Charley Kidgrass & the Blood Map

By Christopher Mahoney

Charley Kidgrass is the last and most powerful of long line of time-travelers, charged with protecting space-time from Damien Drake and his mercenary organization, Masnada.

The only problem is, he has no idea. His parents have kept his abilities a secret.

Until one day, his father gets trapped in the past. Then, only Charley can save him. Energized with new and mysterious powers, Charley travels back to the Spanish Main during the Golden Age of Piracy and begins a quest to find his dad. Along the way, he befriends the most notable pirates of the time: Stede Bonnet, Benjamin Hornigold, Anne Bonny, Mary Read...and the incomparable Calico Jack Rackham.

To save Charley's father, they band together to hunt down Damien Drake and Masnada. But doing so won't be easy. Drake has partnered with the vilest and most despised pirate in human history - Blackbeard - and, against all the laws of space-time, has armed him with modern weapons.

Charley has one chance to find Drake, save his father, and protect human history from being irrevocably altered...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Mahoney
• Release date: May 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9780979520297

Christopher Mahoney

I was born on Thursday, March 11, 1976, a birthday I share with one of my favorite authors, Douglas Adams.I always wrote, often 20-30 page science fiction stories, but never finished anything. Then, after the birth of my son in 2003, I found myself filled with inspiration at a Boston coffee shop on a rainy day. I opened my laptop - which I carried to chip away at unfinished tomes - and launched into a sweeping adventure I had envisioned since I was a child and now wanted to share with my son.I wrote 30 pages that day.I wrote more the following day and continued for three months. Once finished, I edited the manuscript twelve times over two years, because I wanted it to be perfect for Aiden. Finding the usual difficulties in getting a publisher, I self-published.The Incredible Origins of the Onyx Sun went on to win an Honorable Mention in the 2010 Writer's Digest Self-Published Book Awards and was one of 50 books - from 10,000 original submissions - that made it to the Semifinals of Amazon's 2010 Breakthrough Novel Awards. Publishers Weekly said "This space adventure yarn has the right stuff!" while the Midwest Book Review raved "...a fun entry into a brand new youth science fiction series. Highly recommended!”More importantly, as I started sharing my story with kids around the world, the excitement in their eyes fostered a new love of writing - and finishing - my tales. Since then, I've completed another novel in a new series and am seventy pages into the sequel to the Onyx Sun.

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Text copyright © 2016 by Christopher Mahoney

Illustrations by Christopher Mahoney copyright © 2016 Christopher Mahoney

All rights reserved. Published by Pariah Publishing.

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PARIAH PUBLISHING and the I LOGO are trademarks

and/or registered trademarks of Pariah Publishing LLC.

The CHARLEY KIDGRASS and all related characters and elements

are trademarks of Christopher Mahoney.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

978-0-9795202-9-7

Printed in the United States of America.

Again, for my son and illuminating inspiration, Aiden James.

Chapter 1

Blackbeard

The Outer Banks, North Carolina, 1718

Kyle Kidgrass perched on the HMS Scarborough’s prow, scanning the horizon. Sea-blue sky stretched over sky-blue sea in every direction.

No sign of Blackbeard.

Kyle glanced back at the ship, lost in thought. The Scarborough was a floating citadel, hosting ninety-two guns and five hundred British sailors. It was one of the most impressive vessels in the Spanish Main. Still, Kyle did not feel safe. The empty Caribbean unnerved him.

Still nothing, mate? His unshaven companion, Jack, strode over. Jack wore a Calico jacket, over a black vest and loose white shirt. The shirt was buttoned low, exposing a tan chest and shark-tooth necklaces. Lashed round his hips, a red sash hosted a well-used sword. Dark pants plunged into knee-high boots, from which two knife handles emerged. A tri-cornered hat shaded Jack’s unshaven face.

Nothing out there. Kyle holstered the brass spyglass. But Blackbeard’s here. Somewhere. I want to check again with the real binoculars.

Tired of this eighteen century stuff?

Kyle nodded.

Do as ye want, mate.

