The Mistress of the Abyss
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Chapter One – Summoned in the Night
Anyone disrespectful enough to observe Nymphadora Tonks as she slept would have been struck by her restlessness. She was lying on the bed of her old room in her parents' house, covered by only a sheet despite the cool autumn night.
She changed position frequently, fidgeting in an unconscious struggle to find comfort. Her head writhed back and forth on her pillow and soft murmurs and moans periodically escaped her lips.
In her mind, Tonks was somewhere far from the little cottage where she had been raised and had elected to spend her break. For the life of her, she could not have named her location. Surrounded on all sides by swirling grey mists, she felt pulled inexorably in one direction.
As she prowled forward, she noted she was dressed in her normal street clothing, not the nightdress she had gone to bed in, but carried no wand. This couldn't be real, she thought. Her wand was on the night stand next to her bed and she'd never leave the house without it.
Tonks became aware of another figure trudging forward through the fog. She was surprised to see the darkened blur slowly focus into the form of Mad-Eye Moody, her mentor. She addressed the figure. "Moody, is that you?"
"Tonks" the familiar voice returned. "Are you here too?"
"Yes, it's me" she replied. "Where are we?"
"I don't know, Dora" he rumbled. "This is beyond my experience. We'd best see where this leads us."
The pair fell in side by side and continued their walk to an unknown destination.
Now, the mists grew lighter and Tonks began to make out their surroundings. She felt springy wood beneath her feet; she heard the rhythmic wash of waves against various obstacles; she smelled salt and an older, mustier, organic smell; and she saw a small light emanating from a large dark object in front of them.
As the Aurors walked forward, Tonks saw that they trod on a hand-built wooden wharf that extended into the waters of a dark, foreboding swampland. Gnarled trees with dripping moss surrounded them, vines dangled like slumbering snakes from the branches, and the whole area gave off an odor of quiet, wet decay.
Now, Tonks could see that the large object was a ramshackle hut sitting at the water's edge. The simple, one-story structure had an ageless, weathered appearance. The pair of small windows gave back the reflection of the small bonfire burning away on the porch.
The reflections made these windows look like eyes, causing Tonks further disquiet about their situation. But, her full attention turned to the porch when she noted the fantastic figure seated in a rocking chair behind the fire, watching her and Moody approach.
The figure appeared to be a young, dark-skinned woman perhaps a few years Tonks' senior. She had the appearance of some wild voodoo priestess. She wore a full-length, off-the-shoulder calico dress with a knitted shawl. Her neck was hung with several ornate necklaces that rested on an ample amount of exposed bosom. All her fingers sported rings.
Her dark hair was made up in dreadlocks ornamented with beads. These framed an attractive brown face with dark tattoos and a wide smile. But, her eyes were night-black and unfathomable; reflecting the night sky in their depth.
They stopped in front of the fire and looked across the flickering flames at the priestess. She studied them in an amused fashion for a moment, and then spoke in a quiet, lilting purr of a voice, heavily tinged with an accent that spoke of Jamaica or some other exotic locale.
"So, you haf come, my children; Good, I haf need of your service."
Tonks was stunned; how could anyone this woman's age address Moody as her child? Were they in some mad nightmare?
Moody seemed to take the situation in stride and began probing for information. "You seem to know us" he rumbled. "Do we know you?"
His calm seemed to please the woman because her smile widened. "All civilizations haf known us: To some, we waz de Storm Giants; to utters, we waz de Titans, but, watever de names, we haf always been de same: de Elemental Powers of Nature - Eart, Wind, Fire, and Water."
Tonks gaped in open-mouthed astonishment at this claim. This must be a madwoman. She gasped "Who are you?"
"I haf been known by many names: among dem waz Calypso, Poseidon, and Neptune. And I haf hat many faces; dis one has painfahl memories for me, but I find eet de most usefahl for speakin' wit mortals."
"Calypso" Moody rumble, thinking hard; "You are an immortal being?"
"Even so; dat's how I brought your spirits here; to converse wit me while your bodies sleep safe." Calypso leaned back and studied them, still smiling her cat-and-mouse smile.
Tonks thought the insanity she'd observed before had taken a turn for the worse and decided to cut to the core of this nightmare. "What do you require of us?" she asked.
Calypso shook her head patiently. "I tol' you: your service; Dere ees a great task needin' to be done."
Moody maintained an appearance of placid analysis. "What is this task?"
"To restore de balance; an eartly woman has uzurped de powers of de sea and t'retens de world. Tru her ignorant greed for power, her may bring dizaster upon all de peoples and her must be stopt." For the first time, the goddess (goddess?) appeared agitated, even fearful.
Tonks gasped in astonishment. Was there no logic to this dream at all? "Why do you need us? Why not take care of it yourself?"
