Horizon-Child
Fanfiction: Pirates of the Caribbean: AWE canon
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Don't own them, aren't making any money. All credit to the big-eared mouse.
Chapter Two
The bodies had been cut down and lay about in the heat and dust. Cutler Beckett squinted in the bright sunlight and looked about him with cold disconcern. The singers were silent now; every last one of them was dead. There was silence throughout the courtyard. The men stood stiffly at their posts and tried not to grimace at the creeping smell of death. Yet, through the silence, there was a lingering resonance of sound, as though there were a repeating echo of the haunting tune, just faint enough to be barely heard. Curious.
Magic. Beckett had not believed such a thing existed, but persisting in outmoded ideas only left one looking extremely foolish.
Something glinted in the light and, drawn by an unusual curiosity, he stooped and picked it out of the dust. Realizing what it was, he smiled.
A single, silver, dusty piece of eight glimmered in his palm, emitting a faint wail of sound. Six of these things all together now. What did they mean?
He paused, thinking. An idea struck him and he knelt down beside the still figure of the boy from whose hands the coin must have fallen. He brushed dark hair off of the boy's forehead dispassionately. Yes, he could almost see it. The boy looked a very great deal like his father.
He straightened, flipping the coin in his fingers. So this had once belonged to Sparrow, had it?
Beckett stared unseeingly at the grey stone wall opposite the gallows. The song had been sung, the Court would be gathering. He allowed a small, triumphant smile to grow upon his features. Everything was falling into place.
Now, if only he knew where the Court was gathering...
He watched vaguely as men began dragging the limp and pathetic bodies around him to the death carts. He would not let these recurring, troubling questions irritate him today.
The song had been sung.
Jones was under his command.
And he'd hung a whole gaol of pirates today. Every last one.
Beckett smiled happily, flipped the coin in his hand, slipped it into a pocket and strolled away. Possibly, he might hunt himself up a cup of tea.