Watch for me? Make sure no one sees.

Aye. I’ll make sure no one sees your fancy spyglass.

I told you. They’re called binoculars.

Right mate. Binoculars. Jack lingered on each syllable. I’m just surprised Brin let you bring them.

Special exception, Kyle said offering a lopsided smile.

So in other words he doesn’t know.

I take the occasional liberty for the mission.

Jack flourished a hand before Kyle, as if addressing the king. Then by all means sir, proceed. I will distract anyone who glances this way.

Kyle furtively pulled a pair of modern binoculars from his waistcoat. The red lenses sparkled in the sun. He glassed the horizon.

Still nothing?

No. Kyle huffed again. He’s out there though.

With Drake?

Most likely.

That would be bad, Jack said. History’s most notorious pirate in league with its most dangerous time-traveller.

I already thought you were both. Kyle winked.

Most devilishly handsome? Perhaps. Most fiendishly clever? Certainly. But most notorious or dangerous? Jack Rackham leaves that to less scrupulous men.

Kyle chuckled and grasped Jack’s shoulder. I’m glad you’re with me again, old friend.

One final adventure?

Indeed. One last time.

You’re the last of our kind, Jack said. My powers are far too wild. Unless Brin fixes the Metamorphosis, Drake may become unstoppable.

Kyle fiddled with his binoculars.

What’s wrong, mate?

Have you ever kept a secret to protect someone else, but wondered if you were really trying to protect yourself?

Pirate, Jack said, pointing at his chest. Not so great with secrets.

Kyle smiled and rubbed his hands anxiously.

What secret, mate?

Kyle was about to say something when a sharp call echoed across the deck.

Master Kidgrass!

The pointed address caught Kyle off guard. He awkwardly slid the binoculars into his pocket and turned around. Captain Hume.

The commander strode onto the foredeck, his red jacket in stark contrast to his surroundings. Hume was a handsome man: square-jawed and rugged, but clean-cut and refined. Authentic confidence projected from his intense glare. He scrutinized them, lingering on Jack. Report. Any sign?

No sign of Blackbeard yet, captain, Kyle said.

Unfortunate. When we took you on in Charleston, you assured me you could find this brigand.

He’s near.

Near is not here. Captain Hume paced around his guests, examining them.

Mr. Kidgrass felt suddenly uncomfortable in his breeches. He bent over to pull the knee-high pants further down his legs. The wool tickled his skin. He scratched at his over-sized shirt cuffs. Jack touched his friend’s arm and shook his head.

Hume stepped in front of them. Curious.

Captain?

You seem ill fitted to your attire, Hume said. Something about you unsettles me.

Jack snickered.

And you! Of course you unsettle me. I’m not in the habit of trusting a pirate.

Gotta trust a pirate to catch a pirate, Jack said winking.

So you said in Charleston, Mr. Rackham.

Calico.

Excuse me?

Calico Jack Rackham. It’s my handle.

Handle?

Yeah, like an alias. You know, like you use on the Internet.

Whoops, Kyle said.

Internet? Hume said.

About three hundred years too early there, buddy, Kyle whispered.

What is an ‘Internet’? Captain Hume said.

Never mind that, Jack said waving his hands in the air. The point is, we haven’t found Blackbeard yet, but if anyone can it’s us. Trust us.

That is exactly my point, Hume said. I do not. One of you is an American colonist with divided loyalties, and the other is…a privateer. I am being generous there, sir.

Jack feigned offense, and Kyle chuckled.

And you, Mr. Kidgrass, Hume said, to be frank, you are unlike any colonist I have ever met. Your accent is ambiguous, your manner too informal, and your attire dated even for the colonies. So, before we proceed, I demand a more substantial explanation than ‘Trust us’.

Fair enough, Kyle said. Is there somewhere private we can talk?

Hume squinted at them, apparently debating his options. At last, he motioned towards the rear of the ship. We may speak in my quarters.

Captain Hume led them to his spacious accommodations under the quarterdeck. The flat room was carved entirely in wood. An oak desk huddled before a panorama window overlooking aquamarine waters. Hume sat and motioned for his guests to do the same.