Calypso seemed to regain her self-control and calmly recited in a story-teller's tone: "Long years ago, we Powers agreed not to interfere directly een mortal issues. By takin' a direct hand een de past, we cauzed great disasters: Atlantis, Pompeii, Krakatoa . . . So, by de pact we made, we may only act tru mortal agents."
Moody seemed unfazed. "There are billions of people in the world, full of diverse levels of talent" he growled. "Why have you chosen us as your agents?"
"Because you haf power, courage, and you haf walked de streets of Old Tortuga dat waz. Dis weel 'elp you relate wit de aid you weel need."
Tonks, resigning herself to the absurdity of the dream, asked "Why do we need aid? With you as our patron, surely that will be enough?"
Calypso shook her head, her dreadlocks swaying. "No, child. Her has safeguarded her fortress 'gainst magic. You can only approach by de sea." She leaned forward and gazed at the Aurors intently. "You must haf sailors: brave, skilled, and willin' to face great power."
Mad-Eye looked at her calmly. "How do we find this aid?"
In answer, the crazy female leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Her mouth fell open and she spoke in a sing-song chant that invoked shudders through her entire form:
De ancient terrors are loose once more,
By mortal mind lackin' wisdom and care;
To fight dem, go to de unclaimed shore,
And surrender de antique token dere.
For help, from de depts of de past, may be yours,
Wit the courage to battle dis monstrous wrong;
Call fort your allies and strike an accord;
Summon dem hence wit unity's song.
She leaned forward and slowly extended her clenched right hand to Moody, who held out his empty hand, palm up. Tonks saw her drop something into his hand and then, the mists swirled and thickened, blotting out Moody, the woman, the hut, and the fire.
Tonks shot bolt-upright in her own bed, gasping for air. She looked about in a panic. There was no sign of Moody, the hut, or the mysterious Calypso woman. She was in her own room.
She lay back on her pillow, feeling her body slowly relax, shedding some of its tension in rhythm with her breathing. A dream, she thought, only a dream. It had seemed so real, more vivid than any she could remember.
She tried to put the experience out of her mind, but remained filled with a vague sense of uneasiness. Suddenly, her room erupted in a burst of silver light.
Sitting erect, she grabbed her wand off her night stand, ready to defend herself. But, the light gathered itself at the foot of her bed, coalescing into the silver form of a male lion. This apparition looked at her and opened its jaws. The familiar, snarling voice of her mentor issued from its mouth.
"Tonks, meet me on your front porch in 5 minutes. We need to talk." With this message delivered, the spirit beast faded away.
Acting instinctively, Tonks vaulted out of bed, hastily wrapping herself in her housecoat. She crept quietly down the hall, expecting any moment to hear the sleepy voice of one of her parents demanding an explanation of this late night wandering. Thankfully, the house remained silent as she reached the front door and stepped outside.
The autumn air was chill and crisp; the great orb of the full moon painted exaggerated shadows across the yard as she saw the dark form of Mad-Eye Moody suddenly appear at the end of the path that led to the house.
She waited on the steps as he stumped up the path and stopped before her. Without any preamble, he barked "Have you been dreaming tonight, Dora?"
At her nod, he growled "I woke up a few minutes ago . . . with this in my hand."
He extended his palm for her inspection. Seated there was an ancient-looking silver coin. Tonks gasped and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.
The Mistress of the Abyss
(From "The Adventures of Mad-Eye Moody")
Chapter Two – Burt and Sully
The rambling country estate, dominated by a venerable manor house with a broad lane, was the most elaborate property Tonks had ever seen. She stepped back from the point where she and Moody had apparated in and took in the entire vista with amazement.
Moody allowed her a moment to take it all in, and then began trekking up the tree-lined avenue toward the mansion. Tonks hurried to catch up.
"So, you don't think we've gone loopy, Mad-Eye" she smirked.
"Silver coins don't appear out of nowhere, by themselves" he growled. "I've scanned the Muggle papers and there've been some disturbances in the North Sea that may tie in with that . . . Well, let's call it 'a shared vision' until we know more." He grumbled under his breath but kept walking.
Closer inspection as they drew nearer allowed Tonks a better evaluation of this new locale. The building consisted of a huge, two-story main house flanked by twin towers. From each tower, a single-story projected rearward at an angle. Tonks assumed these were additions, possible a few hundred years newer than the center.
All was dark, grey brickwork covered with ivy. Tall chimneys rose from a steep, slate roof and, here and there, the ivy-draped walls were dotted with windows and carved coats-of-arms.
Tonks gave up on estimating the worth of this ancient palace and followed Moody onto the porch, where he rapped sharply on the main door with his staff. After a brief wait, the door creaked open and a tall, gaunt butler in full livery filled the opening.
"Yes" he inquired politely.
