The Time Capsule

Chapter 8: James Sparrow

Chapter 8: James Sparrow

Far across the Moors in the cold country of Scotland, a dark evil was brewing. James Sparrow, now fully cleaned from his affairs in the mines, pulled a new fancy shirt over his head. It was part of his suit set, a new gift from Morgan. He detested wearing it, but knew it was part of the only way he could get out of this situation alive. The suit was black with intricate, dark swirls. They gave off an unfriendly energy. The girl he had saved from execution was still trembling in the corner of their cell, filthy from her near death encounter. She had not been given the same treatment he did. He felt dirty, used, despite being sparkling clean and dressed in fanciful dark clothes.

"Mr. Sparrow?" she trembled. "You aren't going to take me back to him, are you? 

James turned to her, his expression changing in concern as he knelt down next to her and took her hand, the dark in his eyes disappearing. He was trying his best to overcome the rising evil in him, and the call of a child was never one he could ignore.

Far across the Moors in the cold country of Scotland, a dark evil was brewing. James Sparrow, now fully cleaned from his affairs in the mines, pulled a new fancy shirt over his head. It was part of a suit set, a new gift from Morgan. He detested wearing it, but knew it was part of the only way that he could get out of this situation alive. The suit was black with intricate, dark swirls. They gave off an unfriendly energy. The girl he had saved from the execution was still trembling in the corner of their cell, filthy from her near death encounter. She had not been given the same treatment that he did. He felt dirty, used, despite being sparkling clean and dressed in fanciful dark clothes.

"Mr. Sparrow?" She trembled. "You aren't going to take me back to him, are you?"

James turned to her, his expression changing in concern as he knelt down next to her and took her hand, the dark in his eyes disappearing. He was trying his best to overcome the rising evil in him, and the call of a child was never one he could ignore. 

"I will try the best I can to avoid that from happening, darling," he gave a small smile. "I once had a child just like you. Small, defenseless. But I was taken from her. Best not to have that happen again." 

The girl smiled softly as he gave her face a soft wipe with his handkerchief to try and get the dust and dirt off. 

"What was your daughter like, Mr. Sparrow?" Selena's eyes glimmered with curiosity. 

Before he could answer, an ironclad guard unlocked the cell doors and stomped into the rom, holding a sword to James' neck. 

"I will try the best I can to avoid that from happening, darling," he gave a small smile. "I once had a child just like you. Small, defenseless. I was taken from her. Best not to have that happen again."

The girl smiled softly as he gave her face a soft wipe with his handkerchief to try and get the dust and dirt off.

"What was your daughter like, Mr. Sparrow?" Selena's eyes glimmered with curiosity.

Before he could answer, an ironclad guard unlocked the cell doors and stomped into the room, holding a sword to James' neck.

"You are to come with us," the guard ordered. "Morgan's requests. He has a challenge for you. You are to be entered into a tournament. Refuse, and you are to be executed." 

"You offer somewhat a restricted choice," James replied. "But I should very much like to know where it is I'm going." 

"No!" Selena shouted. "Don't go...don't go. They'll kill you!" 

"I don't understand...what is this tournament?" James asked.

James Sparrow was a very dangerous person to enter into a tournament of wits, especially those of numbers and code, for he was automatically one of the smartest men in Shadowstream. He had, after all, helped with the creation of the box in the first place. But no one needed to know about that quite yet...he knew how to keep his cards close to his chest. If it was a gladiator tournament...he didn't stand a chance. His bodily strength was no where near that of his mental, even pushing mine carts up the hillside for years couldn't move his muscles an inch bigger than they already were."