There is a map, Kyle said.

Hume sighed and loosened the collar of his jacket. A treasure map, I suppose?

Yes.

Dear sir, there are a million treasure maps for a million alleged treasures in the Spanish Main. Most lead to nothing but sand and sunburn.

This is no ordinary map, Kyle said. This one pinpoints the location of every treasure ever buried in the Spanish Main. It is a guide to millions of pounds in gold bullion and gems. It is known as-

The Blood Map, Hume scoffed. I have heard of it. It is supposedly a map to the largest fortune in history. A guide to such inestimable wealth, it drove the entire Caribbean into a blood frenzy. Men killed each other for the slightest hint of its whereabouts.

All true, but no one has ever found it. Do you know why?

You need some kind of device.

A very special device, Kyle said. An astronomical compendium.

You know, one of those little all-in-one thingies that tell cap’ins the tides, phases of the moon, wind direction, etc., Jack said.

I know what an astronomical compendium is you brigand, Hume said frowning. They are rare but hardly unheard of. There are dozens in the Caribbean.

Not like this, Kyle said. This one is specially crafted to find the Blood Map. Some say it actually changes the tides and wind to take the bearer directly to the Blood Map.

I have heard the rumors, Hume said. Poppycock.

Maybe so, but if you have heard the rumors, you know the compendium was split into six pieces to keep any one man from finding the map.

Hume nodded.

And you know each is inlaid with a perfect ruby, of the deepest red, cut to look like a drop of blood, Jack said.

All myths. The Blood Map is a fable concocted to keep pirate crews lusting after wealth, Hume said.

It is not a fable. It is real, and Blackbeard seeks it. Kyle turned toward Jack. Show him.

Rackham pulled a folded cloth from this vest and unwrapped it on the desk. An etched golden ring sparkled in the dim light, while a ruby glistened on the top like a drop of blood.

The compass rose, Hume whispered. Impossible.

Not impossible, Kyle said. It’s real. And unless we stop Blackbeard, he’ll find the other pieces…and then the map.

A fortune of that magnitude in the hands of a criminal like Blackbeard- Hume said.

I know.

He’s killed countless sailors. He shot his own Navigator in the knee. He let his crew defile his wife - on their wedding night!

He pirates a bad…okay…even worse name, Jack said.

We can’t let him get the Blood Map, Kyle said.

Hume sat for a long while, staring at the ring. At last, he looked up.

How can I help?

First, we need to find him, Kyle said.

A sharp whistle pierced the air.

Get down! Jack said, tackling Kyle.

A geyser shot into the air behind the ship. Water lashed against the window.

A sailor broke into the cabin. Cap’in, we’re under attack!

I just checked the horizon a moment ago, Hume said.

She came out of nowhere.

Who?

The Queen Anne’s Revenge!

Impossible. Hume grabbed the sailor and sprinted from the cabin. Kyle and Jack looked at each other.

There’s only one way Blackbeard could have snuck up on us so quickly, Kyle said.

Drake. He’s here. And he’s given Blackbeard modern technology.

We have to warn Hume, Kyle said.

The men raced to the quarterdeck. Hume peered through a spyglass at a dark ship on the horizon.

I don’t understand, Hume said.

What, Captain? Kyle said.

Hume thrust the spyglass into his hands. It took a few moments for Kyle to adjust the ancient device. Eventually he found Blackbeard’s ship. The Queen Anne’s Revenge moved with incredible speed even though its sails were down.

Kyle turned toward Jack. He has an engine.

Who is Drake? Captain Hume asked.

It’s too late. You have to go back and tell the others, Jack said.

What others? Hume demanded. Kyle could see fear in his eyes. It looked strange on a man as steely as Hume.

Captain, Kyle said, I know this goes against everything you believe, but there is only once choice. Run. Save your crew. You cannot defeat Blackbeard today.

Hume’s fear faded and was replaced by wounded, bullish pride.