"Alastor Moody, to see His Lordship, Benson" Moody told the butler with casual familiarity.
"Certainly; you are expected" the servant spoke matter-of-factly. "Please come in."
"The guests have arrived, Your Grace" the butler intoned solemnly as he ushered the Aurors into a polished, wooden foyer where two men stood waiting before a pair of giant double doors.
One was a short, squat bulldog of a man, dressed in a gray tweed suit and sporting a reddish-brown cane with a bulbous brass head. His features were difficult to distinguish as his head was adorned with a mane of curly, orange hair balanced by a well-trimmed, full beard of the same hue. What skin that could be seen was pale, including a prominent nose decorated with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. The eyes behind them, under shaggy orange brows, were as black and shiny as onyx and crackled with energy. His whole attitude was one of pugnaciousness and restless, vibrant energy.
His counterpart was a tall, lanky chap in a gray three-piece suit with a blue cravat. His slicked-back, black hair was flecked with silver; his brown eyes squinted behind gold pince-nez attached to his jacket with a black ribbon and over top of a sharp, straight nose.
His black moustache might have been drawn on his lip with pencil. His manner bespoke equal parts of inquisitiveness and befuddlement. If his companion resembled a bulldog, this man was a strange, wading bird searching for its nesting ground.
The orange bulldog surveyed the newcomers, as though hunting an opponent, and then strode toward Moody.
"Moody!! You ugly, old devil; how long has it been?" he barked in an aggressive rasp of a voice. He seized Moody's extended hand and shook it as though he intended to wring every last drop of juice out of it.
"Too long, Burt; you useless pain-in-the-arse" Moody bellowed in response, whereupon both men roared with laughter.
The bulldog stepped back and scanned Moody head-to-foot as though examining a specimen. "I see you're still not smart enough to duck!" he bayed; pointing at Moody's heavily scarred face.
Moody rumbled down at the smaller man: "I see you're still not tall enough to need to!" Both men took the occasion to bellow laughter again.
Clapping the shorter man heartily on the shoulder, Moody turned to his astonished protégé. "Tonks, allow me to present one of my oldest, dearest friends; His Grace, the Earl of Bindon and Baron Chesterford, Lord Edward Burton. Burt, this is my apprentice, Nymphadora Tonks."
"Apprentice, ehh?" the little noble crowed. "And here I'd assumed you'd adopted some pretty young creature to nurse you through your onset of senility." He strode over to take Tonks' hand and pat it affectionately.
"You're very welcome here, my girl. Anyone who can tolerate the company of this uncouth barbarian for any length of time has my undying respect." He grinned at the young Auror.
"Err . . . um . . . Thank you . . . um . . . Your Lordship" Tonks finally managed to stammer.
"Now, now; Burt, please" he chided her, gently. "I find a title incompatible with effective communications and research. So, please; dispense with the protocol." He laughed again. "Not that Moody ever needed much encouragement in that direction; I don't believe he's ever addressed me personally by my title since we first met on the Hogwarts Express."
"Well . . . Burt; I must say that you're not what I expected a nobleman to be like" Tonks confessed.
"Ah, my dear" he purred, "You must forgive an old man his foibles." He grinned wickedly. "You see, being an English noble is my profession: because society requires each of us to contribute productively. Now, historical and zoological study is my passion: something I do because my intellect, spirit and nature compel me to."
Now, the little bulldog broke into an attractive smile that lit up his entire countenance. "However, being an insufferable curmudgeon is my hobby: something I do for pure personal enjoyment" and he once more bellowed a hearty laugh.
Lord Burton led Tonks over to his compatriot. "Nymphadora, meet Dr. Walter Sullivan, my research partner." The Baron grinned again. "Poor fellow's a squib; never got a sniff of Hogwarts; had to settle for earning a doctorate in history at some damn Muggle university," he barked another laugh, "A thing damn near as useless as a title."
With very proper decorum, bordering on pompousness, Sullivan ignored Lord Burton and shook hands with the Aurors. "A genuine pleasure, my dear" he said to Tonks; "Alastor, it's good to see you again" he said to Moody in a rather quavering, nasal whine.
Mad-Eye smiled at the historian. "I'm surprised, Sully. I thought Burt would have tossed you out ages ago."
Sullivan smiled as though at some private joke. "Lord Burton and I have developed a complicated academic dynamic over the years, Alastor. I don't know how he'd get along without me."
"What Sullivan means is that shooting down his illogical wanderings generally points me on the proper course" Burt snapped as he led his guests through the great double doors. "Come into the study and you can tell me why you're here."
"Well, obviously, Edward" Sullivan piped up condescendingly, "they are in need of some academic researches that only we can provide."
The short nobleman wheeled on his companion. "If you ever author your autobiography, Sullivan, you could title it "Oblivious to the Obvious" he snarled.
