Authors note: This story is a collabortation between two authors. This is our first Pirates of the Caribbean fanfiction as well as the first we had ever written together. Some character's, characterizations, ect may not be exact. And we apologies if that happens. We tried our best. Please note also we tried to incorperate as must accurate Pirate slang and terminology as possible. If you do not understand something please feel free to ask. Currently this is a romance free story. However depending on how it plays out and input from readers that may change in the future. While being free from romance there are still adult images and theme's and we caution readers to heed the ratings. All comments and critisms are very much appreciated. Thank you, and we hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer : We do not claim, claim to own or hold any rights to Pirates of the Caribbean, the characters therein, or anything else affiliated. Those are the sole proptery of Disney, and Disney corperations. We are making no profit from this story. It is simply a piece of fiction for entertainment purposes only. Random names, places, and non-cannon characters as well as the plot and story itself however are our own and we would ask you please do not take them.
Summary : There are many powers at work in the world. Many things that can tip the delicate balance and plunge the world into chaos.For a Pirate such annoyances are never considered.But when the balance is broken and the world teeters on the brink, what is a Pirate to do? The winds and tides have changed. Jack & Will find themselves thrown into an olympic sized adventure that threatens the lives of every man at sea. They are left with little choice. Save a soul. Change a future. Or watch the world crumble.
"Child of the Storm"
Chapter 0ne : "The Calm Before the Storm"
The air was still.
Deathly still.
T''was the true sailors curse.
Not even the weakest breeze ruffled the pristine black sails or pulled at tusseled sweat dampened locks. The sun sat high in the afternoon sky beating down on the stalled ship and her weary crew like a magnifying glass upon insects. Burning, scorching. Light reflecting off the frighteningly still waters below her drying keel like a sirens call to a dehydrated man. The masts and twine creaked from the hot dry strain of the elements, as taut and angry as the crew themselves.
Tempers were as high as the heat and more.
The mighty ship had been abandoned by Poseidon three weeks out to sea from her latest pillage. Not a single breeze passing their way in more days then any cared to count. The men were restless and sluggish all at once. Most on the brink of heat madness. The fresh water reserves were running low, perhaps a weeks worth left maybe two. If the winds did not pick up soon, the Pearl may again loose her crew to a sick sort of death.
A bejeweled hand cupped above kohl lined eyes. The wiry form of Jack Sparrow, captain of the usually proud vessel, lean and arched gazed up into the neigh cloudless sky, pearls of sweat beading and marking sun scorched cheeks as unusually darkened eyes surveyed the damage above. There was no relief in sight. The horizon was hot and grim and the mysteriously mad captain was left to wonder how his lady fair and equally eccentric crew would brave this backwards storm. A hot dry breath passed chapped lips as the hand fell settling again on the soft wind polished wood of the helm. Jack's gaze swayed like a drunkard from the sky to plummet across the deck of the still ship, his ship. Picking out each form of every member of his crew on deck. Gibbs had found a shaded niche by the mast, hugging his canteen of rum to his burley chest like a life line. Cotton and his annoyingly ever present parrot along with Kursor were manning a line thrown overboard as several men cooled in the crystal ocean below. Perhaps not the brightest idea. But Jack wasn't about to stop them. Annamaria was grumbling about one thing or another perched by the deck stairs her coal black eyes watching some far off mirage down passed the horizon. Her blouse untied, and dark African chocolate skin laid bare to the punishment of the sun.
The rest of his men were lounging lazily about. Drugged or perhaps consumed by heat and thirst.
There was one in particular though he did not see. Nor had he heard or sensed a peep of complaint from since the wind had been whisked from their sails so abruptly. Dark cocoa eyes scanned the vessel from stem to stern the best he could from his current vantage point, the familiar head of tempting curly locks no where in sight. Young William Turner, the object of his thoughts and hungry gaze, seemed a curiosity to the curiously strange captain. He alone, beside Jack himself of course, had not seemed to be affected by the lack of cool air or life giving breeze. He did not seem slowed or hampered in the slightest. Hauling half the crews weight almost effortlessly upon his broad young shoulders. In fact, Jack could have sworn on more then one occasion he could see those glistening chocolate curls wafting in a soft bewitched breeze as the young man tied off a line or climbed a mast as the rest of the air around them remained still.
