stumbled into the manor, cutlasses in their hands. Others pressed after them, brandishing swords, pistol, rifles, wearing seamen's clothes from a bygone era. As one, they invaded the hall, followed by the young reporter and George Darling.

Smee quickly assessed his surroundings and saw one of the hunters defeated and bleeding from a wound in his left shoulder. The witch lay at the side of the hall, unconscious, and the red-haired boy was struggling with Nibs. The only ones still battling were his captain and Ashford. While Billy Jukes and Akeele took hold of Fulsom, parting him from Nibs, the other pirates surrounded their leader and the viscount, who held a dagger. Before they could intervene, Hook shouted: "STAY BACK! ALL OF YOU. This is between the thief Ashford and me!"

Reluctantly obeying, the crew stepped back – all except one. Smee unwrapped the canvas from the object he'd carried from the ship and threw it to James: "Yer sword, Cap'n!"

James easily captured the silver and gold hilt of his sword as he had done hundreds of times before in battle and in practice. Stepping back, the long blade now nearly touched the viscount's chest. He saw Ashford paling, then frowning, and nodded slowly. "Aye, the tide has turned, but no one shall say James Hook showed bad form. I am an Eton man, after all." He raised his voice, eyes never leaving Ashford. "Mr. Herbs, have you your blade with you?"

"Aye, Capt'n, righ' 'ere," the helmsman replied, watching carefully.

"Lend it to Viscount Ashford. A duel between gentlemen aristocrats is always fought by certain rules and I'm sure this still applies."

Peter's jaw dropped, then he whispered towards Wendy: "Why would he do that? His men could have handled Dalton like a swatted fly!"

"It's a matter of honor, Peter – between gentlemen aristocrats," Wendy replied quietly remembering her historical studies. And her own fencing teacher had told her and the other girls of his class about the Code Duello, regulating duels since the times of the Roman Empire. The rules had changed during the centuries, but they all stuck true to honor even within a combat. Concerning the latter, Wendy felt some unease while she rubbed her twisted wrist. She knew that Ashford had some dirty tricks up his sleeves. On the other hand, so did James – after all, he was a pirate.

Herbs reluctantly moved to Ashford and offered him his sword, a classic length, well balanced and razor sharp, like Hook's. It had been taken from a ship delivering it to a prince. "If ye'd take sum advice, lad: Surrender now. Th' capt'n is the best blade in th' Caribbean."

"And yet he was bested by a boy," Ashford sneered, taking the sword.

"That was an accident, you cock-a-hoop!" Peter snarled. "I never intended to hurt him like that."

"A nice twist to the story, if it were true -" Dalton taunted, then choked off his words as the tip of a sword appeared at his throat.

"Stop harassing my boy, Ashford, and fight like a man if you can – or surrender. It's up to you!" Hook's voice could have split wood. Dalton raised the blade of the borrowed sword and slapped the captain's aside. They would fight.

Hook nodded, stepping back and shrugging off his new coat, which Albino took. James' gaze found Victoria, who held the little dragon, wrapped in a jacket, in her arms. Beside her was Hutchings, protecting the dragonling. "Whatever happens," he said aside to the scholar, "get the creature back to Neverland." Then he raised his voice again. "No one intervenes!" he said sharply. "That's an order!"

Herbs had stepped back and, as a precaution, pushed Peter and Wendy toward the wall. "Tha' goes fer ye two, as well," he murmured; meeting the boy's scowl with a smirk. Alas, Hook and Pan - so much alike!

They backed to the edges of the hall, providing the required twenty paces, circling the fighters, while Jukes and Akeele finished binding Fulsom and Morton Wickham, who had regained consciousness and now whimpered. Smee rolled his eyes, kneeling beside the hunter, calling for a bandana he could use to bind the wound – not much but better than nothing.

"Lettin' th' landlubber keep th' dagger, Capt'n?" Mullins asked with a frown and Hook shrugged.

"If he feels safer with it, then – by all my means – he can keep it for now. I'll have it soon enough." He lifted sword and hook. "En garde!"

* PP * PP *

As Cora Bailey steered her motorcar through the gates, they found the situation worse than expected. None of the pirates were near the lorry, but there was shouting from the manor. They looked at each other with misgivings, but there was no turning back now. Entering the estate and motoring up the driveway, they saw a young Native man standing between the trees, an owl on his shoulders. He appeared to be speaking with someone disguised by a mist. Further up the drive, two buccaneers guarded a tall, unconscious man. And next to the sailors were -

"Mrs. Bailey, stop!" Mary shouted, hopping out of the vehicle as the older lady slowed. "Michael, Twins, Thomas!" she screamed, gathering her skirts running to the small group.

"Oh no!" Millicent breathed. "The children are already here!" Her fear for Slightly made her leave the motorcar, too.