The two men began a heated exchange that appeared to embrace old arguments as they walked into the next room. Tonks fell back by her mentor.
"Something on your mind, Dora" Moody inquired politely.
She giggled "Mad-Eye, I never thought that I would qualify as your most normal acquaintance." Moody's laughter echoed the absurdity of it all.
Tonks and Moody followed their hosts into the study, where Tonks goggled like some country rube seeing skyscrapers for the first time. The room was amazing; built on a scale to rival the Great Hall at Hogwarts, it was all polished wood, from floor to vaulted ceiling; a white stone fireplace not less than 16 feet tall dominated one corner; there were a dozen towering windows, and shelves and shelves of books; possibly more books than the Hogwarts library held.
Before the fireplace were a massive mahogany desk and a set of four chairs surrounding a coffee table. Burt led them to the latter and took a seat. "Please, sit down and tell us why you're here."
They listened in silence, ever more agonizing silence, while Moody laid out the details of the dream encounter with Calypso. Tonks squirmed uncomfortably as the piercing stares and rigid postures of the two academics stayed fix and set. "Oh, God" she thought, "They think we're mad! They're going to toss us out of here."
Moody completed his report and sat back, awaiting their judgment. Burt looked at the floor, rubbing his bearded chin, while Sully leaned back, slapping his hands on his knees with a huge sigh of "Well . . .!"
Burt turned his gaze on his colleague. "I take it, Doctor that you've come to some conclusion" the aristocrat rumbled quietly.
"All I can say, Lord Burton" the historian grumbled mildly, "is that this is the most severe case of empathetic hallucination I've ever heard of."
Tonks felt her temper rouse. She prepared to leap to her feet in protest when she noticed that Lord Burton seemed to swell and bristle with indignation. His eyes flashing dangerously, the little peer suddenly let loose a loud roar.
"And, in 40 years of scholastic investigation, Dr. Sullivan, that statement constitutes the most outrageous collection of bilge water, balderdash, and balls I've ever heard!!!"
"If I may say so, Edward; you're prone to flights of fantasy from time to time . . ."
"And you, sir, are a lunatic . . ."
Sullivan rounded on his partner, all indignation and defensive pride. "Lord Burton, I have a passing interest in mythology, but to attempt to give credence to this outlandish tale of supernatural creatures and dream communication, with no proof . . ."
"No proof!! Imbecile! What do you call that?" Burt bellowed, stabbing his finger viciously at the silver coin lying on the coffee table between the four conferees.
Sully seemed momentarily speechless, and then rallied again. "Alastor could have come by that coin in any number of ways. He's widely traveled, of course . . . to many exotic locations; some of which . . ."
"Sully" Mad-Eye rumbled, gaining instant attention. "Would you at least look at the coin and give us an opinion on that?"
"Oh . . . well, certainly . . . if you wish" the doctor stammered. He suddenly seemed to realize he'd been impugning the word of a very powerful and dangerous wizard who also happened to be sitting right next to him.
To cover his nervousness, Sullivan picked up the coin and looked at it. After his first glance, suddenly, he seemed to focus on it. Sitting up straight, he adjusted his pince-nez, took the coin in both hands, and began turning it over and over. All the while, he was muttering under his breath. Finally, he sat back, trying to look at the Aurors and the coin simultaneously.
Burt drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and scanned the ceiling, searching for a fleeting bit of patience, perhaps. Suddenly, he brought the flat of his hand down explosively on the chair's arm and barked: "Well . . .!"
This startled Sully out of his mental haze. He jumped, looked at all his companions in confusion, and then grinned quickly as he came back to himself.
"This is a remarkable specimen" Dr. Sullivan intoned with just a touch of lust. "It's a Spanish dollar, also known as a piece of eight, a real de a ocho or the eight-real coin. It was minted in the Spanish Empire sometime after the Spanish currency reform in 1497."
Warming to his subject, Sully began turning the coin over, pointing at features as he lectured. "As you can see, this side displays two hemispheres of a world map, crowned between the Pillars of Hercules. It also carries the motto 'VTRAQVE VNUM M 1739': meaning 'Both (are) one, Mexico City Mint, 1739'." He flipped the coin.
"Now, on the converse side" he continued, "we have the arms of Castile and León with Granada in base and an escutcheon of Anjou. The inscription is 'PHILIP V D G HISPAN ET IND REX' which means 'Philip V, by the Grace of God, King of the Spains and the Indies'." He looked up with a satisfied smile. "In short, this is a genuine piece of eight."
Moody took this all in stoically, ruminating out loud. "Pieces of eight . . . she spoke of aid from the past . . . and Tortuga . . . and everything smacks of the sea." He looked at Burt and Sully with a grin. "Boys, what can you tell us about pirates?"