Perhaps Will was simply used to the heat. Being a former blacksmith and all. And Jack chalked the imagined breeze up to an over active libido long since deprived of attentions. Of course the blacksmith wasn't bewitched. Possessing wind in his pockets and moonbeams in his boots. He had indeed seen stranger things in his time. But this was Will after all. Simple foolish nonsense, it was.
Looping a thick bit of rope over a pin on the helm out of habit more then necessity the half sober captain swaggered towards a large barrel of covered water, positioned under a bit of shade to keep the temperature down as much as possible. Hat perched cockeyed on his proud bebangled head, a tan hand found a small cloth dipping it in the liquid and wiping the refreshing drought across fever tinged flesh. Jack was of course a man of the sea. He took her, bads and all. He was used to the conditions. But even he would not turn down a nice cooling wash occasionally.
The stillness of the afternoon was unsettled suddenly. A barrel tipped and caused a ruckus from somewhere near the stern of the boat. Wood splintering on wood. The occurrence was not so uncommon. A crewman must have been careless and left it unsecured. It was the noises after however that caused the hair on the back of Jack's neck to rise.
A scream, mad and frightened all at once rang from the same direction, startling several sweaty pirates from their lazy perches.
"Monster!"
"Demon! Kill it!"
The terrified cries were drowned out by the sudden crack and shot of a pistol the noise frightfully loud in the still air ringing across the crystal waters like a sea of foreboding. Jack dropped the rag and feet set at a sprint towards the sound, tailed by several of his men. "Demon! Barbossa! 'E's back!" the hysterical man screamed, a second crack following the first accompanied by the sound of something hitting the deck. Hard.
"Die! Die Barbossa!"
"Jack! Jack! Tibs' gone mad!"
That voice. Will. Bloody hell.
Sparrows pace sped as the frantic screams continued, growing louder and wilder as they neared the apparrent fray. "I'll kill ye!" Skidding around the captains cabin brushing a loose rope out of his path Jack's heart skipped a beat in his tight chest as eyes surveyed what laid before him. Tibs, the young pirate Will had warned of had indeed gone mad. He was flailing and wrestling with two other deck hands, both older and far grayer then he, lost in the throws of the Davies. One pistol in hand and a long knife in the other, the blade of which was stained with a familiar color. William was tossed against the floor a grimace across his handsome features as he struggled to move out from under foot. And Jack paled to find the smoking pistol, and mad man's eyes, locked on the young Turner.
"Tis the fever Jack!" the former blacksmith called, his doe eyes spotting the older pirate.
"Gibbs, Tiny, get the pistol. Peetie, Greet the knife. Get him under control!" the captain ordered with an air of authority his feet heading him straight towards the downed younger man, and unexpectedly into the line of fire. "No. Don't stop me. Don't!" Once more a booming deafening crack rang out, ricocheting across the deck and up into the rigging and tall twin masts. Jack didn't so much as flinch as jump in surprise when the burning pellot grazed passed his arm ripping flesh and cloth alike. The whole crew seemed to pause in trepidation for a moment. "Bugger. I loved this coat." He mused mornfully, reaching a bejeweled hand to finger the slice in the large warn sleeve, seeming completely ignorant of the fact his flesh had just been slashed. "Let me Go!" As if cued by theinsane wail all hands swiftly returned to their struggles and efforts to down the wild man.
The back of the boat was a mass of scurrying and calamaty, all available hands wrestling the mad and frightened pirate of his weapons and remaining wits.
The pistol clattered to the wooden deck a moment later with a high pitched keen of loss from its owner, wild blood shot eyes stretched to their limits as the heat maddened sailor thrashed in his captors hands. "No! No! Don't stop me! Let me kill it!"
"Tibs! Ye blighter Barbossa's dead!" One of the elder pirates tried to reason, hands grasping and groping for the remaining weapon.
Before long the crazed man was subdued and weaponless, screaming bloody murder in his fellow crew mates hands. Vehement eyes locked scornfully on the form of William as the Captan stepped before him. "Get him outta the heat. Keep him down ther'. Lash him em up if need be." Jack ordered, following the nod from Gibbs before four of the men manhandled the wailing pirate below deck. The sounds of his struggles soon smothered by the heavy levels of thick wood beneath Sparrows feet.
"What happened?" Annamaria asked, retrieving the forgotten pistol, examining the piece before stuffing the muzzle into her belt, claiming the item as hers lest the man find brains enough to try and reclaim it. Then again that would not mark a man with brains, would it? "Anyone hurt?" She questioned, surveying the gathered men, sometimes uncaring seeming eyes, now concerned in their own special way, scrutinizing every detail. "Aye..." Jack mumbled mornfully, examining the tear in his jacket again with oddly saddened eyes, exuding melodramatic grief as if a dear friend had been killed.
Anna rolled her own obsidian orbs. "Anyone really hurt?"
An old salt, grey at the temples and long in the mouth moved towards a fellow deck hand, a small gash in his forearm and a scowl to his eyes, grumbling under his rank breath. Aside from the cut, an abrasion to Hawk eye, the resident look out's temple, and a few other scattered bruises all seemed well again.
Will lay still, half crumpled upon the hot deck, long errant locks curling whipped across his sweaty face as he caught his breath. "He was checking the lines, then.. just went mad. Started screaming about Barbossa." he informed, a lean slender hand pressed to his side as he made no move to stand, the touch almost lost in the folds of his billowy shirt. Jacks previously distracted brain twitched and somewhere in the deceptively muttled clarity he registered that something was wrong. "Will? Lad ye alright?" He questioned, knee's folding and lowering the notorious man next to his companion eyeing his still form with knowing apprehension.
There was a pregnant pause.
Then the hand the younger man had kept still, shifted.
A swallow.
And Jack saw red.
Dizzy orbs raised from beneath a dark crest of lashes, a drunk look to them as they met the dreaded pirates gaze. The hand Will moved was covered in blood, his lower abdomen likewise splattered in the grim paint. A rich blackened red hole marking the entrance of a bullet. "J... Jack..." a shaky breath passed pale lips, the surge of adrenaline self preservation instilled in him draining swiftly from his form. The lanky blacksmiths eyes rolled up into his head and his arm went out from under him nearly toppling his form like a rag doll to the deck; the Captain's arms, and catty reflexes the only thing keeping him from a cheek full of splinters.
"Bugger. Gibbs!"
Cradling the younger man to him carefully, Jack barked out several orders. One of the pirates near by lowered and pressed a bunched sash to the boys bleeding wound, several men scurrying below deck to fetch the elder pirate and the local 'surgeon' per request.
Almost the instant Wills eyes had closed and darkness swallowed him a sudden practically howling wind whipped at the black sails and the ship lurched beneath ill prepared feet despite the lowered anchor. The sound, an almost mournful keen to anyone with wits enough about them to notice. Of course not many had said wits. Save for the Captain of the proud and broody vessel, dark locks whipping around his face as curious eyes gazed into the noon day sky, eyeing the sudden appearance of several angry looking clouds with suspicion.
Running about the boat like mad men, each crewman was mindful of a different mission to complete.
"Weigh anchor! Take in fore and aft sails! Secure the rigging and mark heading toward the nearest port!"
"Aye!"
The sea rolled with renewed vigor and the order to raise anchor was loosed, a heading set for inhabited land as several men hurriedly removed Williams unconscious body to Jack's cabin. Tending the wound to the best of the ships current ability.
The sky cracked and electricity bit the air within moments, a metallic tang in the sailors mouths as hands worked with practiced ease. Clouds mottled the horizon and the blue sea above.
Then the powers that be mourned and the sky broke.
And impossible rain fell on the little vessel.
To Be Continued...