The Scarborough is the flagship of the British fleet. No vessel can defeat her. Not even the fabled Queen’s Anne Revenge.

You will die.

Then we will die fighting.

Kyle shot an exasperated glance at Jack.

Tell him, mate, Jack said.

Captain, Blackbeard is being aided by a man named Damien Drake. He is unknown to you. He’s unknown to anyone of this time…because he is not from this time. Drake is from the future.

Actually, the past, Jack said.

Right, he was born in the past. But he travelled here from the future.

He’s old.

Kyle huffed. Basically, Drake is a nine-hundred-year old bad guy born in the twelve-hundreds but from the twenty-first century, Kyle said. I know that sounds insane.

It does to me, Jack said. I think it’s the way you explained it.

Captain, what matters is you stand no chance against this man.

Several emotions played for control of Hume’s expression. Eventually, he settled on one: insult.

Are you disparaging my intelligence, sir?

Not at all. I’m trying to help. The weapons and technology he has now vastly outmatch yours.

I’ve seen this place cap’in, Jack said. I’ve gone with him.

Is it that hard to believe, Kyle said. You said yourself I don’t really fit here. That’s because, like Drake, I also came here from the future.

Hume’s jaw muscles flexed. His expression grew rigid. He squinted at Kyle and Jack then pulled close to them. That. Is. Ludicrous.

But Captain-

I knew I should not have trusted you.

You have to listen-

Master-at-arms! Hume barked.

A stocky man bedecked in pistols and broadswords snapped to attention. Yesh’ir! he shouted in a thick Scottish accent.

Detain these two under threat of execution. I will question them after we defeat Blackbeard.

Yesh’ir!

Cap’in, you can’t win, Jack shouted, as the Master-at-Arms grabbed him.

Think of your crew, Kyle said.

Captain Hume marched away, barking orders as he went. Jack struggled with the Master—at-Arms. Another sailor grabbed Kyle, who twisted away and pulled Mace from his jacket. He sprayed it at the sailor’s face. The man shrieked in pain. The Master-at-Arms gaped at his companion. Kyle sprayed him as well. The Master-at-Arms lurched sideways, grasping his face, and plummeted over the gunwale.

I suppose Brin let you bring that too? Jack said.

Okay, so I bend a few rules.

Bend?

Kyle threw Jack behind a tall pile of crates.

I have to go back and tell the others, Kyle said. We had no idea how far Drake had gotten.

Jack nodded. Do it.

Kyle glanced around. In the chaos, this was the best hiding spot they could expect. He pulled a chain around his neck until a golden amulet appeared. The medallion was covered in mystical etchings and rimmed with five canary diamonds.

See you soon, my friend, he said to Jack.

In the past.

In the future past.

Of course, Jack said. Give my best to Charley.

You know my son doesn’t know about you. About any of this.

I know. I just like saying that. Maybe he will one day. How old is he now?

Thirteen.

He should have shown the gift by now. That’s too bad.

Kyle nodded dismissively then held the amulet in front of him. He hummed. Two tones, one deep like a train engine and another like an angel signing, rose from him. As they harmonized, golden light from deep within the jewels snaked from the amulet, around his torso.

At that moment, a black ship pulled alongside, the drone of engines shaking the Scarborough’s hull.

Fire! Hume barked.

The ship lurched sideways as three-dozen cannon fired in unison. Kyle was thrown against the crates and dropped his amulet. Jack fell to the ground beside him. A loud clank echoed through the air.

Are you all right? Jack said.

I lost my talisman, Kyle said frantically searching nearby boxes.

No time mate.

The crates had fallen over, leaving them exposed. Kyle and Jack fumbled through the sulfur-smelling cannon smoke rolling across the deck. As it dissipated, Kyle caught a glimpse of Captain Hume standing nearby, mouth agape. Kyle followed his gaze to the Queen Anne’s Revenge emerging like a dragon from the mist. Where there should have been massive holes in the ship’s side, there were wide patches of metal under the splintered wood.

Engines and a reinforced hull, Kyle said. We stand no chance.

Just then, insidious laugher floated across the water. A hundred pirates lined the Queen Anne’s Revenge, bedecked in torn tunics, dirty scarves, and half-legged pants. They held dark-barreled implements Kyle knew no one on the Scarborough would recognize except him and Jack. Mechanisms he knew would spell certain death to every man on board. Modern weapons he immediately recognized as machine guns.

The pirates spread aside, and a tall man emerged. He was a massive brigand with dark hair and a pitch-black beard. Pistol braces crossed his broad chest. Lit fuse was tucked under his hat. Snakes of smoke twisted around his face. Through this demonic haze, the man smiled like a ravenous serpent.

Blackbeard, Kyle whispered.

The notorious pirate pointed a dirty, sunburned hand at them. Fire!

Kyle grabbed Jack and dove behind the gunwale. The firecracker rattle of a hundred machine guns echoed through the air. Splinters rained down on the deck. Kyle heard the cries of the crew and the mottled barks of Hume’s orders. Barrels of flour, rum, and spices exploded around them. A nearby lantern burst into a shower of glass.

We ‘ave to move! Jack shouted.

Kyle pointed to the ladder to the lower decks. The space between them was riddled with bullet holes and wounded sailors, but they had little choice.

Run! Kyle yelled.

They leapt up as the pirates nearest them reloaded. A stream of bullets rained down. Jack grabbed Kyle by the shirt and pulled him the opposite direction. This way!

Gunfire trailed them as they dodged through the carnage. They sprinted around broken boxes, fallen cannon, and wounded men. They burst into the Captain’s quarters as bullets shattered the door.

Slumped in the desk chair, a crimson-stained hand holding his side, was Captain Hume. He wheezed and coughed, blood drooling from his mouth.

I should have listened to you, he said. He pulled Kyle’s amulet from his jacket and handed it over.

Can you get home? Jack said.

Something heavy fell onto the deck. Kyle realized suddenly they were being boarded.

No chance. My powers are spent now.

The sound of boots echoed on the deck, growing louder.

What do we do then? Nowhere to run. No way to warn anyone. We’re trapped.

Can you make it to the Nexus? Kyle said.

Jack looked stunned. It’s dangerous. The Metamorphosis.

I know, but you have to risk it. I have no energy left.

Jack nodded.

Good. Go then.

Jack pulled a copper amulet from his pocket.

Wait, I need you to do something, Kyle said.

What? Anything mate.

Find someone. He’s the only hope we have left.

Who? There’s no one left. You’re the last time-traveler.

No, there is another. Someone I hid from the Order. Someone who doesn’t even know he can time-travel.

Who? Jack said.

My son, Kyle said. Charley is the last Clearcaster.

Chapter 2

Charley Kidgrass

Nassau, The Bahamas, 2014

You failed history?

Huh? Charley Kidgrass said. He slumped on the couch and mashed the remote. TV channels flicked by. Junk, junk, commercial junk, junk, artistic junk, weird junk. Ah, baseball. He stopped.

You got an F in history, but all your other grades are As, his friend Frank said. He waved Charley’s report card in front of his face.

So what.

Your dad’s gonna kill you.

Charley shrugged and ran a hand through his fire-red fauxhawk.

Wasn’t your mom an archeologist?

Yep, just like my dad. So?

Didn’t that help? Frank pointed at the photos covering every inch of wall space. Look at all the places you’ve been. Chichen Itza. The Forbidden City. The Taj Mahal. Angkor Wat. The Acropolis!

Charley grinned. He no longer noticed the locations. All he saw were the silly expressions his mother and he had in each. In one, they were fake-puking. In another, fish faces. In a third, Charley had his finger up his nose, and his mother was in stitches. They had had a contest to try and make the weirdest faces possible in every place they had visited around the world. It had driven his father - who had taken the pictures - to distraction.

Why are you doing that? It’s such a beautiful place! No stop that. Wait a sec. Hold that pose. Cheese! No! You ruined it!

Invariably, he broke down and laughed with them. All evening long.

Charley’s eyes fell on the mantle. His