The four boys greeted their worried mother, then attempted to distract her by directing her attention to the manor, where more than a dozen pirates were storming the door. Mary paled. "Wendy and the other boys are in there?" she gasped, then glanced at the two pirates. As rough as the pirates looked, their manners were civilized.

"Dinna fear, Mum, we'll get 'em all out," one of them said.

That was not what Mary wanted to hear. Then she heard Millicent gasp: "There's George!" Lights from the windows illuminated the broad entrance stair. A dozen men or more were trying to break down the main door which suddenly opened. The pirates invaded the building with wild war cries. Following them were Daniel Kempton – and George Darling!

"Got our back, th' gel's da did," the man beside them spoke up. "Fought tha' bastard there! Make ya proud t' be English!" He spat at the unconscious man (Millicent wrinkled her nose), while Mary only heard that her decent respectable husband had obviously been involved in hand-to-hand combat! Again! And it looked like he wasn't done yet.

"You stay here!" she ordered the four boys, gathered her skirts again and ran back towards Cora who waited in the motorcar; Millicent followed. "Quick, to the manor!" Mrs. Darling said while climbing into the vehicle.

"Indeed!" Mrs. Bailey replied, releasing the brake the moment Millicent entered the back seat. At the stair, Cora parked and together the three women ran up the stairs. They stopped when, through the door, they saw a bleeding man trussed up like a Christmas package at the other side of the entrance hall, with a large black pirate guarding him. To their right, near a table with a large flower arrangement, the old housekeeper lay sprawled on the marble floor; her greying hair losing more of its black color, now ashen. Now not even Mary, but also Millicent believed that Brynna Lunette was – indeed – a true witch.

These they disregarded, as they now saw the pirates circling two men who were fencing – not in a civilized bout, but in vicious combat.

Mary's breath caught as she recognized a disheveled and enraged Viscount Ashford and an angry but controlled Captain James Hook. With those tall boots, metal claw raised, black curls loose about his shoulders, and a sword that looked like it once belonged to one of Dumas' famous musketeers, he personified an age that had passed. His stance and methods were remarkable, not like the fencing she had seen in competition. His movements were vigorous and confident; they spoke of long practice. His technique was distinctive, and the rapid attacks, parries, combinations, feints and counterattacks were thrilling. And he fought with a speed and elegance the women had ever seen before – not even during the Olympic Games in London the year before. (Wendy had insisted they attend these matches.) Ashford attempted to underrun Hook twice, but for naught. The captain had been forced to battle with a flying opponent for many years, and he seemed to know all possible tactics.

With dry mouth, Mary scanned the room. She saw her daughter – clad in unfamiliar clothes – standing nearby, next to a tousled and dirty Peter Pan, tensely watching the men in the fight for their lives. Most of the pirates stood around cheering or commenting. They were sure who would win. There was also Daniel Kempton, now beside Victoria, who carried a little serpent with wings, while the maid had shrunk into the background; clearly afraid. Spotting her husband to her right, Mary went to him and laying a hand on his shoulder, murmuring, "George?"

Startled, he whirled around, and he recognized his wife. "Mary!" he whispered, eyes large, his hand on her shoulder. "Dear Mary, what are you doing here?" he asked, worry bright in his eyes. A quick glance found his sister and an unfamiliar lady. The concern on his face increased. "You and Millie are crazy to come here! It's incredibly dangerous! And who is this lady?"

Mary's hand stroked his back reassuringly. "The boys and Wendy flew away, so we followed them with Mrs. Bailey's motorcar. Mrs. Bailey is … uh … related to Peter."

George was aghast. "She is?" he asked surprised.

"Yes, she is his great-niece." Both looked at the grey-blonde lady in her sixties and the lad who looked around twelve. George raised an eyebrow skeptically, then remarked dryly, "Of course he is. Anyone could see it!"

Outraged cries from many throats turned their heads to the two opponents. Dalton had raised the stolen dagger, attempting to strike Hook in the ribs. But the captain was quicker and avoided the second blade with his wooden cuff. His eyes blazed as he made a counter-attack – forcing Ashford to retreat towards the staircase. The pirates around them backed off as the two adversaries needed more room. Ashford hadn't practiced fencing for a few years, but during his time in Oxford he had taken fencing lessons and he had his share of duels among students. He wasn't as experienced as Hook, but his style and his speed, mixed with his burning anger – even hate – made him a feisty opponent.

He lunged forward with both weapons, but James blocked the viscount's attack, using his sword and metal claw. Ashford growled and they exchanged parries, finally reaching the staircase and Dalton made a double attack. This time he used the opportunity mount the stair; gaining advantage of height over his rival.

Hook was not deterred. When fighting aboard ships and against Pan, different heights were common. And battling on a companionway had been an easy maneuver, even at the beginning of his Navy career. Experience only improved him during his second 'career' as a pirate. With strong, cat-like moves he drove the viscount up the first few stairs. The mixture of the old architecture and current décor mirrored the two rivals' origin – Baroque against Victorian.

Cora watched the duel carefully, critically. When she was young, duels were still fought. She never like the idea of two men fighting to the death (or serious injury,) but seeing such a one before her now – using the old weapons – was troubling. She saw how most of the pirates followed the two fighters up the stairs, as well as a few of the boys and Peter. The latter prepared to come to the captain's aid when necessary. After learning their history, she found it astonishing how close boy and man had grown.

Wendy's eyes were glued to the action, apprehension plain on her pale face as she pushed her way through the gang of pirates to the stairs, to stand aside Peter. Her adventurous side delighted in the elegant interplay of flashing blades: Two men battling with swords … to the death? But the woman who loved James Anthony Shalford recognized the battle for what it was: A deadly reality, not a story in a book or a stage play. It was nothing like the epic fight between James and Peter five years ago. That, too, had been a real battle, but this was fiercer, more brutal. And there was her James, once again a pirate head to toe. She prayed earnestly that the duel would 'just please end soon!' – or that fate would intervene.

Fate did intervene with the unforeseen.

The Darlings were still in the hall; Mary had pressed herself against her husband, being both fascinated and shocked by the quick, harsh swordplay she was witnessing. Millicent lingered in the background, hand at her throat, feeling sick to her stomach. As the viscount slashed at Hook and the captain ducked, Miss Darling looked away – and recognized an approaching danger.

She saw movement, and realized that Madame Lunette was no longer unconscious. But she didn't move in a way one might expect an old woman with a nasty bruise on her temple to move. As though raised by invisible strings, puppet-like, she came to her feet, not using knees or hands, kneeling or sitting. Her eyes were pitch black, her face had aged with wrinkles from one moment to the next. Then Millicent saw the witch turn to face the duelists, the old eyes moving to someone a few steps below the rivals . Following this horrible woman's glance, she saw that the witch was intent on the boy, Peter Pan! Millie remembered that they'd said that the sorceress was after the boy's blood for a potion to become young again! And she certainly needed this potion quickly.

Holding her breath, uncharacteristically reluctant to interfere, Millicent saw Lunette inching toward the pirates at the foot of the stair. With everyone's attention fixed on the duelists, none noticed the witch. 'Perhaps others by the stair would become victim to her wicked machinations, standing between the witch and her target! And Wendy was standing beside the boy!'

No, Millicent Darling would neither allow evil be done to her niece, nor that a child like that boy fall prey to this evil woman's intention. Not even once thinking about the neighbors, nor how improper her actions were, she slipped to the table with the large bouquet and took the vase in both hands. She loathed violence, but the health of her family was at stake ...

Lunette's sudden burst of magical energy took everyone – except Millicent – by surprise. Both hands high, Brynna shouted a few untranslatable words, and surrounded herself in a cloud of thick black smoke. Hook and Ashford paused, the pirates whirled around, the Good People cried out in fear. "If you think you can win, you pathetic creatures, you can think again!" Brynna screeched; her gaze pierced the distance to Peter. "I'll get you, bo-"

Lunette was stopped in the middle of the next word, only to stare ahead, expressionless, before she crumpled to the ground; water all around her. Behind her stood Aunt Millicent, a few of the flowers in her hands, water and shards surrounding the unconscious witch. "If you think you can threaten my family and this boy, you're seriously mistaken!" Millie snapped, before she dropped the last flowers. "And, by the way, you're a dreadful housekeeper! Just look at the state of this hall!"

For a brief span of time, there was only silence, as all stared at Millicent Darling; then a few pirates began to clap their hands, the boys laughed – especially Slightly – and George could only watch in awe. It seemed Millicent, too, could "jump over one's own shadow"!

Stepping away from his opponent, Hook smiled as he saw the older lady Wendy so often had groused about taking matters in her hands – literally. Then there was movement in the corner of his eye, and a shrill ringing from Tinker Bell. Instinctively, he ducked and Ashford's borrowed sword barely missed him, vibrating with the tip deep in the wooden balustrade behind him. The seconds James used to dodge the sword were enough for Dalton to switch the knife to his right hand and snatch Wendy around the waist, dragging her back, pulling her off-balance. Her startled yelp was interrupted by the blade at her throat.

"GET BACK! ALL OF YOU!" he shouted. "OR SHE DIES!"

TBC…

Yes, a really mean cliffhanger, I know. It's unbelievable how low Dalton Ashford sunk, but he really is about to turn insane. As the saying goes: In defeat the real character is shown. But just right now Dalton isn't defeated and even gained an upper hand in a certain way…

I hope, you liked the chapter despite the ending. George and Millicent outgrew themselves, there was a real sword fight á la Musketeers and many ups and downs. Well, even a battle.

In the next chapter the events are coming thick and fast, and so I don't want to reveal anything this time.

I would be very, very happy to get some feedback, despite the late update. I think, the chapter made up for the longer waiting.

Have a nice rest of Sunday,

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight